#she stares at it and stares coughing up a lung because she forgot this is the one thing she got lmaooo

[dailykugisaki]

Day fourty-four | id in alt

She'd be incessant Abt it. A little science experiment.

[honeyblonde8929]

Whispers In The Dark. Ellie x Reader Fanfic.

- Soft Romance. Mild Smut. Swearing. Smoking Green TW.

• You and Ellie sneak outside of Jackson and find a peaceful, secluded place surrounded by nothing but nature and the glistening moonlight appearing from the frosty horizon. You might be staring at the surroundings, but Ellie isn’t.

-

You were giggling as the both of you scurried into an isolated forest, not too far from Jackson, but far enough so no patrols will spot the both of you. The calls of an owl echoed in the tall trees looming over you. Suddenly, Ellie stopped in her tracks.

“Shit.” Ellie grunted. “I forgot my torch.”

You sighed slightly, rummaging through your pockets while lightly jogging through the meadow, hand in hand.

“Ah! I’ve got mine!”

You playfully waved it near her face and turned it on. It brightened the burnt orange grass. Footsteps crunching the leaves below.

“And I thought I was the smart one.”

Ellie made a small smile to her remark, knowing that you would make fun of her.

And you did.

“Hm, says the one who wears the same converses everyday AND washes her hair… what did you say? Once a week? Not very smart, or hygienic. ”

She scoffed at you, going back to the original pace.

“Did Joel tell you that?! Tell me, the next time I see him, I’m kicking his ass.”

“No, Ellie, you won’t! You love him too much to do that.”

Her eyes twinkled, it may be dark, but it’s hard to not see them.

They were goddamn captivating.

“Yeah, I do.”

She looked at you, maybe a second longer than what would be considered friendly. Your arm hairs pricked up, sending goosebumps down to your waist. It could easily be because of the cool winter breeze. Or was it her?

Yeah. Definitely her.

It didn’t take too long until you found the spot you were looking for. You remember when Ellie sat down by the rock that was only a few feet away from you and she showed you her tattoo. It was fine lined at the time, but the summers glow on the moth almost sparkled with the light. But now it was winter, just shows how quick months can pass by. Especially when you are her have been getting closer and the chemistry was brewing up from each encounter.

The both of you sat on the rock, overlooking the moonlight that shone down, reflecting on your pale skin. The bruises you had from the daily patrols turned into a violet purple as the sun swished behind the mountains. Ellie was beside you and let go of your hands to roll a joint. Her fingers were fiddling with the filter and the pouch of weed, the smell entangled the midnight air.

You turned your head towards her, licking your dry cracked lips.

“Do you think they’ll notice that we are gone for the night?”

Ellie was focused on her roll, giving a gentle shake of her head.

“Well… We haven’t been caught yet. Unless you get really high and start being a nuisance.”

“Pft! As if! I’m not the loud one!”

Then Ellie looked back at you, just at the corner of her eye. She raised her eyebrows.

“You changed something in me that night.”

And God, you did. Last year felt like yesterday. You got too drunk and high with Ellie. Swooning over her like a dog on heat. Your heart pounding and palms sweating from the passionate dance you both created. Being each others first time created a strong bond. It might have just been physical that time, but now, it has a chance to bloom into something deeper.

“I guess I did.”

You passed her the lighter and soon enough she inhaled the blunt, filling her lungs with natures plant and you couldn’t help but glare at the way her voice curled when she exhaled, it made you quiver, in a good way.

After a few tokes, she passed it towards you, you gladly accepted and quickly felt the similar effects. She always put a little bit too much weed, almost busting through the paper, but you didn’t mind. Despite a few coughs, which Ellie found amusing, your head started humming slightly that teased your eardrums. That high circulated you and you closed your eyes, taking in the atmosphere. Moments in an apocalypse don’t get much better than this.

Ellie coughed then scratched the right side of her temple.

“I love the way your hair flows. Y-you know, in the wind. When we are riding on patrols together, it makes me feel… well, I’m not sure yet.”

A tinge of blush warmed your cheeks. You didn’t except her to come out with that, as compliments were a mere hit or miss for her. It felt like a gift that she would open up to you now and again. Despite all of her pain and sorrowing trauma, there was a gentle flame flickering her heart that captured yours.

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed those glances you give me. That’s why I wear my hair down sometimes. Just for you.”

You had one last inhale before passing it back to Ellie and she quickly placed her lips on the joint. Looks like she needed the high quicker than she thought.

The freckles that covered her face would move with the smile she tired to hide in front of you. She can be so adorable, though you never told her.

The hallucinating effects now taking full hold of your body, slightly swaying with the rhythm of the rustling trees that were clinging onto the last leaves they held.

“It’s hard for me to say.” Ellie spoke after a small moment of silence.

“You really have been there for me, sure I have my friends, Joel, Tommy and Maria for advice.”

Then she placed her hand on top of yours.

“But you, you are my safe place. I… I really… fuck.”

Her sentence transformed into a whisper.

“After all our time together… I have fallen in-“

You wish you had the patience to let her finish but your mind went out the window and you clashed your now damp lips onto hers. Your long hair sweeping across her auburn layers, mixing into a sunset colourful ray. She wrapped her hands on your waist, feeling her calluses digging into your sides. You were now on top of her and stroked your thumb on her now flushed cheeks, you felt her smile growing from ear to ear. The wind picking up and feeling her muscles poking into the back of your spine. The heat radiating from your aching body was crying for her to explore every inch of you.

And she started doing just that.

[midorishinji]

Hanahaki

Yellow tulips are a symbol of unrequited love. "You made flowers grow in my lungs and although they are beautiful, I can't breathe"

Itahina ｜Oneshot｜Also published in Portuguese and on AO3

It was a late autumn morning, a Friday, when I felt something in my throat. I coughed and spat out a yellow tulip petal. I spent the entire weekend worrying, avoiding opening my mouth, and I slept all Sunday after drinking a whole bottle of cough syrup. I told my father that it was just the beginning of a cold, and he didn't question it all that much; to be honest, I don't think he really pays attention to me, and he doesn't even notice that anything could be wrong. I was always just this quiet, nervous little thing that swallows back words, and now I swallow flowers too.

Every time I saw him at school, I would have a terrible coughing fit... Which was quite inconvenient, considering that Itachi Uchiha was the brother of a childhood friend and president of the literature club, of which I was a member. I managed to get through the first week in fits and starts, wearing a mask the entire time, to avoid transmitting my “cold”. At the end of the day, I would need to go to the bathroom and take off the mask, to remove the petals that suffocated me even once they were out of my throat.

That's how Ino found me, that Thursday, staring at a bunch of yellow petals and even whole tulips spread out on the sink. We looked at each other for a few seconds, until I couldn't take it anymore and cried the bitterest tears of my brief existence. She tried to comfort me and hugged me with all the strength in the world and, for a moment, it seemed like everything was going to be okay.

(...)

— At the beginning of the 19th century, tuberculosis became the fashionable disease. Pale skin, glistening eyes and rosy cheeks and lips, symptoms of a constant fever, became ideals of beauty, the supreme symbol of perishing with grace.

With each word, it felt like an even bigger stab wound to my poor heart. I swallowed flowers like I swallowed words, like I swallowed my feelings, and listened to Itachi's explanation of Romanticism while we were both last in the literature club. — I just think I'm not a hundred percent recovered from my cold yet, that's all. Nowadays, babies are vaccinated against tuberculosis at birth, I think.

I had to drop the mask and pretend I was “cured” after a few indiscreet looks from my sister. For a moment, I almost thought I would have to tell her, but I couldn't imagine doing that. Saying things wasn't my strongest point.

Itachi laughed, the same low, hoarse laugh that I loved to hear, and that made my heart beat fast as if I ran a marathon. — You're funny, Hinata.

— Funny how? — I was afraid to ask, because I was afraid of knowing. Sometimes people find us funny in an adorable way, like a kid acting up. Sometimes just funny in a pathetic way.

He shook his head, looking far away, and for a second I wondered what Itachi Uchiha thought... When it came to him, it was always so difficult to know, that I felt as if we were completely different species. Indecipherable. — I don't know. I just think you are, but not in a bad way, no, definitely not.

(...)

I spent the night awake, with a lump in my throat, which I only managed to expel when it was past three in the morning: there were three whole tulips, yellow as gold, and so beautiful that for a second I almost got carried away and forgot that these precious flowers were a physical manifestation of doom. I sat on the bathroom floor for a long time, staring at them, breathless, trying to get my breathing back to normal.

I kept the three flowers between the pages of a heavy book, as I had been doing with all the others I spat out. Perhaps Charlotte Brontë had a good reason to see beauty in the illness that took her sisters’ lives and that would inevitably take hers too, because it’s the last resort. When nothing else can be done, what remains for us is to learn to love our circumstances, to see some charm in them: that was why I kept my tormentors close.

My phone vibrated with a message, awakening me from my Byronic daydreams, and to my cruel reality, and I resented even more my own cowardice for writing “I love you” in response and deleting it right away, before even sending it, as I read his message again and again.

"I dreamed of you today"

(...)

Yellow tulips are a symbol of unrequited love. I knew that. Ino tried to convince me that it could be worse, because there are flowers with more harmful meanings: orange lilies are hate; higanbana are abandonment, and two lovers who part ways to never meet again. I knew that too, and knowing it didn't make it any better. She also insisted that for those suffering from hanahaki , the type and color of the flowers matter little to the prognosis of the disease, it’s all a popular superstition.

— Here, I got a gift for you, from my family’s flower shop. — she said, as soon as we arrived at school; it was a white flower, like the snow that fell in that first winter blizzard around us — It's called Edelweiss. It means courage, you know? They’re the national flower of Austria, firstly because they were a symbol of resistance to the Nazis during World War II, and secondly because they only grow at very high altitudes, such as in the Alps; there's a legend there that says that if someone brings you one of these, it's proof of true love. No one risks looking for it if it isn’t.

She explained everything to me enthusiastically, while placing the small flower behind my ear, between some strands of hair. I opened my locker to leave my shoes and found inside it a white orchid with delicate fringe-like petals, lonely like me. I felt a certain compassion for that poor creature with dry petals, as if it had withered before it even bloomed, because we really were one and the same. I stared at it for long seconds, playing with the fragile petals as delicately as I could, until Ino woke me up from my trance: — A gift?

— I don't know. I'll put it in a glass of water, maybe that will help. — I said, holding the slender stem between my cold fingers, almost flying through the school corridors.

(...)

— Hanahaki is a disease of cowards.

Sasuke's voice echoed through the room, angry and serious. He wasn’t speaking to me specifically, he was just taking out his frustration on all of us, because he didn't know anything, he couldn’t. And, even if he knew, deep down I couldn't disagree with him: I am a coward from head to toe, to the last hair strand, to the marrow of the bone, and if I weren't like that, I would suffer much less. I wouldn't be fatally ill, either: the truth sets us free, but only when we are able to spit it out like the poison it is.

— Sasuke... — Itachi tried to calm him down, as he always did, and the two exchanged a long look, of complicity, containing a very private understanding. For a moment I wished I could disappear from there, imagining that everyone knew about my peculiar misery and they simply felt sorry for me. I loved Itachi Uchiha and everything that was him, flaws and admirable qualities, in the same contradictory way that I could sometimes hate him like I did now, as I hated his gentle and appeasing ways for making me like him even more and making him even better , so close to the divine as humanly possible. Maybe that's why black lilies were so ambiguous and meant, at the same time, love and curse: both exist as two sides of the same coin, inseparable. I couldn't love if it didn't hurt until it tore myself apart.

I left the room, along with everyone else, and spent a few long minutes walking without direction through the hallways, almost as if I was training for when I would inevitably become a ghost, very soon. The cure for hanahaki is reciprocated love, that's what tormented me from the beginning. I coughed up five whole tulips at once, which I kept in my pocket, and I felt my legs weaken, trembling; the rays of the setting sun that passed through the windows blinded my sensitive eyes until they watered.

I ended up going back to the club room after the end of the activity hours, in a feverish delirium. I didn't want to go home, I didn't want to spend the rest of the day blending in with the beige walls and trying to go unnoticed by my father. I just wanted to not feel this anguish inside my chest for even a second, to free myself from it. Ino would kill me if she saw me plucking the petals from her precious Edelweiss, I know: it was her proof of love for me going to waste, thanks to my restless and pale fingers, always as nervous as I was.

There was still someone in the club room. With his face leaning over the table, I realized it was Itachi, and he was coughing too. — I'm sorry, Hinata... Sasuke’s right when he says that I'm a coward. — he apologized, with a gentle smile, which tore my insides with pain. In between his fingers, white petals of a fringed orchid, Sagiso , could be seen, the same one I had found in my locker: “I will be thinking of you even in my dreams”.

[midnightsky64]

(This is a deadplate writing I made a while ago:3 thought to post it:3)

Tw: implied murder, panic attacks (I think), death. I think that's all please tell me if there are more:( )

“Manon…?"

“Is that you…?”

Rody takes a step back, hitting the cold steel door with his broad frame.

He sees his “girlfriend’s” body on the cold floor of the freezer. Almost lifeless. 

His mind starts racing, he can't think straight. His body starts shaking uncontrollably.

That's her right? That has to be her? There is no way that Vince would just say all that?

Right?

The disheveled brown haired man's knees buckled, he falls to the hard cold floor.

He doesn't know how long he has before the crazed chef comes back to do who knows what to him.

“Hahh…” 

Rody covers his mouth with his tan bloody hand, barely able to calm his breathing.

“Rody, c'mon…” “Keep it together

..”

“You…” “You don't even know it's her!”

“It can be just any… brown haired girl…”

“With black ribbons… and pale skin…”

“Yep yep just anyone! Hahaha…”

Rody mumbles like a mad man, he doesn't even want to think that it's his beloved “girlfriend”. It'll be the worst thing he'll ever have to endure.

He'll rather be the one dead than it be her.

He was so focused on his thoughts and the current situation that he didn't notice the girl's body shift.

*Cough* *cough*

He stiffened and his shaky eyes bore into the laying petite girl. 

Was that..?

The body kept coughing, heaving with each cough.

She's!?

Rody lunged forward, scraping his black trousers on the floor.

He grabbed the girl as gently as he could, afraid to hurt her more.

He turns her, so he could see her face.

*Gasp*

Rody eyes widen seeing the bloody face of his “girlfriend”.

Why couldn't it be me?

Why her? She… she didn't do anything to that bastard…

I'm… I'm the one who should be in this state…

The tan male just kept thinking on and on about how he should be the one dying, not Manon. Not his beloved “girlfriend”. 

He felt like even more of a failure.

He couldn't provide for her…

 

He couldn't be a good boyfriend to her…

He couldn't even protect her!

HOW USELESS AM I!??

Rody didn't even notice he was sobbing. His big fat tears falling onto Manon's pretty bloody face.

He places Manon on his lap, as gently as he could. His ear is ringing, the constant ringing noise being unbearable in such a situation.

“Rody?” The man perked up hearing his name coming from his sweet “girlfriend’s” mouth.

“Is it you?” She can barely open her eyes, having been stabbed multiple times by Vincent. 

Rody stares at Manon’s half-lidded eyes. She softly smiles seeing a familiar face in such an awful situation. Her smile fades though, knowing that this shouldn't be how her and Rody should have met again 

Rody lips quiver, tears still running down his tan bloody face. The place where his ear should be, has now dried with deep crimson. 

He looks relieved seeing his love isn't truly gone.

But how much time left till she is?

He holds Manon's cheek with his rough hand. His and Manon's blood merging together. 

“Hahh” “Manon…” “You're alive…” “Thank goodness…”

He smiles at her but his eyes widen seeing her unable to keep her eyes open and her breathing steady.

He starts to panic once more.

No! Please no… 

No no no no no no no

THAT DAMNED VINCE!

“Manon?” He says shakily, still holding out for hope that she stays alive.

“Rody…” she heaves. “I'm…” “Sorry for…” *COUGH* 

She coughs up a huge splatter of blood. 

The blood gets on Rody’s dress shirt. It doesn't matter if it's already bloody, it matters now because it's Manon’s blood now.

“Manon…” he breathes out. “Please don't say anything!”

“You'll be fine..” “I SWEAR!” 

“I'll…” “I'll get us out of here!”

“So…”

“So you can-”

“Stay alive with me and we-”

“Be together again…”

“Please…. please… PLEASE!” 

Rody pleads, unable to hold on for much longer.

He is truly a mess.

“Rody?” Manon whispered, pain etched into her soft voice.

“I love you, don't…”

“Forgot that…”

She smiles as the light in her eyes slowly fades away once more.

“Please no” “Don't go…” he whimpers.

“STAY WITH ME MANON!”

He could feel her body slowly lose her sweet warmth.

At that moment, the smell of fresh flesh and blood hit his nose.

The smell was so putrid, he finally felt petrified, he couldn't feel anything, too high on adrenaline.

But now he did.

He felt so much right now.

Is this all a sick joke?

He whimpers, and begs to no one but himself.

PLEASE MANON!

DON'T GO!

YOU CAN'T!

You…

You promised me…

That you'll stay…

That if I get a job and make money and… and…

His mind is a whirlwind now. So many thoughts, so many awful thoughts. 

IF ONLY I WAS BETTER!

IF ONLY…

If only I was better for you…

Soon his cries turned to anger, his feelings can't be controlled.

It's just him, his thoughts, and his dead “girlfriend” on his lap.

He hugs her limp body so tight. 

So cold…. So so so cold…

His mind sickly tries to comfort him.

He thinks of hugging Manon alive.

He's hugging her after a date at a wonderful expensive restaurant. 

Or maybe they were on the couch or bed, listening to records of yé-yé or rock, while cuddling after a long day.

Or or him hugging Manon from behind as she bakes her bitter cookies.

Oh how I'll miss her bitter dessert…

They weren't any good but I'll miss them.

He was too lost in his thoughts, hours went by. With no chance of making it out.

It's not like he could save Manon, she's long gone by now.

And he didn't want to live with the guilt. The guilt that he could have saved her. He could have…

He still holds her body like a cold limp teddy bear. 

His face is cold yet wet. Wet with sorrow and guilt. 

The brown haired man soon succumbed to the cold. Laying on top of Manon's dead body. His breathing ragged and soon his eyes closed.

At Least he had his beloved with him right?

[socially-awkward-skeleton]

Tagged by @kyber-infinitygems and @galaxycunt

Tagging: @clicheantagonist @direwombat @adelaidedrubman @shallow-gravy @derelictheretic @confidentandgood @aceghosts @fourlittleseedlings @kittiofdoom @inafieldofdaisies @purplehairsecretlair @vampireninjabunnies-blog @detectivelokis @nightbloodraelle @nightwingshero @passinoutpieces @madparadoxum @josephslittledeputy @strangefable and anyone else who might have something to share (forgive me if I forgot anyone I usually tag or who I'm a newer mutual with, consider this an open tag for you too)

Because I am terribly indecisive, I have two snippets from chapter 19, up first a bit of Kit and Jacob because I am deep in the ship thoughts:

She  lifted her hands up in surrender as he raised his rifle. She didn’t try to run, there would be no point, he’d hit her before she was out of his sights. In the blink of an eye, the blast wave of the bullet tearing through the flesh and muscle of her shoulder made her stumble back, her heel slipping over the edge of damp earth, sending her falling backwards down the ravine.  

He raced to the edge to see her collide with the rocky ground, a groaning breath escaped her. Her boots slipped on the stones around her as howling coughs shook from her as she fought for air, having had it knocked from her lungs in the fall. 

Sliding down the ravine edge, a controlled fall unlike hers, his boots cut through the damp black soil. He prowled towards her and grabbed her by the nape, his fingers gripping the base of her braid, locking into her strands. A hoarse yelp escaped her as he tugged her up to her feet, dragging her back up the ravine. He could see the burning in her eyes, she was seething, her teeth gritted together. Dirt clung to her face, mixed with the blood and sweat that coated her skin. He brought his hand to her face and brushed the dirt away with his calloused palm. 

“You know Joseph’s pissed after that little stunt you pulled, kidnapping Faith like that.” He grabbed a pair of handcuffs from the back pocket of his jeans. One hand still holding her hair, the other slipping the cuffs over her wrists, securing them tightly. 

She looked up at him through her brow, her stare piercing. Her bottom lip had been split, and her tongue dragged against the blood that bubbled to the surface. “You think I care?”

“Probably not, but you should.”

Grabbing the chain that connected her wrists he pulled her through the forest, back towards the red truck outside the Grand View. She stumbled behind him, her feet falling underneath her. He tended to use a weaker strain of the Bliss, it took a little longer for it to take effect, but it also had the added benefit of making the subject a little easier to control, to make them open up – his own personal truth serum of sorts. 

In the parking lot, he ripped the passenger side door open and tossed her up into the passenger seat, slamming the door behind her. Circling the truck, climbing into the driver’s seat, he looked over at her, she’d already started to slump into her seat, her muscles were going soft, her head woozy. 

“You know, John and I have been talking about you?”

Her lids grew heavy, blinking slower, barely able to keep them open. “Really? How’s he doing?”

“On the mend, I’ll tell him you asked after him.”

She looked like she was about to turn green. “Please don’t.”

Jacob gave her a smirk. “He’s got you all wrong.”

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?”

“He says you’re full of wrath, that you kill indiscriminately. But you don’t. There’s an honor to what you do. You have rules, logic, motivations for why you kill. Sure, you enjoy the blood. But you don't go out seeking it, at least not at first. I know you kept some of our people alive, you could have killed them, wouldn't have even broken a sweat if you did. But you let them live anyway. You’re not some violent, mindless beast who simply lives to kill. No, you – you’re a force of nature. Doing what you were made to do. The balance between giving life and taking it.”

He could tell the glimmer effect the Bliss gave to someone’s vision was kicking in as she looked at him, her eyes unable to stay steady, not sure which version of him to focus on. She could barely keep her eyes open now, her head resting against the window to look at him.

“You sound like you’re in love.” Her voice became lower, her words slurring together, as the bliss tipped bullet was taking effect in her bloodstream. 

His eyes dragged sideways to glance at her. “I don't have time for that.”

Kit scoffed, “Who does? Asshole.”

The abrasions were starting to swell on her face to go along with the dark circles that swallowed her eyes as her eyelids finally became too heavy to open again, passing out in his truck.

And then, how about some Kit and Adelaide for funsies (cw: sexual references because this is Adelaide after all):

"So, did he have you in one of those cages?”

Kit could already guess where Adelaide's train of thought was going to be taking her. She'd already heard her musings on John and Faith, she assumed now was the time for Jacob. 

“Yes.” 

Adelaide met her with a coy smile. “What was that like?"

Kit turned her head to look at the pilot, her scowl deepened, she was sore and tired and in no mood. "If you're trying to imply -"

"Sweetie, I ain't implying, I'm straight up asking. I already know you and John had something going on between you two. Not that I could blame ya. So, how was big bro?"

"God." Kit rubbed at her forehead, focusing on the lines that formed between the furrow of her brow.

"You're telling me you didn't have any sort of feeling about being locked up and held to be used at his disposal?" Adelaide kept her eyes on the sky while lifting her brows, pretending this was a normal conversation, as if it were between two women at brunch.

Sighing heavily, Kit could feel the twinge of aggression the trials had left behind in her system and did her best to swallow it down. "Unlike you, I don't think with my pussy all day."

"Is that why that little vein in your forehead is always throbbin'? You might be a little happier if you cut loose every once and a while." The older woman shrugged her shoulder, and then played with the golden hoop in her ear. "I’m certainly not gonna judge if you go lookin’ for a little mountain man action. Hell, might as well give Eli a go too. Give that man a good scrub and a tug and he'd probably be yours forever."

"I might be happier if I didn't have to rely on you for the ride."

Adelaide chuckled to herself. "No, but really honey, what's Jacob Seed like?"

She was quiet, a little too quiet, she could feel her ears burn as Adelaide’s eyes focused on her. 

"He's cold, he’s cruel. He’s insane."

"So right up your alley then?" Adelaide shot her a smirk.

"Ha."

“Is he really as tall as they say he is?”

She thought back to her time in his office, having him looming over her, the length of his legs, the broadness of his shoulders, and the ratio of them to his waist. “He’s taller.”

“Oh yeah, you definitely don’t have your eye on him at all,” Adelaide said while rolling her eyes.

“Go fuck yourself.”

“I don’t have to. But I can recommend a good vibrator in case you’re in need, what with the new found kinks I'm sure you’ve discovered about yourself. You’re lucky that man’s part of a religious cult, just might save ya from getting mixed up with him.”

“I hardly think Jacob Seed is looking for a romantic partner. Let alone one in the Deputy who's been destroying everything his brother's built."

“Who said anything about romance, sweetheart? I’m talking about gettin’ down and dirty in the trenches, keeping things fast and loose.”

“Well I'm sure you’d know more about keeping things loose than I would.”

[kpopimagi]

A Flower Under The Rain [Part 2]

Characters: Baekhyun, Kyungsoo and Kang Gyuri (OC) Genre: Angst, Romance Au: Hanahaki!Au Type: Series Word count: 2667

It all began with a cough and then, a subtle sting in her chest. Kang Gyuri cried, knowing that in a matter of months, she would be another figure in the death toll of the most dangerous and cruelest outbreak in human history.

Part 1 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8-1

Baekhyun was there, and he had his arm around the waist of a woman. A girl, Gyuri was quick to correct herself because said girl couldn't be that much older than her, but somehow she looked a lot more like a woman than her.

She felt something shift inside her, tightening ever so softly around her heart, and her hand went straight to her chest, only to realize that she couldn't do anything against the sensation.

“I'm so sorry! You should have ordered something while you waited.” Baekhyun grumbled with a subtle and quite remorseful pout.

But none of those words, no matter how genuine they were, were registered by Gyuri. With her eyes locked in Baekhyun’s tight hold around the girl’s hand, and his delicate fingers intertwined through hers. That was everything her attention could see.

“By the way, this is...” Baekhyun started happily, letting the girl’s hand go to nudge her forward as if he'd decided Gyuri wasn't paying enough attention to what he was saying. “...Do you remember I told you, right? 

He didn't tell her. 

Gyuri merely stared at Baekhyun, racking her brain to remember if he ever said anything about any woman, and he didn't. He always made it feel like he confided in her, but she realized that was all a lie. 

He did not.

“She finally agreed to go out with me,” Baekhyun announced, smiling shyly and his cheeks turning rosy in an instant.

Everything inside her suddenly split up. A part of her was utterly mesmerized by the sight of his flushed face. She couldn't deny the bashful glint in his eyes as he admitted it. The other part, simply breaking apart. 

Her heart throbbed, and her eyes watered, but all those feelings were weak to the twist and churn her stomach did, that she had to cover her mouth, afraid of throwing up. The bodily response against the sight was so sudden, Gyuri had to close her eyes to keep herself together.

“Can you believe this girl?” Baekhyun kept on, either not paying attention to her reaction or not caring at all, “She says I'll annoy her to death.”

The back of her throat itched, making her cough instantly as if she was choking on something, and it didn’t matter how much Gyuri tried to clear it and stop the coughing fit; her stomach kept spasming until she felt something coming up. She began to breathe harder, almost wheezing because whatever it was, it was getting stuck in the middle of her esophagus, plugging her pipes and preventing her from getting more air into her lungs.

“Woah! Are you alright?” Baekhyun asked, finally forgetting about his whiny rant.

It didn’t help Gyuri though, hearing the genuine concern in his voice only made it worse. That question alone made her cough hard enough to gag, and she realized there was no hope. He cared. She might have irremediably fallen for him because he genuinely cared.

“There you are,” A deep, unwavering, and yet soft voice echoed amid her pain. “They forgot to pack your sandwich.”

In the blurriness of her tears, Gyuri saw a brown paper bag, which she recognized was for take-outs, getting placed in front of her, but it was the voice that stopped the fit for a fleeting moment. It wasn't just the gentleness of his voice but also how his manly hand landed straight against the middle of her back, rubbing steady circles that somehow managed to ease the cough.

Gyuri didn’t have to raise her eyes to know the ciabatta man was back, as she would never in a lifetime forget a voice like his, but she did anyway, and she found him there. It was the moment he kneeled next to her and to her eye level that stirred Baekhyun up from the surprise.

“Who the hell are you?” Baekhyun shot with a scowl.

“A friend.” Gyuri saw the man answer as she fixated on the movement of his mouth.

“She doesn't have any friends.” Her best friend defended. 

Gyuri closed her eyes again, feeling the piercing on her skin just about everywhere in her body, and amid the fogginess of her pain, she heard Baekhyun gasp at the hurtful meaning of his own words.

“I'm an asshole.” He added, and even if she couldn't even look at him, she knew he was talking directly to her. “You know that is not what I meant.”

“You’re an hour late, and we made plans.” The ciabatta man added.

His voice was steady and stripped of any emotion, and when Gyuri looked at him, he was back on his feet and offering her his hand. She didn't know what came over her nor why she did it, but she took his hand and held onto him for dear life.

Baekhyun gasped. 

Gyuri was sure she saw his eyes going wide in surprise for no other reason than she was holding the hand of a man that wasn't him, or her father. The frown that showed up on his features was unmistakable, and somehow, upsetting him made the pain even worse. The pressure thumping against her ribs was getting stronger with every second she stayed in his presence. 

Suddenly shivering, Gyuri coughed one more time and felt her skin getting covered in goosebumps. Wheezing and staggering as her surroundings shifted once again, she choked on something. 

“What the hell?” Gyuri whimpered as she spat out something slimy off her tongue.

She went still. For a split second, Gyuri thought she was choking on her own blood, but her eyes blurred with tears when she realized she had a single, bright red flower petal all smudged and stuck to her hand. 

Gyuri couldn't stop the certainty of her fate take over and crush her. She lost all strength and collapsed, but a strong arm was around her just as fast and supporting her as she moved forward. The pain creeping its way through her body was so sudden and so sharp, it made her gag again, and not even when she clasped her hand over her mouth was enough to stop the ample flow of nauseating beauty that came out off her.

The arm secured around her body managed to lead her to a lonely alley and held her trembling figure as she convulsed over a corner, throwing up and choking on the beautiful bright red flower petals.

“Don’t fight back.” He whispered.

The authority and confidence in his voice had no room for discussion, and her body followed the instruction of its own will, and she was suddenly limp in his arms as the flowers kept on overflowing from her mouth to all the surface of the floor.

What happened at the restaurant was all blurry in Gyuri's mind, and she couldn't certainly tell how long it had been since then. All she knew was that she was crying as silently as one could, that she wished someone could just rip her heart out and that she felt beyond embarrassed that someone might see her in that state.

She didn't allow her mind to wander farther away from those thoughts and focused herself on the ciabatta man, on the tight hold of his arm around her waist that kept her together in one piece, the fact that he never let her go and that he was leading her somewhere.

It was after a long while when Gyuri regained control of herself and was aware of her surroundings. She was seated on a park bench with her knees up to her chest. She'd stopped crying at some point, and the man was still there. 

He had his hands on his lap and was just as silent as she was breaking down. Not prying into anything, he just sat there, seemingly enjoying the fresh air. He would steal a few glances at her every once in a while, and when she coincidentally met his gaze, he finally moved to open up a plastic bag and bring out a water bottle and wet wipes.  

By just seeing him place the items in the gap between them made Gyuri realize how disgusting she felt. She was suddenly aware of how thirsty she was, how irritated her throat felt, and how gross the overpowering sweet aftertaste of the flower petals was that she had her stomach churn once again. As if he could read her mind, he opened the water and wet wipes for her.

Once she concentrated on rinsing the aftertaste off her mouth and cleaned her tear-stricken face, she realized where she was exactly. The man brought her there, but little did he know. That particular place was like another cruel nail piercing through her heart. 

That was one of Baekhyun’s favorite parks. He usually dragged her up there every once in a while to walk and exercise. Of course, they never exercised as intended, but the conversations they had there were the ones Gyuri remembered the most.

“What are your plans for the future?” He asked one day as they walked side by side. “I've been meaning to ask you for a while now.”

A new set of tears fell down her eyes at the memory. Back then, she was proud of her confident reply and the hopeful list of all the things she wanted to do. The picture looked way somber now. Suddenly, all of her plans seemed tiny and ridiculous, but that wasn’t what he thought then.

“As expected, my lovely Gyuri is the one with everything sorted out,” Baekhyun said, letting out a sigh. “I want to be like you when I grow up.”

A new wave of commotion invaded her when she remembered that day. She could feel, all over again, how proud and weirdly happy she felt hours later when Baekhyun dropped her back at home; of course not before spending a couple of hours more seated in his car, just talking about their lives and their hopes in the future.

Her cell phone buzzing in her pocket brought her attention back to the gloomy park, and when she fished the device out and unlocked it, she found several missed calls and a few unread messages, all from Baekhyun.

In one text, he demanded to know what happened. In another one, he kindly asked her to explain if she left because she was upset with him. In the third one, he only asked if he did anything wrong, and finally, the last one was a short apology. He didn’t mention what exactly he was apologizing for, but the apology was there.

“That's the problem.” She muttered to the man sitting next to her, while the one that had her heart in a twist; practically nagged her through the screen of her phone. “He does care.”

“Is he worth it though?”

Gyuri’s head snapped up to look at the ciabatta man. The harsh tone didn’t match the selfless care in which he had been helping her out, but the seriousness in his expression was as clear as water. Was Baekhyun worth her life?

She didn't know the answer to that. The ciabatta man talked about letting her life and aspirations slip right between her fingers because of a man. Apparently, she loved that man enough to be the case, but she wasn't entirely sure. Dying for a beloved one seemed like the epitome of romanticism, but now that the threat was real, she didn't feel that fond of the idea.

Just like he had been doing before, the ciabatta man didn’t pry any further. The two of them stayed in heavy silence as people around them, unaware of the tragedy of her situation, kept walking around, drinking coffees, holding hands, running with their pets, and laughing as if the world wasn’t falling apart.

“Why are you reading this?” The man asked after a while, pulling her new book out of the bag.

Gyuri shrugged. It seemed lame to her to accept that she hoped to find an answer in D.O.’s words, so she just stayed quiet as the ciabatta man read the back of the book with a furrowed crease on his thick brows and a sort of annoyance that was interesting. It picked her interest, but she wasn’t brave enough to dig into that. Knowing that particular piece of information felt too personal for her to ask, even if he had already seen her in the worst situation possible, so she went for something she felt the right to know, like the true motivation behind his help.

“Why are you helping me?” She asked instead, studying the perfect profile of the man, “We are strangers.”

The truth behind her own words hit her like a brick. They were strangers. She never talked to strangers. She didn't even know his name, and she was talking to him. Stuff like that never really happened before, at least not if Baekhyun wasn't around.

Realizing her new situation, she felt her throat clasping, and she opened her mouth to soften the blow of her rude question, but what came out of her was nothing but a soft screeching sound like it always happened when her anxiousness got to the best of her. At least the sound was loud enough to catch his attention.

“Are you alright?” He asked, looking at her with a renewed interest.

She nodded, and even though he didn’t look convinced and hesitated for a second, the man nodded and diverted his gaze away. Gyuri found the consideration having a weird effect on her, and her throat relaxed in response almost instantly.

“You don't seem like the type of person that deserves this kind of pain.” He added, bringing a pen out of his coat.

A fancy pen, Gyuri recognized, just as fancy as his coat and the overall bearings of the man, and she just observed him open the book and scribble something down.

“My phone number.” He said as he closed the book and put it back in its bag.

Gyuri blinked at the book store's bag when he gave it back to her, and for an instant, she wanted to hold his hand again. She felt the urge to reach unto the safety and steadiness of his warm skin.

“You can call me if you ever have a hard time with this.” He continued, letting the bag go and standing up, ready to leave. “As I said, I know the feeling.”

Gyuri wished she could speak freely to him and couldn't do anything else but stare at him, waiting for him to take the hint that she was listening. Gladly, he seemed to be smart enough to read between the lines of her silence and, more importantly, to be willing to oblige, even for a second.

“She was a schoolmate,” he started, “but of course, she liked someone else.”

The ciabatta man said with a shrug, looking like he gave up a long time ago, and there was nothing Gyuri could say about it. Unreciprocated love was all the same to everyone. You loved someone that didn’t love you back, and that was it. There wasn’t anything intricate about it. It didn’t matter who you were, the cause was the same. The outcome was still also the same, and the heaviness of that notion squeezed her heart just at the same time as the ciabatta man turned around to walk away.

“I’m scared.” She sobbed, reaching out for him and grabbing his hand, stopping him from leaving, “Aren't you scared of dying?” 

Gyuri felt herself breaking down again as tears rolled down her face, and the pain stinging in her chest pulsed with every emotion. She was at a loss of anything to hold into for safety. Other than his warm and soft hand, she had no other option but to plead to him for an answer.

“How are you not scared?” She asked.

“I was," he replied, putting his hand on top of hers, " I was scared six years ago.”

[deepsoulzinefreak]

Here’s a kobylu thing because I’m bored and need so kind of dopamine rush

Cobylu Au: Monkey D. Ace

A child’s fate hang in times hand

“AAAAAHHHHHHH!”

It was a warm spring midday, when a loud crash was here on the deck, smoke covered whatever it was. Some of the crew prepared for battle, as coughing could be heard. The smoke clearing around the ‘thing’ the crew were about to jump into action, there stood a kid?

“Okay…what the hell?” Nami said putting away her staff and walking up to the kid, but suddenly the kid threw a right hook, which she narrowly dodged, the force of which felt like the air itself was trying to knock her out, it’s fast yet familiar…? “Stay away!! you-you jerk!” The kid said with a look of panic in their eyes.

“…”

Seconds felt like hours as the kid realized who they had almost hit. “Auntie Nami???!????” The kid screamed, falling to the floor and scooting away from her. “I’m so so so so sorry!!” The kid starting to tear up, bowing down as soon as possible. A loud crash is heard as the force of the bow made their head accidentally make a small hole on the deck. “Oops…?” The kid said scooting back a little further.

Their notable pink hair striking against the white shirt and blue shorts they were wearing. “I didn’t know how far I skipped back or forward!” The kid lifting up their head revealing big hazel-brownish eyes and teal ascot around his neck. The kid had major baby face so it was kinda hard to pin point their age. ‘Pink hair…?’ Luffy thought. “Wait…Auntie?!” Nami said in a slightly shrill voice.

Another look of realization hits their face as they stand back up. Looking puzzled, they started to circle Luffy. It took a few moments before the kid piped up again. “Wait…what do you think about papa?” The kid asks with suspicion in their eye. The hell do they mean ‘papa’ Nami thought. Robin looking on with amusement clear as day on her face. “…How should I know???” Nami yelled, confused at the kid’s words. she doesn’t even know the kid, why would she know or care? With a smirk the kid flipped into the air, landing on a standing barrel. Stumbling slightly before gain back their balance.

“I am Monkey D. Ace and I’m gonna be the best marine in the whole world!!!” The kid screamed at the top of their lungs. “And one day I’m gonna surpass my dad, the king of the pirates, Monkey D. Luffy!!” The kid then jumped down and sniffs the air. getting a look only one family is known for. ‘Oh my it really is Luffy’s’ Robin thought, containing a giggle that was surfacing.

“…”

The crew just staring at them. ‘There’s no way in hell that Luffy know how to even make a kid’ most of the crew thought. “…So…y’got any grub? I’m hungry as heck!” Ace said with a smile wider than a bus. ’Oh my god that’s definitely Luffy’s’ Franky thought. He was about to ask a question to the kid but-

“Huhhhhhh?????????” Luffy said with a shout, whipping right by the kid. “I’m your WHAT?????” The kid shuffling back a few steps. He opens with a sigh.

“Wow, I knew you were dumb back then but I didn’t know you were this dumb”

“That doesn’t answer my question kid?!”

“You’re my dad…does that answer it?”

“Ummmm, but I don’t have a kid???”

“You do in the future”

“Oh…ok then”

Huhhhhhh??????

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN ‘OK THEN’ YOU ROCKS FOR BRAIN???!!!??” Nami said with anger in her eyes, hitting Luffy over the head. The ki-no Ace hit the deck and sought cover from Nami’s fury. Trying to sneak away Ace crawls right into Zoro’s shoes, finding a sword in their face. Ace pinching their nose ‘Oh right I forgot that uncle really didn’t like taking baths back in the day’

“Woah there uncle Zoro, you need to chill” Ace said nervously. “Uncle? Kid I don’t even know who you are” Zoro said an unreadable look in his eyes. “Wow…ok then…your not gonna be my favorite uncle anymore! How’s that!”

Ace standing up through not even coming up to zoro’s waist they sucker punching him where the sun don’t shine. Zoro falling over, Ace making a run for the kitchen. “Chi chi chi chi~ that what you get for underestimating me!” They said sticking their tongue out.

“That littl-“ just then sanji kicked the kitchen door open “Nami-swan~, Robin-chan~ I have new drinks I’d love for you to try~!!” He said in a loverboy daze. “Too slow auntie sanji!!” Ace dart straight for the fridge, opening heaven itself, but before they could start raiding the fridge—

BONK!!

“Ace…since you have these new powers we should really need some kind of code so you know when you are..”

“Don’t worry about it papa! I’m tough and smart enough to know what to do!”

“I know sweetheart but I feel better just in case, please for me?”

“Hmmmm…fine…”

The pink hair man whisper as Ace laugh. His smile is making the kid think that putting up with his paranoia worth it. A door slams as the dark haired man comes in with a few desserts already half-eaten. Ace would kill to have this last forever.

Coming back to their senses, Ace strains against the rope the were now tie up with. “So the little shits awake” said the voice who they recognized as zoro’s voice. They slowly opened their eyes seeing all of the strawhats looking down on them. A tear slips by without his consent. ‘Man I missed them already…it hasn’t even been that long’ Ace thinks then chastising themself for it. ‘How can I get out of this mess…’

‘Well shit…I guess I have to use plan 5d’ Ace thought, biting their lips, they sniffle “WAAAHHHHHHH!!! I WANT MY DADDY!!!” The (totally) fake tears falling down their face. “I DON’T KNOW YOU PEOPLE!!!!!! WAHHH!!!! HELP ME ANYONE!!!!!!” Usopp just tsked. He facepalms and gets on the kid’s level. His stare is stern yet kind, it reminds Ace of their papa.

“Give it up kid, that won’t work on us, so might as well give up” and not second later Ace stoped crying and just stared at Usopp. “You were always too good at seeing through my fake crying uncle Usopp” Ace said pouting. ‘And definitely only that and not the fact that uncle was always super kind and awesome’ Ace thinks to themself.

“Ok Usopp do your liar magic” Nami said with a sigh. She already too tired for this, one day where everything was gonna to be peaceful and pleasant. She even got Luffy to calm down for the day with meat, begging, and promises that she wasn’t planning on keeping. Usopp cleared his throat.

“Ok kid tell us your name”

“Ugh! You guys really don’t listen, huh??!! My names Monkey D. Ace! The future best marine in the world!!”

“Hmm, Ok how old are you Ace?”

“I’m seven but don’t underestimate me or else!!”

“…Who is your dad Ace?”

“Ughhhhhhh, I told you guys! It’s Luffy”

“Ok, last question…how are you here?”

“I ate the time time fruit and accidentally shot too far in the past…I just wanted to eat breakfast again”

“Okay…well if you need me I’ll be laying down” Usopp said in a weird daze trying to get to the barracks. ”Oh no you don’t! Where do you think your going?” Sanji said.

“Tell the kid to stop lying!!” He was clearly annoyed. “I can’t cause they aren’t lying” Usopp stated, looking in the middle of a internal conflict. “You guys think I would lie about this!?” There’s no way in hell!!” Ace was offended by the statement.

“Well…I knew that uncle Usopp was the smartest out of all of you but still…” Ace said even more annoyed than sanji. Robin giggled at the statement. “Oh are we now? Please enlighten us on what we don’t know little one”

They smiled wide with a hardy laugh to follow “Wow dad was right about you uncle robin…you’re so strange!” Ace smiles wider as the crew heard a snap of the rope.

“This is why papa says that all of the strawhats were weird! Chi chi chi chi~” the kid still sitting down on the floor. “You guys tied up a random kid because they were ‘suspicious’” Ace barley keeping their laughter under raps.

“Oi! How dare you call this beautiful lady weird! I punt you space you little devil!!” Sanji said his annoyance turning to anger. “Calm down auntie Sanji don’t worry about them…honestly I thought you’d be more insulted that I called uncle zoro over weird~” Ace trying to see how much they could push.

“…Why would care?????” Sanji questioned. “Cuz auntie you and him are marrie-oh shoot I shouldn’t have said that…forget about all of that will you?” Ace internally facepalming themselves. “Oh that’s Luffy’s alright..” Nami finally saying with a sigh.

Meanwhile, both Sanji and Zoro are in shock as still as a stone. Ace stands up and walks over to Nami. “Auntie Nami can I please have some food? I’m so so super hungry!!” And Just like that, a sleeping Luffy has awaken from his little nap.

“Food?! I’m super hungry!!”

“You and me both dad!”

“Sanji!! Cook us something quick!!”

“Ya auntie!!”

“…”

“…fine”

Sanji just sighed getting up and heading to the kitchen but stopping and turned with a serious look on his face starring in to Ace’s eyes. “If you really are from the future, tell me this and tell it loud…” he pauses to take a drag from his cigarette. “So….who is it?” Ace stares blankly.

“Who is what?” Taking another drag he yells. “WHO IS THE LOVELY LADY THAT THIS LUCKY BASTARD GETS WITH!!” Pointing to Luffy how was currently trying to drag Sanji in to the kitchen so he could start cooking.

“I d-don’t know…?” Ace said looking away and puffing out their cheeks. ‘Oh my god it really is Luffy’s kid…’ Everyone internally facepalming as the thought enters their minds like a car crashing into a signpost. “Ugh ‘I don’t know’ my ass kid!!” Sanji firm in place, looking like he was about to explode.

“I can’t tell or it might hurt the future!!!” Ace said smiling, looking on the verge of laughter. “WHAT DO YOU MEAN HURT THE FUTURE YOU LITTLE SHIT?!” Sanji’s eyes flamed with rage.

[dahliarosebud]

- Bucky Barnes x Reader

• Angst

• MAIN-MASTER-LIST

Warnings: mentions of depression. mentions of grief induced hallucinations, mentions of family death

Synopsis: As you lie on your death bed you speak to Bucky. It’s been a long time coming and all you’ve wanted was to be reunited with your family and love, to feel whole again. You’re lonely, but not for much longer. You get to be with him again. Well you thought so.

———————

I sighed as I looked at the white walls. So bleak and bland is life with out you my love. I’m surrounded by the same walls all day as tumours chew me up on the inside. Bed ridded for so long I forgot how long it has been, but I would never forget your face. Or your hair, laugh, eyes.

If you saw me now you would be disappointed. Frail and old. Withered and dying. I lie in my bed with heart ache, but they don’t have any medication for that. I’m long past saving now. I can’t, won’t move on.

I only have one visitor. Steve. He cares for me and pays for my medical bills. You should see him now James, not aged a day. Handsome thing now he is. Never as handsome as you though my love.

My pale skin would shock you. Thin hands, thin face. Raspy breath and hoarse voice. I’m not as beautiful as I was back then. I still cry when I think about you. The way you would hold and kissed me.

I could never love anyone the way I loved...love you. I never stopped. I never married. Never allowed myself the depriving sense of falling in love with another because I would be lying. Lying to myself and them. How could I love anyone the way I loved you?

I still wear the locket you gave me, The picture Steve had taken. We look so happy. We look young. We look in love. I closed my eyes feeling the sorrowful tears. I’m used to it now, its a daily occurrence. 

At first it was lack of sleep - a few hours at most. The no sleep at all. Then I couldn’t eat, or drink. That’s when the hallucinations kicked in. I would see you. Speak to you. Feel you. You were there to pick me up when my parents died, but when you were gone that comfort went with you.

Finally my sister found me. Collapsed. On the floor of my apartment, said I was speaking to myself until I finally lost consciousness.  Do you remember Annabella? My sister. God when she was younger she used to be in love with you. I mean who could blame her.

She was married, had a few kids. They died. Every single one of them. Car crash. I outlived everyone. My curse. Cursed with life. How ridiculous. I laughed, wheezing out painful coughs that rattled in my chest and squeezed my lungs.

I can hear them speaking about me. They are just muffled and everything is blurred. It used to scare me ,but now I find it comforting. I don’t want to watch the world grow as I age. Not with out you.

“How is she?” Steve asked stood in the door way. Hands on his hips looking between Y/n and the doctor. 

“She will be gone in the week sir,” she said softly looking down. The never aging man looked down, sighing through his nose. He chewed the inside of his cheek. He only just lost Peggy and now you too?

The doctors hand clamped down on his shoulder, jostling his body, “I’m sorry  Mr Rodgers” A trained, tired smile on his face. The blonde man nodded looking up at the doctor. A flimsy, wavering smile plastered on his face.

He exhaled through his nose once the doctor left. Making slow foot steps to your bedside. He watched the way you ran your thumb up and down the gold dainty chain. He stared back at yours and Bucky’s smiling faces. He listened to your soft delirious whispers.

You’ve been talking to yourself for a couple of days now. Steve remembers the way your body had rattled the bed after you seizure. The way he had a sickening lump wedged into his throat as he was pushed out of the room.

He put his hand on your arm. Rubbing your frail skin with his thumb. His eyebrows creased as he felt your weak pulse. It was selfish of him to expect you to stay. Especially after everything.

I’ll be joining you soon I should think James. You promise you will take me to see everyone right? In all honesty my time has been long overdue. I’ve over stayed my welcome on this earth.

A little piece of me had died with my parents, then you, then my sister. I have nothing left to give. What, who is there to live for? I’ll be with you very soon my love, just wait a bit longer.

[wheretheresaway-theresawilliam]

Chapter 30: Reunion

Word Count: 973

TWs: Injury mention, blood mentions, bullying mentions, emeto mention

⛤⛤⛤

“What have you brought?” The Marionette asked as Michael opened his bag.

“The key to your living memories, or so I hope. And another step closer to getting justice for the slain.” He lifted the photograph out of the bag and covered the faces of Margarete, himself, Elizabeth, and Evan with his hands, leaving William’s exposed to the haunted animatronic before him. “Do you recognise this face?”

The animatronic's chest heaved with emotion, though of course it couldn't and didn't need to breathe. “My father's business partner…”

Michael's breath shallowed. “Charlie?”

It looked up from the photo and briefly rose, as if to lunge at Michael, then paused. “They’re going to think you’re him if they see this.”

He felt strangled. “Do I really look so much like William?!”

“Especially after he lost weight… you two could be brothers, let alone father and son. I almost lost myself to rage just looking between you and this photograph, but then I remembered. The others won't be so conscious.”

He dropped the picture into his bag, unable to suppress the angry tears pricking his eyes. “God- fucking- dammit!” He punctuated each word by punching the bag, wincing when the glass protecting the photo shattered and pricked him through the material, slicing up his knuckles. “I’ll never be able to distance myself from him because of this fucking face!”

As he stood there, leaning against the prize counter and sniffling, the Marionette calmly climbed out of its box and briefly slipped away. When it returned, it carried a first aid kit with it. It climbed up onto the counter and began bandaging Michael’s hand.

“Have you repented?”

“Huh…?”

“All the pain you caused as a teenager, do you regret it? Do you want to be a better person?”

“Of course I do…” He rubbed his eyes with his other hand, hissing at how the bandages stung against his wounds.

“Then you’re nothing like your father, Michael. I overheard from past guards that more children have gone missing.”

He nodded. “That’s right… he made a new place. Circus Baby’s Pizza World. Dedicated to my sister…”

“Elizabeth. She survives.”

He nodded again. “Oh yeah, and still clinging to William’s pantlegs… completely oblivious.”

“What of my father?”

He swallowed and reluctantly told her. The Marionette hung its head in sorrow, dropping Michael’s hand. “He made the vessel I inhabit now to protect me. He didn’t know it was William, but he knew the killer was closer to home than was comfortable.” It paused. “Somehow, I remember… how we became one. I can see my body from the Marionette’s perspective. It dug me out from behind the dumpsters. And then I was the Marionette, able to control its body with my own thoughts. I didn’t know what else to do, so I went back inside the restaurant, through an open window. That’s when I found the others.”

Michael focused on his breathing, flexing his cut-up fingers, watching the blood colour the tan fabric. “Speaking of which… why haven’t they bothered me since we started talking?”

“Who knows. They’re easily distracted. They probably forgot you were even here, since you haven’t really been going into the office.”

“Charlie, do you know what’s in the backroom?”

She shook its head.

“Can you cover for me while I check? I need… solid evidence. I don’t think memories of a ghost count.”

“I can try.”

He nodded, rubbed his eyes again, then took a deep breath as he retrieved his hammer and went back to the door of the backroom. When he was sure Charlie had gathered the others in the arcade, he began bashing the doorknob until it broke loose from the door. He then stepped back a bit before forcing all of his weight against it, finally popping it open. He scrambled to turn on the light, beginning to cough as the horrible smell of sulphur filled his nostrils.

“Holy shit--!” He couldn’t help but exclaim as he stared at the broken, rotting body of FredBear, its mouth still coated in age-old blood. He stumbled against the wall as his head began to ache, visions flashing before him.

Michael, Michael, why did you kill me Michael, why have you come back to this place, why did you kill me, why wHY WHY

“Evan???”

Michael I’m so cold, why did you kill me, why did you hate me Michael, what did I ever do to you, WHY HATE ME WHY HATE ME

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to kill you!”

HATED ME HATED ME

“Yes, I hated you!” Michael groaned as he tried to remain upright. “But not as much as I hated William! As much as I hated myself! I just… needed an outlet… hurting people who were smaller than me was the best relief I could get…”

Hated me… Hated me…

“I’m sorry! I mean it… Evan… our father is a horrible, horrible man… it’s his fault that I was the way I was, and it’s my fault you are the way you are now… but I want to help… I want to make everything seem warm and kind for once. Oh, Evan, I put you through so much Hell…”

Michael

“Please… find it in your heart to forgive me… I’m sorry…” Michael had wrapped his arms around his head, trying to hide from the words swirling around in his mind and the angry spirit swimming before his vision.

Save us

“I will… I will…” The pain and fog began to subside as he panted, backing toward the doorway. He blinked hard.

Look inside

“Inside where…??”

Inside

He gasped, fighting off nausea. “I’ll look… I’ll look… ugh… I’m going to close the door now…” He fumbled with the edge of it before pulling it mostly closed. Sweat drenched his clothes as he leaned against the wall, catching his breath. “Fuck me…”

[actual-lea]

oops I meant to post this yesterday and completely forgot

AO3 | First chapter | Previous chapter

Daniel stares at the ceiling in stunned silence. The back of his head is throbbing, now, from hitting the floor, and the air has been forcibly knocked from his lungs and replaced by an uncomfortably heavy pressure on his chest. It doesn't hurt, exactly; at least, not yet.

He starts to lift his head but quickly drops it again with a groan, squeezing his eyes shut and placing a hand over his thudding heart. He's almost surprised to find his ribcage hasn't been caved in completely, that the bullet didn’t punch right through the vest, through fabric and skin and muscle and bone, that there isn't any blood soaking his clothes.

He opens his eyes to see Sayid standing over him, gun in hand, and adrenaline forces him to scramble away, as much as he can when every movement hurts like an ice pick to his chest. “Sayid,” he gasps out, pressing his back to the wall, “What are you–”

“Keep quiet and don't move,” Sayid orders in a low, deadly calm voice, and Dan falls into a terrified silence. “Do you know why I'm here?”

He blinks, his eyes locked onto the end of the gun. The attached suppressor isn’t there for intimidation; no, this is a weapon meant solely for killing.

“Do you know why I am here?” Sayid repeats, more forcefully, stepping closer and kicking aside the bag Daniel had dropped.

“N-no, no, I'm sorry, I don't, I'm–” He shakes his head. “I– I don't understand–”

“For a long time now, I've been tracking down the men who work for Charles Widmore,” Sayid says, and Dan's blood turns to ice. “These are bad men. Dangerous men. And so I've been finding them, and killing them. All of them.” A pause. “That’s why I’ve come to Los Angeles, to find the next man on my list.”

Daniel's pulse pounds in his ears and he shrinks back, holding out a hand. “Wait–”

“When your name came up, I thought it must be a mistake. After all, the last time I saw you, it was after you had nearly drowned trying to save a stranger's life.” Sayid kneels beside him. “I would like to believe that you’re a good person, Daniel Faraday. That you have a good reason for whatever you've done. And that's why I'm giving you a chance to convince me.”

“But you just–” Daniel's breath catches in his throat; he coughs, once, and nearly faints outright. “You shot me,” he wheezes, clutching his chest.

“But you're wearing a vest,” Sayid states, and he reaches forward to tug at the black fabric peeking out from beneath Dan's collar. “And so I haven't killed you.”

The unspoken yet hangs in the air between them, and Daniel shifts his weight with a wince. “How... How am I s'posed to convince–”

“You can start by telling me how long you've been on Widmore's payroll.”

He shakes his head. “It– It's not like that, I'm not–” Sayid shoots him a glare that silences him; he'll just stick to the basics, then. “It was a couple years ago, uh... October. 2005.”

Sayid's eyes flash. “When in October?”

“I don't...” He blinks back tears, panting a bit. “Um, the end, I think. What–” Then he realizes what he's being asked and shakes his head, horrified. “Sayid, you don't think I was involved with– with what happened to...”

“Nadia,” Sayid breathes. “Her name was Nadia.” There's a dangerous edge in his voice as he leans closer. “Were you?”

“No,” he replies, so forcefully that it hurts. “I swear to you, I had nothing to do with that. I wouldn't.”

After a long, long silence, broken only by Dan's shallow, shaky breathing, Sayid slowly nods. “So, what did you do for Widmore?”

Daniel swallows against the lump in his throat. “He...recruited me, to find his daughter. Penelope.”

“Find her?”

“After we left the island, he didn't know where she was, and...” He shifts his weight and winces again. “I guess, he thought she was in danger, somehow, so he made me track her down.”

“Why you?”

“Because...” He exhales. “He knew that Penny would be wherever Desmond was.”

“I'm not sure I understand.”

“Yeah. Me neither,” he says with something between a laugh and a groan. “Uh, Desmond is... I have a sort of... A connection, to him.”

“What do you mean, 'connection'?”

“It's– Well, it's a bit...complicated, to explain, but...” Dan clears his throat with a grimace. “Details aside, Widmore knew about it, and knew that I would be able to find him.”

“And it never occurred to you that this pretense of protecting his daughter might be a lie?” Sayid says with a frown. “That perhaps he was tying up loose ends, and that Desmond was the real target he was interested in?”

“No, it– It did occur to me, but I...” He swallows, and nods, squeezing his eyes shut. “It did, yeah.”

“And did you find them?”

“Yes.”

Sayid looks dismayed. “Why?”

“He didn't... Widmore didn't give me a choice,” Dan gasps, barely above a whisper.

“What did he offer you?”

“Nothing, he–” He bites back a curse as Sayid's hand twists in his collar, pulling him closer.

“Did he threaten you, then? Tell you that this was the only way to save your life?”

“N-no, it's not–”

“Then what is it?” He jabs the end of the gun into Dan's neck. “What was it that made you decide to help this man, that you knew to be dangerous?”

Daniel chokes on a sob. “Sayid, please–”

“What was it?”

“He threatened someone else,” he says in a rush, his voice breaking. “Someone that I– That isn't even involved in any of this, and if I don't do what he says, he'll...” He shakes his head. “God, I don't even know what he'll do, but it won't be good, and that's why I– I have to cooperate, because if I don't, if I run, if I try to do anything...”

Sayid stares at him in silence.

He's no longer speaking in past tense, he realizes suddenly. “He'll find me again,” he explains quietly. “Sooner or later.”

“Why, Daniel?” The pressure on the gun eases, just a bit, but it doesn't move. “What more does he want from you?”

“I've...been...” He shuts his eyes tight. “I've been trying to find the island.”

Sayid releases his hold on Dan’s collar, letting him slump back against the wall.

He takes a deep, painful breath and continues, “To– to figure out where it is now, based on...a lot of really complicated theories, about what exactly happened when it moved.” He wraps an arm around his chest. “Because I'm, you know, I'm a physicist, this is... It's what I do,” he adds with a helpless shrug.

“And Widmore?”

“And Widmore...” He swallows, hard, and looks down. “He's trying to find the island, too, so...”

“So he'll have you find it for him.”

“That's...what I'm afraid of, yeah,” he whispers.

Sayid exhales heavily. “This person that he threatened. What’s her name?”

Dan winces. “Theresa.”

“Where is she?”

“W-why does it matter?”

“The sooner you answer my questions, the sooner this will be over.”

A shiver rolls up his spine as he contemplates the meaning of the word over. “Oxford. She… Her sister takes care of her, they live in Oxford.”

Sayid is silent for a few seconds. “And you can't take them somewhere else, keep them safe from Widmore?”

“No, I can't.”

“Why can't you?”

“Because I can't keep anyone safe! That's why I–” A fresh stab of pain in his chest forces Daniel to suck in a sharp breath and start over. “That's why I have to find the island before he does, because everyone that we left behind, they're still...” His voice shakes. “They're all in danger, as long as they're still there. As long as he's still looking.”

“And what if your finding the island is exactly what he wants?” Sayid says. “You could be playing right into his hands.”

“Not if he doesn’t know where I am.”

At that, he stands up to his full height. “Then he can’t be allowed to find you,” he states. “You need to disappear.” His voice would be gentle, almost, if it weren't for the gun in his hand.

Daniel watches him with wide eyes, feeling small and helpless and far too terrified to be ashamed of the way he cowers against the wall.

And then, inexplicably, Sayid pockets the gun and walks away. He lifts the phone off the nightstand and places it on the floor, and he says, softly, “Wherever you were hiding, go back there.”

Dan blinks. “You’re not…gonna kill me?”

Sayid shakes his head, and relief floods Daniel’s chest around the pain. “I’m going to disappear, too.” He nods to the phone. “Wait five minutes before you call for help.”

“Okay,” he gasps, nodding vigorously. “Yeah. Okay.” He lets his head fall back against the wall as Sayid heads for the door.

He opens it, then pauses. “For what it's worth, I'm sorry.”

“Thanks,” Daniel says, and he means it.

With a final nod, Sayid shuts the door behind him.

(next chapter)

[avintageabyss]

I claw fistfuls of dirt from where I am buried. I pray it’s not too deep.

The left arm feels heavy, half dead. I am all dead. I don’t think about it. I dig long, scraped fingers frantically into the soil, darkness taunting. It is the last chance. The only chance.

I didn’t know a ribcage could forget how a heartbeat feels. It hurts. It might be for other reasons, but the power burning in the back of my neck threatens to go out. Time sprints from me. I have to breathe. I have to dig. I will dig. A years-old mantra carves its way through my brain. It will work. I will do it. Parts of me must be broken. I don’t know which. There was no breath in my lungs when I awoke, and my chest hurts. I forget panic. I forget fear. I dig.

A finger breaks into the cold. Strength surges painfully through my spine, my limbs, and I force my arms upwards, feeling my prison give way in heavy chunks.

Air.

I cough out a mouthful of dirt. My chest screams, and I force it to remember how to inhale. It’s worse. So much worse. My eyes will not open. I focus. I make them.

She buried me in the courtyard.

Fool.

___

It felt so long ago, and Cole-Burn looked far smaller than he once was. This meant very little, because I was a dragon, and he was a tired mess of armor slouched against my leg.

I gave him wine. I offered other things, tributes useless to me from a time long before, but the wine is what he took. He poured himself a glass. Time ran short. He drank.

“This is a good one,” he said, and I turned my head. “Aged well.”

“You don’t like wine.” And never had. An ache haunted my chest. A memory. “I’m sorry the ale doesn’t keep.”

“It’s growing onto me.” The firelight cast a grim truth across his shoulders. Dirt, mud, ash. “I’m grateful. You don’t sound well, Ka… K-K—”

His voice faded. He stared into his glass. Frustratingly, comfortingly foolish, even as magic strangled the words away. I imagined I grew a new scale every time I forced an emotion down into my chest, stronger, hardier, giving it escape where I couldn’t. I imagined the weight in my eye growing weaker. I must be unchanging. I must be a friend.

“Beast,” he mumbled, pained. “Your voice. Are you hurt, still?”

“Hardly at all.” His shoulders relaxed, just enough to notice. “Do not fear hurting me.”

The wrinkles at the edges of his mouth deepened. The shadow of a beard obscured them, the scars defined them. He still grimaced much like he did when he was young. Old arguments haunted us still, but I drew myself up all the same. A beast, as She said. As if I was immortal. As if I never feared the sword on his belt.

“I fear it more than many things,” he said softly. “And the list grows long.”

He raised the glass. It swirled in the torchlight, deep red.

“I can pour you some.” His hand lowered. “K… beast. Would you like it?”

“I cannot taste it.”

“You used to.”

“Not like this.” I rested my claws, one atop the other. “She killed that part.”

He knew. Once. But he forgot more and more as the days dragged on, and I couldn’t blame him.

The wine glass shattered to the floor.

I stayed. Cole-Burn’s body bent over, slowly, and he put his hands to the ground, not quite avoiding the aftermath as I heard it. The seconds, the buzzing. He grabbed his helmet, abruptly and fearfully, like a marionette.

“Beast,” he said. He stood. His body turned towards me, and I saw it in his eyes—a light, distant and hateful as his face turned grey. Years of laughter and tears fought against a cold, dark mist taking him from inside, taking him from miles away. His face disappeared into beaten metal. “Do not let me kill you. I beg.”

“You couldn’t,” I said, as if it was true, and I watched all the warmth drain from his face. His sword pulled free. A thousand pounds of invisible weight overcame my legs, wishing, not wanting to stand. I forced them anyway.

He was so small, as humans are. As if I could break him by sighing, so much so that I caught my lungs keeping my breath. I wondered if I could hold him in my claws harmlessly, like a butterfly, but I knew better. I had seen what the magic will do to him to bend him into the bleak shape of the Knight. I wanted him to survive.

“To the void with you,” came the voice, and everything was gone, his heart, his soul. “Foulest beast of the people’s mountain.”

“Until tomorrow,” I replied, and flooded my cave with smoke.

----

The courtyard is full of thorns and briars. It takes hardly any time for me to realize my legs work. It’s a miracle. Possibly literally, the magic within me leaving a burn in my limbs I can’t ignore.

It was beautiful here, once.

The vines. My legs move heavily, one step at a time. They’re everywhere, winding and covered with thorns, uprooting the overgrown topiaries that he had once loved so much.

It leaves a different sort of burning in the back of my throat. The castle rises above me, my eyes focusing in the dark. I imagine another scale of fury growing. I remember I have none.

The stone walls fare no better. I reach out, palm first, slipping my fingers between the invasive, trunk-like growths, finding the space where the door used to be. Intact. If only the wood had rotted. It would make things so much easier.

“Fine, then.” My own voice almost scares me, if only because it hurts. A terrible, dry, earthy, dead thing. The vine recoils, alive, at the magic dripping from my mouth. “We do this with flair.”

A horrible, shocking current rips through my bones. I nearly bite what’s left of my tongue as a yellow-white light flares against my fingers with a crack, snapping out against the thorns that move to strangle me. It is not supposed to feel like this. It does not matter. Not now.

Vines scream. Snakes of fire tear through my hand and bolt away. I can’t burn them all, not even close, but it’s enough—they shrink, and I throw myself into the gap, slam my shoulder to the door. A thud, dull. I do it again. And again.

Success comes so unexpectedly I nearly fall to the floor. The door creaks, and my clothes tear as I stumble through it into icy stone. It is cold where it once was humid. Like a cave.

The magic hurts.

Two guards stand down the hall. Leaves peek out from their dusty blue uniforms as they look left, right, left in an exaggerated parody of themselves. One looks at me unflinchingly, and then away again. It feels too much to hope that a man still exists in there, choosing not to see.

The throne room is deeper inside. Tattered tapestries flicker some old memory to life, and I turn myself south, looking down a long, abandoned hallway. Vines, doors, stone. The hero must come back for the princess. She must have left a way through.

Fatigue strangles my chest. I press on.

----

“I’m sorry it’s been so long.”

I pretended to be tired. I knew he had no choice but to stand here, playing the Knight, but the spell in my skull was so heavy and overwhelming that the distraction was a much-needed relief from the fact I could barely move. Her magic did not like mine. But that was understandable.

“Your eye,” I said. Cole-Burn covered it with his palm. He was missing a gauntlet, and I wondered if that was my fault.

The deep, aching pain filled me. I imagined another scale, hardened by hurt.

“I took too long.” He leaned, cheek against my nose, vanishing between my eyes. But the touch was always, eternally welcome, even as it made the wounded beast inside me wail louder. “Old friend of mine. I’m sorry, K… Beast. She made it stronger. I don’t… I know not what I will do to you, now.”

I could feel it. Dark, stabbing, ugly magic seeping through his skin into mine. It burned, like a rash. It changed him. I could bear it to let him rest, just for a moment, even as I knew that the sands in the hourglass were falling far too fast.

“You cannot hurt me, little knight.” Lying has always been easy. “I will be fine.”

“I still love her,” he said.

Sharper than any sword. Heavier than any spell.

“I know.”

“I don’t.” I closed my eyes even as he said it, focused on the muffled voice. His head buried against me. “I never know if it’s the magic, or if I did love her, before. My memories are hazy. Seeing her is like a dream. Even as she asks horrific things of me, impossible things, I feel sorrow that I could not make her happy. Even as I know I never will. I cannot give her the story she wants. It will ruin me.”

He smelled like smoke, and dirt, and darkness. He couldn’t cry. He tried so hard. Pain. Sorrow.

“Even then, I wonder if it is not within her rights to want it. A fairy tale. A future. Forgive me. Forgive me for feeling this way.”

“And you?” It was desperate, and I knew it. “What of your wants, your life?”

“I know nothing of my life.” The weight on my neck lessened, but not enough. “But you deserve yours. My patient, suffering friend.”

He coughed.

Despair. Too soon, it was too soon. The weight of his hand left me, and he appeared in my vision, tall and wide-eyed, dark webs spreading from his eye like mold.

“I don’t know what I will be like,” he said. Even then, a shoulder tilted, an arm turned, the words fought his mouth. “Be careful.”

“Fool,” I said, and poured in all my strength. I lifted my head, as if the magic within me was not strangling me, as if I was light as a child. “I am immortal.”

The sword stabbed into my jaw.

--

Blocked. Left, right, down, up. Of course.

I wind down a side hall I never meant to find. Time escapes me in ways I despise. She has waited this long, and she can wait longer. But I’m not sure that he can.

I’m not sure there is anything left of him at all.

Another door open. I storm into the kitchens, where a familiar set of cooks puppet themselves through the motions of dinner. I duck past a woman pouring a jar into nothing. It smells of rot and peat and mildew, and a maid bumps my shoulder, sweeping the same spot over, and over, and over again. I make it to the hall. There are vines. Of course there are vines. It takes all of the self-control in me not to expel the last of my energy in a fiery, furious protest against all of the mountains-forbid vines, but this body can’t take it. I can still feel the burns of my last spell up my limbs, and I need it for what’s left.

A serving boy bumps into me. He’s holding a tray with a mess of dust and mold on it, and I maneuver around him as he circles left and puts a hand to the wall. The tendrils winding up his arm push his fingers forward, tracing a groove in the stone.

Of course. Of course.

A horrible grinding noise. The wall begins to slide, and the serving boy steps forward, not quite waiting long enough. His face cracks against the half-open passage soundlessly. I slip past him, trying not to look into his blank, vacant eyes, stumbling into the dark. There are vines here, but there is a path. Musty and dark.

She makes things work as she feels they must. And servants must clean. And they must do so unheard, and unseen.

The torches long since went out, and I feel my way through, cutting my hand on thorn after thorn. The map in my head is twisted, convoluted; I try to remember the location of the kitchens, the bedrooms, the grand hall, but it’s like recalling places visited as a child. There is nowhere to go but forward, into the maze.

The ground turns from stone to something smoother. Textured. Wall sconces become more frequent, and I move faster, even as my body protests each step. I run into a door. I push.

I am the luckiest man, dragon, creature, alive.

The throne room is nearly a forest, now. Towering, thick trunks covered in barbs stretch from the broken stone, and the ground writhes with snakes of vine. Wide patches of moonlight pour down from the crumbling holes in the ceiling above, casting a circle on a once-gilded dais.

The king and I had never been close. He was an inflexible man who tolerated me only out of tradition and a fondness for power, but it did not make it any easier to see him now. Nor the queen, poised and posed beside him, sitting passively in a way she never did while alive—we argued frequently, and heartily, and enough so I would have called her a friend. But she didn’t listen to me then. Her eyes, like her husbands, fixed forward, empty.

A chair sits in front of their thrones.

And She raises her head.

___

He had tried so, so hard to force himself to climb back down the mountain, and it tore his hands raw.

The sky only grew darker and darker with each year, and that day was the worst. The sun did not rise, and I knew in my heart it would not again, not where I could see. He came back that day, in the dark, and I could see what took him so long—his wrists burned by rope, his nails torn, his eyes wild.

She wouldn’t have tied him up. He had to be able to climb. That’s how the story went. Knowing he’d become so desperate hurt far, far worse.

He bobbed below the ledge and caught himself all at once. He screamed in frustration, raw and unbearable, and I shoved one claw as far as I could out of my cave prison and begged him.

“Come up.” I swallowed the fear, I swallowed the worry, I struggled, I imagined. “Do not hurt yourself, come up.”

His voice was hoarse, half gone. He said nothing to me.

“Cole-Burn, knighted her Holy Fire, climb up the mountain.” I stretched further. The weight in my eye seared. My vision went white. “I cannot come out to catch you. The magic.”

A muffled sound. Sight returned, slowly. I saw his hands over the ridge, and nothing more, clinging there and shaking. I heard a sob. I cursed everything. I lost myself. I could no longer be calm.

“Tell me,” I said, desperately. “Tell me of her. Tell me of everything I can’t go see.”

I knew already. His hands flexed and bent, and for a moment I saw the top of his head, before it dropped down and away. A cough and a cry. I wanted to scream. I wanted to curse. I must be reasonable. I must be a friend.

“They’re all gone.”

I nearly scrambled upright, but couldn’t. I craned my neck instead, as if my interest would coax him to speak, coax him to tell me stories as he used to.

“The palace.” He sounded horrible, dry, miserable, and I could barely hear him. I had to hear him. “They’re all full of briars. I can’t. It’s too strong. No one is enough. I am a shell. I barely remember. I barely remember what the sun was like.”

“Cole-Burn.”

“I am ruining her story.” I almost commanded him to stop. It was hurting him, somehow, but the words tumbled out of him in a way that grabbed me by the throat. “The knight must kill the dragon. I am gone. I can’t even say your name anymore.”

“You are speaking to me still. I can see you.”

“I am going to hurt you,” he said, and one arm pulls him up. He wore his helmet. It was battered and bent. Half-curved to his face. He spoke in warnings, in fear. “And there will be only enough of me left to despair.”

Sorrow strangled me, and I dragged my head along the earth, moving slowly closer.

“If I kill you, Cole-Burn, she will make another.” I imagined his face. As it was before, beneath the metal, the grime. “And then, another. There is only one way for this to end. Even so, I will not kill you. And you will not kill me. I swear it.”

I could see his shoulders now. His breastplate scraped the dirt, and I knew I had just cursed him. An eternity of suffering. An eternity where he would not die. It was selfish. I am selfish. I could not kill him. I cannot.

“I can’t hear.” The words dripped thickly out. “It’s here.”

The buzzing. His body heaved itself up, an unnatural, bobbing silhouette, and his sword hung from his waist by a cord. As if he’d tried to leave it behind. Understanding gripped me from where I’d ignored it for so long. Pain was all I knew, now, trapped here as I was, but I would have suffered it to continue to speak with him, to let him lie against me drunk on the finest of wine. She was hollowing him out. He was right. Soon, he would be nothing.

I had shunned death, all this time. I was not ready. I had already died once, in the smaller, more human body of mine I had created for myself so carefully. The one that had walked easily among the palace walls, practiced magic, drank wine, wrote in books. The one that took Cole-Burn’s hand. It hurt to die. I had been lucky, to have another body to return to, to be made of magic as I was. I did not know if I could do it again.

And dying would not end the curse. Or bring back the sun, but here, trapped, there had only ever been one thing to do. The only thing left to try. In my own fear, I’d wished that this horror we lived would be good enough. That I could find peace in it.

But I would lose him, one way or the other.

 “Forgive me,” I said. His shape shuddered against the muted sky. I had lost him. I hoped he would be back. Or I hoped he would not, if I failed, so that he might find some blissful peace in ignorance. “If this makes me a liar.”

The sword. He went for my neck, where I was still wounded. I forced my head to move, heaving, turning, with a grumbling roar. There was no time, anymore. No waiting.

The blade plunged into my eye.

Pain. White hot, blinding pressure. The pain I felt when I do what I should not. The pain of something wrong. I had intended this. I was not ready. It was worse than I could have imagined, a thousand times worse. Had it been my other eye, I could have endured it. But his sword, sick with Her magic, plunged into the binding spell she’d shoved in my head, and it resonated like a tuning fork throughout my body. I couldn’t feel myself anymore. I was agony. Formless and dying.

I had hoped the blade would free me. Just for a moment. Interrupt her hold long enough to draw upon myself, find the power that lived within me and break myself out of this prison she held me in, but I was a fool.

I died.

I burned. All of me, the formlessness of my soul, felt white-hot, and I reached out into the nothing. I was dead. I had died once already. Perhaps there would be enough magic left to live a short while longer. Just once more. Once more to save him.

Something glimmered, far away.

It was desperate. Stupid. I had thought about it, as days, weeks, months passed by. I had imagined this. It was impossible and foolish, and yet what choice did I have? I suffocated in a void between life and unknown, but I remembered myself. I had a chance. I reached out with rusty muscles, dusting off magic of ages past. I sang.

A piece of me sang back. My body, heavy and scaled, as I was born, now imprisoned and useless. Another body, smaller. Dead. Buried and gone.

And I awoke in the ground.

--

“The dragon does not enter the castle.”

“Funny,” I say hoarsely. “I arrived regardless.”

The vines on the floor snake themselves around my ankles. I do not try to fight them. It isn’t worth it. She is beautiful in her own way, captivating, like an adder.

The Princess looks down at me, perplexed.

“He did it.” Her waxy, ivy-spotted skin glimmers in the light, fingers brushing to her lips. “The knight has killed the dragon.”

“Yes,” I reply. Magic burns in my shoulders. I try to summon it, tendril by tendril, piece by piece. This body is broken. “And I would like it if we didn’t make that a habit. I’m quite sick of it.”

Her gaze is simple. Curious. She tilts her head, calculating.

“It was fate,” says the Princess, to no one. “And now there is a ball. A wedding.”

I laugh. I can’t help myself. I realize that it’s every emotion, every imagined scale exploding out of me at once. It’s that, or cry. I do both, eventually. And it hurts. My body does not want to cackle until I crumble into pieces, it wants to sleep, and so do I.

“Fate?” I point. I try not to let what magic I’ve gathered escape me in a pitiful wail. “Fate already came for you!”

She blinks. The ivy of her hair adjusts itself back into a careful cascade, holding her tiara.

“The knight returns to the castle,” she says, “and comes to me with a kiss. I will be queen. He is my consort. We rule fairly. Happily.”

Anger. Hot, searing anger. I bite it down.

“A kingdom of corpses,” I spit, despite myself. “I do hope you’re proud.”

The heads of the king and queen snap to the side to stare. Empty eyes. Vacant. Judging.

If only they had listened to me.

“This is the story,” She says. Her head tilts the other direction. “Once upon a time.”

A horrible, familiar pressure seizes my spine.

“There was a king and a queen and a lovely kingdom. They were blessed with a lovely daughter. The princess was sweet, and fair, and doting, and kind.”

“Sheltered,” I hiss through my teeth, even as a grip myself, struggle to keep her magic away from my own.  “And confused. Stop this.”

“The princess grew, and for each birthday, all in the kingdom sent her gifts, for she was so loved. The princess cherished these gifts and spent time with each, ensuring to give them all proper affection and adoration.”

“Neighboring kingdoms. Political gifts. Boring. Cease.”

“Among these gifts was a spinning wheel, which sat waiting, unused, for its turn to be loved. Years past, until one day, the princess—”

“—hiding from a suitor, who was a bastard of a man—”

“—took it upon herself to weave a beautiful cloth, that would be used for her wedding gown. And so, she ascended the tower, and upon finding the wheel—”

“It was cursed.” The fog of time is not yet so thick. She does not have a hold on me, not like the others. “A prick of the spindle kills no one. She died. That is your story. That is the end.”

Nausea overcomes me.

“That is not,” she says, and suddenly I feel my legs pulled out from under me. My arms jerk forward on instinct. “The story.”

Fire rips through my veins.

A scream. I hit the ground, my torso immediately locking up in agonizing pain as impact reminds me of a hundred broken things. I push myself onto my hands and knees, forcing my arm out of the way of a grasping vine, tearing my palms with thorns. I can see Her, out of the corner of my eye. Face neutral and calm. It’s the plant that howls, flames soaring above me.

“The godmother saved the princess,” she says. “And puts the kingdom to sleep.”

I put my arm in the fire. It hurts, but it’s mine. It’s all I have. There is hardly anything left in me, even as it wraps around my arm, my shoulder, hugs my chest like a friend.

“The fae,” I gasped. “Tricked the king. Promised him a princess. Promised him she would get a happy ending. No one is asleep. They are hollow. They are dead.”

I grab the wall. Vines lash out at me, and some grab, and some burn. She stares. I can feel the magic. Prickling. Trying to break through.

“The knight will come,” she says. “He has killed the dragon. He will marry me. I will be queen. We will be happy.”

Something bubbles up within me again. I have almost nothing left. Just this body, the flames around it, and a rioting, endless anger that I am finally, finally letting go.

“He is my husband,” I bellow, and the fire grows, and the vines surge, lash out, and I know this is it, and I cannot care, because I am tired, and angry, and years and years of fury and hurt and sorrow and rage rip through me in a blinding, hot blaze that I cannot control, even as the vines scream, even as my body screams with it, “you wretch.”

--

Cole-burn runs.

The path is familiar and overgrown, winding up to the treacherous mountain slope, and he trips. It’s nothing, not now. He has to run. He has to go back, to see, to be sure.

His mind has not felt so clear in ages. He has never felt such joy, fear, relief, and terror all at once. He can feel. He knows.

He is scared of what he thinks he’s done.

There are parts of him that are hurt worse than he dares think. He hadn’t noticed them, in a magic-possessed haze, or if he had, he couldn’t remember. Scenes, conversations, events flashed in front of him in patches as he desperately tried to remember who he was, what he was doing. Even now, he wasn’t sure, not really.

But he knows one thing.

He has to get back up the mountain.

A rock sends him down. Cole-burn catches himself, rips off pieces of his armor, throwing a pauldron to the wind, and takes a moment to breathe. The desperation burns, but his body burns worse. He forces himself to stop, take stock, close his eyes. He needs to get up the mountain. He…

What if he…

Tears confuse him. It feels better, though, to just let them out, pushing forward as he goes. It is a long trek back up. He has to stop to rest. Blurred memories tell him he didn’t have to stop before, when his body was not his. The meaning of it feels half-lost, rattling around in the emptiness of his head like a melody with words he couldn’t remember, sitting on the tip of his tongue.

Light.

He lifts his head. At first he thinks it’s the sunrise, but there was no sunrise, not anymore. Instead, in the distance, he sees what was once a palace. He does not remember what kingdom was ruled there. He knows he was meant to return. From here, he can see the fire.

Habitual sorrow floods in like a storm. He watches, in the dark. Fixated. Mourning something he does not remember, but cannot help, a frustrating, overwhelming emotion that roots him to the ground with fear.

It hurts to have lost something he cannot recall. It will hurt worse if he has also lost the one thing he does. He must climb the mountain. But he cannot stand. He tries, over and over. Instead, he watches for hours in the dark.

There is a bonfire down the path.

Reality only further breaks apart the confused pieces forming the picture in his brain. At first, it seems unreal, a mirage. And then it’s not a bonfire.

It’s man.

The man stops, a stone’s throw away.

He is not all fire. Just mostly, in his limbs, and across his chest, flicking through cloth and exposed ribs dry and caked with dirt. His face is gaunt, long, messy hair stuck to his cheeks with mud, scars breaking through the beginnings of a beard as flames lick up against his chin. Cloudy eyes reflect the orange light. The ground beneath him does not burn.

His mouth opens. Closes. He is familiar, familiar in a way Cole-Burn can’t place, but the words pour out of him all the same.

“I think,” Cole-Burn says, holding the trembling at bay. “I think I may have hurt someone very important.”

The man stays still. Eyes flicker to the side, a moment’s thought, a worry, a question. Words press against his mouth and evaporate like smoke.

Something has happened. He is made of a hundred things that should not be alive. He seems to know this, standing there as if he knows time is escaping him, and he can’t help it.

“But are you alright?” he says, in a hoarse, croaking voice.

Cole-Burn stares, frozen.

He had not considered the question. He does not know. He isn’t even sure what that means, beyond that he is parched, and he aches, and it must be very nice not to be either of those things.

“I have to get up the mountain,” he says instead. “Will you help me?’

The man hesitates. The fire is warm—Cole-Burn can feel it, radiating out from where he sits in the dirt. Instinct tells him to fear, but instead the panic ebbs, just a little, the heat sinking into his bones.

“I will need a new body,” the man says, and Cole-Burn furrows his eyebrows before suffering an immediate headache. “Somehow. And you need water, and rest.”

“But I have…”

The burning, desperate drive ebbs. He blinks, confused, appalled, and turns to look behind him. Up the mountain. Towards the cave he knows is there. Towards the fear.

“I have,” says the man behind him. “The answers you want. I promise. Rest, Cole-Burn. I need to know you’ve rested.”

Cole-Burn turns back. The pieces are missing, still, but the ghosts are there. A shadow of a thought. A familiar comfort. He needs to know, but he is tired, and he slowly lifts a hand, reaching it out even though he knows it’s foolish. The man steps back. He keeps the flames at a safe distance, even as a flash of hope escapes across his cloudy eyes. A tired, worn, impossible hope that lives, surfacing itself as Cole-Burn pulls a single name out of the abyss of years gone by. The name overwhelms him, but he needs to say it, desperately.

“Kazimir?”

The sun rises.

You have heard of dragons pretending to be princesses. And you also know of princesses rescuing knights from dragons. Now is a tale of a dragon saving a knight from the princess.

[thenewnio]

Gabby Bugs Out

Gabby grumbled aloud as she made her way along the trail back home. "Seriously, I don't expect them to make me work on a Saturday! And that flagpost probably woulda never even come down if I weren't feeling helpful..."

As she passed the river, the girl brushed a spiderweb out of her way as she neared her house. She didn't notice that four beady black eyes were now glaring at her.

"Young lady..."

At that voice, Gabby whirled around, startled. "Who? What?" She looked around, but all she could see was a large spider dangling from a silken web.

Then the spider spoke. "Do you have any idea how long it took for me to weave that?" he said. Gabby could only stare, speechless.

The spider added "But that's not why I'm going to eat you."

"Wait," Gabby found her voice. "Eat me?"

"A fitting punishment for you," the spider declared. "You, with no regard for nature, have the nerve to interfere with my attempts to survive. And besides, I am positively famished."

Despite his words, Gabby knew that this was a spider she was talking to. What harm could a bug like him do to her?

"C'mon," she pointed out confidently. "You know and I know that you can't actually eat me."

"True," the spider nodded. "No insect or arachnid could possibly dream of devouring a human. At the very least, not without the knowledge of a certain art.."

So saying, he blew something from the tip of his foreleg onto Gabby, a strange smoky substance. It spread around her, forcing her into a coughing fit as she dropped to her knees.

Then she felt her body shift. Her skin seemed to harden as she felt a sharp pain in her back and arms. Gabby's heart pounded in her chest as the world around her appeared to grow bigger and bigger.

Then the pain and nausea stopped.

As Gabby gathered her bearings, she realized that her dress was now massive compared to her, covering her like a tent. She tried to push her way out...

Wait, what is this?!

She seemed to have grown a second pair of arms. She tried to kick the cloth away and see herself, only to realize that her feet felt lighter and clumsier than usual.

Finally she emerged into the sunlight. As her eyes adjusted, she noticed a blur of green where her arm should be. She looked down at her arms - all four of them.

She was greeted with the limbs of an insect. Gabby stared at them, horrified yet unsure how to feel.

She staggered hesitantly over to the edge of the riverbank, stumbling because of her new thinner legs, leaning over to look at her reflection.

A green dragonfly with dark eyes looked back at her.

She cried out and fell backwards on the tail which now sprouted from her lower back. A dark chuckle reached her ears. The spider...!

She looked behind her to see, not only her new wings, but also the black spider approaching. "Yes," he spoke. "Dragonflies are more digestible."

Gabby screamed. She jumped up in a feeble attempt to get away. In her panic, she momentarily forgot about the river.

She slipped, falling into the water before the spider could lunge. Water filled her new spiracles as she was quickly swept away.

---

Consciousness slowly but surely returned to Gabby, as she found herself laying in half-dried mud.

She pushed herself upright, coughing excess water from her spiracles-

Oh.

Looking down at herself, she regarded her new body. She groaned. "Ugh, that's just swell! I'm a dragonfly and I don't even know how to fly!" She sighed. "I gotta get myself back to normal somehow..."

She could still speak; Maybe someone could help her. But that depended if she could successfully get off the ground. As a dragonfly, it would be a pain to walk, especially since dragonflies (naturally) weren't used to walking. She had to fly.

But first she needed to dry off. She certainly couldn't fly with her wings wet.

[val-made-a-mistake]

❝THE PUNISHMENT.❞

(not my gif)

summary: doctor octavius, your nuclear physics professor, catches you smoking on campus. instead of reporting you to security, he takes the opportunity to bring you back to his class and punish you his own way instead.

warnings: smut, teacher!au, age gap, oral sex m receiving, spanking, hair-pulling, embarrassment, mentions of orgasm control but no real orgasm control, sliiiight dubcon at first because reader is kept in the dark on how she’s gonna be punished, totally not originally written as a guilty pleasure fic for my irl english prof

word count: 2.4k

a/n: come on. did you really think i stopped being horny for this man?

//////

As soon as the lecture had ended, you’d made what you hoped wasn’t an overly obvious beeline out of your classroom. You couldn’t help it: you hadn’t had a hit this morning, and now the rhythm that you’d previously established was totally off and you were embarrassingly, wildly desperate, driven half-insane by the seventy-five minutes it had taken to get through a complicated explanation of nuclear physics from Dr Octavius without the hazy contentment from your vape.

You almost sighed in relief as you caught sight of the gender-neutral bathroom down the hall: you shuffled inside in a hurry, already shrugging your bag off your shoulders so you could unzip and search for what you needed so badly—

Pressing your bag to the wall, your eager hand rifled past binders and papers and textbooks, diving deep into the bag until you found it.

Freshly filled and beautiful. Holy shit.

You stuck the vape into your mouth and inhaled greedily, filling your lungs for a moment before exhaling an enormous, satisfying puff of grape-scented vapour all around you. Like always, the aftertaste burned your throat in the best way.

As you waved away the residue clouds that hung in the air, the nicotine washed over you like a peaceful, calming wave, and you found yourself smiling in spite of yourself.

The bathroom was deserted, but you turned into the corner and sucked on the vape again, quickly pulling off as the taste of artificial grape burned in your throat—

“Y/N, you forgot your book in class,” Otto Octavius said, rounding the corner of the bathroom at exactly the wrong moment: it was impossible to hide, you choked on vapour and sent half of it prematurely pummeling down your throat, and half of it into the air.

Fuck!

You coughed violently and tried to hide the vape behind your back, embarrassment and panic rising in you all at once, but of course he’d already seen.

Otto’s face was impossible to read: his eyebrows had jumped up and his eyes had widened, you weren’t sure if he was surprised or…angry.

He definitely sounded disappointed, though. “Y/N, you know I have to bring you to security.”

Your mouth fell open but no words came out: with no other options, tears streaming down your bright red cheeks because of choking, you dropped the vape into his hand and awkwardly stared at him as he pocketed it.

You couldn’t help it: you crumpled under his stare.

“Pl-please don’t take me to security,” you blurted out.

(Not exactly the attempt at gaslighting him you had hoped for, but you tried your best.)

“You’re not going there yet, you’re coming with me to my room,” Otto inserted firmly. “You still need to get your book.”

You gulped and nodded rapidly. “Okay.”

//////

The awkward walk back to his room was silent. You were trying not to cry out of panic, and at the thought of punishment, your blood had run so cold it felt like your heart had ceased to beat altogether.

Otto let you in first, and you couldn’t help but gulp again as the door smartly shut closed with a loud SNAP!

Hating not knowing what to do with yourself, you awkwardly sidestepped to your seat and put the book you’d left in your bag. Your panic was subsiding slightly into anger— anger at him or anger at yourself, you didn’t even know.

Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you.

God, I hate myself.

The silence continued as Otto tossed your vape onto his desk and paused for a moment.

You weren’t sure if you were supposed to say something just yet, so you didn’t say anything. He broke the silence calmly.

“I won’t take you to security, but that doesn’t mean I won’t punish you.”

Your eyebrows quirked in confusion; you opened your mouth to speak. “Sir, I—“

“Did I not make myself clear?” Otto snarled, making you cower slightly. “Come here. Bend over my desk.  Pull up that little skirt for me, too.”

Incredulous, your heartbeat speeding out of control from sheer embarrassment, you hurried over and complied, wondering what the hell he was going to do with you.

An uncomfortable shudder crawled up your spine. Your stomach was buzzing with all sorts of uncomfortable feelings, but you couldn’t ignore the excitement within the fear.

You tried to keep your face straight as Otto lifted your skirt up to your hips, but for a few long seconds, nothing happened. Skin that you weren’t at all accustomed to showing was exposed in the rush of room-temperature air, and he was just…staring.

“Are you…just going to look?” you wondered aloud.

“No, I’m punishing you,” he told you.

You felt his hands on your butt first, fingertips slipping under your underwear delicately only to roughly tear it off.

You squealed slightly at that, biting your lip to keep it down, but he heard you and of course he laughed as his hand connected to your ass in a sharp SLAP!

Oh, god.

Another spank made you wince and lurch forward, but a pang of heat hit between your legs, too— you hadn’t expected to enjoy this so much, but after all the anticipation, you just needed him to get it over with.

“Ow,” you mumbled weakly.

You curled your hands into fists and shut your eyes, preparing for the next hard smack— you could already feel your stinging skin beginning to bloom pink— but instead of spanking you again, Otto lowered his hand to let his fingers slide over your pussy.

You managed to swallow your gasp but your legs were already quivering at his touch, betraying you: he was focusing on your clit, rubbing it gently, and you found your back arching of its own accord.

“What…I don’t…” you mumbled something incoherent, trying to keep yourself from squirming as you approached the edge of…something, but at first you didn’t know what it was.

Then it hit you.

Oh, no.

But before you could feel the telltale pleasure of heat pooling low in your abdomen, Otto withdrew his hand quickly and spanked you harsher than ever, making you cry out.

“J-just a little more, sir, please,” you begged.

“I’ll give you more, don’t worry,” he promised cryptically, and you felt his fingers dance across your pussy again.

You swore under your breath as he pushed a finger inside of you, just barely to the second knuckle, and did your best not to squirm.

Otto paused. “Just that makes you struggle?”

Your embarrassment felt electric in your stomach, but you shook your head rapidly, needing more, more, more, all of him that you could get.

“I need you,” you whispered.

There was a long moment of silence, and for a second you thought he was going to spank you again, but instead he withdrew his finger and said, “Get on your knees.”

Excitement hit you like a bolt of lightning and you got on the ground as fast as you could, craning your neck to look up at him.

You opened your mouth obediently as his thumb brushed your bottom lip. Sucking on his thumb gently almost distracted you from his other hand unzipping his fly, but you kept eye contact with him, needing to prove to him how obediently you could take this punishment.

“Close your eyes,” Otto murmured, and you closed your eyes softly, anticipation and need bubbling in your stomach all at once, needing this more than the vape he’d caught you with.

You couldn’t see anything with your eyes closed, but you felt him wrap your hand around his cock, so much warmer than the rest of him and growing harder in your palm.

You had to bite your lip to stop yourself from grinning. He felt…big.

“Just like that, baby,” Otto murmured as you experimentally slid your hand up his length, then slid it down. “Just like that.”

Another stroke, an electrifying beat, then you leaned forward and took the tip of him in your mouth.

You felt his salty precum smear on your tongue and it gave you courage to stroke him again, gently and tentatively— God, you really hoped you were doing this right.

You must’ve been, because suddenly there were two hands on the sides of your head, then Otto was pushing your mouth all the way down on his cock, making you gag as the tip of his cock barged into the very back of your throat.

Your eyes flew open and tears threatened to fill them, but he kept the hands on your head as firm as ever, forcing you to bob your head, making you choke and splutter around him as you tried to take it all.

You needed to come so bad, but first of all you needed to breathe.

Apparently sensing this, Otto pulled out of your throat and let you gasp for air for a moment, smirking as you blinked the tears out of your eyes.

“That’s how deep my cum will be when I’m done,” he told you, and he gestured over to the desk again. “Get up.”

You complied weakly, bending over the desk before he could tell you to, and unsurprisingly, his hand connected to your ass in a loud SMACK once again, but he shoved two fingers inside of you before you could even process it, effectively alleviating the sting that came two seconds later.

As his fingers delved in and out of you, he laughed quietly, making you glance behind you in confusion.

“That’s wet,” you heard him say from above you, jutting his fingers inside of you a little further. “You getting turned on by this, honey?”

You gasped incoherently in response, squealing a little when Otto made you arch your back by tugging on your hair, then forced his fingers inside of your mouth, making you taste how sweet you were.

“Sweet little thing,” he muttered, releasing you and shoving his fingers inside of your pussy again.

You inhaled sharply at the stab of heat in your abdomen, but when you glanced back at him, he was tasting your sweetness himself.

He caught you looking and smirked.

“I’m more than twice your age, sweetie,” he reminded you. “You shouldn’t be wet because of me.”

“Oh god,” you spluttered, “Please don’t say that.”

“Why shouldn’t I?” he responded. “Makes your little pussy clench.”

You knew he was right, but you still shivered. “God, please…”

“Bratty fucking girl,” Otto spat from above you. “I catch you vaping in the bathroom, I punish you, but you just want more, huh?”

“Yes,” you panted.

“What, you need to be fucked?”

You nodded as his fingers went deep inside of you, trying not to moan out loud as embarrassment burned in your veins.

“Need to be fucked raw?”

You spluttered, words failing you, but you arched your back and put your stinging pink ass on full display for him, a wordless confirmation of how badly you needed this, and holyfuckingshit you felt his fingers withdraw from you.

“Could watch this puffy little pussy drip all day,” he told you, but you were barely listening as you felt something incredibly warm breach your entrance: hard, big, and thick, and you felt your gut twist and the shame rise in you as he continued to push further, untill…

Your professor’s cock was inside of you.

“Fuck,” you whispered, your heart plummeting.

It took a few moments, but once he found his rhythm inside of you, his cock delved in and out of your pussy, it was mind-numbing heaven.

Oh. My. God.

You almost wondered how no one had caught you yet, looking around at the rows and rows of empty seats all around you, but nothing mattered as the sound of skin on skin filled the wide, empty room.

“Fuck, my whole class is gonna smell like you, honey,” Otto laughed breathlessly, and you clenched your eyes shut, trying not to moan so loud the whole of Empire State University heard you.

You were whining and gasping, clinging onto the edge of the desk he’d bent you over. “Please sir, please let me come!”

“Yeah, come for me, sweetheart,” you heard him say, and you whined as heat crashed through you, giving you what must’ve been the actual sweet release you’d been looking for ever since the lecture had ended, and you had to grin at the irony as euphoria raced through your brain.

You heard a gasped laugh from above you. “Consider that a treat.”

Your body was shaking, a live wire of this electric pleasure running through you, and for a moment your mind drifted away from the university entirely as Otto reached down to rub your clit, nice and firm to couple with the rhythm of his cock inside of you.

This was so wrong, but so good, and holy shit, you were already needing a next time.

Your head was spinning and you didn’t even want to think about the bare feeling of his cock inside you with absolutely nothing in the way, allowing you to feel absolutely everything, but it didn’t matter, you felt a hand in your hair and suddenly he was yanking you upward.

“Sweet little cunt,” he got out in a grunt, “Wish I could feel you squeezing me all day…”

To your dismay, Otto was already withdrawing from you— you were both running short on time, you realized.

“On your knees,” he said, and with your head spinning and your legs aching, you complied a little slower this time.

You knelt before him and took him into your throat, noticing his cock was significantly sweeter now that you’d had it in you, but you bobbed your head around him, leaning into it until you felt your gag reflex kick in. You didn’t even care, you gagged around him, sucking him to the best of your ability as filthy noises spilled from your throat and tears materialized in your eyes.

“Oh, fuck,” Otto choked, grabbing the crown of your head to push you down, and his cock pulsed in your mouth as the first shot of come went into your throat.

It was bitter, but you gulped it down eagerly. Knowing you were doing something right, you wrapped your hand around his cock as more drops shot onto your tongue, jerking him off to keep getting more and more from him, milking him for all he was worth—

Otto had to stop you by grabbing your hair and hand at once, laughing as he guided you off of him.

"That's all of it, sweetheart, you got it all— fuck…"

[rubysunnday]

drowning in sorrow

requested by @buckystarlight: HI MY BELOVED idk if you're still taking requests, but can i please have 2, 3 and 11 from the prompt list for the loml Matthias? no pressure tho, ily mwah <3

A/N: I wrote this ages ago, forgot about it and then remembered it so I don't know where I was originally going with it but alas

His arms were aching. The muscles were screaming at him to drop them and let them rest but he couldn’t. The heavy steel manacles that were suspending his arms in the air made it impossible. Matthias lifted his head, water dripping down from his hair, onto his face and into his eyes as he looked around the bottom of the ship. The rain was unrelenting making the entire experience twice as worse as it would’ve been – every item of clothing was soaked through and the furs he had been wearing against the cold air were heavy around his shoulders.

But at least he was awake. At least he was aware of his surroundings and could roughly mark the passage of time as the slants of light came and went.

“I can… feel you staring.”

Matthias turned his head to the left. “I was not staring.” He paused. “You alright?”

“Splendid. I’d be even happier if these stupid manacles weren’t cutting off… my power.” Her words slurred slightly as she spoke, her eyes drooping more and more as exhaustion hit her. “It’s like something is… sucking the life out of me.”

“Don’t push yourself,” Matthias said, his tone soft for once. They may have hated each other but given their current situation – being held captive on board a ship god knows where in the world with no means of escape and death looking very imminent – he could afford to be a bit nicer to her.

“How are you?” Y/N asked quietly, her question almost lost to the ocean and the waves.

“Cold. Wet. Exhausted.”

“You’re Fjerdan… I didn’t think the cold bothered you,” Y/N muttered.

Matthias raised his eyebrows. “I am Fjerdan not an Ice Grisha. The cold does bother me.”

“Ice Grisha aren’t a thing,” Y/N said, her head resting against her arm. Her entire body was swaying with the waves and the manacles pressed against her wrists with each bounce. “Cool if they were."

“Pun intended?”

Y/N slowly lifted her head and stared at him. “Saints, Helvar, didn’t know you understood puns.”

“Nina has been teaching me,” he muttered, rolling his eyes.

Matthias watched as Y/N’s head dropped against her arm again, her eyes half-open and half-closed as she struggled not to give in to exhaustion. Or hypothermia. Or anything else that was plaguing their bodies.

“No one’s coming… are they?”

It was a question neither of them had dared to ask. Because voicing it made it true and meant they had to accept it. But it had been playing on his mind, and presumably, Y/N’s too, since he’d woken up on the ship.

If they’d been younger and naïve, perhaps he could have lied to her. Perhaps he could have said ‘yes, they’re coming and they’re bringing the Wraith with them’. Instead, he had to tell the truth.

“No. They’re not.”

Y/N nodded weakly. “Thank you.”

Matthias frowned and turned to face her. “Whatever for?”

“For not lying to me and pretending that everything is fine. Because we both know better.”

The door squeaked open and a man jogged down the stairs towards them, a lantern in hand, his eyes focused on Y/N and Y/N only. To her credit, Y/N raised her head up as he approached and a glint of fire appeared in her eyes. The man stood in front of her for a moment and then landed a punch straight into her stomach.

Y/N folded in half, coughing and choking as the air was forced from her lungs. The manacles groaned as they held her up, her body folding as it tried to fall to the floor only to be stopped from doing so.

“Hey! Leave her be!” Matthias yelled.

“Shut up,” the man snarled, not bothering to spare Matthias a glance. He held Y/N’s head up by her damp hair and bought his face close to hers. “I cannot wait to watch you drown, witch.”

He let her head drop and Y/N was still aside from the constant swaying as the boat moved across the waves. Matthias growled, furiously shaking his restraints as he watched the man leave, slamming the door shut behind him.

“Y/L/N? Y/L/N? For fuck’s sake, Y/N, please!” Matthias yelled, awkwardly twisting himself in his restraints to try and face her.

Y/N said nothing. Her head remained limp against her chest as her body simply moved with the waves, swaying from side to side with no resistance.

Matthias slumped, his head falling hanging low. They were both running out of hope as well as time and judging from the unrelenting waves and seawater seeping through, the ship didn't have long before it was dragged down either.

They were both going to go down with the ship.

/

Matthias jumped as a flash of lightning lit up the entire room followed by a loud crack of thunder snapping across the sky. They were in the heart of the storm and Matthias knew there was no escaping it.

The door slammed open and a young man, no older than Matthias himself, stumbled down the steps, soaked through and shaking. He didn't say anything as he approached Matthias. He stopped before him and looked up at him, eyes uncertain. The man, well, boy, pulled out a key and reached up to Matthias' manacles, unlocking them.

Matthias stared at him. "Why?"

The boy shrugged. "We die. You may not. Try to live." He pressed the keys into Matthias' hand. "I go now."

Matthias looked down at the keys in his hand. "Thak you," he said, looking up at the boy.

The boy nodded and then vanished through the door, not bothering to look it behind him. With the ship going down, it would have been easy to simply leave them to their fates at the bottom of the ocean. But Matthias was grateful for the boy's moral compass - as screwed and broken as it may be.

He unlocked his own manacles and stumbled back as a strong wave hit the ship, forcing it to the side. Matthias moved to the side and over to Y/N, reaching up and undoing her manacles and catching her as she pitched forward.

"Y/N, come on," Matthias whispered, gently tapping her face.

"Stop hitting me," Y/N muttered, trying to stand by herself but stumbling back as the ship swayed to the left. Matthias reached forward and grabbed her, pulling her back to him.

"Come on, we need to get above if we're going to survive," Matthias said, gently shoving her toward the stairs.

"Where are we?"

"No idea, somewhere near Fjerda maybe," Matthias replied, hovering behind her as they climbed the stairs.

As soon as Matthias opened the door, it was ripped from his hand by the wind. The rain was slicing into his face as he tried to step onto the wet deck, his footing instantly vanishing beneath him as another wave hit the ship.

The main deck of the ship was almost empty. There was a skeleton crew trying to keep the ship moving but the captain and his followers had taken cover in the bow of the ship, hoping the wooden hull would stay intact long enough for the storm to pass.

Being below deck would've been ideal but Matthias knew that if they stayed down there, the water would flood in and drown them before they could try and fight their way out. At least above deck they could try and escape - it was their best chance yet.

"Y/N!" Matthias yelled, gripping onto the wooden mast. He looked around, panic in his eyes. "Y/N!"

"Matthias!"

He turned his head and found her clinging to the side of the ship as it rocked and swayed dangerously, riding over another wave. Matthias wanted to move to her and pull her into his side and protect her but he couldn't get his footing on the damp wood as the waves battered them.

"Get below deck, now!"

Matthias turned as the head sailor still out on deck yelled out what was essentially a retreat. He looked behind the sailor and saw a ain't wave beginning to build, one that would inevitably drown the ship and everyone on it.

"Y/N!" Matthias yelled again. He knew what was about to happen. He could see it happening in his mind.

And it happened exactly as he imagined.

The giant waved crested over itself and smashed into the side of the ship, swamping over the edge and flooding the top deck with seawater. Whichever sailors had been unfortunate to not be below deck screamed as they were swept over the side, the mast of the ship snapping into two and falling forward, landing on the bow of the ship.

Matthias ducked his head and wrapped his arm around the side of the ship, refusing to let the waves take him. The water felt like a thousand knives on his face but he kept his footing.

As the ship righted itself and the water drained off the wood, Matthias looked up and towards Y/N. Except there was no one there.

He was alone on the deck.

Matthias charged over to the side of the deck and looked over the side, his eyes scanning the water. "Y/N! Y/N!"

Usually, Matthias thought each and every action through before he did it. He was methodical in everything he did. But as he took his fur jacket off and jumped over the side of the boat, leaving behind something that could get them to dry land, all for a woman who hated him.

Matthias vaguely wondered whether the sea air had begun to rot his brain.

She was just floating in the water - surrounded by broken pieces of the ship. A rope had wrapped itself around her waist and legs, the hefty weight of the thick rope dragging her down into the darkness.

He grabbed her arm and pulled her to him, pulling out a dagger. Matthias began to slice through the rope, untangling it from around Y/N. As soon as she was free, he began to pull Y/N to the surface, his grip tight on her arm, keeping her close.

Matthias broke through the water and gasped for breath, pulling a broken piece of wood towards them and holding onto it as he draped Y/N's limp body over it.

He squinted up at the sky as the sun suddenly appeared once more, shining down on them as they reached the eye of the storm. Matthias glanced down at Y/N and pulled her closer to him, brushing her damp hair out of her eyes.

Alive or not, he wasn't going to leave her.

/

Something hit his face. Matthias blinked, startled, and his head shot up, despite how disoriented he was. Y/N was kneeling in front of him, staring at him, with a mix of concern and hatred in her eyes.

He looked around and vaguely noted that they were on a beach, surrounded by broken wood, the ocean washing up onto the shore and over his legs as he laid there. Y/N was soaking wet, hair stuck to her face, but looking angry and more alive than before.

"What happened?" Y/N demanded, her tone harsh.

Matthias rubbed his face as he sat up, dusting the sand off his skin. "We were captured -"

"No shit, Helvar, I remember that bit. Afterwards."

"Ship sank."

Y/N's face broke for a second. "And you didn't let me drown?"

"Why would I do that?"

"Because you hate me," she said simply. But her eyes conveyed the surprise and hurt inside her. "You wanted to kill me two months ago."

"Is it so shocking to you that people are capable of changing?" Matthias asked, moving up onto his knees. "I was not going to let you drown."

"Why not?"

"Because I care about you, Y/N, fuck's sake!" Matthias yelled, jumping to his feet and wobbling. "I care about you and it would... it would break me to see anything happen to you."

Y/N looked at him, the wind blowing her damp hair into her eyes. She brushed it back and wiped her eyes from the seawater. "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why would you choose me?"

Matthias took a step towards hers. "Why wouldn't I choose you?"

Y/N couldn't breathe suddenly. Her chest felt tight and almost suffocating as she stared at Matthias - water splashing onto the sand as they stood there, watching each other. Why would he lie to her - why would he...

"Y/N... I... I don't know what this feeling is but I care about you -"

"Stop it, Helvar, please, I can't... I can't do this," Y/N said, turning around and walking away from him.

"Why not?!"

"Because why would anyone, especially you, want to love me?"

"Why wouldn't I!" Matthias yelled, throwing his hands up. "What is so wrong with that? Why can't I love you?"

"Because you are meant to be the person who kills me! You... you are the one who... who hates me and my mere existence in this world. And I can't do this pretending to love me only to kill me." She was closer to him now, looking up at his eyes. "So just kill me."

Matthias looked down at her. He took a deep breath in, his eyes gentle. "Love often disguises the pain of being in love with someone you can never have. You love them endlessly but you know, deep down, you will never have them. Which makes it all the worse. But know this, drüsje. I will not kill you. I will not hurt you. You have to trust me, on that."

"I don't know if I can -"

"Just," Matthias took her cold hands in his, "try. Please."

Y/N looked at him, eyes burning. She shivered as the wind picked up again. "Your face is just so punchable sometimes. Like now. Especially now."

Matthias snorted as Y/N took her hands from his and walked off. "Why? Because I am right?"

"Shut up, Helvar."

[gyusfavlibra]

THIS IS MY WORK! PLEASE DO NOT COPY OR REPOST ON OTHER SITES/APPS!!!!

Warnings: +18, smut, fingering, hand job, sex in bathroom, language, jealousy, fighting, arguing.

Y/n and Sarah sat quietly on Kie's bed as they waited for Kiara to stop degrading the lavender dress she wore while standing in her large mirror. Mrs. Carrera coming through the door to make sure the girls were all dressed. "This is disgusting."

"I know it's just horrible."

"I'm asking you guys to just relax and go to a fun party."

"I look like a bourgeoisie pig."

"I think you look beautiful," y/n said while shrugging at Kie. She just gave a smile back to her, still hating the look no matter what compliments were given.

"Will you please not worry about socioeconomic injustice for one night?"

"Mom, people not three miles from her have no power, no running water, and we're going to Midsummers."

"That's so tone deaf."

"Y/n," the mother scolded at her niece. "Do you know how hard we had to work to get into the Island club?"

"Yeah, mom. How could I forget? You had to grovel for, like, ten years--"

"Twelve years, and we also had to cough up a huge chunk of dough-"

"To keep up with the Joneses-"

"No, so you had the same experiences that I had as a child."

"But weren't parents as teens out, like partying, getting drunk, making out in the backseats of their cars at drive in movies," the cousin listed while putting her things in its bag. "Getting pregnant."

"That doesn't sound fun," Sarah added.

"Do you girls even know what the Island club is?"

"A factory farm."

"For debutantes," Y/n raised her eyebrows.

"It's a nice place, with nice people where you can do fun stuff."

"With out-of-touch rich people, while the island sinks slowly into the ocean."

"Water filling the poor's destructive lungs while the wealthy ones get away on million dollar boats."

Sarah sat quietly laughing on the comfy blanketed mattress. Mr. Cerrera sighed, saying one last thing before walking out. "Okay, I want you to put on your party face, girls, if you want to live."

"Did your mom just threaten to kill us?"

"Maybe. I think so," she nods as she turned around to the duo, fixing the flower crown that sat on her cousin's head. "You nervous to see Rafe."

"Why did you have to bring that up?"

"I was curious. I know it's only been two days, but-"

"Hey, he broke up with me. So if he wants to talk, that's in his duty. Not mine. I did nothing wrong."

Sarah got off the bed, swinging on it's pole. "Except flirt with JJ, or so he says."

"I was not...flirting with JJ. He has a crush on Kiara. I'd never."

"But Rafe doesn't know that."

°°°°

*flashback*

"What if she doesn't like it?"

"She'll love it. She's hippie."

Y/n and JJ sat on John B's porch, smoking a blunt. The girl was trying to help him do something nice for Kiara so JJ could ask her out without feeling weird. He's liked her for the longest and he was finally ready to tell her how she feels.

"Alright, now practice what you're gonna say."

Just as Y/n finished saying the statement, her own boyfriend, Rafe Cameron showed up. Standing behind them listening in.

"Okay, uh, hey I have to tell you something...uh important," the blonde began speaking, using hand gestures because of his nerves. "I really really like you. Like not like friends like, but I have feelings, uhm, strong feelings for you. Because you're like super hot, andnyou're like a really cool chick. So I was wondering if maybe you'd wanna...go out with me."

"Yes, t-"

"What the hell!"

The manly unknown voice shocked them both, their figures jumping at the sound because they thought they were alone.

"Rafe, what're you doing here?"

Y/n asked confusedly as she stood from the steps. The Kook just scoffed and walked back out. Ignoring her question. She shared a glance with JJ before going to follow after him.

"Hey! Where you going? What's wrong?"

"A pogue!? Y/n, seriously?!"

"What're you talking about?"

"You're cheating on me with a pogue?" He shouted. Y/n scrunched her eyebrows, looking at the unnecessary upset individual.

"What do you mean cheating? I'm not cheating on you. We were just talking."

"Bullshit. That's bullshit! I heard it all."

"Rafe, it's not like that. Jj was just-"

"I should've known better. I should've known," he fumed. His right foot swung to kick the dirt near his truck that he was so very close to getting into.

"Known what?"

"I should've never trusted a pogue. I knew something like this was gonna happen. You were just gonna throw me away like Sarah did, Topper. Right? Huh?"

"You sound ridiculous. I was never throwing you away. I was helping him out."

"Yeah, while you're at it. Might as well help sleep with him too."

Y/n scoffed, taking a step back from the angered boy who's brain had just functioned what he said. Part of him regretted it very much. But the other part thought you deserved it because of his cheating accusation.

He opened his vehicle door. Stepping one foot inside. "We're done."

The girl just laughed with held tears reaching for the openess. She turned around to head back inside as Rafe just drove off.

°°°°

"Hey, no tearing up today. Go to this stupid thing and show him that his little cheating accusation act didn't hurt you at all. You're stronger than that."

"Thanks, Kie."

The girls finished up their last minute touches. That includes sweeping their dresses with roller for no hair, any makeup redos, or hair finishes. The ride to the country club was quiet. Well, y/n was quiet.

This would be her first time seeing Rafe since their break up a three days ago. They've been doing everything in their mighty to avoid each other. And it definitely worked. But like her friend told her, she wasn't gonna get worked up. Letting Rafe see her weak was like telling him he was right about everything. But he wasn't.

"Jesus, Kook land."

"I forgot how packed this thing is every year."

"Well, let's go. I gotta walk out with my family."

The Cameron family walked out with their heads high and the Kook crowd cheered for each one. Y/n kept her eyes gazed to Kiara since they were in the middle of a conversation. Not caring if that family came in or not. That excludes Sarah.

Rafe watched from his spot by his dad, as they exited to outside. Breath hitched when he saw Y/n and her dress. It was a dark toned red, had tulle, and a revealing  chest opening.

A red flower crown on her head, complimenting her beautiful down hair. She looked amazing and hot to Rafe. He had to clear his throat before excusing himself.

"Hey," the red dresses girl heard from beside her as a hand landed on her lower back. She removed it before her eyes retracted to theirs. Kie just pursed her lips before leaving to hangout with Sarah. Y/n internally screaming that she left her there.

"What do you want?"

"Uh, you look nice."

"Okay. Thanks. You don't too. What do you want?"

"Nothing. Just saying hi."

"Bye."

"Wait, wait, wait. Why are you mad at me? Shouldn't I be the mad one here?"

"Why?"

"Because of what you did," he said with furrowed eyebrows. Y/n shrugged.

"I didn't do anything."

"Do- do you not remember what happened on the cut three days ago? The fight."

"You slut shaming me and accusing me of cheating with JJ. That? Yeah, I remember that."

"Accused? I heard you."

"Heard what exactly?"

"JJ, was telling you he liked you and thought you were a cool hippie chick, which you are not. You're not hippie. And then he asked you out and you said yes. As soon as I walked in."

Y/n stared at him blankly. Before bursting out laughing. A few guests behind them staring with a look that showed they weren't used to loud talkers or laugher. "Oh my god. You thought? Jesus that's absolutely hilarious."

"What is?"

"That you think- you think that JJ was confessing feelings to me. Whew that's rich."

"I heard it, Y/n."

"He wasn't confessing anything to me you shit head. He was practicing for when he asked out Kiara."

Rafe was confused. Majorly. Inside and out. "But she-"

"He likes Kiara. And she's my cousin. You think I'd really hurt anyone like that? How low of me do you think? Have fun at this party."

Y/n walked off to go look for her disappeared friends. Not wanting to spend another second in a spot with someone who was so rude over something he knew nothing about. Just assumed. Never asked.

As she walked down the corridors of the porch that many people stood on drinking, a hand grabbed her shoulder, turning her around. Her eyes fixated on the blonde in a black tux and a bow tie.

"Holy shit, JJ. You scared me. What're you doing here?" She asked as she hugged him.

"Well, Sarah somehow convinced her dad to let me in tonight to hangout with Kie."

"Have you seen her?"

"I was just looking for her myself. C'mon. She's probably inside."

She grabbed his hand. Pulling him inside. They found Kie just minutes later with Pope. He was working the grill with his dad. Sarah was getting raided by Topper about their own stupid shit. Y/n decided to go get herself a drink and maybe find someone to dance with.

The straw rested on her lips as she stood against the porch railing. Gazing over all the people who say around laughing, probably bragging about their money, summer vacations, their older kids getting into a good college. Typical kook things.

Her eyes focused on a specific couple talking off to the side. Her eyes burning a whole in the back of Rafe's head as he tried to flirt up a storm with some Kook she didn't know whatsoever.

Her body was fuming. Was Rafe really gonna sit in front of her and flirt with a whole other girl that isn't her. Just a few days after their breakup. It's like he's trying to play victim. And she's had it.

"Hey, Sancho. Lassie."

The brunette Rafe was talking up a storm to laughed. "I'm sorry who are you?"

"Oh, you gonna introduce me to your side piece here?"

"Would you stop? We're just talking."

"Talking? Yeah, okay," Y/n laughed. The girl just looked at her dazed. "Hi, I'm his girlfriend. Y/n. And you, yeah you're excused."

Rafe was truly enjoying this scene. Internally rooting for Y/n. He wasn't gonna object to that fact that she called herself his girlfriend. Because now that he knew the truth, it changed his perspective.

"Who do you think you are?"

"I already told you. Wh- can you not hear correctly?"

"He said he was single so, why-"

"He lied. So, you can go away now- Rafe. Let's go. We need to talk."

"What're you his mother now?" The rando questioned. Y/n turned to her and gripped her face.

"If you wanna keep these teeth, then I suggest you stop talking. Go find somebody else's boyfriend to mack on."

She dragged Rafe by his hand into the upstairs private bathroom. Locking the door behind her. "What're you doing?"

"Just having a friendly conversation. There a problem?"

"You were flirting, Rafe. That was flirting," she paced. Hand against her for head.

"Like you're any better. You lied to me."

"I've never lied about anything."

"You said JJ liked Kiara."

"Yeah. He does."

"Then why is he holding your hand, hugging you, and leaving inside with you instead of the girl he supposedly likes," Rafe argued. Gripping onto the large counter.

"Rafe, I grabbed his hand and brought him inside to find Kiara. And I hugged him because I was happy for my friend. God, Rafe how many times do I have to tell you that I am not cheating on you."

"It's kind of hard to believe that shit when I keep seeing things with my own eyes."

"Then stop assuming and come ask me. Jesus, do you not trust me or something. Because I trust you. Anytime I hear that you're at a party doing lines with hot blonde's next to you, I brush it off because I know you'd never. Why can't you just do that for me."

Rafe stood from his seat. Pinching the bridge of nose. The guilty conscience grazed through his mind as he listened to her words. He had issues with trust and with others, but he knew it wasn't a reason to take it out on the only person who's loved him for him.

"I'm sorry. Okay? I'm sorry. You're right. I should trust you. Just like you trust me. I'll work on it. I promise."

"Don't promise me that. Just show me that you love me just as much."

The words clicked. He did love her. And he cared about her. More than anyone in this world. And he wanted to show her. In the most physical way possible.

"C'mere."

"Why?"

"Just c'mere," he repeated as he grabbed her by her waist, pulling her closer to him. She stumbled, but Rafe's grip kept her in place. He moved his face closer to hers, lips almost touching as they grazed against each other.

He used the hand placed on her waist to grip the fabric of her dress. Pulling it upwards. Her breath hitched as he hand snaked under the red tulle and right onto her now soaking core. His pointy finger swept across the waistband of her panties.

Y/n wasn't expecting this as the outcome from their miniature argument but she wasn't complaining. And neither was Rafe.

He pushed her underwear down as much as he could from their position, before going back to her walls and making circular motions. Rafe finally closer the space, kissing her lips practically roughly as he continued rubbing her.

He kept a firm hand on her waist to make sure she had a gripping support if he legs gave out, which they indeed will. The motions stopped as Y/n pulled her lips away from his. Rafe stared at her daring eyes, questioning if she wanted his to continue.

"Put them inside me," she whispered. The Cameron smirked before obliging to her demand. He stuck to fingers into her wet cunt. A soft moan escaped her lips as he did so. Pumping them in and out of her. Y/n rubbed her hand against the erection in his dress pants.

"You like that, yeah?"

She nodded as the locked her lips. Not being able to speak because knowing if she did, she let out a loud moan and even at this club would hear.

She unbuckled his pants, putting her handninside to grip his penis and pump it as he slipped his tongue into her mouth. The hand he held to her waist was now gripped on her neck, gently. Y/n clenched around his fingers. Feeling her high come close. "Dont stop."

Rafe began pumping faster just as Y/n did so. The teens were so horny that they were both already reaching their extent. Rafe's shaft twitched in her hand. "I'm cumming."

"Do it for me."

That's all it took for Y/n to finish. And Rafe too. His liquids filling her hands as they both let out moans due to their intense actions. In one swift motion, Rafe snaked a hand around Y/n's waist turning then so she was against the counter. Her pulled the straps of her dress of her shoulders, leaving kisses as he did so before connecting his lips to hers.

Her pulled his tuxedo jacket off him. Snapping the bowtie off as well. Y/n moaned at the tluchnof his hands on her breast. Massaging them in his hands over the fabric of her strapless bra.

Y/n unbuttoned the spots on his shirt before pulling it off his shoulders and onto the floor. Rafe stop his gripping motions and pulled down his pants and boxers. He sat her up on the counter. Her bare ass connecting to the coldness of the marble designed setting.

Rafe rubbed his tip against her fold once or twice before pushing himself into her. Not giving a warning, but Y/n loved the suddeness. Y/n let a moan into his next as he began thrusting his hips. The girl gripping her black painted nails into his back.

Rafe's eyes rolled to the back of his head. Enjoying the feelings of Y/n's cunt wrapped around him.

"You like that?"

"Yes, god yes."

Y/n sat up, wrapping her arms around his neck. Each moan and huff she exposed in his earn make his whole body shiver. Rafe let out a grunt before answering. She clenched her walls around his dick. The dirty blonde groaned slamming into her body. "Do it again."

She did so. Clenching around around the boy as he slammed into her again. This time, hitting the spot that made her whole body go insane. "Tell me I'm yours."

"You're mine."

A moan escaped her lips after he said what she had wanted. Her hand smacked down onto the edge of the sinks counter. Grilling onto it for dear life. "Tell me it again."

The feeling of her finishing was fastly approaching. As well as for Rafe. The moans she let out made his go over the edge as he fucked her hard. "Tell me, Rafe."

"You're fucking mine, ah-"

Each of them let out a loud moan as they finished. Covering each others mouths. There shouldn't be anyone upstairs but for precautions they covered either way.

Rafe's head fell forward onto her chest. Taking large breaths as y/n did too. "Shit, y/n."

The Cameron pulled out of her. Helping her get redressed and cleaned just after he did himself.

"You're still on the pill right?" He asked as he zipped his pants.

"Yeah. It's fine," she smiled up at his 6'4 figure. Rafe reached down to kiss her passionately.

"I love you, Y/n."

"I love you, too."

[booberryfun]

Cold

Soft and warm… cozy blanket… Wait.

Hero’s eyes fluttered open as she shot up from the bed. Ow. No one should sit up so suddenly like that. Circling her fingers on her temple and blinking a few good times, the view of a small bedroom decorated with simple furniture came into view. This was definitely not her room. Looking around, there was a heater next to the bed, a bowl of water, a towel neatly folded on the desk table as well as a bottle of water and a thermometer. Wait, a thermometer? She held her hand up to her forehead and- whose hoodie is this?? Agitation soon consumed the girl, causing her head to hurt even more while trying to recall the memories of what happened before… all this. The last thing she remembered was running back to her dorm under the rain and-

Knock knock

“Oh, you’re awake.”

A soft voice echoed the room as a tall man walked in, holding what appears to be some clothes and a bag of medicines. A chill immediately went down her spine and she started shivering and coughing vigorously, trying to rout out the phlegm stuck in her throat. The man hurried over to her side, placed the clothes and medicines on the chair and grabbed a few pieces of tissues out from the drawer. Hero could feel a warm hand caressing up and down her back as she forced the sickening green glob out of her.

Oh that’s right. She had been sick for a few days now but she was so immersed in the finals that she brushed it off as a common cold. After finishing the last subject yesterday, she came down with a high fever. The fact that she forgot her umbrella in her room only made matters worse because it was downpouring when she left the school building and running in the rain wasn’t exactly a bright idea either.

“You’ve really got to stop passing out randomly on the campus like that,” the man sighed as he stood up to dispose of the used tissues. Hero tilted her head as she stared at the broad back in confusion.

“What do you mean passing out ran- have you been stalking me??”

“I wouldn’t say stalking. More of caring and worried,” he frowned, drying his hands. “Cause someone certainly hasn’t been taking care of themselves properly. How do you even expect to fight me in this condition?” He sat down next to her on the bed, placing a hand on her forehead. She could hear him mutter “Still hot” as he reached for the bag of medicine. Efferagal, Oresol, coughing syrup and some other typical cold medications.

“Here. Drink this and we’ll check your temperature again.” A bottle of orange-flavoured Oresol.

“Villain-”

“Stop talking or you’d lose your voice,” Villain growled. “Can’t you hear how hoarse your voice is already?”

Not knowing whether her cheeks were burning up because of the fever or blush, Hero quietly accepted the opened bottle and took a few sips of the drink. A little fizzy and a hell lot of flavours. If it weren’t for the fact that this drink was a type of supplementary drink that provided electrolytes, she would probably drink this for fun or as an energy drink of some sort. A small sigh escaped that immediately turned into another lung-ripping cough, although this time there wasn’t anything to force out.

“There there,” The soft voice had returned along with the warm hand on her back. “Take it easy and lie down, alright?” The burst of flavour definitely made her feel better, but her entire body was still sore and aching. As she slowly delivered herself down on the bed, Hero caught sight of Villain’s eyes when he turned from her to the table. Concern-filled. It’s funny how Villain had always been the poker-face type, rarely ever showing any emotions and yet here he was, practically fussing over sick Hero. The girl let out a smirk at the thought, though it felt nice having someone care about her. When was the last time someone checked on her when she was sick? In fact, when was the last time anyone asked her how she had been?

None of that mattered now that she found her head leaning towards the warm touch and wanting to hold on to that soothing feeling. Even if it was from the last person she had expected, even if this moment would only last for so long, at least, someone cared.

“Please stay…” were the last words Hero murmured before her consciousness slipped away into darkness.

Still having his hand on her forehead until he was sure she was asleep, Villain simpered at the view of the girl sleeping soundly. There was a whisper so faint as if it wasn’t meant to be heard before a gentle kiss landed on where his hand was a moment ago.

“Of course.”