#some of these I felt in my gut but other had me stumped so long

[snowysosturn]

Allies or Affiliates? - Chris Sturniolo Part 8

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 11 Part 12

Pairing : Y/n x Chris Sturniolo

Summary : Law student Y/n’s life takes a turn when she reconnects with Chris, her brief teenage flame who is now a dealer for a dangerous Boston drug gang. As their bond reignites, Y/n is drawn into Chris’s tumultuous world, where rival gangs clash and loyalty is everything. Balancing her love for Chris with her own ambitions, can their connection survive the chaos that threatens to pull them apart?

Warnings : MDNI, mentions of drugs, selling drugs, angst, cursing, arguing

Chris’ POV

I arrived with Nate to Tyler's party, adrenaline simmering in my veins. We parked a block down from the house, and the faint thump of music pulsing in the crisp night air as we walked up. I looked up to see Dylan leaning against the fence leading to Tyler’s house, eyes already catching mine like he’d been waiting. It’d been weeks since he’d hit me up, and I was a little thrown when he nodded at me and casually asked, “Hey, man, you got anything on you tonight?”

Surprised, I didn’t respond right away, but he lifted his hand with a smirk, flipping through fifty dollars in his fingers. My gut told me to pass it up, to just keep my head down for the night, but instinct won out. I mean it is my job at the end of the day, I always have something on me since I had a load I needed to sell. I slipped him what he wanted, his eyes lighting up as he stuffed it into his jacket pocket before striding off without a second glance. Nate gave me a quick look, eyebrow raised, and I just shrugged. One sale, quick, done. Tonight was about Y/n, and I was ready to put that side of things behind me, even if just for a few hours.

The front door swung open, and we stepped into the chaos. Bodies packed the space, some leaning against walls, others talking in loud, tipsy clusters. But the second I saw her, my focus narrowed. Y/n stood by Willow, both stood looking at something they’d both been stumped by, but the sight of her face broke through the nerves in my stomach. Her smile, so genuine and effortless, had a way of making me forget the weight I carried around every day. All I wanted now was to be next to her.

We moved through the crowd, and her eyes found mine, brightening as I made my way over. After a quick round of introductions, we slipped into a rhythm that felt almost automatic. We moved into the living room and conversation flowed easily, each word making the noise of the party around us blur a little more. Willow suggested heading upstairs with Nate. I couldn’t care less what Nate and Willow were actually planning on doing, my only thought was that Y/n and I were going to have time to ourselves. I couldn’t believe how quickly she’d become the person I wanted to be around.

Once they disappeared up the stairs, she turned to me with that flirty look that always got me, like she knew something I didn’t. Her jokes, her quick wit, how she’d nudge me playfully if she thought I was being too serious, it was easy, the way we bounced off each other, like we’d known each other forever. An hour flew by in what felt like minutes. I’d almost forgotten about everything else, about Dylan, about the things I was holding back from her.

It wasn’t long before an hour had passed and we both started wondering what Nate and Willow were up to, or how they were getting up to it so long. The thought made me laugh, shaking my head. “Do you think they’re planning to start a secret society up there?” Y/n joked, nudging me playfully.

I laughed, my eyes bright with amusement. “If they do, I want in. I could use a secret handshake. You know, something cool.”

I chuckled, letting my arm stretch out on the back of the couch as I leaned in a little. “Like what? You strike me as the type to throw up gang signs.” Her laughter was soft, but then it tapered off as her expression shifted to something more serious. “Actually,” she added thoughtfully, “have you noticed how tense things have been lately with the gangs?”

Her words caught me off guard, hitting me like a punch to the gut. I froze, every nerve in my body suddenly hyper aware of the reality I was hiding from her. For a split second, I thought I’d lost all ability to move, my face going hot as the room seemed to close in around us. I forced a smile, tried to keep my voice steady. “Yeah, it’s been rough. It’s hard to ignore the tension in the air around the city.”

It was a vague response, but the best I could manage. The truth was, I couldn’t risk dragging her into the dangerous mess that was my life. I just hoped she’d drop it. But Y/n wasn’t someone to let things slide that easily, and I should’ve known better.

“The shootings are what freak me out,” she said, her voice dropping to a near whisper. “Like, what if one of these people we’re surrounded by is somehow tied to it? It’s wild how quickly things can escalate. One minute you’re at a party, and the next, you’re ducking for cover.”

The irony of her words hit me hard. If only she knew. If only she knew that the person she was spending her time with was tangled up in the very world she was afraid of. I felt my throat tighten, a growing urge to just spill everything to her right then and there. She deserved to know the truth; she deserved a guy who wasn’t living a double life. But how do you tell someone that? How do you admit that you’re involved in something so dark and dangerous when you’ve spent weeks pretending to be just a normal guy?

Before I could figure out what to say, I saw Nate and Willow coming back down the stairs, both of them laughing, looking far too pleased with themselves. Nate caught my eye, giving me a small nod – a signal that, at least for him, the night had gone well. I seized the opportunity to stand up and offered Y/n a smile, trying to shake off the unease I was feeling.

“We’ll go grab you both a drink” I said, giving her hand a quick squeeze before heading toward the kitchen with Nate.

The second we were out of earshot, I leaned in closer to Nate, dropping my voice. “Y/n brought up the gang stuff, man. She’s scared, like really scared of everything going on. She’s seeing all of it around us, and it’s only a matter of time before she connects the dots.”

Nate raised an eyebrow, taking in my words with a seriousness that made me uneasy. “What did you tell her?”

I rubbed the back of my neck, frustration knotting in my stomach. “Nothing. I kept it vague, but how long can I keep dodging this stuff? She’s bound to figure it out eventually, especially when people like Dylan are out here practically shouting it.”

“Look, I get it, man” Nate said, glancing around as we neared the counter lined with drinks. “But maybe she doesn’t need to know. Keep her safe by keeping her out of it, you know?”

“Right” I muttered, though doubt lingered in my mind. Maybe that was the safest choice, but it didn’t feel right. I wanted to be honest with her, to not have this barrier between us.

We poured a couple of drinks and navigated back through the packed hallway, but a sharp laugh from around the corner made me look up, just in time to see the bathroom door swing open. Out stepped three girls, one by one, each with an expression more intense than the last. Y/n, Willow, and.. Sarah? My heart skipped a beat, every instinct on high alert.

Sarah? Dylan’s ex Sarah? The same Sarah who had once been one of my regulars? Since when are she and Y/n friends?

It was hard to read the exact vibe in that moment. Y/n’s eyes were locked on me, her expression steely and set, while Sarah’s gaze flicked between me and Nate, looking almost expectant, like she was waiting for something to play out. Willow crossed her arms, her posture tense, giving off a silent message that something was definitely off.

My pulse quickened as my mind raced to piece things together. I’d sold to Dylan tonight. Fucking hell, he’d practically hunted me down for it. There was no way Sarah would’ve been able to mention that to Y/n already.. right? Did she even know that Y/n and I were seeing each other?

“Y/n” I started, trying to keep my voice steady, but the weight of their stares was hard to ignore. I glanced sideways at Nate, whose brow had furrowed, and back at the girls. “You okay?”

Y/n’s eyes narrowed a bit, her lips pressed into a line. I could feel the judgement in her gaze, and something about it twisted at my chest. Whatever I’d just walked into felt loaded, way beyond the casual tension of a night out.

Y/n’s POV

My mind reeled as Sarah’s words sank in, twisting through me like a knife. Wait, his dealer Chris? My voice barely made it out, trembling as I tried to process what she’d just said. I needed her to be wrong. Needed it to be anyone else. “Chris who?”

Sarah blinked, then casually said, “Chris Sturniolo. You know, the guy who’s friends with Nate Doe?”

Everything around me seemed to fall away. My eyes darted to Willow, her expression mirroring my own shock, and I knew that she’d caught on as fast as I had. Nate’s name barely registered, I guess since I knew about the court case and the life Nate always had. But Chris? 

It felt impossible. But the pieces were starting to click, snapping into place with a harsh clarity I wasn’t prepared for. The late night messages, the vague excuses, the way he’d left our date so abruptly, claiming it was “something work related” that he “couldn’t miss.” Now it makes sense why. He’d lied so easily. We just had a conversation about this shit, about how it terrifies me, and he didnt even think to say anything? 

A wave of anger swept over me, and I struggled to keep it down, swallowing against the bitter taste of betrayal rising in my throat. I felt trapped in the tiny bathroom, the walls seeming to close in around me with every breath.

“I need to get out of here” I muttered, the words escaping on a shaky breath before I’d even decided to say them. I turned toward the door, my hand fumbling for the knob, my heart pounding so loud it felt deafening. Willow grabbed my arm, her grip firm and reassuring, but her face told me everything I needed to know, she was just as rattled as I was.

“I’m coming with you” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. But there was an edge of steel in it, her loyalty cutting through the haze of hurt that clouded my mind.

My stomach twisted as I pulled the door open, and there he was, standing in the hallway with Nate, a casual smile on his face as he held a drink in each hand. For a second, I couldn’t breathe. My heart felt like it had dropped straight through the floor. He looked so normal, so.. calm, and I hated how I still felt that stupid tug in my chest seeing him, even after everything I’d just learned.

His eyes flickered between us, his smile fading as he took in our expressions. I could practically see the wheels turning in his head as he looked from me to Willow, then to Sarah. And when his gaze finally settled back on me, there was something in his expression – an unease, a trace of something he was trying hard to mask. Nate must have picked up on the tension too, because he shot Chris a wary glance, then took a step back.

“Y/n.. you okay?” Chris asked, his voice careful, too careful, like he already knew that I knew.

I felt my throat close up, anger and betrayal boiling over so fiercely I thought I might burst. “Am I okay?” I bit out, my voice cracking as I tried to hold it together. “Why don’t you tell me, Chris? Are you okay with lying to my face?”

He opened his mouth to speak, but I couldn’t bear to hear him. I didn’t want to listen to his empty explanations, his excuses. I shoved past him, feeling the sting of tears at the back of my eyes. I heard Willow’s voice fading behind me, trying to calm me down, but I couldn’t stop. I stormed out the front door, not caring who saw me, needing fresh air and space.

Chris followed me outside, his footsteps catching up to me. “Y/n, wait! Can we talk about this?” he said, reaching for my arm, but I pulled away, my heart pounding.

“Talk about it?” I spun around to face him, my voice rising. “What could you possibly say to make this okay? I thought I knew you, Chris! I thought.. God, I was actually starting to feel something for you. And this whole time, you’ve been lying to me. You’ve been selling drugs, dealing, like it’s nothing!”

His jaw clenched, a muscle ticking in his cheek as he tried to keep his voice steady. “Y/n, it’s not as simple as you’re making it sound-”

“Oh, it isn’t?” I snapped, cutting him off. “What part of this isn’t simple? You deal drugs, Chris! You’re part of the reason people in this city are scared to walk home alone at night. You’re part of the reason people like Sarah end up doing this shit!”

His face paled, and he looked down, guilt and frustration flickering in his eyes. “It’s not like that” he said, his voice softening, but the crack in his defences was there. “I never wanted to be a part of this. It’s just.. It’s complicated, Y/n. There’s things you don’t understand.”

“Then make me understand!” I shouted, anger flooding every word. “Explain to me why you couldn’t be honest with me from the start. Explain why you let me fall for you while you hid this entire side of yourself from me. Explain why you were in my room last night, pretending everything was fine, when you knew, you knew, that I would hate this.”

He looked like he’d been punched, his face etched with hurt. “I never meant to lie to you. I didn’t want you to look at me like this, okay? I.. I couldn’t tell you because I was scared of this exact reaction. Scared you’d hate me.”

“Hate you?” I repeated, voice cracking. “I hate what you’re doing Chris.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair, clearly grappling with his own frustration. “You don’t get it, Y/n. I don’t do this because I want to. I’m just trying to survive. This life.. it’s not something you just walk away from.”

“So you’re just a victim here?” I scoffed, crossing my arms. “Poor Chris, forced into dealing drugs because he had no other choice?”

He looked away, jaw clenched, a bitter smile twisting his lips. “Yeah, laugh it off. Make it sound like it’s that easy. You think I wanted this? My life’s been messed up since I was a kid. Nate’s the only person who’s ever had my back, and this.. this is just part of the package.”

I felt a pang of guilt, but it was quickly drowned out by my anger. “That’s not an excuse, Chris. I get that life is hard, I really do. But this? This is a choice. And you made it.”

He shook his head, his eyes flashing with a mixture of frustration and sadness. “You don’t know what it’s like. I don’t expect you to understand. But I care about you, Y/n. I didn’t want to lose you over this.”

“But you have lost me,” I whispered, the words slipping out before I could stop them. The realisation hit me hard, like a punch to the gut, and I fought to keep my composure. “I can’t.. I can’t be with someone who lies to me. Who puts people in danger. Who just.. brushes off what I said tonight about how scared I am of this stuff.”

He stepped forward, his face pleading. “Please, don’t do this, Y/n. I want to try and get out of it.. Can I just explain myself?”

“You have two minutes.” I say sternly.

“I’m part of the Crimson Cartel.” His voice was barely above a whisper, but it held a weight that made my heart pound. 

The name sent a chill down my spine. Everyone in Boston knew of the Crimson Cartel – their name haunted the headlines, each story more violent and horrifying than the last. Suddenly, I felt like I couldn’t breathe.

“The Crimson Cartel?” My voice wavered. “You’re involved in a gang too? What the fuck Chris?”

He swallowed hard, his gaze dropping to the ground. “It’s not something I chose. Not really. It.. started with Nate. His family’s involved. His cousin Danny is one of the higher ups in the gang.” He paused, his eyes flicking up to meet mine, raw and vulnerable in a way I hadn’t seen before. “When Nate got pulled in, I knew.. I knew I’d be next. There was no avoiding it. And I didn’t want to drag you down with me, Y/n. That’s why I disappeared on you all those years ago.”

The words hit me with the force of a tidal wave. “What? You thought you were protecting me?”

He nodded, shoulders sagging under the weight of his confession. “I thought it was the only way I could. Once I realised where Nate was headed, once Danny started hovering around us, making promises and threats, I knew it was only a matter of time. If I stayed.. you would’ve been dragged into that life too.”

I felt like my head was spinning, memories flashing through my mind like a reel. The countless days and nights I’d spent wondering why Chris had vanished, trying to convince myself it was some teenage misunderstanding or the natural drift of life. And now, to find out he’d left because of this – a dark secret he’d never let me see, never wanted me to be part of.

“So, what changed?” My voice cracked, emotion breaking through the thin wall of composure I’d been trying to keep up. “You saw me again, and… what? Decided that you didn’t care about that anymore?”

He stepped closer, desperation etched in his face. “I never stopped caring, Y/n. You don’t understand, when I saw you again, it was like.. it was like a sign. Like maybe things could be different this time. That I could find a way to leave it all behind, just.. be with you.” He let out a bitter laugh, glancing away as he ran a hand through his hair.

His words hung in the air, thick with longing and regret. I wanted to believe him, I wanted so badly to believe that he’d stayed away to protect me, that this wasn’t some elaborate lie. But the anger I felt at being left in the dark, at being deceived, still pulsed hot inside me.

“Ha- have you.. Killed anyone?” I say almost afraid to ask.

“No Y/n, no I’m not involved like that.. I’m just a runner thats all I promise.” Chris pleaded, as if it magically made things better.

A silence fell between us, thick and suffocating. He was breathing hard, anger and hurt swirling in his eyes. And for the first time, I felt a trace of empathy, maybe even pity for the situation he was in. But it didn’t erase the feeling of betrayal clawing at my chest.

“Then walk away, Chris,” I said, my voice barely more than a whisper. “If you really don’t want this, then stop. Get out. Find another way.”

“It’s not that simple” he said, his voice pained. “You think they’d let me walk away? This isn’t some club I can just quit. Once you’re in, there’s no getting out without consequences.”

I shook my head, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. “So that’s it, then? You’re just going to keep dragging people into this mess with you? People like Dylan, people like Sarah.. people like me?”

Chris’s face softened, and he reached out, his hand hovering over mine. “Y/n, please.. I never wanted to hurt you. I just wanted a chance. A chance to see if there was any part of my life that could still be good.”

I stared at his hand, my heart breaking all over again. There was so much I wanted to say, so much anger and sadness twisting inside me. But all I could do was step back, out of his reach, my vision blurring as the tears finally spilled over.

“Then do what you have to do, Chris. But I don’t know if I can be part of it.”

And with that, I turned and walked away, leaving him standing alone in the darkness, the weight of our shattered connection pressing heavy on my heart.

a/n : should she take him back???? this is only the beginning of the emotional rollercoaster trust me

taglist: @mattybearnard @sturn-33 @ncm9696 @yourfavsturniologirl @crazy4jewel @sodakid1234 @stupendoustreewinner @lovealwayssturniolos @matthewsturniolosss @m4ttsmunch @loveexxx @ilusa @starkeyszn @wonnieeluvvr @dylnblue @valxrieq @maggot3647 @cigarettecemetary @ribread03 @chrisstvrns @bandasaruswrx @noplaceissafeanymore @amexiass @witchofthehour @mattssgf @jetaimevous @v33angel @ivysturnss @urmom69lol @ashlishes @watercolorskyy @sturnioloshottiekay @amelia-sturniolo3 @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @pvssychicken @alizestvrnss @lvrsturniolo @bernardsbunny @spaghetti835928383 @marrykisskilled @sturnsxplr-25 @bxtchboy69 @vickytaa @anikaistg @matts-girlfriend @lvrsturniolo

[heartstringsduet]

(ignore me accidentally unfollowing you while trying to send an ask)

for your prompts:

"Why are you following me?"

Hi Jen <3 Don't worry, I accidentally unfollow peeps too sometimes haha. We all do I think. Thanks for your prompt. I tried not to overthink it and it might be half-baked (not Ben&Jerry's ;)) but I hope you still like it. "Why are you following me"

His father might have been the one to tell him to trust his gut, but it was Tía Lucy who taught Carlos about the sixth sense. Her sixth sense told him when he had pulled out some of her herbs to chew on them when he was a toddler, his father’s seemed to be when Carlos got reprimanded at school and even later at work, his mother’s seemed to be knowing when he needed a hug even when he tried everything to appear like he didn’t.

Carlos’ sixth sense tingles as he rounds the corner of the candy aisle — and stops.

As expected, someone crashes right into his back. So he had been right about being followed. Sixth sense, gut, intuition. Whatever it was, it didn’t disappoint.

“Sorry!”

He’d only seen the stalker from the corner of his eyes, so to turn around and be faced with someone that walked right out of his dreams congeals Carlos momentarily.

What he didn’t expect to blurt out when he reinhabits his frozen body is, "Why are you following me?" 

It is true. This is the third aisle he’s felt the eyes on his back, the third aisle the stranger had stayed the exact same distance, the third aisle Carlos had had enough and tested his theory.

It’s one thing to think it, another to ask it straight out but Carlos stays cool. Even when he sees the slight flush of the man’s cheeks and the way he licks his lips and leaves a sheen. He stays totally cool. Unaffected and not lost in the slope of high cheekbones. 

“Uhm…I’m not?” the stalker says.

“I’m a cop, I know when I’m being followed.”

The stalker’s eyes widen — light green irises in full glory — before he quickly schools his face. “No you’re not.”

Carlos tilts his chin up. “Wanna see my badge?”

He gets a raised eyebrow and a smirk as a response that makes his stomach do a full loop. It hadn’t been an innuendo but the reaction makes his face feel hot.

The stalker’s tongue pokes into the corner of his mouth as he seems to think on what to say. “Okay.” He blows out a breath. “Okay. I followed you because you got the last Mexican Hot Chocolate ice cream and, frankly, I need it more. So if you don’t mind, could I buy it from you?”

Carlos frowns into his basket where he picked up both a tub of Cookies & Cream and apparently the reason someone followed him through the store for the past ten minutes.

A part of him doesn’t really care about the flavors, knowing the nephew he was planning to buy it for isn’t picky, but a bigger part prompts him to ask, “Who says I don’t need it the most?”

It seems to stump the other guy just like it stumped Carlos before. “Believe me, there is no way you do.”

“Unless I see concrete evidence for that need, I’m afraid I can’t give my tub up.”

It’s impressive how lowering his eyebrows makes the guy’s eyes look like a stormy sea, glistening as he blinks and suddenly Carlos gets washed into sadness with him. It’s there and it’s gone as the guy pushes past him.

“Nevermind.”

Carlos watches the rigid back retreating, the hands turn into fists and release. Before the man can forever stay a stranger, Carlos calls, “Wait!”

The guy turns.

Carlos jogs the few steps toward him, compelled to bridge the distance quicker. “It’s already pretty melty. Do you want to share it in the parking lot? I promise not to ask about your awful day again.”

He holds the guy’s stare again, like he will all night on the curb of the H-E-B, half a tub of ice cream long melted against he bamboo forks. A few years down the road, Carlos will think of that moment and realize his sixth sense hadn’t been about being followed. It had been a sign of his soulmate being close, giving his heart no chance to miss him.

[dilutedconfusion]

A Moth to a Flame

Eustass Kid x F!Reader (Part 3)

UMMM SOOOO YA’LL ARE LIKE THE NICEST PEOPLE EVER. Kisses and hugs to everyone who gives a semi-shit about what I write. I wrote this BEHEMOTH of a chapter and I personally think plot wise its my best yet. So get out your forks and knifes cause we eatin good today!

Summary: Having just found out Kid is a super big time murder machine Y/N is left in shock whilst sitting at the bar. Kid and Y/N finally have a coherent and tangible conversation. Emotions arise but Kid is still a total grump. In a fit of stupidity and some grief Y/N does something that I would not advise doing if you’re not like a professional idiot or something.

Warnings: Gore, NSFW (nothing actually happen theres just some sweet innuendos and mentions of NSFW related things)

Word Count: 6.3K

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Tags: @st4rfevrr @archangelshavethetardis @likeeliterallywtf @tremendoushorsepatrolgoth @tulipps-maehem (At this point, if you comment something I’m smacking ya right in the tag lists. If you don’t want that just tell me! I’m totes fine with it.)

Kid took a sip of his rum. The cool yet bitter liquid burned his throat and swirled in the deep parts of his gut. Leaning back against the pleather booth he let out a little sigh. His arm was still throbbing like a bitch. Another sign that a strong wave of phantom pain would soon be coming on. But he tried not to think about it. Hoping his brain would stop the onslaught of pain if he got it drunk enough.

Killer was sitting across from him. Using a straw to take periodic sips of his beer. They had been sitting here for a good bit but hadn’t talked too much. A comfortable silence sat between them as it usually did. Kid’s stump randomly twitching now and then though he kept his eyes closed as he tried oh-so desperately to relax.

Watching him quietly Killer noticed the small twitching movement of his partners arm. “Is it hurting again?” He asked, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible despite his worry.

Trying to hold himself back from being a total asshole, Kid spoke. Opening one eye and letting out a dry sigh. “I lost a fucking arm. What do you think?”

Was that the nicest reply? No. But if anyone other than Killer would have asked that question Kid would’ve just punched them. So he was getting off easy in Kid's terms.

Killer stayed quiet for a moment, grimacing under the space of his mask. “Well, you look a little strained. Is the liquor helping or making it worse?”

Kid finally opened both his eyes, leaning forward and putting an elbow up on the table in front of him. “Helping. Now quit pestering me about this shit.” Kid grabbed his glass and took another long chug of his rum. Finishing out the last bottle he had asked the bartender to make him.

Letting out a hearty burp he felt his torso sway a bit as he sat. He wasn’t drunk but he could feel that warm goopy feeling building up in his brain. Staring blankly at the rest of the vacant and dimly lit room. Listening quietly to the sounds of people in the front room of the bar. The waiter who had taken his order was working the bar itself so he knew she was going to take a while to make an extra round.

“Want me to go get ya some more? I’ll order some food so you don’t crash as hard later.” Killer murmured out, already slightly sliding to the left to get on his feet.

That made Kid's red-painted lips scrunch up, waving his hand at Killer to stop. “Get your ass back on that seat. I got it.” Kid let out a grunt and started sliding off the booth to a stand. His body swayed just slightly but he stood up normally. His huge fur coat lay discarded on the booth seat.

Kid turned towards it and picked it up. His body felt stiff like an old piece of wood. Nearly groaning at even the slightest movement and it annoyed the shit out of him. Feeling light-headed he swung his coat over his shoulders. It was a bit difficult considering the lack of an arm but Kid has since gotten used to it. Making sure that his stump was at least halfway hidden by the fur of his coat. The bandages and torn scars running along his chest were mostly hidden, though he couldn’t hide the fresh scars on his face.

“Ya know…you don’t need to hide it. They are proof that you made it through something shitty after all.” Killer whispered to Kid, knowing it was a sensitive spot on his poor Captain's mind.

Kid’s face stayed sharp and demeaning but Killer's words had gotten to him even if just a little. Letting out a huff of air he responded, “Ya don’t think I know that? I just want everything to heal a bit more. Then I’ll show it off.” With that Kid started walking away from the table, leaving Killer in his lonesome.

He bounded past the other booths. His boots hitting the wooden floor below loudly as he made his way to the other part of the building. The sounds of casual conversation floating towards him along with the satisfying sound of taps being drawn while the bartender siphoned out beer.

Walking up the two small steps that separated the rooms he could feel the air around him get just a tiny bit warmer. The low crackling fire tracing the room with a rich wooden scent and faint smoke. Walking up to the bar he paid no mind to those around him. Leaning up against the wood as another much stronger wave of pain shot up through his stump.

Shit. He thought, gritting his teeth. He would give anything to start rubbing his arm. Soothing the muscles trying to avert whatever pain would come next. But as that same waiter came up to him he had no choice but to deal with it.

She had that same polite smile on her face. Standing on the other side of the bar, her hands filling up beer glasses as she talked. “Run out? Sorry, I didn’t make a round back there. We’re pretty short-staffed right now. What can I get ya?”

“More of the same. And…some fried chicken.” Kid mumbled out, settling down onto the barstool nearest to him. The woman looked him over for a moment. Glancing at his stump and bandages for only a second. Her face turned a bit contorted in what Kid could only assume was disgust before brightening up once again.

Never seen a guy with some wounds eh? Kid thought, almost wanting to say that out loud. If he wasn’t so tired and beat up he would’ve.

Well in truth if he wasn’t in pain he'd be drinking his ass off and winning bar fights. But he was in pain, his throbbing stump a reminder of that.

“Sounds good. I can walk it back there when it’s ready.” She said in that same sweet customer service tone.

Kid just rolled his eyes at her. “I sat down. I’ll stay here and wait. Can’t go back expecting you to remember to bring the damn food.”

The bartender cringed a bit at that but remained neutral regardless. “Sounds good. Let me go get that started for you.” She said awkwardly. Walking away from Kid in a bit of a rush and heading towards what he supposed was the kitchen door.

Kid eyes watched her as she disappeared, letting out a soft tongue click in annoyance. Eventually, his eyes just started drifting. His right hand once again itching to rub his poor stump but he held back. He looked down the line of the barstools absentmindedly to take note of the few people littering the room.

However, something made his eyes pause. They hovered over a girl. She was sitting at the other end of the bar, holding up a newspaper and looking it over as if it were the most important thing in the world.

Wait a fucking minute. I’ve seen her before.

It’s not like he didn’t expect it to some extent but a part of him had already forgotten what a weird little stalker you were. He glanced over your body, seeing the same clothes, jacket, and satchel he’d seen earlier.

Damn, it is the same chick.

He just kept staring at you wondering exactly when you were going to notice him. Your eyes were so glued to the newspaper your damn nose was nearly shoved in it. Even though Kid didn’t want to talk to anyone right now, he couldn’t help but rub your face in your obvious fuck-up.

“So you really-”

“WAH!” Your body jerked randomly hearing that deep voice once again. The newspaper crinkled as your fingers dug into it. Your whole body turned towards Kid at the other end of the bar but leaned away as if he was diseased. “Goddamn it! Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

“What the fuck?” Kid mumbled out, brow furrowed in confusion as he stared at your beet-red face. Soft eyelashes blinking over and over at him again as if you couldn’t tell if he was real or not.

“What do you mean what the fuck? You snuck up on me!” You yelled, voice faltering a tiny bit as you realized just how LOUD you were being. Covering your mouth with one hand to almost suppress the sheer adrenaline running through your veins.

You hadn’t expected to be talking to him, especially since he was the one to initiate it. The mortifying news about him on the paper mixed with his sudden appearance and this lunging feeling in your gut was a lot to handle.

Kid narrowed his eyes at you, face more bemused than annoyed by what an idiot you were being. “I didn’t fucking sneak up on you. I’ve been sitting here for like 5 minutes just starin’ at your ugly ass and you didn’t even notice me.” He turned the barstool a bit more towards you, leaning his good arm against the bar gingerly.

Taking your hand off your mouth you leaned forward towards him. The multiple chairs between the two of you made the distance of the conversation a bit awkward but that wasn’t going to stop you from being an asshole. “Well if my ass is so ugly, why were you staring?”

Kid's lip twitched at that, his cheeks almost daring to blush red but he held it back. He didn’t like that you had taken his insult in that way. But before he could let it affect him he let the first thing he thought of slip past his tongue.“Cause it's so damn horrific I couldn’t look away. Plus you might as well have been licking that newspaper by the way you were holding it. Following my order like a good little puppy eh?”

Your eyes widened ever so slightly, still holding onto the newspaper rather tightly in one hand. Looking down at it for a moment like you should be ashamed before frowning at him. Kid watched and bathed in your reaction, a condescending smile on his lips. It made you reel with anger. Wanting to slap that shit-eating grin off him until he was black and blue.

“I ain’t looking at this 'cause you told me to! I wanted to do this because you wouldn’t tell me who you are. Just so happens that I know who you are now and if my calculations are correct, you’re a total asshole and a lunatic. Though I probably didn’t need the newspaper to figure that first one out.” You told him, voice quiet enough so the whole bar didn’t hear but your tone was condescendingly lethal.

Again Kid just stared at you for a moment. If anyone else would’ve given him even one-quarter of a verbal punch that you just gave him they would’ve been dead on the ground. But he was tired and though he would never admit it, your comeback was good. Letting out a strong puff of air through his sharp nose to calm his urges he decided to take the argument in a different route. One that would give him the advantage over someone who had just a tiny bit of bite to them.

“I get it, sweetcheeks. You’re desperate to know me. To get my attention. Thought you could read up on me so you could handle the real thing easier but clearly you can’t.” Kid said, raising his hand in the air so ‘matter of factly’ though his tone was anything but serious. The glint of his teeth as he smiled and the way his low voice rumbled just made you angrier by the second.

A small tint of red rising on your cheeks out of pure embarrassment. Making mouth go agape for just a moment before you concocted a comeback.

“Q-Quit acting like you're the shit, you glorified puffball. I figured out who you are and if you’re anything like how this newspaper is portraying you in real life, then I should go get a pitchfork and a torch to exile your ass.” You flipped open the newspaper and pointed it towards him. Showing him the two pictures of him committing crimes aplenty.

Hearing you call him a puffball made Kids lack of eyebrows raise in confusion, wondering why in the hell you thought he looked like a puffball. You could see the gears in his head turning as he looked down at his chest to notice the large fur coat he was wearing. Yet still, after another second of mental debriefing, he put two and two together.

“Hey don’t fucking call me a puffball!” Kid said in a slight snarl, a tiny bit of red gracing his cheeks at your comparison. Leaning forward he eye’d the pictures you were holding up. “And I look great there so I don’t know what you’re getting at. They got all my best angles. Even a good picture of me back in my start-up.”

This time it was your turn to be confused, pointing sharply at the pictures of him and even raising out your arm so he could see it better. “So we're just going to ignore all the murder. Ya know, like right here and here and here.” You pointed at the dead crucified bodies hanging limply on their crosses. Blood and splattered guts dripped out of the slightly blue and cold-looking bodies.

Kid rolled his eyes, looking at you as if you’d just said the earth was flat. He rubbed his chin almost to feign boredom as he spoke. “I don’t see what the problem is.”

And with that, you smacked yourself in the face with your palm. Rubbing a hand over your temple and scrunching your face in a mesh of lines that represented pure annoyed disbelief. Taking a deep breath you responded, “Look, I ain’t your mommy and I ain’t going to tell you what you can and cannot do. But, this is my island. You do this shit here and don’t think you’ll be leaving with all your vital organs intact.”

“Well by the sounds of it maybe I should do just that. Give me some entertainment with a good little fight.” Kid immediately quipped back, his face returning to that patronizing smile you oh-so hated.

At this point, it felt like maybe you were talking to a wall. One that was so caught up in having an argument with you he didn’t want to take you seriously. “You are just a complete fucking menace aren’t you?” That was all you could say, almost dumbfounded by his stupidity.

“I am and the people dig it. Can’t say a little danger doesn’t get ‘em all hot and bothered.” He remarked, his shit-eating grin growing even wider as he tilted his head and leaned towards you a bit more. Your face just went completely flat. Void of all emotion except annoyance and the painstaking wish he had said anything but that.

“I love it when people lie through their teeth to my face.” You said so flat and lifeless a robot might as well have said it.

Kid's eyebrows scrunched up a tiny bit, not at all pleased he didn’t get the reaction out of you he wanted. He wasn’t flirting with you, or at least that's what he thought when he said it. In all honesty, Kid has the same flirting skills as goldfish. Just making bubbles and floating by expecting someone to get drawn in by how shiny his scales were. So when he said that he actually just wanted to see you embarrassed like you had made him feel. Little to say it was the first time he felt genuinely peeved by you.

“I ain’t lyin'. I’m a big-time pirate that’s big in more places than one. What more could someone want?” He clamored out, trying to lean into his more cocky attitude. Again his innuendo is less about stroking his ego and more about getting a reaction out of you. He didn’t need confirmation that his dick was big. But he wanted you to blush because he told you.

Your eyes twitched a bit when he said that. Not knowing exactly how to interpret why he was bragging to you and most definitely not taking it as flirting at all.

As if a cocky asshole like him would ever flirt with me, he just wants me to feel small and worthless doesn’t he?

Giving him a blank dead stare you spoke, “What more could a person want? Well…I don’t know, maybe literally anyone but you.”

Kid would never in a million fucking years admit it but that shit stung. He usually never lets people's opinions cloud his view of himself. They were nobody to him so why care?

Then why the fuck am I taking what she said seriously? He mulled over this thought for a moment feeling almost ashamed that he let anything you say get through his impenetrable skin.

But he beat himself out of that thought, scowling harder than ever before and clenching his one good hand until his knuckles turned white.

You noticed this despite the multiple barstools that took up the space between the two of you. Face once dead of emotion now alight in a wave of slight nervousness and even a bit of regret.

Why the fuck did I say that? To a murderer of all people? Do I want to get killed that badly?

Kid felt his stump throb in pain once again like a hammer cast in flames slamming into every single nerve. He grits his teeth hoping you didn’t notice before responding. “Like your opinion of me matters. Quit acting like you know me. You’re nothing compared to what I am.”

You watched him carefully, eyeing the way his muscles uncomfortably tensed underneath his fur coat. The slight sheen of sweat on his brow became a bit more noticeable in the low light. It made a strange feeling of guilt swirl deep in your core seeing him like that. He was a total douchebag but it felt wrong kicking him when he was down.

“I don’t know you but I’ve met people like you. More than I’d like to admit.” Your tone was soft as you spoke, not looking him in the eye as you held on to the newspaper in an almost delicate way. “I’m just saying I don’t trust you. And…if I’m right then I have every reason to be cautious. Reading this newspaper gives you a ‘I’ll kill everyone’ air.”

Kid watched you as you spoke. His amber eyes were sharp and clear as he noticed the change in tone. It didn’t bother him but in his opinion, it sounded like the most truthful thing you’ve said so far. “I don’t just kill everybody. I have some restraint ya know.”

“Well according to this newspaper, you kill pretty much anyone all the time. To the point that it's what you are known for. I mean, look at this headline, it says slaughtering right there.” You pointed to the headline once more, laying the newspaper flat on the bar before picking up your glass. The sight of rotting flesh in the pictures forcing your heart to lurch each time you even glance at it.

“Well, all of the people I kill fucking deserve it. Do you think I hand out mercy out of sympathy for worthless people? The motherfuckers get in my way so they deserve to be in the ground.”

Kid’s voice was harsh with conviction as he spoke. As if he's said this same thing nearly a thousand times. You took another quick sip of your daiquiri. Licking the sugar off your lips with a quick swipe before glancing back over at him.

“So…are you going to do that here? On this island? String me up by my belly and let my intestines slip out?” You asked him quietly, eyes boring into him with an intensity he hadn’t seen from you before. It felt raw and almost threatening. Like you were daring him to try because you knew he would lose.

He wanted to be annoyed and he wanted to punch you right in the jaw. Snap you out of whatever diluted sense of power you seemed to be feeling. But his stump was still soaring with pain. He was managing it sure but he knew if he started moving around too much he’d topple over. So instead he resorted to using his words, which was his least favorite thing to do. “Well…I’m thinking about it but…I’m not in the mood. It's too worthless to kill someone so weak. I have bigger fish to fry.”

Your eyes narrowed, reading into him for even a sliver of deception. You didn’t know what kind of man he was. Supposing he was a liar and cheat like most of the men who traveled the sea were. So you prodded him deeper, trying to find the root of his honesty. “Could your lack of motivation to kill me…have anything to do with those injuries of yours?”

You glanced at his stump and bandages running across his chest. The scabbed-over and healing scars on his face were still red and puffy from their recent affliction. Kid's eyes widened and he leaned back away from you ever so slightly. Hating the fact that you dare mention his injuries. Hating the fact that you thought they were making him weak. That they were holding him back.

That rage he had been holding in ever since it happened started to bubble up. The same rage that he felt for his crew members when they pitied him. The same rage he felt for himself. He had to look away, trying to regain himself. Control his overwhelming urges to not only split your face open but break every piece of furniture within ten feet of him.

He finally looked back at you, ready to scream his head off, “Don’t you dare-”, but he paused.

It was surprising to see your face like that.

It stopped him dead in his tracks, his once boiling rage now a soft simmer within only a second.

Kid didn’t know how to describe it. It was like you weren’t looking at him for who he was. For the scars he held. Those eyes of yours were looking at him for what he is. Deep somber orbs filled with nothing but…empathy?

No…that’s not the right word. It doesn’t feel…like it’s meant to be helpful or caring. Not an ounce of pity.

Familiarity. She knows how I feel.

Kid wasn’t good at reading people's emotions. He could barely understand his own emotions most of the time. So it was strange how he met you in the middle with just a glance.

Even though it didn’t last more than a few seconds.

“I have another pitcher of beer, a tall glass of rum, and that chicken you ordered.” Came the voice of the waiter. Walking through the swinging door with a large tray in hand carrying all the contents she mentioned.

Your face contorted to embarrassment as you watched the waiter stride up towards Kid. He had to force himself to look away from you, wanting to continue the conversation with you despite himself.

What the fuck has gotten into me?

Kid nearly rolled his eyes at himself. Feeling a pang of heat cross his cheeks he let out a grumbling cough to mask it. The waiter placed the tray carefully in front of Kid at the bar.

“Sorry for the wait but does everything look good?” She asked, sliding her body behind the bar and eyeing both Kid and you. Her eyes were bouncing between the two of you a bit, clearly wondering the origins of the tension floating in the air.

Oh god. She even knows I was researching him. You thought to yourself. Feeling like you’d been caught in the act of doing something reckless and stupid.

Kid stared down at the tray, his jaw tight as he let out a deep breath of air he’d been holding in. “It’s fine.” He grumbled, again that ache in his stump making his eye twitch.

Sliding his weight down onto the floor he stood up. His back cracked a bit as he rolled his shoulders trying to subside the ache. You watched him silently. Gliding your eyes gently across his wide shoulders. How the strong muscles there tensed and rolled as he moved. His smooth pale mounds of warm skin with bandages on every other inch lingering in your mind. His height was just as demeaning as you remember it though you still were a good ten feet away.

Always close enough to talk but not close enough to be considered next to him.

His hand tugged his coat around his shoulders a bit more, before he haphazardly tried to pick up the tray. His thick and lacquer-covered fingertips tried to dig under the tray without spilling anything. His one-handed skills at doing pretty much anything got in the way of even the simplest tasks of his life.

“You sure…you don’t need a little help?” The waiter softly asked. Watching Kid as she cleaned off the countertops with a rag.

“Say that again and don’t expect to be going home tonight with a tongue.” Kid spat back, his voice dripping with venom.

The waiter again nearly clammed up but backed off almost immediately. She was used to dealing with pirates but…this man was on a whole other level. Staying quiet and walking over towards your side of the bar instead.

She glanced at you but you didn’t pay much attention. Instead, you were trying to slyly watch as Kid finally wound his large hand underneath the tray. Holding it up easily on his palm at shoulder level before starting to walk away. Disappearing through a doorway without even a second glance towards you.

You let out a small displeased huff of air. At least expecting a glance or chance to continue that conversation. You felt like you were getting somewhere with that. Getting to know him a bit better. It was interesting beyond belief and if someone asked you if you’d rather stay at home in safety or talk to a scary pirate. Well…you would choose a scary pirate every time.

It felt nostalgic and it made your boring life more lively. That is until the waiter got in the way.

“You okay hun? He didn’t threaten you right?” She asked softly, giving you a sympathetic smile as she continued to wipe the bar.

You gave her a little quirk of a smile purely just for show. Not willing to give her a hard time for breaking up your conversation with that man. “Yeah, I’m fine. He did nothing wrong.”

“Well that I don’t believe. Seems to me like he's nothing but a walking pile of wrong.”

You stayed silent at first. Fiddling with your glass a tiny bit before finally picking it up to your lips and finishing the last of it off. Gulping it down and feeling the smooth taste of it run down to swirl in your gut.

“Well sometimes…a whole lotta wrong is just right.”

__________

No matter how much you wanted to, you couldn’t force yourself to stand up and walk into the back room of the bar. To go face that redhead again and his masked friend.

His name is not redhead, it's Kid. Eustass ‘Captain’ Kid. That thought dawned upon you as you thought over your conversation with him. You knew his name but hadn’t spoken it out loud even once. Even now his name stays within the confines of your mind. You had learned it while reading the newspaper along with the aforementioned Massacre Soldier, that blondie that’s with him.

Mulling over the idea of going and talking to them you tried to hype yourself up multiple times to gain the courage.

Come up with a catchy one-liner that would make you just a bit more likable. Maybe say nothing and sit down next to one of them like you own the place.

Assert dominance. Yeah….no.

You had no reason that wasn’t deathly embarrassing when explaining WHY you wanted to sit with them.

I’m just…bored, which would lead them to joke about my small, stupid, and uninteresting life. Maybe even lead Kid into bragging about how ‘important’ and ‘amazing’ he is compared to me.

Even thinking about that made your face sour. Rolling your eyes at nothing like you had just heard the worst joke imaginable.

I could…tell them that I have this strong gut feeling and it's dragging me towards them like a fish on a hook, which would lead to them being confused, taking it as flirting or calling me…ugh desperate.

That word crawled on your skin and sunk into your flesh. Like a tick taking root so one way or another you’d end up with Lyme disease or even worse, a bruised self-image.

You weren’t about to let that happen but this longing in your gut was almost incurable.

You even tried to calm down and look at your situation in a simpler light.

It’s just two men. Two pirates. You’ve dealt with pirates. You know how they work. You told yourself, hands feeling clammy as they gripped the edge of the bar. I already talked to one of them and it went…okay. Or maybe I’m just lying to myself and it went horribly.

You slouched in your chair and frowned. Nearly slamming your head down on the bar but you held back. Remembering you were indeed, still in public and if you wanted to wallow in your self-loathing you needed to go home for that.

I don’t need more people thinking I’m crazy.

You eventually stood up, walking to the point where you were just at the precipice of the doorway before panic struck you and you turned around just to walk straight out of the bar.

Red as a tomato and filled with shame you retreated into the night.

Did I even tell him my name?

You chewed your lips, the pleasant sounds of raindrops hitting the hood of your jacket and filling up your ears. It was a dark walk home. One that felt unmotivated to return home. You’d rather be out here, at night. The barren surroundings, whirring trees in the wind, and the rain pleasant yet cold. So you started meandering, walking as slow as you could despite the late hours.

Now and then the moon would peek through the clouds as if to say hello. A far-off lantern leaving a cool milky glow on your surroundings before being swallowed up by darkness once again.

Thank god my jacket is waterproof. You thought, watching the raindrops slip off the edge of your hood and in front of your face. It wasn’t a downpour just yet but it was not the best walking weather in most people's minds.

Yet even so you started making a detour.

What the fuck am I even doing?

At some point, while walking along the slightly muddy but managing trail to your home you made a hard 90-degree turn. Walking away from the direction of the little cabin your father had built when you were born, deep on the west side of the island.

It took about a half hour to walk through those woods to your house. Strong iron lanterns hung up on a few trees so you didn't get lost in the night. The animals are far too afraid to even step foot near your trail ever since your father claimed this portion of land.

So you were safe thankfully but what you weren’t safe from was yourself.

The trail you turned off onto led straight to the ocean. It was a bit muddier and more overgrown with thick roots and ferns but you have walked on this trial nearly half of your life. You knew it better than anyone because you were the one who made it.

Now and then you could hear the low rumble of lightning in the distance. Not too close but not entirely far off. The evergreens, birch and a few sparing oaks protecting you from the onslaught of the wind. As the wind cascaded through their branches it sounded like the raw howl of banshee. It creeped you out a bit but it was something you’ve heard before. This forest home even in the looming hours of the night.

Eventually, you breached the forest and reached the shoreline. The rain had died down a little, just a light pitter-patter against your jacket. The sand was wet but solid as you stepped down onto it. Your feet sunk in just a bit held against your weight regardless.

Looking out you noticed the ocean was in havoc. Waves nearly half your height would roll in and crash down like a bomb along the shore. The ocean tugged the water back in a greedy fashion as if it wanted to consume the land. Tall white-tipped waves stretching far out into the bay. The scent of salt, seaweed, and something oh-so comforting gliding in the space between you and the water.

Gosh if it's this bad here, I wonder what it’s like out on the open sea right now.

You looked down the shoreline, spotting the docks more towards the middle of the bay off to your left. There lay a few fishing ships, all bobbing up and down like pelicans in the water. But of course those weren’t the boats your eyes stayed glued to.

The contrast between those boats and the absolute behemoth that was the Kid Pirates ship was amazing. It was a good distance away, much bigger looking than it had originally been when you first spotted it. Squinting your eyes you could still make out a few shadows of people walking along its deck.

Your memory started floating into the forefront of your mind. Days on a deck like that. Nights spent harboring the seas as you tossed and turned in your bed. It felt like ages ago. That part of your life was now foreign to you the second the incident happened.

I wonder what he would’ve wanted for me.

Grief sunk deep into the root of your being. Covering the very base of who you are in a thick, oily, and dark substance. One that no matter how many times you tried to wash it off, it just wouldn’t go away.

“Goddamn it,” You muttered, trying to will yourself out of the feelings you held. You looked over at the sea once again, eyes trailing off towards your right. A long line of huge boulders stretched out into the waters. Built to elongate the bay and protect the land from bigger waves.

Without a thought, you walked towards it. The jetty calling your name as it has done a million times.

Climbing up onto the slick boulders you made sure to stay towards the shoreline side. The other side of the boulders, facing towards the open ocean, getting berated with large waves. You could barely hear yourself think with how loud it was. The light spritz of water landed on you periodically as you slowly and carefully traversed the boulders. Algae, kelp, starfish, and mussels littered around you. Wanting to trip you up whenever they could.

This is stupid, I can’t see shit. You thought, using your hands to steady yourself on any taller outcroppings of rock as your feet trembled underneath you. It wasn’t out of fear though, it was excitement. Excitement to do something dangerous. Excitement to try something so stupid.

Why am I like this? It’s cold and wet and I could fall into the ocean, get thrashed, and drown.

But you knew why you were like this. You knew exactly why and yet you still didn’t understand yourself. Feet moving without a thought. Your brain so focused on feeling something more than yourself that you don't care to stop.

At first, you didn’t even notice them. The pair of eyes watching you from a distance. Red-painted lips frowned in confusion as they eyed the familiar image of a girl seemingly trying to get herself killed.

In the cacophony of the waves and how they thrashed you heard another noise. A low deep whine of something in the distance. Your head perked up, blinking as if you had heard a ghost. As if the wind and waves were trying to talk to you. Thinking it was nothing you continued along until a second later you heard it again.

You looked out onto the sea towards your left, swallowing hard as you stared at the rocking waves just a few feet below you. You pressed your back up against a flat boulder at your side. Gripping onto it to keep your balance you finally glanced back at the shore.

What the-

An image of a man, a puffball-shaped man to be exact, standing at the edge of the shore right next to the jetty. You couldn’t make out his features but there was no denying who it was. His one intact arm waving and pointing toward something in your vicinity.

What the fuck?

The second you finished this thought something hit you.

Something dangerously cold and heavy enveloping you. Starting from the top of your head down to your toes. It burned your eyes as the cold sunk deep into your marrow.

Scraping your hands against the rock as you tried to stay upright, though the second it broke skin you were forced to let go. Your knees caving in under the insurmountable weight thrashed upon you.

One second you were standing and in the next you were getting sucked into the dark and desolate ocean below.

A/N: SHIT IS GETTING REAL YA’LL. BAD THINGS ARE HAPPENING. I wrote this with my eyes comically wide the whole time. Sorry to leave ya’ll on like a cliffhanger but it makes for good story telling so have fun suffering. Quirky reminder but Kid can’t swim. So like….yeah shes fucked. I mean she did it to herself but still. RIP Y/N 🙏 or a least RIP until the next chapter.

[gremlinmodetweeker]

Fuck Me Like A Bitch So I May Love You More

Some more of Cannibal King!König, this time getting real mad and protecting his prize from other competitors. Also features my new favourite side character in this series. So anyways, enjoy having your hair braided and König beating the shit out of a guy.

Btw full version is on my Kofi if you want the smut.

TWs: graphic violence, very dubcon, referenced loss of child (if you squint), reader being a dick about 'savages', public sex/voyeurism/orgy (reader does not participate)

Wordcount:3.5k

Art from This Post

Story Below the Cut

Fuck Me Like A Bitch So I May Love You More

The worst day you ever had on the island started with an elder cannibal weaving yarrow flowers into your hair.

You didn’t understand why this cannibal was so gentle, or on a more practical note, how she knew to braid hair. Like all the other cannibals, she was shaved almost completely bald, save for a spattering of murky peach-fuzz that had started growing in. And yet, her long frail fingers wove through your hair with a gentleness you’d only seen shared between lovers. Your hair had grown in unnaturally quickly, and as such had bundled into horrible tangles, and yet she was remarkably conscious of how sensitive you had become. 

After scratching and pulling at it uselessly the night prior, your king had brought you to a small skin tent on the outskirts of the settlement. There, a small little woman wearing only a dirty deerskin loincloth was sharpening an axe. The right side of her face was painted with fleshy scars that encircled an empty socket. The teeth on the same side were bare to the world and drool occasionally dropped from one side to the dirt below her. When her one good watery amber eye settled on you, in it you saw only a haunting sadness. You tried to avoid staring, but it was useless. She gave you a thin knowing smile in return.

Your cannibal king tied your leash to a branch before he walked over to the woman, kneeled at her feet and kissed her hands. She closed her eyes and pet his head, then let him go so he could stand above her. He pointed at you and grunted a few words to her, notably softer in tone than usual. Then he pet her head, knelt down to kiss her through his mask, and backed away.

He turned to you and pressed both hands on your shoulders. His blue eyes were notably sharper, and though he said nothing, he conveyed everything he needed to. Stay here. With that, he left and you were alone wit the cannibal woman.

She brought a stool out from her tent and gestured at the stump. It took a second, but you realized what she wanted and sat where she’d been sharpening your axe. You felt a seed of dread root in your gut at the thought that she’d been sharpening it for you.

When you settled, you felt her slowly feel around your hair. You tensed up, ready for her to either rip your hair apart or take her axe to your hair, but she did neither. Instead, you were surprised when she whispered sweet nothings into the nape of your neck and gently massaged the muscles of your shoulders. She set her axe to the side, and you automatically sighed in relief. She chuckled at your reaction as she brushed her frail hands over your skin.

You turned slightly to point at the axe, then at you. You raised a questioning eyebrow.

She followed your eyes, then shook her head and chuckled again. She brushed her hands over your hair before raising her hands up above her head like great claws. It took a moment, but you soon realized she was speaking about your king. When you nodded, she pet your hair again, then clasped it carefully and nodded. Evidently, you wouldn’t be getting a haircut today.

Her skin wasn’t soft, yet her touches were so delicate that it felt like the brushes of a butterfly’s wings over your skin. She wove her way up the muscles of your neck to your hair, where she finally began to gently unwind it. Each strand was treated with utmost care as she unwove it from the mats that had formed in your hair. You closed your eyes and let the sensations wash over you.

For the first time since coming to the island, you were perfectly calm. Everything was at ease, life was peaceful. The birds chirped in the distance with the trickle of a passing river. The wind was soft as it brushed by through the long grass. The crackle of a fire warming some rich aromatic soup reminded you of older times. And through this peace, the old woman caressed your scalp. You’d never had felt such tender care to you hair before. You’d been to hairdressers before, but nobody was this loving, this careful, this delicate. Even your own mother had pulled at your hair occasionally when you'd been a little girl as she had tried to get you ready for school. On the contrary, this woman was unnaturally careful. You couldn’t quite wrap your head around it, but thinking was stressful and so that too washed away.

Once she had finished untangling the mats along the back of your neck, she adjusted her stool around to work on the side. Now, from the edge of your vision, you could see the hollow socket of her eye boring into you. You tried to turn away out of respect, but her hand hooked your chin and she guided you back into place. You felt childish for trying to look away, showing such horrible disrespect to the one person who’d been nothing but kind to you. You tried to give her a smile, but if she gave you one in return, you couldn’t see as her lips had been torn away. Only the fond bunching of her cheek muscle below the socket gave you any indication of forgiveness.

As she wove through your hair, you realized she was still talking to you. No, not talking. Singing. Soft, sweet archaic lullabies. Some of them sounded hauntingly familiar, others you couldn’t place at all. Her voice creaked, yet there was a soft fondness to her voice. It faltered, it sang off notes, yet it was steady with the current of the song. You let yourself drown in it for the briefest moment. It didn’t matter that you couldn’t understand her, you could feel the kindness radiating through the tunes. Old reminders of some place far away, some place lost long ago. Gone but not forgotten. You figured if you went to sleep in her arms and never woke up, you could say that you'd lived a good life.

A sudden cry brought your attention. The woman stopped singing and let her hands drop to her lap. You opened your eyes and looked from her over to where she was looking.

In the distance, a young cannibal woman was holding a child, shushing it and bouncing it on her hip. Before you knew it, your cannibal was walking over to the young woman.

The young woman flinched when she approached. The elder held out her arms, and though hesitant, the newborn was passed over to the older woman. Just as soon as the babe was touched by the elder, they stopped their crying and opened their eyes to look at the new person. The child held up a hand to touch the scars on her face. From this angle, you could see the sad smile of the elder. The elder cupped the child’s hand with her own. Her shoulders shook, and soon the woman began to cry. The younger woman embraced the two, and together they stood, each trying desperately to understand the other.

You don’t know how you knew, but in an instant you knew exactly what happened. The scars, the baby, her sobs. Everything clicked into place. Her kindness was no longer strange and unexpected. When the older woman handed back the babe, you could feel the pain she felt. The younger woman brushed her hand over the elder’s scalp lovingly. They pressed their foreheads together before the younger one left, the child now resting comfortably in the young woman's arms, and the elder's arms empty by her side.

When the elder returned to you, you gently held a hand out to hold hers. The woman looked down at your hand, then up at you. You couldn’t say anything to comfort her or to let her know you cared. So, with nothing else to say, you turned and you hugged her.

She stiffened at first, but soon melted into the hug you gave. You tried to tell her you cared, you didn’t think she understood, but she cried all the same and you held her through it. Her shoulders shook, her crying was silent but it resonated through you all the same. Fat tears fell from her good eye and onto your shoulder. Her chest heaved with the weight of silent tears. You held her, your murmured sweet nothings, you tried to assure her she’d be okay but you knew you were lying. If she could understand you, she’d probably know too.

When she pulled away, you could see how much it strained her to give you a reassuring smile. You tried to give one back in turn, but you were nowhere near strong enough to do so. Without anything to say, she sat beside you again and began winding through your hair again.

This time, you knew exactly how to describe her touch: maternal.

When you king came back to collect you, he stopped to admire the little delicate white flowers the woman had woven into your braids. He looked you over carefully, then turned back to the woman. He leaned down to press his forehead against hers and then pulled back to put his leather leash around your arm again. You held it out for him as you watched the cannibal woman put her stool back inside her tent before leaving by his side.

Soon you were back in the village, drinking hot soup from a wooden bowl as you sat on your king’s knee. His other leg was perched up so he could rest his elbow on the kneecap while he drank his soup while his free hand wove itself around your shoulders.

Around you, most of the other cannibals were chattering amongst themselves. Mothers chewed food for their children, men passed cups of tea. You watched them with a different eye now. They were no longer savages. You’d been able to put distance between you both up until now. As you hand played with a plaited braid, you knew that you could never see them that way again.

The cannibals all seemed a merry bunch, but one man seemed to radiate a dark cloud around him. He was a big man, large enough to make the others around him seem small in comparison. The way his jaw was set had alarm bells ringing in your head. The way he looked at you had you shuffling closer to your king to huddle into his chest.

Your king chuckled at first, but he stopped as soon as he lay eyes on the man who stared at you. You felt strangely vindicated in your judgment when your king set down his bowl and tucked you in closer against him. 

You jumped when your king let out a bellow, silencing the entire camp. In a moment all eyes were locked on your king, and in turn, you. You felt humiliated as they all looked at you with critical eyes. You didn’t get need to worry for long though as your king was quick to gently shuffle you off his lap and put you on the ground beside him. You watched as the others all began to shuffle back, clearing a wide space between your king, the watching man, and the campfire. You sat dumbly in place until a scrawny hand reached out and tugged on your wrist.

You squeaked at their touch, but the woman was persistent in urging you to move back with her. You looked between your king and the man as they pulled themselves to their feet, and hurried to join her at the edge of the ring. Your king was on his feet and puffing up the moment you left him.

You watched in horror as your king picked up his skull club and tossed it over to you. You scrambled to catch it and brought it into your lap. The woman who’d grabbed you snorted and shook her head. You tried to give her a look, but it was hard to look intimidating when wearing a flower crown and holding a skull club like it was a bouquet of roses.

You glanced back at the men in the ring, each now circling each other around the bonfire. Your king shook his head to make the black cloth of his mask billow out, almost like some sort of bluff. He stretched out his muscles as he walked, rolling his shoulders and chuffing.

The other man didn’t so much as flinch. Instead, to your horror, he pointed at you and barked a few words at your king. The way he glanced at you hungrily had chills going down your spine. His black eyes looked almost soulless behind the charcoal he’d painted over his eyes. Something about this hunger felt wrong, perverse. It had your skin crawling as you tried to fold your arms over your chest, feeling almost as though he was undressing you with his eyes.

You watched as the man pointed at you, then yelled something at your king. In response, your king bellowed back and stomped his foot hard enough to make the trees quiver. The dark eyed man shook his head so violently spittle sprayed to the sides and he screamed, but your king seemed completely unphased by his attempts at intimidation. You noted with a strange bubble of pride that when your king puffed his chest and yelled, the black-eyed man flinched.

The two men finally stopped their circling, your king standing in front of you as he huffed and puffed. His chest rose and fell, his fists clenched and relaxed. He didn’t spare you a look, but you couldn’t help but think he took pride in showing off like this in front of you.

With a roar, the man charged forth. Your king responded in kind and grappled the man in the centre. The two of them joined hands and pushed against each other. The man tried to lunge in for a bite only to get a knee in the chest that had him stumbling back.

You watched as the man wheezed, then threw himself back at the king. Your king was quick to throw his fist out and slam it into the other man’s face, knocking him back with windmilling arms before stumbling into the earth. Your king took advantage of the opportunity and ran forth to kick the man in the gut. He rolled back and stumbled to his feet again, hissing and spitting.

The man lunged forth and punched the king’s gut. He stumbled back, and in turn the man slammed his fist into his stomach again, and then again before the king pulled himself together and punched back. You shook as you saw the man glance at you and grin between the punches being slammed into his body. To your horror, one of your king’s punches glanced across his chin, cutting a long line from his cheek down to his chin and spraying blood over the dust.

The man stumbled back. He shook his head and stumbled back, then shuffled back to get some distance between the two of them. Your king was quick to close the distance, feigning a kick only to grab the man’s head and slam a fist into his face so hard you could hear the crack from where you sat. You gasped as the man stumbled back and clutched at his eye. When he pulled back his hand, you could see blood coating his palm.

You'd never seen rage so bright and violent before that day, but the dark eyed man looked the picture of it. He dived away from your king to the campfire and grabbed a burning stick from the pile. At once, the other cannibals cried out and some tried to step forth, but the king held up a hand to stop them. The two men circled each other again, this time one armed and your king empty-handed.

The fire crackled bright hot as embers dropped from the torch in the man's hand. He laughed and shouted some taunting threat. Your king gave him no response, just quiet observance. Enraged, the younger man lunged forth and swung the torch at your king.

The king dodged to the side and stepped back. The man swung again and again, but each time your king stepped out of the way and ducked around the flames. You clutched your hands over your face, afraid to scream lest you distract your king.

Your king manoeuvred the ring with ease. He looked so calm, so at ease with everything that was happening that you were shocked when he grabbed the man's outstretched hand.

He didn’t get a chance to process what he saw before your king grappled the man and slammed him into the earth, the torch dropping to the ground and rolling in the earth beside them. The man tried desperately to get out from underneath but your king held onto him with a vice-like grip. You watched as your king slammed the man back into the earth, then raised up so he could pummel the man’s head with his fists.

You felt like you could cry. The man’s head knocked back into the earth and bounced off with each hit of your king’s fists into his face. Again and again he pummelled the man’s head, aiming mostly for the face but he landed a few knocks into his ears, tearing at the delicate flesh and spraying rich blood across the earth. Your king was relentless, almost incensed by the blood now pouring from his nose and mouth. Again and again the thick thud of fists meeting flesh pounded into your ears. You watched as he continued his assault, continuing even until chunks of flesh started to rip from his face.

You tried to jump forth to stop him but two cannibals were quick to haul you back. A man barked a few words at you as the woman hurriedly shook her head. You glanced between them both and then back at your king. The second you saw the wild euphoria in his eyes you couldn’t help but thank whatever lay above that you’d been stopped. There was no doubt in your mind that in his bloodthirsty state, your king would’ve easily turned on you and mauled you just the same as his enemy. You shuddered as you watched the man’s head slowly deflate, bit by bit until it looked more like a crushed watermelon than a human face. An eyeball was cut free and rolled down over the ground. A small child snatched it and popped it into their mouth, only for the fluids to run down their chubby chin.

When your king was finally finished, he took the torch and stabbed it into the dead man's chest. He stumbled to his feet and whirled around to look at the others. Nobody dared move, not until he looked at you and barked. 

You watched as women with bare chests rose up, clutching their children to their chest and leaving the area. Slowly, as your king roared to the crowds, all the children were taken from among them. You noticed that the one-eyed woman from before was the last to leave, gently ushering a preteen girl away from the tribe’s centre and into the brushes. 

The king watched the children leave, then turned to look at you. You flinched and crawled back reflexively. You needed to leave. Whatever was about to happen, you needed to be as far away from here as you possibly could be. To your horror, the more you tried to get away, the more the other cannibals pushed you back into the ring and closer to the king. Panic consumed you as you tried to push away, but they wouldn’t let you run as your king lumbered toward you.

He grabbed you by your ankle and yanked you away from the others until you lay prone beneath him. You thought back to the first night, back when you wondered what a man would want with someone like you. As you saw him widen his stance, you realized that to even ask such a question was an attempt to avoid thinking about the reality of your situation. You were never more certain of his intents than when he dropped to his knees and wrenched your legs apart.

“Wait, wait!” you tried to stop him but he was already tugging your pants off your body. You fought with him to pull them back up desperately but when you heard the fabric begin to tear, you stupidly let go. He wasn’t so patient with your underwear, tearing it off your body and throwing it to the side. You noticed that he tossed it into the blood of the dead man.

He grabbed your wrist and pinned you down to the earth. His eyes were wide and vicious as he took in your prone form. There was something primitive about his expression, something horribly awful that made you want to cry. This wasn’t for love at all. This wasn’t someone looking to fuck for pleasure.

He was going to fuck you to claim you. The realization made you sob. He was going to fuck you in front of all the others to claim you as his. This entire show was just a display of dominance. Killing the challenger, fucking you while covered in his blood, this was his way of making you his forevermore. 

KOFI CONTENT

You panted beneath him, finally able to gather your senses.

Your king had just claimed you in front of his entire tribe, consummating your tie to him. Or at least, he pretended to, but the end result was the same in the eyes of the other cannibals. You were his now, only his. The others settled around you as your king wiped his spend of your body before letting your hips drop down to the ground. He carefully pulled your pants up your body, then stood up to cradle you in his arms.

He panted into your ear, then turned and roared to the entire tribe. You glanced around to find that the other tribe members were parting the way before the cabin. He adjusted you in his arms and stomped through the throng to duck behind the deerskin door.

Once inside he dropped put down in the deerskin before stepping back to light the torches in the hut. Once done, he joined you back in the pile of furs.

You lay there panting, taking in what had happened. You could hardly believe what you’d just been through. More importantly, you were stunned by his... Humanity? He could’ve forced you to take him, could’ve torn your insides apart. Instead, he hid the act with his loincloth and humped you instead. Your mind must truly be gone to be thankful.

He was a monster, and yet he listened to you. That fact alone was what stood out to you. He listened, and he cared. He’d gone so far as to protect your modesty for you instead of humiliating you in front of his entire tribe. He understood your tears and he cared for you. Your monster cannibal king had a heart after all.

Your king settled himself beside you on the blankets. You shifted to make room for him, letting him rest on his back beside you. His heavy pants filled the small space. You let yourself lay there, not flinching from him as you normally would. He lay out a hand for you, but instead of taking it at a distance you tucked yourself into his chest.

He paused briefly. You both did. Ever so carefully, he lowered his arm to encircle you. In turn, you tucked your leg over his own. You lay there quietly, both of you still unused to the tenderness you found between each other. This new strange thing had been born of bloodshed and violence, and yet it was soft and innocent in nature. Despite what you’d both done, you felt like a small innocent creature in his arms.

He seemed to feel the same about you. He was careful with you, ever so carefully holding you to his form. He almost seemed afraid of you now.

You don’t quite know what came over you, but you found yourself nestling your head into his arms and kissing his chest. He hesitated briefly, then hugged you close. You snuggled in, only briefly pulling away to pile more blankets over the two of you. Your king adjusted them around you both, and the two of you settled into your nest together.

Konig Dump

Alternate Universes

KOFI

[winters8child]

It´s been a long, long time

Chapter 33

We were all back in the jet, including a shackled Loki and the red shiny guy, who turned out to be Tony Stark, Howard's son. He was standing at the helm with Steve, discussing how surprisingly smooth the whole mission had gone. Loki, supposedly a god, had been captured so easily, and for some reason, he kept staring at me.

"There is darkness in you, I can feel it," Loki leaned over to me, grinning. "You are not like your lover. You would like to be, but you are not."

"Excuse me?" I recoiled. "You don't know me."

Thunder rumbled outside, and Loki flinched. "What's the matter? Are you scared of a little lightning?" Steve mocked him.

But Loki seemed genuinely afraid. "I'm not overly fond of what follows," he muttered. The thunder and lightning intensified, and a loud bang erupted overhead, making the jet shake. Steve and Tony donned their helmets as Natasha opened the ramp.

I was about to protest that I wanted to join, but a massive guy landed before us, wielding a hammer. This world was getting crazier by the minute. He had long blond hair, a red cape, and muscles like Hercules. He looked seriously angry. Everything happened so quickly that I didn't have time to react.

He struck Tony with the hammer, throwing him back, grabbed Loki by the neck, and jumped out as if it were nothing. I stared after them, mouth agape. How were we supposed to fight people like these? At least the Nazis were normal humans; this was a whole other ballpark.

"That guy is a friendly?" Steve asked, panting, as Tony prepared to jump after them.

"Doesn't matter. If he frees Loki or kills him, the Tesseract is lost."

"Stark, we need a plan of attack!" Steve called after him.

"I have a plan. Attack," Tony responded confidently, disappearing into the darkness of the night.

"Maybe it's better if we stay here, Steve. This is way above our pay grade... I mean, these are gods we're talking about," I reasoned, glancing nervously at the clouds outside.,". Steve didn't pause, strapping on his shield.

"There is only one God, and I'm pretty sure He doesn't dress like that," he replied firmly.

"You know I have to come with you if you go. I won't stay behind," I yelled over the loud jet engines, grabbing the last parachute. Steve sighed, his frustration evident, but there was no time to argue.

"Fine, but stay with me," he demanded, jumping out of the jet.

We landed amidst the chaos. Tony and the god guy were locked in battle, the forest around them a wreck of fallen trees and scorch marks. The god guy still looked like a supermodel.

Steve threw his shield between them to break them apart. "That's enough," he yelled, jumping down from the tree stump he had landed on. "Now I don't know what you plan on doing here," he added.

"I've come to put an end to Loki's schemes," the god guy said, his voice edged with anger. I hesitated, gripping my pistol. Aiming at a god felt pointless.

"Then prove it. Put that hammer down," Steve demanded, standing tall.

Tension crackled in the air. My fingers twitched toward my knife, and my blood started to boil. I had never carved up a god; I wondered if their blood was any different. "I will gut you like a pig," I yelled, getting ready to jump at his throat.

God Guy did not look happy. Tony was rolling his eyes, and Steve held me back by my arm. "There is no need for bloodshed. Just put that hammer down," he asked again.

Tony was shaking his head. "Yeah... no. Bad call, he loves his hammer," only to be hit with it the next second.

He landed in a pile of wood, groaning in pain as the god guy advanced on us. "You want me to put the hammer down?" he taunted, leaping into the air and aiming his hammer at Steve. Steve quickly pulled up his shield, hiding me behind him, but the impact was so loud and powerful that the three of us were thrown in all directions.

I flew through the air, flailing, and landed in a pile of branches. Not even the suit could stop the pain that followed. "Ugh, I hate nature," I stammered as Steve picked me up by my hand. He looked at all of us with a defeated expression.

"Are we done here?"

Reluctantly we all decided that there would be no winners today and returned to the helicarrier, with a shackled Loki in tow. Twenty armed soldiers escorted him to his cell although it was more like a glass cage, that could be dropped only with the push of a button, just in case Loki tried something.

We all could see him over the screens, sitting in the conference room of the aircraft. He was taunting Dr. Banner, "A mindless beast. Makes play he's still a man. How desperate are you, that you call on such lost creatures to defend you? A green monster and a bloodthirsty demon, masquerading as the good guys."

I swallowed hard, telling myself he wasn't talking about me. I glanced at Steve for reassurance, but he was focused on the screen."How desperate am I?", Fury's voice came out of the speakers, "You threaten my world with war. You steal a force you can't hope to control. You talk about peace, and you kill because it's fun. You have made me very desperate. You might not be glad that you did.", he threatened.

Loki remained unfazed, his confidence unsettling. "It burns you to have come so close. To have the Tesseract, to have power, unlimited power. And for what? A warm light for all mankind to share. And then to be reminded what real power is", he continued, his voice dripping with condescension.

The video cut off, leaving us all uncertain about what to do next. Dr. Banner had his arms crossed, fidgeting uncomfortably. Loki had just called him a monster.

"He really grows on you, doesn't he?" Banner said sarcastically.

I was still reeling from the way Loki had openly called me a demon and hinted at the darkness within me. I glanced around, trying to gauge if any of the others looked at me differently, but they seemed focused on Loki's plans for Earth. Maybe Loki knew something about me, or maybe he was just trying to unnerve me.

Thor, the god guy’s real name, spoke up. "He has an army called the Chitauri. They're not of Asgard, nor any world known. He means to lead them against your people. They will win him the Earth in return, I suspect, for the Tesseract."

He had also kidnapped an astrophysicist named Erik Selvig and put him under a spell. According to Natasha, someone else on their side was also under Loki's control. Her body language conveyed that it was someone she greatly cared about.

All this talk about science—half of it I didn’t even understand, especially after Tony joined the conversation. He was much like his father: confident in his abilities, but maybe slightly more sarcastic. I wasn’t getting any answers here. The only person who could give them to me was in a glass cage, two stories down.

I excused myself, touching Steve's shoulder on the way out. "I'll be right back," I told him and walked out. I had thought getting to him would be harder, but wearing this uniform afforded me some authority, I supposed.

When I arrived, Loki was pacing in his cage. He turned around with a vicious smile. "I knew you would come. I did get into that little head of yours, didn't I?" he drawled. He was toying with me, and I felt stupid for even being here. I turned to leave when he stepped closer to the glass separating us.

"I see a lot of blood in your future. More than already, anyway," he taunted.

I balled my fists and faced him again. "What do you know about me?" I asked sternly.

He gloated like a cat that had caught a mouse. "You crave the blood you shed. You welcome it, you bathe in it. You could be so much more if you didn't hide behind all that shame," he said, looking at me with pity. "And that man you claim to love, he will never understand you. You are the very thing he is fighting against."

My lip quivered, and I was at a loss for words. It felt like he had brought forth every feeling I had desperately tried to suppress. "I am not a monster," I whimpered, turning to leave.

"You are just like me, only you're not in a cage... yet," he called after me.

I walked out, shut the door behind me, and knew deep down that he was right.

Next Chapter

[omnybus]

Halloween Wolves

A colored version of a dream sketch I posted on Tumblr a while back. I dreamed I was shopping at a Spirit Halloween Store, trying to buy a plastic chain to use for a costume (I forgot exactly what- I think I was going to use it as a whip or something?). As I made my purchase, the guy behind the register said “oh, by the way, our Haunted House is finally open again if you’re interested” and gestured towards a nearby wall where a massive decorated archway stood, all lit up like a circus tent with the words “HAUNTED HOUSE!” in big orange and black letters.

From behind a striped curtain came the sound of calliope music, along with several animatronic werewolf heads on long, flexible necks of segmented black rubber that stretched out from behind the curtain. All of them had glowing orange eyes and mouths sharp teeth and flapping, drooling tongues. The central head wore an orange-and-black-striped top hat. The werewolves all growled and snapped and laughed like hyenas, before looking right at me with manic grins. In snarling, semi-sing-song voices, they all spoke in unison: “The greatest show you’ve ever seen! Come on inside! IT’S HALLOWEEN!”

All the heads then ducked behind the curtain, and I followed them in. I ended up in a tiny, dark room just barely lit by the light shining through the curtains behind me, the music falling silent before being replaced by more of the werewolves’ cackling in the shadows. Out from the darkness, four of the werewolf heads sprung out and grabbed hold of my wrists and ankles with their sharp teeth, and immediately pulled off all my limbs at once, leaving my limbless torso to flop down onto the floor spraying blood and confetti from my stumps (yeah I was filled with confetti for some reason).

The last thing I remember is the “lead” werewolf head laughing maniacally as the other heads played tug-of-war with my arms and legs, before he dove straight at my stomach and began messily feasting on my guts. I woke up as he was halfway through pulling my intestines out.

Oddly enough, even though I had been horrifically disemboweled and literally torn limb from limb, all I felt was mild disappointment that the haunted house had ended so soon.

—

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[the-unconquered-queen]

What do you think the It lives gangs would do for halloween or what costumes they would wear? Also hope you have wonderful day

OKAY THIS IS AN AMAZING ASK SO LET’S GET INTO THIS

Well, realistically, if we’re discussing both ILitW and ILB at the same time, it’s worth mentioning that seeing as ILB takes place in 2020, the most they’d be able to do is a Zoom call in costumes, but let’s disregard the shitfest that is the real 2020 and pretend everything’s great in the IL universe and everyone’s alive and this is after the gangs have met and they hang out, maybe you can pretend it’s 2021 if you’d rather it happens with more distance from the series’ events. Either way, we’re looking at a weekend Halloween, so everyone gets their college assignments out of the way and/or makes sure they have the day off from work that day and they make the drive to meet up. Maybe they all pitch in to throw a party for themselves at someone’s place, or maybe even Imogen’s yacht if she still hasn’t sold it, but mainly they just want to make the most of one of the opportunities to hang out all together in person that are harder to come by with everyone leading busy lives. As for costumes:

Ava: I think something very on-brand, like a vampire, witch, or something morbid to freak the others out, but I also see her dressing up as Wednesday Addams and telling people she’s dressed as a homocidal maniac (they look just like everyone else)

Stacy: Something pretty basic, to be honest. Maybe she’d go as a VSCO girl or SC filter something, but everyone would jokingly pretend they didn’t realize she was wearing a costume

Lily: If she’s with Britney, then she’ll be whatever Britney decides for the both of them, but I really like the idea of Lily dressing up as one of her ocs that later makes it into her video games

Noah: We’re talking about a guy who went to homecoming in denim, so if anyone could get him to put even the slightest bit of effort into a look, he’d go for the plainest stuff ever, like one of those “Error 404: Costume not found” shirts. Alternatively, if you remember that episode of The Office in which Jim was too lazy to do a proper costume so he just wore a name tag that said “Dave”, that’s something Noah would also do

Lucas: He finally gives in after everyone pesters him to dress up as Clark Kent, and he absolutely rocks the look

Connor: Kurt Kobain. I don’t have an explanation for this one, I just feel it in my heart

Dan: I thought of him and ILitW MC redoing their matching Captain Incredible costumes and posting the pics with the ones their parents took when they were kids with some throwback or glow up caption and let me tell you that that thought now lives in my head rent-free

Andy: He’d do a pop culture costume if he’s doing it with another person or with a group, but solo, he’d go for a more classic approach, so looks like pirate or other traditional Halloween themes are something you might see him in

Tom: I feel like he’d be the type to be really into pop culture costumes, and I can see him doing a Transformers-themed one because he canonically loves those movies so much that they influenced his whole career path, so they can for sure influence a costume

Imogen: She does costumes with aesthetic vibes, so I can see her dressed as an angel in a pretty gown or a mermaid with colorful accessories and with some epic makeup skills she’s got the whole ethereal look down

Danni: Dresses up as Parker and proceeds to roast him all day by doing impressions of him… they’re weirdly accurate

Parker: A ghostbuster, solely because he’s never worn anything that wasn’t beige and he’s not about to start now. He mainly just dresses up to hand out candy to trick-or-treaters, anyway

ILB MC: To a party, they’ll wear something that goes with their vibe, but to watch movies at home with Elliot, they’ll both do meme costumes because they’re easy to do and they have a lot of fun with them

So this was actually really fun to think about, and I hope you have a great day too! In fact, I hope you had a great day every day it took me to answer this ask and an especially awesome Halloween :)

[confused-red-head]

Chapter 2: "Getting Carried Away"

Masterlist

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Dragon!Jotaro x fem!reader

Warnings: fantasy au, implied/mentioned child abandonment, mentions of death, violence, kidnapping?(with good reason?), let me know if I'm missing anything.

Thank you to @helpimhyperfixating for beta reading for me and getting me into jjba!❤️

Thank you to @ahoge-fish for allowing me to use some art from her Witcher!Jotaro AU as a reference for Jotaro's sword here! Please go check her out! She makes AMAZING art and hilarious scenerio comics between Jotaro and her adorable OC!

If you would like to see the art of Jotaro's sword, it's here!

'Perhaps... Perhaps running for so long wasn't the best idea...'

My legs ached and lungs burned with each step I took on the moonlit path. My eyes drooped, begging to finally close for the night. I can't rest, not yet at least. Not when I'm so close to where I need to go. I harshly rub my eyes in a vain attempt to wake myself up. 

'Maybe... it wouldn't hurt to take a short break?'

The next thing I knew the ground shook as a roar rang out. Soon after distant cries of victory were heard as another weaker roar.

'Well... I'm definitely awake now...'

I watched as birds flew from their roosts, away from the source of the disturbance.

The logical part of me said to ignore it and move on. However, that voice was nearly drowned out by this feeling in my gut. Like an irresistible pull, my legs carried me closer and closer. The next thing I knew, I was crouching behind some foliage. 

I peered through leaves and branches to see a brightly lit bonfire illuminating the forest clearing. The first thing I notice is a large black mass wrapped in hearty rope and iron chains on the far end of the camp. Armored men and women crowded around the bonfire or around the creature, praising themselves for their successful hunt.

'Is that... a dragon?!'

I was in disbelief. I felt as if the shadows were playing with me, until I saw the creature huff out a breath in it's unconscious state. The people, whom I can only assume are hunters, cheered again as one of the hunters stood on a stump.

"Hol Horse! Hol Horse! Hol Horse!"

"It's the man of the hour! Hol Horse, One of the greatest hunters to ever live, has struck down another savage beast!", one of the other hunters raised his wooden mug into the air as the liquid inside sloshed about. 

I began to sneak my way around the camp, careful to avoid letting my presence be known. I pull the hood of my cloak further down to conceal my face. I managed to round the camp with a few close calls. By now the hunters were still crowded around the hunter called 'Hol Horse' or retreating into their respective tents. 

I took this opportunity to get closer, hiding in the shadows where I couldn't be seen behind the dragon. I reached out my hand about to graze the dark scales when the reality of the situation became clear.

'Ohhhh this is a TERRIBLE idea! Why am I here?! I could have made it to the house by now!'

My hand shook as I retracted it to rest on my chest. As much as my mind tried to be logical, all that rang through my mind was my father's words replaying in my mind. The story he told time and time again. When he himself saved a dragon... in a very similar situation.

I shook my head, reminding myself that I'll get myself killed, if not by the dragon then by the hands of the hunters. I managed to take a few steps back when I heard the hunter, Hol Horse, call out.

"We had a good hunt, men! But our mission isn't over yet! We won't rest! Not until the last of these Devil's mongrels are burning in hell! Tomorrow, we drag the beast into town and put on a bit of a show! We'll remind them that these beasts are to be feared and remind them how to be grateful to those who defend their pathetic lives as we finish it off for good!"

The cheers that rang out as I couldn't will myself to move any further back. I felt spite and anger fill my very being. 

'This is sick...'

I threw caution to the wind as I pulled out a knife I smuggled out of the orphanage kitchen. As I grab the thick rope I feel my hand go numb, the familiar feeling of pins and needles. I draw back as the feeling in my hand returns almost instantly.

'The rope is enchanted...'

I pull out some leather gloves out of my pack and slip them on. Grasping the rope again, I don't feel the enchantment take effect in my hands. I start sawing through the thick rope, breaking thread after thread. The rope is wider than my fist and made out of sturdy material, making the process of sawing through it with a small, worn kitchen knife that much more exhausting.

'Damn it! I knew I shouldn't have settled for the kitchen knife. If I looked harder I could have found a dagger or something!'

I keep up a good speed with the knife while taking breaks now and then. My arm starts to ache with each motion when I get about half way through. I ignore the pain and push through. Back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. Until...

CRACK

 What happened next was a blur. Chains and rope flew about. The panicked shouts of the hunters. Pounding footsteps. An enraged roar that left my ears ringing. A dark shadow rising and engulfing my very being. But most of all, I remember those eyes. It was as if time slowed down the moment I made eye contact.

Furious eyes blue like a stormy sea, waves crashing mercilessly into the coast. I heard a deep, threatening growl resonate from the beast, breaking me from my trance. As if it was second nature, I threw my knife to the side and backed away. 

I could have sworn the dragon's eyes widened as its eye dilated in a moment of realization. Whipping its head away, the dragon set its sights on the hunters. Growling, it swung its tail into the tents and blew out the fire. I stumbled a bit in the darkness, the wind whipped around with each flap of the beast's wings. Before I knew it, I felt myself leave the ground. Claws wrapped around me in a near claustrophobic grip.

I let out a small shriek at the rough handling from being almost completely encased in the creature's claws. I grasp at the claws, trying to get a grip. I jostled around a bit as I ascended into the air. I could only watch as the hunters camp became smaller and smaller in the distance. 

Time became obscured as frigid wind lashed at my exposed skin. The exhaustion finally seemed to settle in as I felt my eyes flutter close. 

'If this is how I go... so be it.'

I hear rustling as I slip back into consciousness. My eyes peer open to see a large mouth of a cave and a campfire. I scramble up from the ground, only to hear a deep rumbling voice that seemingly came from all around. 

'It's about damn time you woke up.' 

The voice sounded as if it were my own conscience. I spun around in confusion as I saw a dark mass emerge from the cave depths. I stumbled back into the cave wall as the memories rushed back. 

"You... you can talk?", my heart hammered against my chest, yet not out of fear. I was in shock and awe. 

'You could say that. The only reason you can understand me is because of that pendant hanging around your neck.'

My hand flew to my chest where the pendant laid. 

'Now that I answered your question. You're going to answer mine. Where the hell did you get your hands on a dragon's oath?'

"The... what?"

'The pendant, woman. Where did you get it?'

"It was... my father's.", I raised my hand to grasp the small chain in my hand.

'Bullshit. Now where did you really get it, Little Thief.'

In an instant, my blood boiled at the accusation. My hand's grip tightened over the chain as I hung my head in an attempt to retain my composure.

"You know what... yeah. I might be a thief. I've taken what wasn't mine and I'll admit that. But if there was anything I could possibly claim as my own... it would be this stupid necklace that my father gave me before leaving me IN A GODFORSAKEN ORPHANAGE AND NEVER RETURNING!"

My head flew up to make eye contact with the ocean blue eyes as I clutched the chain in my hand. "So next time... at least accuse me of stealing something I actually stole..."

The dragon narrowed his eyes and hummed in thought. The beast's body settled into a less offensive position.

'Fine. I believe you...'

"Then...", My grip loosened, but still held onto the chain. "Can you tell me... why is it so important? The Dragon's Oath?"

The dragon remained silent, staring me down as if to gauge if I am worthy or not to be given this knowledge.

'It is a physical representation of a dragon's promise of protection and trust. A symbol of a dragon's trust. It is only given to those who have proven themselves trustworthy.' 

He stops for a moment as he focuses his gaze to the mouth of the cave where moonlight shined through.

'... it's imbued with the dragon's magic. The gem in the center is carved from the dragon's own scale. It essentially casts an aura telling other dragons you are a friend and under a dragon's protection. If a dragon were to attack or kill a human wearing a dragon's oath, it is punishable by death or exile under our law.'

A wave of realization crashed over me.

"I see. So that's why you brought me here... leaving me there could risk letting the hunters get ahold of the necklace. If they figured out what it was... many dragons could be killed using it. You couldn't kill me unless you were willing to go against the law. Bringing me here and questioning me was your best bet."

'Hmm... You're not as dumb as you look.'

"HEY!"

The dragon's focus slid back over to me.

'Now that you know this. I can't just let you leave.'

"What?! So you're just gonna keep me hostage?", I crossed my arms with a bit of a huff. "I have somewhere to be!"

'And I don't give a shit. If you run into those hunters and they recognize you, it'll be over for both of us. They'll realize you were the one who cut me free and then they'll track me down again. So if you know what's good for you, Little Thief, you'll sit your ass down.'

I hung my head and glared at the ground as I felt my frustration rising. I couldn't just leave. He could easily restrain me. I stewed in my thoughts, when an idea came to mind. 

"Then... Can you come with me? I just need to go to a small home just a bit farther up the road near the hunter's campsite. Just far enough in the woods that the hunter's may not wander close by. We can hide in the house overnight or we can return to the cave immediately. I just... I need to go there... please."

The dragon stared at me hard with a stubborn look as I pleaded. The silence was deafening. For a moment I had assumed that the silence was a sign of his rejection. I closed my eyes and slumped my shoulders in defeat.

'...Fine. We'll go if it's so important…'

I immediately perked up at his words. 

"Really?!"

'Don't make me change my mind. We'll travel on foot. No taking breaks. You will do as I say or I'll carry you off in an instant.'

I couldn't contain the stupid smile that spread across my face as I did a silly little salute.

"Sir! Yes, sir!"

'Good grief', the dragon retreated into the cave depths again. 

"Huh?! Wait! I'm kidding! Please don't go!", I panicked seeing his form retreat into the shadows once more.

"Relax, woman. I intend on keeping my word."

I was confused as I no longer heard the beast's baritone voice in my mind, rather it resonated from the dark depths. A tall, young man emerged from the shadows. He had curly onyx hair slicked back a bit with a pair of equally dark horns adorning the crown of his head and those familiar blue, slit pupiled eyes. He wore a dark undershirt with a gray-green vest. His black pants were tucked into his boots and his large black coat hung off his shoulders, two belts cinching the waist. He perched a torn, black hat with gold ornaments atop his head, concealing his horns and hair. Lastly, a mighty blade was strapped to his back with a star engraved into the metal of the cross-guard.

I stood there in surprise and awe as the young man made his way to the mouth of the cave.

"Well, are you coming or not?", he called out.

"Ah... yes! Sorry! I just... I just never got your name...", It wasn't entirely a lie, but it certainly wasn't the whole truth.

The dragon-turned-young-man silently side-eyed me before speaking and turning his eyes forward again.

 "Jotaro."

I nodded back at him, even though his focus was on the road ahead of us.

"Mine's Y/n."

He only hummed in response as the silence settled in, making it clear he wasn't interested in chitchat. We let the cool night envelope us in its gentle moonlight. The only sound was our footsteps and the sounds of the night.

'Well... this night has been much more interesting than I originally expected.'

Little did we know, things were going to get much more interesting in the days to come.

Author's Note: JOTARO IS FINALLY HERE BABYYYYYYYYY! I mean... it was only one chapter but I know this is what we all wanted! I hope you all like it! I hope Jotaro doesn't end up extremely OOC by accident. If you have questions don't be afraid to ask!

Also fun fact! The only reason Jotaro is being so flexible with reader is because she freed him so he can't help but feel the tiniest bit indebted to her. Y'know... just a teeny bit. Plus it's just easier to keep track of her if she's cooperative.

[light-yaers]

All Too Well - Chapter One

Ko-Fi | Fic Masterpost | Chapter List

Warnings: Rated M for swearing, alcohol and mild sexual content. F!Reader.

A/N: Hello everyone! Long time no post or update. Life got in the way. Until I went to the cinema to watch Eternals and got inspiration in the form of this lad. This is just a mini-series insert that follows the events of the film. I had to. 

Word Count - 1.6k

Chapter One

Being stuck on an evolving planet for 7,000 years had its challenges. For starters, evolution was a long and arduous process. And when you’re put in charge of protecting an entire species from murderous deviants with a handful of Eternals that you’d never known until you’d woken up, it puts everyone in a difficult position. 

Think not of yourself, but of the humans. Work hard, play hard, trust in Arishem. 

When you’d first landed on Earth, Druig had been the first to introduce himself to you. There was something about him that struck you immediately; not his knowing stares or his subtle cockiness or his impressive power, but the almost ticklish way his voice surrounded you with every syllable. 

“Who are you?” he’d asked, beneath the statue of Arishem on your ship. You told him your name, and he shook your hand. Within seconds, his shoulders had relaxed. He let out a deep breath. “You—you just did that? You just calmed me?” 

You pulled your hand from his. “I was created to do this,” you explained, smiling at him. “And you are?”

“Druig,” he answered, shooting you back gleaming smirk. “I can alter their minds,” he let out. 

“Only if you need to?” you raised a brow at him. He chuckled to himself. 

“Only if I need to,” 

What followed was a thousand years of fighting, protecting. The Eternals fought valiantly under Arishem’s wishes, and when you all grew to know each other; life was better. 

You threw a stone into the deep, vast canyon below you. “Do you ever think about what else could be out there? Away from Babylon?” 

Druig laughed behind you, strolling towards you. “You’d have to be an idiot to not believe there was more than this,” you turned to him. 

“Then why don’t we go?” you questioned. 

“You know Arishem’s orders as well as you know my face,” he said, peering at you from the side. You smiled to yourself, ignoring the warmth that welled in your gut. Druig liked to flirt. 

“Ah yes... you have a nose, I think. Eyes too, maybe?” you quipped. He kissed his teeth, turning swiftly to grab you by the shoulders. You let him pull you towards him, eyes on eyes, face to face. 

“Come on,” he said. “You know it better than that,” his eyes skimmed your own face with some kind of schoolboy excitement. It was just Druig. He just liked the flirt, that was all. 

“I guess I don’t know Arishem’s orders as well as I should,” you said, whispering slightly. You loved it when you left him stumped for a response, just for those few seconds, before the cogs in his magnificent brain started to whir and picked the perfect comeback. 

“I’ll get Phastos to invent something to make you remember. You can carry me around in your pocket, so you never forget,” 

You smiled. He smiled back. It was always the same, but you loved the feeling of him being near. After each battle, he’d come to you. You’d calm him, while his presence calmed you already. Physical touch was something he enjoyed, you found. The subtleness of fingers skimming skin, the playfulness of an elbow or a fist to your ribs. 

There was a time where you thought this could be it, and you’d be happy for however long you had to spend time on this planet. Druig, the others. You felt honoured to be part of their ranks and to know them personally. 

How Thena and Gilgamesh were inseparable. The bond between Sersi and Ikaris. Sprite’s ease when making everyone laugh. Phastos’s incredible mind and Kingo’s egotistical smile that you couldn’t hate even if you’d wanted to. Makkari’s playfulness that left you in stitches and Ajak’s strength as a leader— and then there was Druig. He was everything. 

You’d always been giddy, with a smile stamped on your face at every deviant defeat, pre-fight talk, personal time with your other Eternals. 

Until the day he left—

“Thena, Thena,” you whispered, wrapping her in your arms. “You’re safe. You’re back now,” you held her hands tightly, feeling her shaking limbs. That’s what you were good at—emotions. Calming. Your powers weren’t the same as that of Gilgamesh or Ikaris; not made for combat, but useful for humans themselves, or the aftermath of each deviant battle. 

Sometimes you questioned why Arishem made you this way; weak, compared to your counterparts; kind, to the point of no return. 

Kingo had always joked of the strange friendship you and Druig had. You were so different, both in mind and strength, personality and presentation. Druig valued his power, his charm; unlike you who chose a more selfless route in your time. The one thing you had in common were the humans, though. Which is what created this mess in the first place. 

“The only solution to this is to erase her memories,” Ajak confirmed sullenly. 

“What?” Sersi let out. “No... surely there has to be another way,”

“She won’t be Thena anymore if you do that, Ajak—,” you chimed in, but stopped as Ajak raised her hand in silence. 

“Arishem has spoken,” 

“No,” Druig said strongly. “You really think this is right, do you? Erasing Thena’s mind, allowing the humans that we’ve helped grow stronger and stronger to destroy themselves?” 

“Remember your place, Druig. Who are you to question Arishem’s wishes?” Ajak spoke up, sending him a stern glare. You moved from the centre table and jumped to the floor softly. You approached Druig calmly, gently, laying your hand upon his forearm.

“Druig—,”

“No,” he yelled, pulling himself away from you. “Don’t do that thing on me. You were made to suppress our emotions, don’t you get that? Why did Arishem give us consciousness and sentience if he wanted us to follow him blindly?” 

You were taken aback, stepping backwards in hurt at his harsh words. When he caught your eye, you could read his mind. His eyes were seething, his jaw clenched, his hands balled into fists. You’d always known Druig capable of making his own path—but not like this. 

Arishem, please not like this. 

“I refuse to be part of this. Humans deserve more than this false display of safety and love,” 

No. 

“What do you mean?” you whispered it, staying in place as your throat began to dry. 

“I’ll protect them myself. Live alongside them, keep them safe,” you could see in his eyes that he was being serious. Ajak didn’t speak up; no one did. It was as if they’d already accepted this was the route he would take. 

“No, no—wait,” you said, trying not to cry. “You can’t leave,” you prayed. You turned to the others, desperation all over your face. “Please—he can’t leave. He—,”

“Come with me,” Druig spoke up. 

You clamped your eyes shut as he spoke, allowing the silence afterwards to fill you up. When you finally opened your eyes, he had walked towards you; close. 

“You’re asking me to choose?” you whispered, feeling emotions within yourself that you’d never thought possible. Anger, rage. A sadness so large that you couldn’t find words to speak. 

“You said it yourself. There’s more out there. Come with me,” he urged for the second time. You felt pulled, like you were the rope in a tug of war between Druig and your home. 

You snapped your gaze to Ajak. “You’re not going to say anything?” you bit your lip, trying to keep down your rising anger. “None of you are going to say anything?”

They stayed as silent as the night, but their eyes shone with grief. 

“Hey,” Druig suddenly grabbed you by the elbow. “Look at me,” 

Look at him. 

Within a second, your mind had calmed, your emotions being trodden down by the incredible urge to drop everything and follow him. Follow him to somewhere new, to oblivion, with the humans that you and he both wanted to protect. You didn’t have the thoughts to notice his eyes were glowing golden.

Not until you forced yourself to blink. 

That’s when your heart dropped into your stomach. 

“Get off me!” you yelled. He’d just used his power on you for the first time. For the last time. The silence was terrifying, as was the look on your face. Your fellow Eternals stared between you and Druig, their eyes awash with shock far greater than during any deviant attack. 

You were angry. You had yelled. You. 

Druig’s expression dropped to the floor immediately, as he stepped back slowly and held his hands out. “I’m sorr—,”

“You really think me so weak that you could control me if you tried? You really thought it okay to even try at all?” you yelled, standing your ground as a poisonous feeling rushed through your blood. “I know you think I’m weak, you all do, but how dare you try to force me to do anything that is against my own will,” 

Druig bit his lower lip, his eyes glassy but still containing an inconsolable rage that, for once, you didn’t want to fix. 

“Go,” you said, and his eyes snapped onto yours. 

“You—,” he started, before you screamed so loudly that the ground shook beneath your very feet. 

“Go!” you screamed. Druig stepped backwards once more, the hurt on his face turning into anger as fast as your calmness had. 

He looked at each Eternal in turn, nodding slowly to them before he swivelled on his heels and started descending the palace steps. 

“Druig,” you said through clenched teeth. He stopped abruptly, perhaps hoping that you’d say goodbye, or sorry, or decide to go with him then and there. He looked so hopeful, but you were too angry to care. “Don’t come back,”

He didn’t. 

[dorkwithfeelings]

begging screaming crying sobbing and pleading for dylan and ryan content

literally anything cute and fluffy or like,,, them during the aftermath of it all, reuniting w/each other, bc the quarry didn't show us the characters interact with each other after everything ended so now i have No Closure and i desperately crave it

i need it like i need air

I'm so excited for my first request ahhh-- I just hope it doesn't disappoint! I agree with the no closure, not just with these two but also with everyone else! Looks like us fans have to do all the hard work ourselves. Anyways, I hope you can enjoy this little piece! I poured my heart into it <3

DISCLAIMER - This is by no means beta read, but I did my best!

Title: A Little Closure (totally not because I didn't know what else to call it)

Summary: Dylan and Ryan take a moment to reflect while waiting for the cops to arrive.

Pairing: Dylan x Ryan

Word Count: 768

Genre: Fluff...?

Warnings: Some swearing and mentions of injury.

Whispers of the morning breeze mingled with the song of waking birds in the air around the otherwise quiet group of trauma-ridden camp counselors. They’d survived the night by the skin of their teeth, but what else would they have to fight? The cops would be involved, the public would find out about everything and that all boiled down to one question. Who in the world was going to believe anything they’d say? It was bittersweet to think that their battle was only just starting.

Dylan perched his butt on one of the bottom few steps that led up to the lodge entrance, running scabby fingers through his sweat-soaked, blood-crusted hair. To say he felt gross would be a massive understatement. He was filthy and in so much pain. The stump where his other hand once was throbbed, bandages grimy and in desperate need of changing. It had been easy to forget the stump throughout the night, always having something else to worry about in its place.

Everything was all a teeny bit fucked up.

“That was one heck of a rough night, huh?” Came Ryan’s voice, tone soft and a little gravelly. Dylan looked up at him, having been so distracted he’d not noticed him approaching. He shrugged, lips forming a lop-sided smile, nothing short of exhausted.

“Oh, you think?” Dylan questioned, trying to pull off his usual humor. “I thought it was a breeze. Probably had worse nights, honestly.”

“Worse than getting your hand cut off?” Ryan arched a brow, crossing his arms.

“Pfft, a minor inconvenience.”

Engulfed by silence, each boy let out a sigh. Ryan sat down beside Dylan, leaving a small gap between them. 

After allowing the silence to hang for a moment, Ryan spoke up again. “It’s alright to show emotion, y’know?”

Huffing through his nose, Dylan propped his elbows on his thighs and looked at Ryan, chin resting in his one remaining hand.

“I think all genuine emotion has been sucked out of me right now, so I’m overcompensating with supreme sarcasm.” There was no other way for Dylan to put it. He felt numb, for the most part. “I’m sure it’ll all hit me for real soon, then I’ll end up breaking down and sobbing, all that jazz.” His tone was dry, holding very little of his usual witty charm.

“That doesn’t sound pleasant. Like, at all.” Ryan remarked.

“Well, sometimes life isn’t pleasant,” Dylan replied.

Ryan didn’t like seeing him this way. It made his gut churn. Dylan was so full of life before the shit hit the fan last night, bad jokes coming out one after another, presence alone enough 

to keep the good vibes afloat.

“We’ve got a long road ahead, man.” It was Dylan breaking the silence once again. “When the police and medics get here, they’re gonna be asking questions… I’ve gotta somehow convince them that I asked you to cut my hand off, because I was munched on by a werewolf.”

Ryan pulled a face that perfectly represented ‘oh fuck’, because oh fuck. He’’d been so caught up in making it out alive that he hadn’t realized until now just how much convincing they were going to have to do. The same probably went for the others too.

“You see, officer, I screamed at my friend here to cut off my hand because a creature of myth busted through the radio hut roof and mauled on my wrist.” Dylan recited to the air, Ryan watching and knowing they were probably going to get hauled off somewhere for psychiatric therapy.

It felt like the whole world was about to declare war against them, and that they were destined to lose.

But if one thing was for sure, it was that Ryan would not let Dylan lose all hope in this situation. They still had to get to know each other better, after all. There was a kiss that Ryan intended to follow up on, and while now wasn’t really the right time, he was sure one would come along.

Putting his hand on Dylan’s shoulder, Ryan gave an encouraging squeeze. “You’re not alone in all this. I got your back, through thick and thin.”

And there it was. Dylan’s ever vibrant smile shining through for the first time since truth or dare at the firepit, paired with a little glimmer of surprise in his eyes.

“It’s cool to have your back,” He chimed, slowly arching a brow too. “But can I have your number too?”

And as the dull rumbling of police vehicles pulling in towards the lodge grew closer, Ryan rolled his eyes. 

"Smooth."

[author-morgan]

"I won't let anyone hurt you, you're safe with me" with eivor please... Maybe he rescues reader from the order after they had been used for different experiments or something

i am so sorry for how long this took, but I had to come up with the right plot bunny to pair with the prompt for some angst(tm). here you are, i hope you enjoy and don't mind the touch of Havi and Frigg, or in which Havi makes a promise to his sweet Frigg and keeps it even in the next life.

m!Eivor x fem!Reader

SÝNIN CIRCLES IN the clear sky above the longhouse of Ravensthorpe, and then you know your husband is not far now. Soon Eivor Wolfsmal will be back in your arms, where he belongs. The raven descends, coming to perch on your shoulder, nudging his beak against your temple —as much as you’ve missed Eivor, you’ve missed Sýnin in equal measure. Things could get surprisingly lonely without a tetchy raven around to croak at all hours of the night, steal your hairpins, and beg for treats. Reaching up, you scritch the blue-back feathers on his belly and are rewarded by a low, gurgling croak. “Have you been behaving yourself?” Sýnin bobs his head, but you have a gut feeling he’s lying for the chance at a few extra treats.

Taking to the docks, you watch along the river bends for the sail and masts of the longship. The blue-and-back sail and shields turn from the west —squinting, you can see him standing on the curved scorpion tail, looking onward to home. With a nervous smile, you rest your hand over your belly, knowing soon it will start to grow. You’ve much to tell him since he’s been gone the past weeks, building alliances with Saxon nobles across England.

“Eivor, my love,” you call, meeting him at the edge of the dock as he steps off the longship. His smile is tired but relieved when he looks upon you with Sýnin perched upon your shoulder —the best ‘welcome home’ he could ask for. You open your arms, embracing him as the crew disseminates among the settlement. Eivor pulls back, his hands —rougher than you remember— cupping your cheeks.

There’s something different in your expression, a new glow surrounding you that he cannot place. Regardless of his racing mind, he leans forward as you urge him down with a hand at the nape of his neck. It’s been weeks, and he sighs against your mouth, the burdens of the world washed away by your touch and kiss. “Walk with me?” You ask, holding fast to his hand. He nods, offering his arm. Word of the recently secured alliance can wait; he has been parted from his wife too long.

You lead him past the longhouse, the people of Ravensthorpe smiling as they see Eivor has returned and know what it is you’re going to tell him. Once Valka confirmed your suspicions, it hadn’t taken long for word to travel by way of two mischievous children.

Everyone is happy; and happy for you and Eivor, knowing you two had tried to conceive many times. Stopping beneath the great tree past the Seer’s Hut, you turn with a smile —hand settling on your middle. “I’ve good news to tell you.” Eivor lifts his brow, and your smile only widens as you reach for his hand, pressing it against your belly. He sucks in a deep breath, heart thudding in his chest and ears as he looks to you, his clear blue eyes wide with joy and surprise. You nod, resting your hand over his. “I am with child.”

Eivor is silent for a moment, gathering his words and emotions. He looks down at your belly, then back to you —overjoyed and uncertain. This is a moment you’ve only ever talked about; that he’s dreamt of when the gods were kind enough to let him have a good dream. “I’m going to be a father?” Eivor breathes, though it sounds more like a question. You nod again, eyes gleaming with tears as he rests his other hand on your stomach too. His smile too large to be hidden under his shaggy golden beard. There’s another moment’s pause, then Eivor slips his arms around you, bringing you into a tight embrace —his face tucked into your neck.

You lose track of how long Eivor holds you in his arms as if it all is only a dream and he may wake at any second. Stepping back, he takes your face into his rough hands, brushing away the tears streaking your cheeks. Eivor dips his head down, his nose brushing against yours before your lips meet —gentle and loving but still burning with fervor from the weeks of being parted from one another.

“You’ve made me the happiest man in Midgard,” he admits. You lean into him again, taking another kiss before he settles onto one knee in front of you, level with your belly. Eivor rests his forehead against your front, his hands loosely holding onto your hips. “Rest easy, little one.” Smiling, you brush back his golden hair —half-unbound from his warrior’s braids and knotted. “I will protect you and your mother.” It’s a promise.

“EIVOR,” RANDVI CRIES as he enters the longhouse, tears still fresh on her cheeks. She should not have let you go riding outside of Ravensthorpe alone, especially knowing you were with child. He clasps onto her shoulders, steadying her so she can gather her senses. “It’s Fulke.” The script is fresh in her memory, having read it a dozen times over to be certain of the ill-boding tidings. Randvi shakes her head, unable to meet her friend's concerned gaze. “She’s taken more than just Sigurd.”

“No,” Eivor breathes, but Randvi presents the scroll as proof. He skims the words —his worst fears coming to fruition. Not only did Fulke hold his brother captive, but now the conniving bitch had stolen you away too. You. His wife. The mother of his unborn child. He’d sworn to protect both of you with every breath in his lungs, and now it is an oath broken.

The sudden anger boiling under his skin is so hot it burns the fear freezing him, turning to determination. Eivor crumples the parchment, his expression twisting —no god can save you now, Fulke. “Send word to our allies.” Randvi nods, stepping back to the writing-table at the edge of the map room. “I will burn all of Wessex if I have to,” Eivor grits out, hands turning to fists at his sides as he leaves the longhouse to gather his men —a part of him feels as though he has walked this path before.

HAVI STRIDES THROUGH Fensalir with a deep sadness in his heart, but his agony cannot compare to that of his sweet Frigg. For three days and three nights, his queen has asked for solitude, and though it pained him to keep away during such times, he and the others respected Frigg’s wishes. Though Havi would not leave his dear wife to grieve alone, sending Huginn and Muninn to keep a watchful eye over the Queen of the Æsir. The two ravens are perched upon a stone bench at the edge of the fen. Thor glances over his shoulder at the approaching footsteps —his expression is weary and grief-stricken as he looks upon his father.

Gently, your son releases you from his tight embrace and rises, stepping back with a silent promise to return soon as he greets his father with a solemn nod before leaving. Havi pushes back his hood, seeing the white flowers spring from the earth with your tears. Baldr will be remembered —in deeds and songs and the blossoms brought forth by his mother’s tears. He kneels, reaching for your hands, and slides the bloody sprig of mistletoe free from your grasp. Through weary eyes, you look upon your husband —his expression twisted into the same display of forlorn grief. It makes your heart ache even more to have pushed him away, for he too lost a son. “Frigg,” he sighs.

“Havi,” you cry, falling into him. He swathes you in his black cloak, tucking you against his chest and holding you tight —a vow of retribution on his tongue. Loki would be punished for this crime. For all the realms felt the bitter void left by Baldr’s absence, and all wept, save for a giantess whose unshed tears doomed your son to Hel. The grief and anger simmering in his blood turn to something else —determination. He will not have his sweet Frigg endure this pain again; his one-armed embrace tightens as he cradles the back of your head. “I will not let another of our children fall,” Havi swears, lips brushing over your temple. “Not until our twilight has come.”

HE TWISTS HIS hands into Fulke’s leather-and-cloth armor, throwing the madwoman to the muddy and blood-slick ground. Fulke spits blood, pulling herself away from Eivor Wolfsmal on hands and knees only to find herself surrounded by his men and allies. All their weapons drawn, trained on her. The price for taking the Jarl of Raven Clan and Eivor’s wife is one to be paid in blood, and there is nowhere for her to run. She will have to suffer the wrath. “Where is she?” Eivor roars, kicking Fulke onto her back. He kneels, knee pressing into the bloody gash on her side, one of his throwing axes withdrawn and held high above his head —ready to strike.

There is no fear in her eyes, only bliss. Her work in this world now complete. “You made a choice,” Fulke laughs, choking on blood, “you chose Sigurd.” She coughs, blood-tinged spittle spattering against Eivor’s face, washed away by the pouring rain.

He roars, teeth bared and eyes burning hot with the rage of the gods. Lightning splits open the sky, thunder cracking like a great whip against the earth. “I will flay the skin from your bones and feed your eyes to my raven,” Eivor hisses.

Her smile is bloody —victorious. She knows you are leagues from here, and now the only ones who know are dead or dying. Eivor Wolfsmal could search the land for years and never find the seaside cave on the shores of Cent. “You’ll never find her,” Fulke says. One final victory before relinquishing herself to darkness and her wounds.

Eivor rises, his shoulders heaving and expression twisted. There is no time for a reunion when Sigurd limps from the fortress —clutching the stump where his hand and wrist once were— reinforcements from Wincestre draw nigh. The cry of war horns and drums echoing above the storm. He turns to Dag and Hrefna, eyes flitting over to his brother, unfit to fight in the coming battle. “See him back to Ravensthorpe,” he tells them before shifting his attention back to his allies. The day is not won yet, and Eivor will not rest until he has his beloved back in his arms.

ABOVE THE BREAKING waves of the sea, there is a whisper on the howling wind. Eivor looks to the sea below, then to Basim —his scouts working tirelessly since the siege of Portcestre nigh a fortnight ago to find leads. The culmination of their work leads him and Eivor to the southern edge of Cent to a cave guarded by Fulke’s acolytes. Eivor knows the gods are with him this day, as plain as if the Allfather whispered the affirmation into his ear.

The echoes of battle fill the air, and through the slivers of light above, you see shadows moving and hear the unmistakable cry of a raven growing closer —Sýnin. Rousing from uneasy rest, you clamber to the upturned bucket at the cell’s center, dragging chains behind you. Trembling, you clutch your swollen belly, then step up onto the bucket, fingers finding purchase on the metal grate above, slick with blood and excrements. Sýnin appears at the edge of the grate, his beady eyes staring down at you in the darkness, tilting his head this way and that. He hops up and down —talons clinking against the metal— before squawking wildly.

Eivor’s focus shifts from the dead littering the beach when he hears Sýnin inside the cave, and for the first time in weeks, you hear your name in his voice —a desperate plea. “Eivor!” His name is only a soft, airy rasp, not strong enough to carry with the raven’s calls. “Eivor!” You cry, this time louder, but your voice is broken, throat raw from days screaming and crying at the hands of Fulke and her enforcers. Sýnin’s squawks grow louder, mingling with footsteps.

The wave of relief almost shatters him when it hits and washes over his body and mind when he sees you —alive. Eivor reaches through the lattice, his fingers brushing against yours. “I’ve got you now,” he breathes, the torchlight showing the tears glistening in his clear blue gaze. You nod, smiling with cracked lips —thanking Frigg and Freyja that your prayers did not go unanswered. Eivor urges you to step down and aside, and when you do, he rears back, slamming the butt of his axe against the rusting lock, breaking it. With a sharp cry, he throws open the grate, sliding down into the darkness with you.

Hands trembling, he unlocks the manacles around your wrists and the shackle around your ankle. Each has left your skin red and raw beneath. Eivor gathers you in his arms. “Let’s get you out of here,” he says, lips brushing against your temple. You nod, eager to be rid of this damp and foul hole in the earth. Sýnin takes to your shoulder as soon as you are free, nudging his head against your temple and cheek. With a tired smile, you lift a hand to scritch the dark feathers of his underside as Eivor pulls himself free of the cell.

Eivor kneels, reaching for your hands, his thumbs brushing just above the broken skin on your wrists, and as you lean toward him, he swathes you with the coarse wool of his cloak —forehead pressed against yours. He feels the dampness on your cheeks as you press your face against his scarred neck. "I won't let anyone hurt you again,” he vows, “you're safe now.” One of his hands settles on your stomach, and you cover it with yours, holding him tightly with the other. “You’re both safe,” he whispers, and it’s only when he feels a light twitch against his hand that the realization breaks him. “I’m so sorry, my love,” Eivor chokes.

You draw back from his embrace, seeing the tears streak his face and the guilt clear on his expression. “Don’t blame yourself,” you plead, cupping his scarred cheek. “Please, don’t.” Eivor nods, though guilt still weighs heavily on his heart and will until he sees you safely returned to Ravensthorpe and tended to. He turns farther into your hand until his lips brush the center of your palm —a soft kiss, another promise.

Sýnin croaks, splashing in a puddle, and breaks yours and Eivor’s trance, reminding you both that you’re still in a cave, far from home and where you belong. He slides his arms beneath your knees and around your shoulders, rising with you. “You’re safe,” he repeats, more for himself to hear than you. Eivor breathes a deep sigh when he steps onto the beach, holding you close in his arms. Sýnin flies overhead, as do a pair of ravens — the same pair Eivor has seen in dreams of late. He smiles as he sets on the path carrying you up the cliffside, knowing Havi and Frigg had both heard his prayers.

[taglist:  @angstygunslinger @vanillabeanlattes @withered-poppies @ananriel @itseivwhore @maximalblaze @dynamicorbit @theelvenvalkyrie @xxdearlybeloved @elizabethroestone @elluvians @letsloveimagines @finick94 @wallsarecrumbling @kitkitvm @thedragonqueenfan @callmemythicalminx @edelae @darkravenqueen98 ] if your name is italicized, tumblr would not let me tag you. if you’d like to be added to my Eivor taglist, just let me know!

[arvinsescape]

Free

A/N: I finally got my new laptop and was able to write again so I wrote an idea that’s been in my head for a while, it’s loosely inspired by Luther, a series that I’ve re watched recently, I hope you all enjoy.

Summary: Tom just knows you had something to do with your husbands murder. His problem? He can’t prove it.

Warnings: Swearing. Smut, unprotected sex (wrap it up, condoms are a barrier from many things), oral (Fem receiving), mentions of murder, talks of an abusive relationship. (Minors do not engage). I think that’s all.

This is purely a work of fiction. I accept constructive criticism. 

W/C: 3.6K

You were driving Tom insane, he knew, in his gut, he was so sure that you had something to do with your husband’s disappearance. The case had landed itself on his desk when missing persons had deemed it a murder case, even without a body. Could he find the hard evidence that linked you to the murder? No. Was he sure it was you? A thousand per cent. Your case had been dropped months ago but he couldn’t get it or you out of his head.

“Tell me what happened?” Tom asked as he sat opposite you for the first time.

“I’ve already answered all of these questions.” You replied, Tom could tell you were nervous, you had a hard expression, but he saw straight through it.

“I don’t believe some of the answers that you gave.” He said as interlocked his hands on the desk, leaning slightly closer to you.

“I’m not really bothered what you believe, it’s what happened.” You fired back.

“People don’t just disappear.”

“Sure, they do. That’s what missing person’s is for, right?” You said as you cocked an eyebrow at him and he almost smiled, slightly enamored by the way you were handling his questioning. He’d gained a reputation for getting people to crack, but you? You seemed unfazed by his line of questioning.

Ultimately Tom had had to let you go because he couldn’t find the evidence, he needed to convict you. It drove him mad, it had him stumped for months just trying to figure out how you’d done it. How you’d evaded his thorough analysis of your property and workplace. You were smart, that was glaringly obvious to him, every time he thought he’d found something, he came up short.

A week ago, he’d found himself with a similar case on his desk, only this time the body was found. Again, there wasn’t much evidence but there were so many similarities between your case and this one. He found himself up for hours cross referencing your case file and this one, although the woman they suspected this time wasn’t as intelligent as you were, she’d lied about her alibi. Unlike you she’d said she was with a friend who denied it. You on the other hand had said you were at home all day and he couldn’t confirm that as truth and so this evidence became inadmissible in court.

He’d found himself on your doorstep, almost wanting to beg for your help, it was strange, he’d never felt like he needed anyone else’s help before yet here he was outside your door.

“Detective Holland. A man I thought I’d never seen again.” You said once you opened your door. He couldn’t help but note how beautiful you looked, he shook the thought away as he showed his badge and entered your home.

“Mrs. Leigh, I need your help.” He said in a matter-of-fact manner, he noted the small smile that had appeared on your lips and fought his own back, yours was so contagious.

“It’s Miss L/N now.” You politely corrected him.

“My apologies.”

“What could you possibly need my help with?”

“A case I’m trying to solve.”

“Forgive me but I’m not sure how I could be of help to you.” You said with furrowed brows.

“I think you could.”

He talked you through the case and his theories, all the holes in stories and suspicious behavior and you just drank it all in, nodding in certain places but ultimately you kept quiet. It wasn’t until e was done that you spoke.

“I mean, and this is all hypothetical, you’d hide the weapon in plain sight.” You answered as you made your way over to your fridge.

“That would be stupid though.” Tom said confidently, there was no way he’d missed something that was in plain sight. He watched as you pulled the bottle of wine from the fridge with a sigh. What had urged you to help him was beyond you, but a part of you knew that your case still haunted him, and you somehow felt guilty for it.

“People like you will always overlook stupid.” You said with a confidence he couldn’t quite place.

“So, you’re saying if someone wanted to hide evidence, they’d do it in plain sight because we’d overlook it?” Tom was bewildered, there was no way that this could be true, he’d spent hours going over the case files, there’s no way he missed such major evidence such as the murder weapon. He watched as you nodded mindlessly before digging through the drawer for a bottle opener.

“The autopsy report indicates a stab wound to the neck.” He continued. “They bled out. I’ve searched that house and I couldn’t find a single knife small enough to fit that wound.” He spoke. He knew the evidence for this case was in the house, the timing of everything would not have given the perpetrator any time to hide evidence away from the house.

He watched as you took the cork out of the bottle, once you’d removed the cork you placed the bottle opener on the counter, the tiny blade used for taking the paper lining off the bottle top was shining at him, almost mocking him.

“I could think of a few.” You hummed as you filled a wine glass. Tom was filled with excitement as he realized you were right, the small knife was easily concealed within the opener, he had overlooked it, not thought for a second that such a small knife was in the most basic household item.

“All I need to do is tie the murder weapon to her and case closed.” He beamed and you smiled, genuinely smiled for the first time since Tom had met you and he couldn’t help but return it, he really was enamored with you.

“Case closed.” You smiled as you sipped from your wine glass.

You had started to infect the young detective’s thoughts in a different way. He used to obsess over how you’d done it and now he was more obsessed as to why. He couldn’t understand how a woman like you, who was so quiet, kind and charismatic could have harmed another person. He started to wonder if he was wrong, if you’d had anything to do with it at all but his gut told him you did.

All the evidence for his current case came together and the victim’s wife had gone to prison for his murder, pleading guilty. She’d killed him because she wanted his money. He thought back to your case, your husband had had a lot of money, but he couldn’t see that being your motive, he couldn’t think of anything that would motivate you to murder someone. Over the time it took him to gather the evidence, he’d sought out your help more than once and he’d become enchanted by you, he found you intriguing, he wanted to get to know you better.

He wondered if that was what had brought him to your doorstep yet again. He should have been out celebrating the win, but he found himself outside your door. He knocked and wondered if you’d answer, it was late, he noted but he found himself hoping you’d open your door for him. When he heard the lock click his heart raced with excitement, he hoped you’d have that lovely smile on your face that you always had.

“Detective.” You smiled and he laughed.

“Tom.” He corrected and you smiled wider at him.

“What brings you to my doorstep Tom?”

“I wanted to thank you.”

“Thank me?”

“I’m not sure I’d have found that evidence had it not been for our chat, so thank you.”

“Well, you’re welcome. Did you want to come in? I’ve just opened a bottle of red.” You asked with that oh so contagious smile.

“How could I refuse?” He said as he made his way passed you and into the living room that he’d become so familiar with.

A bottle of red wine shared between the two later had them both feeling slightly tipsy. Tom knew he should probably make a move, but he didn’t want to, not unless you wanted him to. He found he very much enjoyed your company and wanted to stay in it as long as possible.

“Thank you for helping me finish the wine.” You smiled.

“Favor returned?” He smirked and you laughed.

“Sure. I suppose I won’t see you now.” You thought aloud.

“I suppose not.” He said, you’d moved closer to each other now, faces inches apart. “Unless you want to help me solve more cases.” He continued.

“I don’t think you’ll need my help again.” You said quietly, eyes flicking from each other’s eyes to each other’s lips.

“You never know.” He answered as quietly as you had. Tom licked his lips in anticipation, he probably shouldn’t be entertaining the idea of kissing you, but he couldn’t help it. You hummed in response as your noses brushed one an other’s. He couldn’t stop himself as he closed the small distance between you.

Your lips met in a desperate kiss, his hands finding your hair as you fisted his shirt in a desperate attempt to pull him closer to you. His mind felt blank as he became completely consumed by thoughts of you and what he wanted to do to you. He’d found you attractive the second he’d brought you in for questioning all those months ago but the more he’d gotten to know you the more he found you attractive. The rational part of his brain that was telling him this might be dangerous shut off as bit your bottom lip and you moaned slightly.

Your lips disconnected as you both needed air, both as breathless as each other. You looked at him and the look in your eyes drove him wild, your beautiful eyes were looking back at him completely list blown. He reconnected your lips as you straddled him, his hands finding your waist, lifting your shirt slightly to feel your skin.

“Bedroom?” He asked through a breath as your lips briefly disconnected.

“Upstairs, third door on the right.” You said quickly before reconnecting your lips, the kiss was hot and heavy as Tom stood, carrying you effortlessly to your bedroom, not breaking the kiss for a second. As soon as he found himself in your room, you both fell onto the bed, Tom’s back hitting the mattress. He almost moaned as you rocked your hips into his, the friction causing him to stiffen even more than he thought possible.

“You’re so fucking hot.” He said as he sat up, his lips connecting with your neck. You rolled your head back to give him more access and he took the opportunity to trail kisses down your throat, listening to the small gasps you were exhaling. He was more aroused than he’d ever been in his life, he felt completely drunk off you.

“Tom, I really want you to fuck me.” You spoke and Tom groaned at the filthy words that left your mouth, he wasn’t expecting it.

“Wanna taste you first.” He spoke as he flipped you both over, your back easily hitting the mattress as your lips reconnected. He trailed kisses down your neck as his hands went to the hem of your shirt, pulling it from you effortlessly. He unclipped your bra and threw both your shirt and bra onto the floor. Kissing down your chest as he took a nipple into his mouth, slightly grazing it with his teeth before licking and sucking at it.

Your moans grew louder, and Tom found himself entranced by the sounds you were making, he doesn’t recall ever being with anyone who sounded as pretty as you did. He continued his attention on your nipples, switching from one to the other.

“Tom, please.” You begged and he smirked against your skin.

“What?” He asked as he made eye contact with you, his fingers moving to roll your nipple.

“I need you to move lower.” You moaned.

“Whatever you want baby.” He spoke as he placed a final kiss to your breast before moving down your body.  

He quickly removed your shorts and groaned when he realized you didn’t have underwear on. He looked at your glistening heat and almost moaned at how wet you were for him.

“So wet, look at this.” He said as he ran a finger through your folds. “I’ve barely touched you and your soaked.” He smirked as you rolled your head back into the pillow.

“Please.” You begged as he let out a breath over your heat, watched as you jolted slightly from the sensation. “Tom.” You moaned as he ran his tongue through your heat.

“You taste fucking amazing.” He said before practically diving in, sucking your clit as he listened to your moans. He continued to lick and suck at your clit as he heard your moans grow louder, you must have been close he thought to himself as he sucked your clit and listened to the high-pitched moan you released.

He felt as your hand moved to his hair, almost keeping him still as he continued to lick and suck at your clit, your hips bucking up to meet his movements and e found it so incredibly hot, the way you’d started to use his face to almost get yourself off was driving him wild.

You let out a moan of his name as your orgasm crashed through you, Tom felt your legs shake and helped you through your intense orgasm, feeling proud of himself for not disappointing you. Once you’d come down from your high, he pulled away, moving back up your body, your legs continuing to shake through your aftershocks.

“So perfect.” He mumbled as he gave you a quick kiss, taking in the blissful expression on your face. “Did so well for me. Fucking hot.” He said again as you removed his shirt, placing a kiss onto his chest. You continued pressing kisses to his chest as he fumbled with his belt, almost getting frustrated as it got caught.

“Here.” you said as your hands took over, taking his belt into your own hands, undoing it almost like it was second nature to you. He found it all the more of a turn on. You made short work of his pants; they found their place with the rest of the clothes on the floor of your bedroom.

“You sure you’re okay with this?” He asked.

“Yes. I want you to fuck me Tom.”

It was all the confirmation he needed as he slipped into you, both of you moaning at the contact. Fuck, you felt good, almost perfect for him. You were both a moaning mess as he thrusted into you over and over again. His hand gripping your thigh to hoist it higher around his waist. You almost screamed as he found your g spot from his new angle, your nails clawing at his back which only made him thrust into you harder.

“Fuck, that feels good, you feel so fucking amazing.” He said as he felt you clench around him. He shifted your leg higher to get an even better angle on your g spot as he continuously pounded into you, listening to your moans of his name. he felt his own orgasm approach as you tightened around him, he knew you were close, and he watched in awe as you reached your own hand to your clit and started to rub it.

“That’s it baby.” He said and after a few more thrusts he felt you come around him which brought on his own orgasm, he removed himself from your tight heat and released his load all over your stomach with a moan of your name.

It took you both a good few minutes to recover, he was collapsed on top of you as you ran your fingers through his hair. He kissed your shoulder every few minutes and found himself more happy and content than he’d been in a long time. He removed himself from the top of you and went into the bathroom to find a warm cloth to wash the two of you off.

Once you were both cleaned up he laid in your bed with your head on hi chest as you slept soundly, and he ran his hands through your hair. He was deep in thought as he thought about your case and what had happened and now he was dying to know what had driven you to commit such an act. He was so sure in his gut you’d done it but having you here in the state you were he wondered how you could harm an insect, let alone another person.

“I wish you’d tell me what happened. Just be honest, everything’s different now. I’d want you to confide in me as your partner not see me as a detective who’s looking to lock you away. Fuck Princess, I think I’d move the Earth if you asked me to.” He whispered and he meant it, he didn’t want this time with you to end, he was so infatuated with you by this point. He fell asleep after a while, thoughts of you completely on his mind.

**

“I need to know how you did it.” He spoke after a while of you both being awake, you were spooning now as his hand rubbed your bare skin, he pressed a kiss to your bare shoulder.

“You’ve read the file.” You spoke.

“That says you didn’t do it, but I know you did Princess.”

“My case is closed, why don’t you leave it at that?”

“I can’t. I’m obsessing over it.”

“I’ve already told you.” You said after a while and Tom furrowed his brows as he turned you onto your back so he could look at you.

“No. You haven’t.” He spoke carefully, maybe he’d missed something, a confession maybe.

“For a Detective Inspector, you can be pretty stupid.” You laughed and he thought on your words for a second. Thought about how much help you’d been and what you’d said, of course you knew how this woman had done it, it was how you’d done it. The only difference was that you’d managed to dispose of the body.

“So, you did do it?” He said quietly, a small part of him was proud he was right, his gut was never wrong, but the bigger part of him wondered why.

“You just need to prove it.” You said as a tear made its way down your cheek. Of all the things Tom expected, this wasn’t one of them, he wasn’t expecting you to cry.

“Hey,” he said as he swiped the tear away with his thumb. “Tell me what happened.” He urged in the most comforting manner he could, he needed you to know you could trust him with this.

“Have you ever felt trapped? That’s how he made me feel, like I had no way out. I tried to leave him so many times, but he wouldn’t let me, he had me by the throat and it felt like he was squeezing the life out of me.” You said through your tears and Tom’s heart dropped, this wasn’t a usual case where the wife murders the husband for a payout. “He wasn’t the nice rich guy everyone thought he was, he hit me, took all his anger out on me but I could never prove it, if I had bruises I wasn’t allowed to leave the house until they weren’t visible, which wasn’t often. I snapped.” You spoke and he pulled you into a hug.

“Y/N…” He said and you interrupted him.

“But it never matters to people like you. You don’t give leeway for the small amount of people who had no other choice. That’s why I never came clean, never admitted to what I’d done, I didn’t want him to trap me any more than he had, I didn’t want to go to prison because of him.” You said as you finally let the tears out that you’d kept in for so many months.

You hadn’t intended to kill him; it was an accident. You cried for ten minutes as Tom held you, placing comforting kisses to your temple. Something about finally telling the truth was freeing, you knew he could and would probably arrest you for this, but it felt good to finally tell someone the truth that was eating away at you.

“I’m not going to do anything.” Tom spoke after a while.

“What?” You asked through sniffles as your tears ceased.

“I understand now. You’ve been punished enough. Your secret is safe with me.” He said sincerely and you believed him, but you didn’t want to drag him down with you.

“You could lose your job, go to prison if anyone found out.” You said and he kissed your cheek.

“They won’t, your case has become a cold one. There’s still no body, I doubt they’ll reopen the case.” He said through a small smile. He didn’t want to ask what you’d done with the body, he assumed you were clever enough to make sure it was never found and if it was he would make sure none of the evidence led to you, he would make sure that all the evidence ran dry, he felt like he would do anything for you.

“So, I’m free?” You spoke, hope lacing every word.

“You’re free baby.”

[17wishbones]

“Mugen Train” was such a treat that I HAD to write some short stories with the infamous, focused, and amazing Flame Pillar, Rengoku Kyōjurō. Easily one of my favorite characters. His handsome, flamboyant self needed juuust a smidge of more screen time and it would have been perfect.

S/N: Majority of my fanfics will be written towards women of color. Big FYI. Otherwise, enjoy.

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                                         Kimetsu no Yaiba: Flame Eternal

                               Chapter I: OVERWHELMING CONFESSION

“Good morning, Sunflower!”

“Kyōjurō, please!” You whispered through clenched teeth, “You can’t be scaring me this early in the morning.” The Fire Hashira, Rengoku Kyōjurō, surprised you with a greeting by hanging his head down from the rooftop of the Butterfly Estate.

“My apologies! I wanted to see you as soon as I could.” He jumped down with one hand behind his back. “Congratulations on becoming a Hashira! You have worked hard to get where you are, and that you should be proud of yourself!”

The fire in his eyes burned bright as always. He didn’t know it yet, but he was a driving force in you making it to the ranks, and it wasn’t easy. At all. You were a rare sight in Japan. Everyone still thought of you as a foreigner. No matter how good your Japanese was, not many could understand the concept that people of different colors could be a native to this country.

You have fought for acceptance for a long time, and with the rise of demons, that put unneeded targets on your back. Just like the others, you lost your family to them, and it was but the anger in your heart that brought you here - to avenge those who were killed by demons. You didn’t know if you really had what it took.

Kind and supportive words from Rengoku Kyōjurō had changed a couple of the most important minds, but others were not so keen on the idea. You pushed yourself every day, working and training day in and day out until your body shook with aches. You honestly wanted to give up many times, and tried, but there was someone always pulling you back and helping you to your feet.

“That’s because of you, Kyōjurō.”

He shook his head. “It’s because of you, Sunflower! With perseverance and vigor, you made it through Final Selection and achieved your goals in order to be a Hashira! Therefore, I wanted to be one of the first to congratulate you!”

The confidence and support of his words always made you get “butterflies” in your stomach and your cheeks warm beneath your brown skin. “Stop! You’re making me blush but,” you bowed, “Thank you, Kyōjurō, for everything.”

You had locked your hair months before you trained for the Final Selection. Your hair had been on as much of a journey as you had. It reached down to the shoulder blades. And with these locs, you were in need of a floral decoration to commemorate this special day as you donned your uniform. 

“Now, to get a sunflower-”

“Right!” He handed a small bouquet of sunflowers, your favorite flower that he nicknamed you back during those harsh training days. “For you, _____!”

“Ah!” You received his early morning gift with glee. “Kyōjurō, you shouldn’t have!” One smell and you were hooked. “Thank you so much!” You set them down in the room Shinobu offered you to stay in. You clipped one off and wrapped it up on the left side of your head. “How do I look?”

He looked at you, surprised at first, and then with an ear-to-ear smile. “As beautiful as always, _____!” 

You felt your heart thumping throughout your chest. His words of sincerity always made you feel like you belonged. Not to mention, his fiery gaze upon you held true when he spoke to and of you. “You’re much too kind, Kyōjurō.” Before you attended to your face, Kyōjurō was already before you, wiping away your falling tears.

“You’re crying. What’s wrong?”

Whenever your world began crumbling, he was there and ready to help you get through any self-doubt. He ended up being a shoulder to cry on when you least expected it. He rose to Hashira-dom before you, and yet didn’t leave you behind. You owed him something in return. “N-nothing! I’m happy.” You took hold of his wrists, lowering his hands. “Though I wonder how I’ll ever be able to show you my gratitude.”

“Hmph!” He clasped your hands in one swift motion and stared longingly into your coffee-colored eyes. “Marry me, _____!”

You deadpanned.

Nature filled in the silence.

“I said, “Marry me, _____!”

Your mouth dropped wide open, “MARRY YOU!?” 

“Yes! Do you accept?”

“Wait, wait, wait!” You drew back your hands and stepped back. You rubbed your temples, momentarily confused. Stumped. Dumbfounded. “This is a test of some sort, right? A little bit of an early morning joke to keep me on my toes?”

He laughed heartily. “Not at all!” He locked his gaze on you as he crossed his arms over his chest. “I know that you will make a great wife!”

“Kyōjurō, I’m not like you or the others, as clear as they have made it in the past. I wouldn’t want to hinder you or mess up your reputation.”

“Our Master has allowed you to apply to become a Hashira; you worked hard to become a Hashira; and you have become more than a great friend to me. No matter what anyone else says, I have accepted you.” He closed in and held your hands once more. “I knew since training, to which you promised me your hand in marriage.”

“Eh!? You remembered that!?” You questioned. 

“When I saw you at training for the first time. I knew that I had to make you mine! I have waited for this day for a long time. So, I will ask you again. _____.”

You gulped. “Yes, Kyōjurō?”

“Will you do me the honor of marrying me?”

“I-I,” your hands were clammy and your world started to spin. ‘What are you going to say? He asked you to marry him! Look, look! So what if you fed him a sweet potato every Friday and fell into his arms a few times? You need to let him down softly. Yeah! That’s it! Just refuse his proposal! He’ll understand-” Your mouth opened before you could finish. “Yes…?” You paused. ‘Bitch, did you just--?’

His aura suddenly grew hot around you both. “Then I promise to make you happy, to protect you, to guide you, and to love you until death!” With overwhelming confessions like this, how could you refuse?

“That’s great! But shouldn’t we--” You made a fatal mistake. “Kyōjurō?” You blinked. “Oh no!” He was gone in a flash! “Kyōjurō, wait!” You shouted as you dashed out of the Butterfly Estate. You only got a quick glimpse of his flaming haori, but he was still so fast! You thought you possibly had him when you ran into the other Hashira, assembled for the Pillar Meeting.

“Ah, _____! I was just about to come and get you for the meeting.” Shinobu came before you with her usually endearing smile. “Congratulations on becoming a Hashira. It’s been a long time since we’ve had anyone enter into the ranks, and for it to be someone as unique as you says something.”

“As if! You were only able to join because of Rengoku, and nothing else.” Obanai hissed from atop a tree branch. You really hated his guts.

“But you can’t deny her strength. She did kill fifty demons in a year and a half. That’s at least impressive, right?” Tengen remarked. He was a nice guy, in a way, so you liked him.

Shinazugawa pointed his sword at you. “As long as she doesn’t get in the way of me killing demons, I could care less.” 

‘And I could care less myself.’ You thought with a frown on your lips.

Mitsuri was at least nice enough to give you a smile and a wave. “You look so pretty in your uniform, _____!” You liked her the most, along with Shinobu.

Giyuu and Muichiro didn’t speak on the matter.

“Thank you to those most kind, and to the others, you’ll just have to get used to seeing me like I have to get used to seeing you. Anyways, I came here looking for Rengoku. Did he pass by yet?”

“By pass by, do you mean standing at the top of the roof behind you?” Tengen pointed out.

You looked confused as you turned around and felt your face just fall into shock as you saw him proudly standing on the rooftop - again - with a wide smile on his lips. “Kyōjurō!”

He gently took hold of you at the waist when you landed in front of him. “I’ve got you, Sunflower!” His eyes burned brighter than they ever had before, and the aura he exuded could be felt from miles away. “Everyone!” He turned to the Hashira below. “Let us welcome _____, our new Hashira, and my soon-to-be wife, to the team!” Everyone’s face cracked. “Treat her like she’s one of our own!”

Really, what would you do without this flamboyant Hashira?

- - - - - - - -

Chapter: I | II | III | IV | V | VI | VII (Part 1) / (Part 2) / (Part 3)

[janiedean]

Prompt. Book canon setting. Jaime can hear Brienne's thoughts.

*spins wheel* LET'S SEE WHAT HAPPENS WITH THIS ONE and sorry for the lateness anon!!

warnings: set during asos/the road trip so expect what canon offered including the attempted rape scene

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He doesn't hear her until -

Until sometime after they hack the hand off.

He doesn't know when he realizes for sure because he's too fucking out of it, but when Shagwell says that stupid fucking line about the two of them being lovers while they were chained to each other on the horse and wondering who out of the two of them is the knight and the maiden, he clearly hears her saying you wouldn't know a true knight if Arthur Dayne himself vouched for them and for a moment he wonders if she's gone mad, but -

But no one does or says anything about it.

Which - they hit them more than once if they tried to speak out of turn, or at least they hit her, he was entirely beyond it, so it's fucking weird, because that kind of thing shouldn't - it's too bloody forward, and then whatever I thought of him sure as the Seven Hells he's a better one than the whole bloody lot of them, and -

He wonders, deliriously, if she swears that much all the time, and then he realizes no one actually came up to them to do anything about it.

But he heard it.

Loud and clear.

Is he going mad?

He doesn't know.

He passes out a short while later, smelling the stench of his own rotting hand, and thanking his blessing that at least the wench is fucking warm, isn't she?

--

He had thought that was the worst he could smell in his entire life.

After vomiting the damned horse piss they gave him to drink, he decides that maybe he'll reconsider it, and - for a moment he can just taste the damned vomit on his tongue and he knows it's all over him and in between that and the remains of what he drank on his tongue he feels like retching all over again, and then he realizes in utter humiliation that it's not the only thing that smells foul on him as they laugh and laugh and laugh, and then someone tells the wench that they're not going farther if he smells like his own shit, too, and he's sure he hears her saying if only I could steal a sword, but - but he has to be making that up. She can't have said it. She can't have said it -

And they do nothing as she says she'll need her hands free and she comes close to him, and he can barely look at her but then she opens her mouth as she gently brings him close to the river and tells him to drink some water from her cupped hand before she starts cleaning the vomit off his beard, and he's halfway delirious with how much he wants to retch again -

No one deserves that, he hears the wench say, and he turns to her to ask her if she's gone mad -

No one deserves that and I can't even imagine how he's -, he hears, and she has her mouth closed.

He saw that. There is no way she actually spoke. And then she motions for him to lay down on the ground and oh fuck she has to change his smallclothes doesn't she and he just wants to fucking bury himself in the ground - he knows she's done that before, he sort of felt it even if he was passed-out half of the time, but now he's awake for it and he just wants to shrink away from her as she gently undoes his trousers and lowers him into the water -

I failed my vow, he hears, but if that's how I can keep what's left of it, fine. Fine.

She -

She thinks she did what?

And that's when it hits him.

If she's not speaking but he's hearing her and he hasn't gone mad -

Is he hearing her thoughts?

And -

And he was sure she loathed him. What is she even on about when it comes to failing her fucking vow?

He wishes he could figure that out.

It hurts too much, though, and he lets himself pass out, but the fact that she's holding him up as he does somehow -

Somehow makes it less worse than the other times.

--

No, no, stop, he hears when he tries to steal that sword and what a lot of good it did to him, and - is she talking to him or them, he doesn't know, but he can't waste time with it, not when he has to try and fight his way out - except that he doesn't, and then he trips over the damned rock while the others laugh, but Brienne doesn't, and Shagwell comes close and kisses him on the damned head and he wants to retch just at the feeling and -

Can't they leave him alone, just leave him alone, he doesn't deserve it, no one deserves it, he has more guts in him than you all and how dare you even do this Lady Catelyn trusted me with his safety and I can barely do anything what are they thinking what are they thinking he doesn't he doesn't oh but I'm watching them, let them think I'm harmless but the moment I can act I will I will I will I can't fail my vows like this not for the second time not now -

Rorge kicks the sword away from him.

He lets them throw him back on the horse.

There is no way he has hallucinated her thinking about fucking Catelyn Stark.

He closes his eyes and lets himself pass out - he can't deal with this.

He can't he can't he can't -

--

"Jaime."

He's halfway sure she did speak, now. Because she's not being loud and clear. She's whispering and he's looking up at the night sky wondering why would such pretty stars look down on such as him, and then -

"Jaime, what are you doing?"

Oh.

Yes.

She is talking to him. And - calling him by his damned name? What the -

Well, no point in lying now.

"Dying," he blurts, and then -

No no no he shouldn't not for this not because of them oh no no no I can't fail him like this I can't fail my lady like this I swore I'd bring him to King's Landing and it wouldn't - no no it's not fair it's not fair I can't I can't I can't -

She sounds pretty damn panicked, he thinks, and then -

“No,” Brienne on, “no, you must live.”

“Stop telling me what do, wench. I’ll die if it pleases me," he blurts, and -

No, no, that's not - he can't, he can't die like this, and no one - he might have slayed his king but not even he deserves this, that's beyond - I can't let him give up I just can't he shouldn't he shouldn't gods what will piss him off enough to do it what would -

What is she even -

"Are you so craven?" She blurts, and -

"What else can I do, but die?" He blurts back, and he's - he's not even - he would have been angered if he hadn't known but just the fact that she knew calling him a coward would have at least made him angry is making his head spin, and -

Oh yes yes good that's better -

"Live. Live, fight and take revenge," she says, and then Rorge hears them before he can answer -

“You will hold your bloody tongue if you want to keep it, bitch,” he shouts in her face, “or do you want it around your neck like his hand?”

He starts kicking her in the stomach and she moans in pain, but -

But -

I don't care I don't care I don't care I can take it I took worse I took a lot bloody worse than this as long as he lives I don't care and at least he's kicking me and not him I can take it I can I can I can -

He -

He swallows, closing his eyes while her pained moans fill his ears.

He doesn't go to sleep that night. Not really.

--

It's just -

He tries to think about it while she goddamned changes his soiled smallclothes so he doesn't have to look at her in shame and he can hear her thinking that it's the least she could do and she'll see him through it if it kills her.

She -

She was -

She loathed him. He knew she did. It was obvious. Maybe this is just... compassion or something like that, but - but she certainly isn't letting that stop her from making this entire fucking ordeal less bad than it could be, for what it's worth, and he can't help thinking, now for all she fancies herself a knight she's keeping her word isn't she, and he feels a lump in his throat as she ties back his breeches around his waist and helps him to the horse, again.

She's gentle, when she pulls him up on it.

Gentler than anyone else has been while handling him in - he doesn't know how long.

Please live until we reach safety, she thinks, and he almost falls off the horse at how sad she sounded. Please please please. I have to bring you to King's Landing. I swore I'd keep you safe. I can't do more than this. Please just live.

Fucking Seven Hells.

She meant it, when she swore her lady that dumb vows, didn't she.

Fuck.

Fuck, he is her damned vow, and -

His head spins just at the thought.

He's just - he's not going to go further down that road. He's not. But he can't lie to himself about how sincere she sounds, and anyway if he's hearing her thoughts because of some stupid weird strange magic then she couldn't be lying, could she?

Fuck.

Fuck, she really does believe in oaths, doesn't she?

--

He probably asked for it, ranting about Aerys the closer to Harrenhal they got.

He hears her wondering is there something he's not telling people, because this makes no sense, not with how he sounds, not with what everyone knows, why does he sound so sad, why oh I hope he's not going mad what if he does but could I blame him if he did, and then Rorge is back kicking him in the stump and making him scream and -

I want to kill him with my bare hands, she thinks, I want to kill him with my bare damned hands god stop it can't you see he's harmless and just because of you bastards stop stop stop this is just too cruel this is too cruel why why why -

Well, he thinks before he passes out again, the pain in his wrist too blinding, at least she didn't loathe him so much she'd be glad of this.

Oh, he knew, but -

But the idea that someone wants to kill this man just because he's hurting him just -

It doesn't -

People don't want to take revenge on anyone for him, he's the one who usually -

It just doesn't -

Everything goes black.

--

When he hears the whole lot of them talking about who's taking the front and the back, he knows what they're planning.

Thing is -

I knew it was going to happen. Very well then. They'll get a fight. I'm not letting them have me easily. Fuck all, maybe I should have just let that bastard Hyle Hunt have it when they did that bet, at least it wouldn't be with any of them -

He's -

He's not going to even think about what she meant with the bet, he's too out of it, but -

She wants to fight all of them? From what he's seen she would, but -

He thinks of Queen Rhaella screaming and screaming behind that door and he couldn't do anything and she didn't fight and survived enough to birth a daughter, but - but these pieces of shit will hack her into pieces if she does and for some reason he just can't -

Not when she cares enough to -

“Wench,” he tries, “Let them have their meat, and you go far away,” he keeps on. “It will be over quicker, and they’ll get less pleasure from it.”

What the hell is he up to? What does he even care? She shakes her head. Oh, fucking stubborn wench -

“They’ll get no pleasure from what I’ll give them,” she replies. If this is how I lose my maidenhead then I'm not just letting them take it. And what does he even mean? I can't go anywhere. Far away? What does he even mean?

Oh, damn it. She doesn't get it. She won't handle it. She might be good but it will break her and if she fights it it'll just break her more, he saw it happen, he fucking saw it happen, he can't let them do it again, he can't -

“Let them do it, and go away inside." What might convince her anyway? "Think of Renly, if you loved him. Think of Tarth, mountains and seas, pools, waterfalls, whatever you have on your Sapphire Isle, think…" He keeps on talking, but then she shakes her head again, and -

As if Renly ever wanted me like that. I know he didn't. And I don't know what does he care but I can't. I handled - I handled this all my fucking life, I'll live. I knew it could happen. I'll break a few noses before they even try.

He was about to press, but then Rorge shows up and tells her that she's the ugliest woman he's ever seen -

As if I haven't heard that all my life, she scoffs in her head, and Jaime's stomach is curling on itself and he realizes he's going to have to watch them do it -

“But don’t think I can’t make you uglier. You want a nose like mine? Fight me, and you’ll get one. And two eyes, that’s too many. One scream out o’ you, and I’ll pop one out and make you eat it, and then I’ll pull your fucking teeth out one by one.”

And then he hears the thought, so clear, so fucking loud that he almost screams at hearing it -

not my eyes, they’re the only part of me other people seem to not think ugly

- and then she shakes her head and glares back at him, and when Shagwell talks about fucking her up the arse she thinks well, at least I won't have to see him while he does, and -

Oh no no no no he can't watch it happen, he can't watch it happen by sitting here and do nothing not like this not when she sounded like she was about to cry thinking about losing those pretty eyes of hers -

Maybe -

Maybe he can -

“There’s a funny fool,” he says, his own voice sounding so calm it almost freaks him out. “I have a riddle for you, Shagwell. Why do you care if she screams? Oh, wait, I know.”

No, no, no, you are a fool, what are you doing, he’s going to kill you — he hears Brienne think, but he can't care less, not now -

“Sapphires," he shouts, and -

Well.

The pain in his wrist when Rorge kicks it is entirely worth knowing he won't have to watch her being raped in front of him without even a door in the middle.

--

She's quiet for the rest of the day, but not to him.

No one else ever did what he just has, she thinks.

No other man ever -

Those bastards at Renly's camp wanted to - and he was the one -

How could I have misjudged him so badly -

What is he even hiding it makes no sense he can't be as horrible as he likes everyone to presume -

He saved me he saved me he saved me -

How could - I was supposed to keep him safe and he saved me oh gods he did -

When she finally talks, and asks him in a thin voice, calling him by his name, why did he do it, he lies. Makes up something about wanting Vargo Hoat to say thappireth, about it being a repayment for her helping him escape Riverrun at the end of it, and he can only hear what she's not saying.

I could have handled it, I always have, he was a true knight oh gods he was one, and -

I have a debt to you, too, she thinks, and his stomach lurches, but not in the bad way.

Gods.

She really is... everything she looks like, isn't she?

--

He does try to goad her in the tub.

If only to not think about how she's thinking something about having completely failed all over while she scrubs herself, but it's so angry and garbled he can barely make sense of it, and then she shrinks back from him, and -

"Does the sight of my stump distress you so?" He asks, attempting to goad her more, and then she flinches and -

I can't look at it because it's - the proof I failed you, I said I'd bring you back whole from King's Landing and here's what happened and I could barely - I mean, I did what I could but I said I'd keep you safe I swore I did I swore Lady Catelyn I would and is he trying to make me feel bad about it, is it how he's taking revenge on me, not that I can blame him but I tried oh I tried please -

He was abut to tell her something about Renly to goad her further.

He -

He can't.

"I'm sorry," he says, and when she looks at him like she can't believe him, he shrugs again. “I’m a maimed man, and bitter. Forgive me, wench. You protected me as well as any man could have, and better than most.”

What is he apologizing now why would he it makes no sense gods I don't know what to make of him anyone else wouldn't be meaning this does he mean it I don't know I don't know -

"Do you mock me?" She replies, feebly, and -

He can't even be angry at her after that. She really.... is that guarded, is't she? And if - if people bet on her maidenhead, presumably, from what he gathered, can he even blame her?

"No," he says, "I want a truce. And I meant it."

"Truces are built on trust. Should I trust -"

"The kingslayer?" He finishes for her.

I meant different - she starts thinking, but then -

Then he can't shut his mouth and before he knows it he's told her everything when he never told anyone else and he can hear her thinking oh oh oh it makes sense oh it adds up oh but why hasn't he told why hasn't he said oh gods oh gods I knew he was hiding something, and -

And when he almost faints and she catches him, gently, gentler than Cersei ever was -

I couldn't on the road but there is no way I'm leaving him to suffer now, she thinks, and then no one will answer if I call for help, but if - I won't - I don't want to say it -

She asks help for the kingslayer.

But that's not his name, she thinks, and he thinks he's crying as he passes out.

--

He hadn't wanted to leave her behind.

The moment he did, he felt like - he should have been happy, he was going back to Cersei, why wouldn't he be, except that he thinks about how she said goodbye and told him that she hoped he'd keep their vow and he could hear I completely failed but if he's - if he's the way I think he can be maybe he will do it even if I couldn't and just - he thought Arthur Dayne was the best knight he ever knew but the wench fucking buys it, believes it deep down, she fucking means it and everyone else - everyone else was more of a hoax than he has been, he knows, he has seen it, but her -

He doesn't think he's ever met anyone who was - who wanted it quite as much, not even himself, and her thoughts were what they were but they made him feel - less alone somehow and now he's surrounded by Bolton men and that fucking Qyburn and he can't hear them but from the way they look at him he can guess what they think, and then -

Then he dreams of her putting herself in between him and his older Kingsguard and looking almost beautiful and all knightly as she held that flaming sword and was as naked as she was in the baths and -

He can't.

He just fucking can't.

He goes back to Harrenhal.

--

He doesn't hear her thoughts until he jumps into the bear pit.

What is he doing here she thinks and oh he had missed her voice in his head fuck didn't he, and he smiles as she calls him Kingslayer but not meaning it at all, he knows she doesn't -

He tells her to get behind him and she protests that he's unarmed, of course she would but then -

why would he come back why why why he was going back to his sister wasn't he he was he said he was he loves her doesn't he he said so why is he here did he come back for me because he thought I was in danger oh god he did it's the second time he does it no one else has ever no one else has ever I always had to do it on my own how how how he is here

He swallows and hopes like mad that Steelshanks does what he's supposed to.

He does.

By the time they're out of the damned pit and Vargo Hoat is seething and she replies with a faint whisper that she's still a maiden when he asks he's ready to just - brush it off, why wouldn't he -

why why why why oh he looks so handsome like this he's everything I thought true knights would be once

Jaime is about to trip on his damned feet, and then -

"Ser Jaime?" She asks, thinly. "I am grateful, but you were well-away. Why come back?"

He could have just - brushed her off. Told a quip. Joked about it as he usually does. Something cruel, so she'd go back to thinking horribly of him, but she's staring at him with those pretty, wide blue eyes as she can't believe he's there and he did come back, and -

maybe he thought it was the honorable thing and oh he does have honor I see it now, but why for me, why for me, who else ever has, I never was that kind of girl, I can't believe he did that for me

Fucking hells. How old is she anyway? Eight and ten? He remembers being almost her age and - having lost all of that goodness she has, all that self-righteousness that everyone needs should they be knights, and she's looking at him like he just walked out of a song -

"I dreamed of you," he says instead, and it's the truth, isn't it -

Oh, she says, men don't dream of me, do they, and -

Fuck.

Fuck.

--

He should avoid her.

He should, because if - if she's falling in love with him and it all points to that then - then it wouldn't - it can't - Cersei would - he can't even begin to quantify it -

But then the Red Wedding happens and he hears her weeping in her tent on the way to King's Landing and he hears it, he hears it -

would ser jaime let me weep on his shoulder or would he think it beneath a true knight now

He's -

He's in her tent before he can think about it and he lets her and she grasps at his shoulders like she can't believe he's real, and then she thanks him in a thin voice and he could leave it at that but then he hears it, he hears it -

I've never known a better man

So loud and clear it's deafening, and he can't even lie to himself anymore, he can't -

He doesn't know who moves first.

What he knows is that they're kissing after a moment of staring at each other and she's whimpering into his mouth while her hands touch his face and the back of his head so gently he wants to weep at it, and is he kissing me is he kissing me oh gods I'm dreaming am I she's thinking and -

He shakes his head and brings his left hand to her cheek, fingers shaking, and he can't - he can't put up the front anymore.

"It's real," he says, and her eyes widen. "Don't worry, wench, you're easy to read. But it's - it's a good thing, I think."

"I - I didn't - I've wanted it since the bath, I think," she admits, and he could have said, I could have known or I suspected or I knew you had wanted it at the bear pit, at least.

"I kissed you first, didn't I?" He replies, and - "And for what it's worth, I want to keep that vow to fucking Catelyn Stark. And you didn't fail your side of it. I mean, I'm alive, am I not?"

"How did you know that - I thought I had?"

"You talk in your sleep," he lies, because he can't tell her that he can still hear her damned thoughts though he might have to later, but -

She tells him that she knows she doesn't expect him to keep on doing this when they reach King's Landing, and kisses him again.

He doesn't stop her.

--

When she walks into his room dressed in blue, the thought hits him so hard he almost staggers.

he looks so handsome like this, oh, I don't know how long it has been but he - he looks like a god, doesn't he, but - he can't want it again, can he -

He tells her to close the door and come closer. He - he didn't think he'd ever do what he's about to, but after the conversation he just had with Cersei -

He didn't need to read her mind to realize a few things he should have realized a long time ago, he thinks.

And then Brienne tells him that white becomes him, and -

It suits him, he looks like he was born for it and honestly he was, maybe now he can -

"I have a proposition for you," he says, and puts the Valyrian sword on the table in between the two of them.

He tells her where that sword comes from. He tells her he wants her to have it so she can look for Sansa Stark because she's his last chance at honor, but then -

"And if you wait for tomorrow to leave, until I free my brother before Cersei has him killed for a crime he didn't commit, I would come with you."

She almost drops the sword.

"You - come with me? But - you're -"

"The new Lord Commander? I am," he says, "but - I think - I thought about a few things. I - I think I'd rather be out there with you and my sister - she's not - she's not the person I remembered." Understatement. "I'll need to make sure a few things are under control here, and I have to make sure Tyrion does his escape, and - a few other matters. But - I'll send Varys to you with the name of one specific inn. Wait for me there. Three days at most and I'll join you. Will you?"

of course I would of course I will oh gods he gave me a valyrian sword he thinks I'm - he thinks I can - he'd come with me - oh gods yes yes yes

"Ser," she bows, "I would. I will wait for your missive."

Then she bows and leaves.

Well then.

Well then.

--

Three days later, he knocks on her door feeling drained inside - that conversation with Tyrion was not... what he had thought it would be and he hopes he has it in himself to forgive him with time, and his uncle hasn't quite realized what he meant to do, but - he made him understand that he should take very good care of the king and to make sure Cersei doesn't become regent, because she - she just isn't a good choice, he can see it now, and now he's tired and -

he came back, Brienne thinks in delight as he opens the door.

Fuck it all.

He kicks it closed and kisses her again, and as she moans into his mouth anew, he decides that he doesn't care what happens from now on.

He always wanted to be Arthur Dayne.

Maybe with her he can be.

End.

[mercy-burning]

Cold Feet (Alternate Version)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: After receiving a letter from an old flame just days away from her wedding, Reader wonders if she should call it all off. —Inspired by the song Cold Feet by Tenille Arts Category: Angst (unhappy ending) Content Warnings: An almost kiss that isn’t with Reader’s fiancé Word Count: 1.8k

Read the other version of Cold Feet here!

MASTERLIST

***

She should be happily wrapped in a dream, Safe in a warm bed and sound asleep. So why is she walking back home From a long night down by the creek, With cold feet?

Y/N is currently finding it difficult to breathe.

It was easier a couple days ago when she knew exactly what she wanted. Her husband-to-be was more than excited to marry her, and she'd reciprocated that feeling entirely. Everything was ready to go. Truthfully, they could have gotten married right this second if that's what they wanted, that's how ready to go they were.

But now? She was questioning everything.

She still felt the thin paper in her hands, even with its folded body currently tucked away in an old book she knew was never going to be opened again- a gift from the man who'd written the letter in the first place.

The first time she read it, her heart sank. And by the third time she'd read it, her heart soared.

And then her fiancé walked in, asked her about what to make for dinner, and her heart sank all over again.

Honestly, damn him for choosing now to finally confess. Damn him for making her question everything, after she'd finally moved on and found someone who would always be around.

But then again, she'd ended up choosing to live in a house in their hometown, just blocks away from that creek he'd mentioned in his letter. So... Maybe she hadn't moved on entirely

She hated that she even had to think about it.

She hated that her thoughts were so consumed with this man she hadn't seen in years when the man she was about to marry slept next to her every night, unaware of the start to her inner turmoil. Each night since then, she dreamt of dances with both of them, alternating between the two until they made her choose which of them she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. And every morning she'd wake with an even bigger tear in her heart than when the old flame had burned it alive and left her alone in the aftermath to piece it back together.

Her fiancé helped her do that, though. Day by day he taught her to love again, to trust in somebody again, and he was truly a good man.

So why was it absolutely destroying her, thinking of getting married to him when there was someone else in the picture to think about? Someone who'd had a hold on her for well over fifteen years?

Again, she hated that she even had to think about it.

But she wasn't about to get married with all these conflicting thoughts, so whether she wanted to or not, her only real option was the one that would also be the hardest on her tattered heart.

She'd sent him a text message this morning that read, Midnight, and tucked her phone away for the rest of the day, drowning herself in mindless work and looking to keep time moving forward.

Now, she struggles to breathe as she makes her way down to the creek.

It's cold, having just rained fifteen minutes prior, and she wraps her fiancé's cardigan tightly over her her arms, searching for warmth and comfort. She would have settled for one of her own, heavier pieces, but in some strange way she thought maybe having something there that belonged to her fiancée would ground her, something to remind her of the gravity of the situation at hand.

Nothing could have grounded her upon seeing her ex boyfriend after all these years, though, especially when she finally shows up to their old spot and sees him perched on the big stump right next to the water, relief and joy flooding through his features at the sight of her. His smile is just as bright and familiar as she remembered, and it just about knocks the wind out from under her feet.

"Hi, Y/N," he greets softly, standing up and stretching his hands out over his legs. It's obvious that he's nervous to meet up with her after all these years apart, and she couldn't blame him in the slightest.

She's just as nervous as her feet take baby steps towards him. Meanwhile she's hugging her fiancée's cardigan around her body tighter than before. "Hi..."

"I... I can't believe you actually wanted to meet. Truthfully I thought I wouldn't hear back from you."

"Well... Your letter kind of rattled me... You rattled me. I guess I just had to know..."

There's a long pause before he takes a small step towards her and tilts his head. His words are hesitant, like he thinks she might say something he doesn't want to hear. "And... What do you know?"

"I know that I love my fiancé. After you, I didn't really think I'd ever love anyone the same way again, but... He makes me happier than I've ever been, and I... I can't just discard that feeling because you decided too late that you still love me. You know?"

"I do, Y/N, I really do," he answers earnestly, and this time his hand reaches out to grab hers. "But... I mean, you showed up here, didn't you? That has to count for something..."

She isn't really sure how to respond after that. It's true that seeing this man in front of her for the first time in years has brought back a wave of feelings that she'd repressed and even experienced with someone new.

But it's also true that with those feelings comes an inevitable aftertaste of bitterness. He'd left her, decided ultimately that his career was more important to him, and now that she has someone new he's asking her to leave behind this peace she's found. And for what? For him? What's to stop him from leaving again, or deciding years or months down the road that he'd made a mistake and gotten her to leave her one shot at happiness after him?

Nonetheless, she sits with him for hours, listening to him explain... Giving him a chance. He apologizes for the past, he promises to do better in the future, and in between he makes her laugh. Their hands brush, their breaths mingle as they huddle from the cold, and with every passing minute, the cardigan on her shoulders becomes looser and more forgotten.

Slowly but surely, he's lowering her defenses and gaining her trust. He's showing her bits and pieces of the man she fell in love with until they're laughing at close to 3am.

And then, for a moment, it's quiet. Absolutely quiet, save for the crickets and the soft rolling of the creek behind them.

Y/N almost lets him kiss her then.

But then her heart hammers in her chest, and not in a good way. Suddenly, she's imagining the pure heartbreak that would surely manifest on her fiancé's face if he found out- if she really decided to leave him for this old flame that had barely started to kindle once again years later.

She has to be absolutely certain of her decision.

So she pulls back and wraps her fiancé's cardigan tightly around her arms. "I should go home."

There's disappointment in his eyes, and it twists her gut a little. "Right... Um... I-I can take you back, if you want."

"No, I, uh... I think I'm gonna walk. I have to think."

Y/N avoids his gaze just quickly enough that she doesn't see the disappointment in his eyes fizzle into a tiny sliver of hope.

Rain on the sidewalk, doubt in her mind. One thing's for sure, she's running out of time To decide what's right, And who's heart she's willing to break.

She climbs into bed some time later, the cardigan still wrapped tightly around her body, and she can't quite bring herself to face the man sleeping next to her. It feels wrong, like somehow she's betrayed him by even thinking of spending the rest of her life with another person. She doesn't feel worthy of his love.

When she wakes up the next morning, she'd somehow ended up facing him anyway. He's staring at her with adoring eyes, and under his gaze she can't help the guilt that washes over her.

"Quit looking at me like that..."

Her words are grumbly and soft because of having just woken up, and because her face is half hidden behind blankets and his cardigan, her fiancé doesn't know anything is wrong.

Instead, he laughs. "What, you're beautiful... And before you start arguing with me, yes, you're even beautiful when you wake up."

She only grumbles, feeling anything but.

It's quiet for a moment or two before he speaks again. "You're wearing my cardigan..."

Peeking her eyes out from the mountain of fabric, she can see the enchantment in his eyes and it makes her warm. "I was cold..."

While true, she mostly means I had cold feet.

"Come here."

Two simple words, two syllables, and yet it's the softest declaration of love she's ever heard. Her body instinctively nestles into his, face going straight into the crook of his neck while he wraps her up in his arms.

"There," he says, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "You feel warmer yet?"

"Mhm..." She sighs into his skin and then takes in a deep breath.

He smells like home.

He feels like home.

And as he starts softly humming her favorite song, rubbing soothing circles into her back as he holds her close, Y/N wonders why she'd ever doubted her love for him.

He is home.

Spencer never was— he was almost always gone.

Letting him go is hard given their past; The good in their relationship was really good, but... it wasn’t enough. It isn't enough for Y/N to leave behind this new, pure love that had reopened parts of her soul she hadn't realized could be repaired after Spencer.

While James makes coffee in the kitchen, Y/N wanders to the bookshelf, gently removing Spencer's gift from the dark wood and swiping her hand over the bound leather exterior. The letter enclosed inside, handwriting that matches an inscription on the front inside cover of the book, beats softly like a heart.

Later that day, as she makes her way five towns over, that heartbeat slowly diminishes— until, finally, she drops it off at the local bookstore for donation, and it stops beating altogether.

And Spencer, somehow, can feel it. He feels it deep in his bones, that she'd given up on them— on him.

He feels the beating of his heart slow down day after day, so quiet and barely tangible, that once the day of her wedding finally arrives, it shatters altogether.

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[seriouslysnape]

Ooh yey requests are open 💕 could you write something where reader is the one to propose to severus instead of the traditional way? With a ring and all?

OH STOP THAT’S SO CUTEEEEEEEEE.

__

Indecent Proposal

Severus Snape x Fem. Reader

A/N: HAHAHA. This gif doesn’t match this one-shot at all, but I thought it was funny out of context.

Warnings: None.

Word Count: 2,511

“If you wish to ever tell me something, I’m here to listen.”

__

Severus knew the moment that he met you that you were the one. It was a sort of sensation that he couldn’t describe. It was like when he laid eyes on you, the final piece of his puzzle of life fell into place, completing a full picture. He knew that his life was fulfilled with you. It wasn’t until your third or fourth week of dating that he began to think about marriage. He spent several days brainstorming over what kind of ring you might like, or what kind of house you’d want to live in once you were wed.

Severus was never one to just jump right into things. He liked to calculate every aspect of his life, weighing all possible options and considering all scenarios. This was no different. Even though he could have very well gotten down on one knee after just a month of dating, he knew that was far too soon for a marriage proposal. There was no way that either of you were ready or prepared to get married yet. Severus, though, was a patient man when it came to you.

He was willing to wait as long as it took.

Fast forward to a year and a half later, Severus was beginning to feel that proposal itch once more. He knew the time was getting right, and he wouldn’t be able to overlook his heart’s wishes much longer. He was ready to spend the rest of his life with you. He wanted his proposal to be nothing short of exemplary. He had already bought a ring about a week ago, one that you had mentioned in passing that you liked. He made sure to make a note of it, going back and purchasing it when you weren’t with him. He had kept it in the box in his pocket ever since, waiting until he felt like the moment was right.

He wanted nothing to be out of place. He wanted every little detail to be exactly to his liking. All of this would take time to plan out, which was why he was planning to propose to you the following week to make sure he was ready beforehand.

However, you had been acting strangely over the last few days. You were jittery, almost nervous around him. When it was just the two of you, he couldn’t help but notice the way your leg bounced anxiously and you couldn’t keep your attention on him for longer than a few passing moments.

He watched how skittish you were during dinner. You couldn’t sit still for the life of you and you weren’t speaking much. When you did speak, your diction was so fast that he could barely keep up with what you were saying. He could tell you were preoccupied with something.

“Are you alright, [Y/N]?” He asked gently, catching your attention.

You visibly jumped in your seat. Your fork spazzed from your hand and hit your plate with a loud clatter, the sound echoing in your ears. He paused hard and stared at you like you were a mad woman. He furrowed his brows in confusion and curiosity.

“Yep!” You squeaked; “I’m fine, I’m great! Why wouldn’t I be alright?” You rocketed off rapidly.

He set his own utensils down, folding his hands and looking harder into you. You were straight as a board as you sat, your shoulders pushed way further back than normal. He was worried that something was bothering you that you weren’t telling him about.

“Darling, you’re so flushed.” He pointed out, looking at how your face looked quite spectral.

You shook your head vigorously, continuing to dig yourself into a deeper hole with your odd behavior.

“I think it’s just hot in here...is it hot in here? I think it’s a little hot in here.” You rambled.

Now he REALLY knew something was up. You always complained about how cold he kept his Hogwarts’ living space. There wasn’t a fire crackling in the fireplace, so there was no way you were overly warm. He didn’t question it, only smiling kindly and standing from his chair. He approached you, putting his hands on the back of your chair to persuade you to get up.

“Why don’t we get out and get some fresh air, yes? We can finish dinner later.” He suggested, taking your clammy hand into his.

He was afraid that maybe you were coming down with something, but you didn’t look or act sickly. He guided you from your chair, leaving a soft kiss to your forehead. He felt your shoulders relax at the motion. You felt a bit comforted for now, his touch putting you at ease.

“Yeah. That’s a good idea.” You said in a more standard tone.

He linked his arm into yours, sweeping you away and outside into the cool evening. It was a beautiful spring night, for there was not a cloud in the steadily darkening sky. The sun had mostly set below the horizon, just a few minutes needed to go by before it was fully dark. You and Severus strolled alongside each other, making small talk as he tried to gauge what had you so uptight.

He never wanted you to be upset. It absolutely broke his heart anytime something was wrong and draining you of any happiness. However, you didn’t seem unhappy or sad. You were simply just nervous about something, but he couldn’t even begin to think of what it could be. He was stumped.

Your hand fiddled in your pocket. Your fingertips clutched the silver, metal ring that was housed there. The material was smooth against your skin as you refused to let it go. You had been holding on to it for at least two weeks now, and the entire time you had been terrified of losing it.

You knew that a woman proposing to a man wasn’t conventional. It was very traditional for the man to propose to the woman with a stunning ring that is supposed to fit perfectly and they’re supposed to cry at the new chapter of their life that’s been opened. You had been through it all in your head already.

Naturally, you had originally wanted Severus to be the one to ask for your hand in marriage. You had been waiting for him to suddenly get on one knee and pull out a ring and ask you to spend forever with him. But the longer you waited, the more impatient you became. With each passing day, you reminded yourself that you weren’t getting any younger, and you wanted to be with him for as long as possible.

That’s when you got the idea.

You could just as easily plan a proposal. You could go out and buy a ring that you knew he’d like. You knew he’d want something private, quiet, and not in front of a crowd of people. That was a win-win, because at least if you were to be mocked for proposing first, it would be just Severus and not a group of others. You felt a little out of your mind for this, but you knew it could be really sweet and romantic. Either way, it wasn’t really about the proposal.

It was about spending forever with the one you loved the most.

At one point, he stopped walking with you. You were just faintly illuminated by the light of the moon far above your heads. He was taking in how pretty you were. In every moment of every day, you were the most beautiful woman in the world. He had never felt so fortunate to have such a stunning human being in his life. A charming, alluring woman with an even purer heart and soul.

“My beautiful girl,” He said, cupping the side of your face and stroking his cheek with his thumb. Your heart beat began to quicken. You knew this was the moment; “If you wish to ever tell me something, I’m here to listen.”

You were trying to disregard how shaky your breathing was every time you inhaled. You weren’t sure how he’d react to this, but either way you knew he’d say yes. Even then, you still couldn’t shake off the edgy feeling in your gut.

“Yeah, of course.” You said with an encouraging smile.

“If something has you disturbed, then I want to help you if I can. I don’t want you to believe that you have to deal with things on your own. I’m here for you.” He claimed.

This was one of the many reasons you loved him. He was always in your corner, and he never let you forget it. He would walk through fire for you. He’d do anything as long as it meant that you were happy. Your happiness topped anything else in his life. You were all that mattered.

“It’s nothing like that, S. I’ve just had something on my mind lately.” You explained.

As secure as Severus felt in your relationship, he still felt a drop in his chest. After saying that and the way you had been acting, he thought that maybe you were thinking of ending this. His head and heart were both getting ready to fight for you if you were. He couldn’t just let you walk out of his life, despite his internal panic, he remained level headed.

“Do you wish to talk about it?” He asked, bringing one of your hands to his lips and leaving a soft kiss. He brought your hand to his chest, just in case this was the last time he’d ever feel you.

If you had known that’s what he was thinking, you’d probably start crying. Severus was so used to rejection and disappointment in his life, before he met you. He still shrank into his old thinking ways, preparing for the worst every time he thought something was going wrong.

But he didn’t know that his life was about to get even better than it was.

This was it. You knew you could do it. With your other hand, you fished in your pocket for the ring as you replied.

“Well, yes...but there’s something I want to ask you.” You said, successfully retrieving the ring and holding it to where he could see it.

He eyed the silver ring, still holding your other hand to him. His other hand fell from your face as he stared blankly at the handsome piece of jewelry in your palm. He looked to you for an explanation, relieved now that you probably weren’t breaking up with him based on the blinding grin on your face.

“Severus Snape,” You said, almost as a whisper; “Will you marry me?”

His entire nervous system shut down for a millisecond and restarted. He felt a rush of static and something else that even he couldn’t identify.

Now, Severus knew there were a million different ways to react to this. Undoubtedly, the first thought that came to his head when he came to the realization that you were proposing was that you had officially lost your marbles. He had always envisioned himself being the one to ask you to marry him, not the other way around. He wasn’t at all miffed that you had decided to take matters into your own hands. If anything, he felt a little bad that he had taken so long that you felt the need to do it yourself.

Everything clicked in his head. Your nervous behavior was evidently because you had built this up in your mind and were afraid of how it would go. When he looked into your eyes and saw how they were filled with suspense and elation, he knew exactly how to react in the most honest, intentional way.

You half expected him to burst into laughter and make fun of you for doing it yourself. You even thought for a second that he might say no because HE wanted to be the one to do it. Instead, Severus caught you in a kiss so lovingly faultless and personable that it made you weak in the knees. He kissed you for a long time, standing under the gleaming stars and inky black sky. It was such a long kiss, in fact, that you wondered for a split second if he was stalling so he didn’t have to give an answer.

However, when he pulled away, his words were as clear as ever and his voice was as content as it had ever been.

“Oh, my love...my flower...” He remarked gingerly; “I thought you’d never ask.”

You both fell into tensile rounds of laughter, knowing that he was poking a bit of fun at the situation. You had matching smiles on your faces, so wrapped up in love and partiality that it was almost overwhelming. The ring fit well on his left hand, and made his hands look even more manly. It was a foreign feeling to have a ring on his hand, considering he almost never wore them. He’d grow used to it soon enough.

You kissed him over and over, so thrilled that he had said yes that you didn’t know what to do with yourself. You stopped your attack of kisses when he noticed he had pulled something out from his own pocket. You eyed the small red box, your raised brow falling and your eyes widening when he opened it silently to reveal the most breathtaking engagement ring you had ever seen. That’s when you realized it was the same one you had pointed out a while back.

“Sev, is that...?” You trailed off, with a soft giggle.

He nodded with a triumphant grin.

“Yes. I was going to ask you myself next week,” He admitted; “Looks like you beat me to it.”

Your laughter was harder and more chaotic this time, both of you cackling so much that you felt dizzy after a few moments. He slid the ring onto your finger, admiring how it looked so flawless on your hand. He brought you into his arms, your chin resting on his chest as you looked up at him.

“I know this wasn’t traditional, but I just-”

Severus put a slender finger to your lips.

“Shh,” He hushed; “It’s absolutely perfect.”

The two of you stood there in blissful silence, your hearts beating in sync with an inexpressible sense of euphoria. He left kisses in your hair, whispering sweet nothings in your ear every few moments to break the silence. This was far better than any proposal he ever could’ve planned. It was elegant, graceful, and most importantly, memorable.

“I love you.” Your voice rang out, your newly adorned hand brushing some of his hair from his face so you could fully see him.

He smiled once more, kissing the tip of your nose tenderly. He was excited for this new part of his life. He was excited to begin his life that would now be intertwined with yours.

He was unquestionably happy.

“I love you, darling. And now I’ll have forever to do so.”