#something about carrying the weight of a dead person on your back everywhere you go

[prommytheus]

see no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil

[shinig6mis]

currently obsessed with clingy!bakugo . . .

he would definitely scoff at the idea of being clingy—at least in front of anyone else. but when it came to you, there was no denying it. the guy was attached in ways he didn’t even realize half the time.

like how he’d grumble when you came back late from work or a night out with friends. he’d plant himself on the couch, arms crossed, refusing to admit he’d been waiting up for you. the second you walked through the door, though, he was pulling you onto the cushions with him, wrapping you in a blanket and practically growling, “you’re late.” you’d laugh, telling him you weren’t on a curfew, but he’d just nuzzle into your shoulder, muttering something about how it was too damn quiet when you weren’t home.

then there were the mornings. he was not a morning person by any stretch, but if you got out of bed before him, he’d wake up in a panic, grumbling your name like you’d abandoned him. his voice would carry through the apartment, rough and gravelly with sleep.

“oi, where the hell are you?” and when you came back into the room, coffee mug in hand, he’d just pull you into the bed, trapping you under his weight like a human blanket.

katsuki also had this thing about texting. you weren’t allowed to go more than a couple of hours without replying, or else he’d blow up your phone with a string of passive-aggressive messages:

“you dead or something?”

“i’m not waiting around for you all day, you know.”

“pick up, dumbass.”

but the second you replied, he’d act like he hadn’t been pacing the room, phone in hand, waiting for the notification.

when it came to fights, he didn’t handle distance well, either. he’d huff and puff, slamming doors and crossing his arms, pretending he didn’t care. but an hour later, you’d find him standing in the doorway, arms still crossed, looking like a kicked puppy. “this is stupid,” he’d say, his voice quieter, eyes darting everywhere but at you. “just—come here already.”

he hated when you were upset with him. if you were quiet for too long, katsuki would hover around you like a storm cloud, poking and prodding until you told him what was wrong. and when you didn’t, he’d start doing things he thought would make it better—cleaning up the apartment, cooking your favorite meals, even sitting next to you in complete silence because he couldn’t stand not being near you.

katsuki was also ridiculously overprotective. he’d act like a grump about you needing him, but the truth was, he loved it. if you so much as sighed, he was there, rubbing at the knots in your shoulders or tugging you into his lap. “you’re always stressin’ over shit,” he’d mutter, pressing a kiss to your temple. “lemme take care of it, doll.”

and god forbid anyone so much as looked at you wrong in public. he’d wrap an arm around your waist, holding you tight against him with a glare that could melt steel. “they’ve got eyes, don’t they?” he’d mutter under his breath. “they can look somewhere else.”

at night, he was at his softest. after a long day, katsuki would all but collapse into bed, dragging you down with him. he’d wrap himself around you, burying his face in your hair, and grumble about how annoying you were, but his grip never loosened. he’d stay like that all night, holding onto you like you might disappear, and in his sleep, you’d feel his lips brush your skin, hear him whisper your name like a prayer.

a/n: remind me why he's not real again?

© 2025 shinig6mis | do not plagiarize, repost, or translate any of my work.

[angstywaifu]

heyyyyy......can you do a one where the reader dies and how do you think the fourthwing men will be during and after it....

This was not what I expected when I said I wanted more of these. I love and hate this at the same time….. My poor boys. I tried to do Dain, Sawyer and Ridoc…. I just could not think of anything. If I do think of something I definitely will come back and edit this.

Garrick.

I think this will extend to a lot of our boys (especially our marked boys), but anyone he considers a friend is someone he considers to be close to him. But I do think we will get some deviation between someone who is a friend, and someone he is romantically involved with.

Regardless this man will be upset, but I don’t think he would outwardly show that. He likes to keep up appearances, so I think he would keep most of his grieving and sadness behind closed doors or around the ones he cares about. Like Xaden he is a leader, and he wants to keep that appearance up and not look weak. I do however think if you were romantically involved with him, there would be a higher chance of him breaking down or lashing out when initially finding out. This would probably come down to how he finds out though. If he watched it happen during a fight/battle, this man is definitely lashing out at whoever caused it, making sure they meet their end by his hands if possible. I don’t see him out right tunnel visioning them, but it would be pretty close. If he finds out after it has happened, he would go silent, internally trying to process what’s happened before walking off. The only indication he’s hurting would be him slamming a door open/shut as he walks away.

Afterwards I think he would take some time to come good again. He’d probably keep up the appearance he’s fine and doing ok where he can, but he’s definitely more moody and grumpy than normal. But I think when he’s on his own in bed at night is when he would let out his emotions properly. He’d probably visit your grave or a place you liked to go to and just sit and remember the times you did have together.

Xaden.

I feel like we can all imagine what this man is going to be like based off how he talks to Violet and what he is willing to do for her. So lets base this off as if you were Violet. Unlike Garrick I think this man would tunnel vision if he saw you die in a fight/battle. He is seeing red till that person is six feet under. This man is willing to sacrifice and do anything for you.

If he isn’t there when it happens, you better hope you’re not the one to tell him. Shadows would swarm from everywhere as he glares down at them, demanding they tell him everything and to take him to you immediately.

Afterwards this man would be moody and lash out if someone even looked at him the wrong way. He wont admit it to anyone, but he always carries something of yours with him after.

Bodhi.

He would definitely be shocked. Tears forming in his eyes, shaking his head in denial. He can’t believe you’re dead. You can’t be. If he was there he’d cradle you in his arms, hoping you’d open your eyes and it would all be a bad dream. But the weight of you in his arms is all too real.

Afterwards he would be very quiet. He wouldn’t be moody like Garrick or Xaden. Not even trying to hide how broken he is after. He’d definitely visit your grave or a place you liked frequently. And if he couldn’t, he’d always make sure to take something of yours with him as a reminder. A necklace, a book you liked, maybe even a drawing you did. He just needs something of you nearby for those moments where he just wants to sit on his own and remember you.

Liam.

He’d rush over to you, the word no falling from his lips repeatedly as he sees you lying there. Just like Bodhi he can’t believe you’re dead. He just kneels there holding you, running his thumb across your cheek as he cradles your head. Silent tears falling down his face. The others try to talk to him, get him to move. But he doesn’t register any of them. Not till Xaden kneels next to him, finally braking him from the trance he’s in.

Afterward he does his best to be his normal self. But the spark that’s usually in his eyes is long gone. His smile not as bright as it used to be.

He’d definitely make a wood carving that represents you. Your dragon if you were a rider, or a flower or animal that reminds him of you if you weren’t. He’d sit it on his bedside table where he can see it every morning and night. One day Xaden comes to see him and sees it, a smile pulling at his lips when he notices it.

Brennan.

I could see him instinctively going to heal/mend you, a knee jerk reaction to seeing you hurt. But a voice in the back of his head reminding him of Naolin stops him just before he can place his hands on you.

On the outside, he appears fined his features giving nothing away. Internally though he’s a mess. He isn’t a stranger to loss and death, but something about it being you is eating him up inside.

Due to his position, no one knew how close you two really were. So to the others he looks fine. Nothing has changed. His mood might seem a little off here and there. But nothing that could alarm anyone to the emotions running rampant in his head.

Late at night he would sneak out to your grave. Just sitting there as he either reads, writes or even just to talk. Something he thinks goes unnoticed, but a few times Mira or Violet have seen him sneak off.

[oneatlatime]

The Great Divide

Is this episode as bad as people say?

It starts pretty at least.

Would Little Miss Steals From Pirates really be a stickler for camping etiquette? Also, I have to agree with Sokka on this one. If you're lucky enough to live somewhere with such predictable precipitation that you can name your seasons after it, hell yeah don't prepare for off-season weather unnecessarily. Imagine the freedom that comes with not having to carry an umbrella everywhere.

Something that's occured to me is that Katara is always slapping Sokka around (usually for a comedy bit) but Sokka never gets to slap her back. We're like three minutes into this episode and Katara's already thrown sticks at Sokka twice. It's about time Sokka throws some back. There's probably some cartoon violence rule that says violence is only ok when it's gendered the one way, but isn't it about time that got changed?

When Aang namedrops his job a slowed down version of the flute melody from the credits music plays. Neat.

Really liking the banjo type music in this episode.

I have bad luck with spelling phonetically, so the tribes will henceforth be known as Prissy and Dirty.

Gotta say, Prissy seems to always be attacking. Looks like Dirty wouldn't even bother with the feud if Prissy didn't keep bringing it up.

That Canyon guide earthbends a seriously large amount of earth. Like Bumi quantities.

Another responsibility added to the nebulously defined Avatar duties: peacemaking between peoples. I figured he was just for spirit stuff.

Appa's weight limit is apparently at least 11 people plus supplies. Strong boy. Also, this episode he understands enough English to know where to go without a human steering him.

"Would you rather be hungry, or dead?" Love how that line is delivered. Also I get the feeling this poor guy's been working a customer-facing role for too long.

Tiny Momo.

More evidence that this guy is a Bumi level earthbender. Diverting a landslide in mid-air? Diverting a whole landslide's worth of momentum-heavy rocks without any contact with them? This is nuts. Throw this guy at the Fire Nation and the war would be over in ten minutes.

"Now we gotta help me!" Unexpectedly funny line.

You know, now would be a good time for the Avatar to know earthbending. Actually how does that work? Aang can bend all four elements, but I guess he hasn't unlocked earth yet? What unlocks it? Apparently not peril.

Told you that earthbending guide had worked too long in customer service.

I get it. This whole tribal conflict is a mirror of Sokka and Katara's fight at the beginning. I completely agree that Sokka would have the grounded practicality of the Dirty tribe, but I've never read Katara as a "you can never be too careful" type of person. If anything, she's the much bigger risk-taker, especially compared to Sokka. In the very first episode, it was Katara who (with Aang's encouragement) went on the Fire Nation shipwreck. In the second episode, it was Sokka who was carefully assembling the supplies required to rescue Aang. Frankly Katara and Sokka as written in any other episode would fit into the opposite tribes, although Katara wouldn't fit the aesthetic of the Dirty tribe. Maybe that's the point? That they're not so different after all?

"Well, I guess it's ok if everyone's doing it." I am abruptly reminded of the fact that I am an adult, not a member of the target audience of this show. That line awakened my disapproving mom voice with such force that I had to restrain myself from yelling "if all your friends were jumping off a cliff, would you jump too?" at the screen. Honestly, I thought that the fact that I am not the target audience would cause problems like finding the humour too juvenile or the plots too basic or preachy. Turns out the humour is not juvenile at all, and the plots are complex and sincere in a way that makes any message being delivered seem a natural consequence of the plot and the opposite of preachy. No, where my age gets in the way is when Katara acts her age in small ways that make me want to throw half a dozen parental figures at her, with great force.

Wanna bet that Gin-wei and Wei-gin were the same person, if they existed at all?

Add gullible to Katara's list of things she needs to work on.

The justifications for bringing in food are hitting 5D chess levels.

This is gorgeous. I'll side with the Dirty tribe just because their myth is prettier. Yes, I'm that shallow, but this episode is too.

Sokka maintaining the appropriate amount of distance from the conflict and not getting sucked in like his sister by focusing on food is a lovely touch. Both true to Sokka's less trusting tendencies and true to the fact that he is a teenage boy.

Don't worry Aang, you're not missing much.

This canyon guide's got wisdom. Impartiality is lonely, and getting out will be a team effort. Definitely not his first rodeo.

Every argument between these two tribes is started by the Prissy one. Would they just put a sock in it?

Don't let the praise go to your head honey. I don't think they took it like you meant it.

One-man-army Aang strikes again.

"You're all AWFUL!" Yep. I think that's the crux of this episode. The problems are tiny and stupid, but seem huge when you're in the middle of them. Another of the side-effects of being impartial is that sometimes the pettiness and irrelevance in the grand scheme of things of very heated debates is infuriating.

"I only took their side because they fed me." Sokka shines this episode.

How did Aang make the canyon crawler pile? First time I haven't been able to follow fight choreography.

Combination muzzle and reins? I wouldn't have thought of that in a million years. And are people who aren't airbenders/acrobats going to be able to pull that muzzling move off?

Apparently yes. Gotta love cartoon physics.

Congratulations to both tribes for having superhuman grip strength. Clinging to a moving giant bug thing at 90 degrees while ascending a several hundred metre tall canyon seems neither fun nor possible.

I love the fake-out resolution. No way would 100 years of oral history be forgotten because of one bout of co-operation.

I love the noise these two make. They sound like ducks.

The panda referee going completely without explanation is fitting, given that Aang is completely done with these people, and is putting in as little effort as possible to get them out of the way as quickly as he can.

Can you really forget 100 years of prejudice so quickly? I predict there will be some hiccups along the journey.

Someone get that poor canyon guide a cushy retirement.

Look at these faces. I have nothing to say about them, they're just worth looking at.

The purple sky in the last scene is a delicious colour. Also harmonises really well with water tribe attire.

Casually overwriting a century of oral history (otherwise known as culture) in order to get the stupid problem to go away is funny as hell, and putting two warring tribes on the path to peace is an objectively good thing to do. That being said, any anthropologist in the audience is cringing, and I would think at least Katara, who seems to be very aware of the cultural importance of her waterbending, would not be ok with Aang casually rewriting someone's history like that. And maybe an Avatar that lies that easily is not the ideal. It's certainly realistic - sometimes bullshit problems require bullshit solutions. And lying equally to everyone is technically impartial, right?

Final Thoughts

This episode is not bad. That is my ATLA hot take and I will stand by it. Do you know what this episode is? It's an episode where Aang and friends get to see what their more ludicrous adventures look like from the perspective of an uninformed outsider. I guarantee you that Aang & company's attitude by the end of the episode is an exact mirror to how the guards in Omashu felt after hosting them for a couple of days. 'Good riddance to that nuisance, may it never darken our door again. What a headache that was.' We always see Aang's adventures from within, with the context to understand what is going on. Riding a mail cart down a mail chute makes sense to Aang and the viewer, but the guards see it as a disruptive nuisance that needs to be stopped. Hating a member of the opposing tribe for a past betrayal makes sense to one of the tribe members, but Aang and the viewer can see that it's a disruptive nuisance that needs to be stopped if they want to get out of the canyon alive. I liked that the episode did let us inside both tribes' perspectives, so that they aren't entirely unsympathetic. But even with an understanding of the dispute, what essentially amounts to a century-long blood feud is objectively a bad idea, especially with the fire nation after both tribes. It's not like the fire nation will go after one but not the other; both tribes will just be earth kingdom citizens to them, as they are to Aang, the impartial observer.

This episode was sort of Aang & friends getting a taste of their own medicine. It also maintained a consistent attitude of not taking seriously the problems that people who are too involved are taking too seriously. I think that the overarching theme of the episode is basically 'it's not that deep.' Sometimes the Avatar's duties will include solving petty, stupid problems. Good to see that Aang has at least one workable, if ethically dubious, strategy for handling said problems.

I do feel that Katara's sudden goody-two-shoes characterisation in the tent fight in the beginning of the episode was incorrect, unless I'm missing or forgetting some time she's clung to the rules before. It was obviously to set up the episode's larger conflict on a micro scale between her and Sokka, but as I said in my post on the Warriors of Kyoshi episode, if you have to Flanderise your character in order to make them eligible for learning the lesson of the episode, maybe they weren't the right character to use to drive home the lesson.

Aang is so zen most of the time that I enjoyed seeing him lose his temper on people who absolutely deserved it. Sokka had lots of great lines this episode, and Katara was a beast with that water whip of hers. Looks like, much as I don't want to admit it, stealing the water bending scroll paid off.

It does bother me how every argument between the two tribes seems to be started by the Prissy one. I would have preferred if the two tribes were equally antagonistic, I guess that would just be fairer?

If this episode was aiming for Southern Air Temple or Jet levels of depth and emotion, then this episode would be bad. But this episode, to me at least, is clearly a goofy side trip style episode, like the King of Omashu. Makes sense to have some utterly irrelevant side adventure after and episode as dark as Jet.

As an unexpected bonus, Zuko's characterisation was wonderfully consistent this episode!

[untilthcyrot]

Nadja leaned back against her chair again, quiet for a moment as she thought about the gravity of his words despite how simple they sounded. ❝ No, it probably doesn't feel like you are. People only live long enough to see small advancements instead of the bigger picture that's being played out. They only watch the ones closest to them die before they go themselves not too long afterward. We have the joy and sorrow of seeing all of it. ❞

Nobody else in the world (besides another vampire) could say that they had lived through handfuls of wars - they saw the losing side of history, what the winners took home with them, and what was felt for the next hundred years afterward. Technology? She had seen the development of television and how computers now fit in the palm of your hand in the form of a phone. But she had also cared about people she knew she would outlive for hundreds of years to come, if she was "lucky" enough to live that long. That was the weight a vampire carried on their shoulders and why she understood Cassidy feeling a lot older than he looked, among other personal feats she was sure.

❝ It's also hard to make the most out of being a vampire when you're limited to really coming out at night and having to hide who you are from every living soul. ❞ Abraham was suave and charming enough t make a name for himself in any community in any era while still being able to walk the earth in secrecy. She hadn't learned what the trick was to that just yet, preferring anonymity to being a social butterfly. She wondered how similar Cassidy was in that regard. Something suggested he was more or less the same given he hadn't met another one like himself.

She grinned and even laughed a little when he mentioned Dracula. Of all the ways to find out what he was, reading a novel like that certainly had to be shocking. ❝ It must have been a relief to put a name to what you are though, right? ❞ She looked at the bright side for him in that regard despite understanding how lonely and in the dark (literally and figuratively) that must have been for him. She tried placing herself in his shoes for a moment, imagining herself left for dead by a hungry vampire only to turn into one. It had been terrifying for her being in her maker's presence, so it had to have been amplified for him being all alone with many questions and no answers. ❝ I'm sorry, ❞ she murmured, wishing someone had told her the same thing.

She waited for him to return with the bottle of whiskey, posture straightening while she waited for him to fill her glass. ❝ I do. ❞ She dabbled in it from time to time, never having been one to drink too much, but tonight seemed to be a special occasional. She took her glass back and knocked back some of the hard liquor, letting it slide down the back of her throat with a burn. It forced her to clear her throat before she could answer his next question. ❝ Of course. Sometimes it feels like they're everywhere if you let your guard down long enough. For all we know, we're being watched now. ❞ Brows raised up and down playfully, but honestly, for all they knew, they really were.

Cassidy tried his hardest not to smile. ❝No, I did not wear my hair like that.❞ He crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back in his chair and a hint of a smile threatened to come over his features. He tried to recall exactly what he had been doing, but he figured that the blur of memories just meant that he'd been having a good time. Or a really shit time. He had spent a good chunk of his long life that way — consuming alcohol, drugs or whatever would dull the loneliness, sate the boredom, and keep the thirst for blood at bay. He couldn't say that he was exactly proud of it, but at least he'd had fun.

❝Jaysus... yeah, well ... doesn't feel like I'm young.❞ He commented. Now that he really thought about it, he was coming off the peak of his partying and chaos. Over the last decade or so, he had run into vampire hunters, and he had realized that being strung out made him an easy target. While he was grappling with the idea of being immortal, he didn't want to die just yet.

❝I suppose your hesitance to talk is understandable, considering. I mean, when I was turned, I was left for dead. It's not like I have a great perception of what vampires are like.❞ He admitted. As he thought about it now, he was sure that the intention had only been to feed on him, not to turn him. In the moment, he hadn't had a clue what was happening, except he was being dragged into a bog and attacked. He'd woken up alone. ❝I wasn't even sure what I was until I read Dracula. A bit dramatic, but it got the point across quite well.❞

He eyed her glass, now just as empty as his own. ❝Hang on.❞ Cassidy wasn't shy about going up to the bar to request the bottle of whiskey, nor did he hesitate when he came back to the table to fill his glass with it. ❝You like whiskey?❞ He asked, offering to pour some into her glass too. And then, the next question, ❝You ever run into Vampire Hunting Religious Vigilantes?❞

[kazans-trophy-husband]

me and a friend were talking about how bad i am at DBD, and I would be screwed if the Fog took me, and then I made a small joke about just trying to flirt my way out and being the distraction, and we went off on a ten minute discussion about that. So, how would a few killers of your choice (Yandere, of course) react to a new Survivor who is quite flirtatious and uses it to try to get themselves and the other, more skilled Survivors off the Hook for maybe a few more minutes..? (Apologies if I did request something like this already and forgot, my memory was never my strong suit)

I never did get an ask like this, so!

Yandere!Killers with a new Survivor!Reader flirting with them

Caleb Quinn | Deathslinger

Caleb is immediately suspicious; anyone that's acted like this in the past usually used him immediately for personal gain.

On the other hand, though, being alone for so long after having a posse to rely on for years does things to a man.

Your distraction is a success, at least for a little while, but once it sits in that you're serious...

...he begins teaching you how to use the Redeemer, using your fellow survivors as target practice.

Caleb towers over you as he corrects your posture, strong hands helping you aim at your fellow survivors, his voice quiet and raspy as he offers praise when you hit someone.

You wind up helping him in the end, after which he praises you for a job well done and offers you to come drink with him at some point in the future. He lets you go, though you're on your own in finding the hatch.

Herman Carter | Doctor

You're definitely taking a risk by talking to Herman in a flirtatious manner. You know it-- he knows it, too. Herman finds you utterly fascinating in this regard.

He returns your flirting in kind, often with morbid promises of experimentation of the pleasurable kind... though with him, that could turn nasty in a heartbeat.

Herman offers you a taste of what's to come, a jolt of electricity dancing from his fingertips to your cheek as he caresses it, the sensation, quite literally, maddening.

You hear the last of the generators come online, the exit gates blaring their alarms. Shit.

You flee, but it's no use-- you see the Doctor everywhere, that singular jolt enough to induce horrible madness.

He catches up with you fast, hauling you over his shoulder. "You're not going to get away from me that easily," he says with a giggle, before lugging you away from the exit, deeper into the Realm.

Anna | Huntress

She has no idea what you're on about, but you're acting cute in her eyes.

Midway through a sentence, she hugs you tight, muttering something in Russian.

If the Realm you encounter her in has a bed, she carries you to one, mentioning for you to stay there.

One by one, though, you hear the others scream. Mission failed.

Anna returns to you just as you leave the bed that she put you in, tilting her head, curious.

You try to throw any and all excuses at her as to why you're getting out of bed, why you're trying to leave, to no avail. Anna backs you into the room, seeming frustrated at your attempt to escape.

She leads you back into the bed, almost throwing you down, before joining you, holding you tight and not letting go.

Michael Myers

You're first met with dead silence.

Then, a slow head-tilt as you continue to flirt with Michael.

He walks away, before bringing you a survivor that he had downed earlier. Michael nudges your hand, mentioning for you to follow.

You do so, following Michael to a hook. He drops the survivor at your feet, standing in silence as he looks from them... to you... and back.

The message is clear: you are to hook them.

You try to lift them, but the dead weight is too much. You collapse under the other survivor, struggling to push them off.

Michael is generous enough to pick the survivor up off of you, but immediately dumps them at your feet when you get back up.

You try again, with more success. You hook the survivor by the scruff of their neck, their scream sounding rather strangled.

Michael is proud of you, though he doesn't verbally express it-- you can still feel him beaming with pride as he seemingly stares at your work in silence.

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

Anklets and Necklaces

Inspired by this tweet.

@5-secondsofcolor I’m not sorry.

Female Reader insert. NSFW Content (18+). My smut writing is hella rusty. So I do apologize, whoops.

_______________

Calum plays at the anklet, spinning it around and around her joint as her legs are crossed and resting in his lap. The gold jewellry is hardly ever taken off since he gave it to her. In return, she gifted him a chain with a tiny pendant with her initial etched into the back of it. The front of it is an arrowhead. He wears it so often now, that when it’s off, he feels a little incomplete. It’s an easy gesture to carry her everywhere with him.

“Okay we gotta decide what to eat for lunch like now or I’m going to get hangry,” she states.

Calum glances up from his phone, to see her still scrolling on hers. “Oh no. Not hangry,” he teases. But he knows she means it. Her warnings have about a thirty minute window, just enough for a delivery if they get something simple. Or if they want something more complicated, they need to find a snack now while the main course is cooking. “What do you want? Thai? Mexican?”

“Would you hate me if I said I really just wanted nuggets from McDonalds?”

The pout on her lips makes him laugh, “No, I could never. Usual then?”

“Yes, please.”

Stretching across the length of her, Calum pushes his lips together, trying to ask for a kiss. She laughs in return and squeezes his cheeks. “Be lucky you’re cute,” she states before lifting up slightly to meet his lips. “And squishy.”

“Ain’t nothing on me squishy,” he huffs, straightening back up to put her order into the app.

She sets her phone down on her stomach, gazing up over the sharp line of his jaw that his plump cheeks sit atop. And while it’d be easy to return with a poke and a verbal jab about his cheeks, she just watches him. His fingers deftly work over the screen. The white tank sits as a stark contrast to the depth and glow of his skin. “I think all the right things on you are squishy.”

“Yeah, what are those?”

“Your cheeks. And as much as you and your trainer kick your ass, I know happy weight when I see it.”

Calum grins, a chuckle shaking through him as he sets his phone down on the arm of the couch--the order completed on his end. He pinches at her thighs. “Take that back.”

She shakes her head. “No, I don’t think I will. I like it--just like I like my cookies. Hard on the edges gooey in the middle.”

Standing for just a moment to let her legs fall onto the couch, Calum kneels onto the cushion, hovering above her. Her eyes glitter just a little as she talks and the soft easy smile on her face lets him know that it’s all out of love--what’s she’s saying. The pads of his fingers run along the side of her thigh. “Be lucky I love you.”

“I am already lucky, so say what you gotta say. Roast me, my love. It’s not like we don’t do that anyways.”

And truth be told, Calum had no response. Not when he looks at her, because God all he sees is the person that’s been with him on his bad mental days. She’s been there when Calum was sure there was no lower low or higher high. And what do you say to that person that’s been there, seen all of you that there is to see? With a gentle and chaste kiss, Calum settles for silence.

“Cat got your tongue now, huh?”

This--this Calum can respond too. It’s all too easy. “I know what else my tongue can have.”

“I know something your tongue can have too.”

“Really now?” Calum asks, dragging his fingers over the top of her thigh and tracing the line of her lounge shorts. “Food will be here in fifteen minutes though. So that’s up to you.”

“Not nearly enough time to savor it. Besides,” she starts and takes a pause. Her lips pull into a side smile and Calum knows what that means. One brow quirks in anticipation and Calum watches her. The silence settles for a little too long.

“Besides what?” he prompts again.

“Besides, I need the mail to be delivered first.”

“What did you buy?”

“You’ll see later. I promise. It’s really not even supposed to be used for lingerie. But I’ve wanted these for a long time and I specifically have a set I’m trying to complete.”

There’s the black mesh set that she’s slowly been building out. The main piece came in weeks ago, at this point it might even be months ago that that came in. He was privy to it then and gave it the christening that it deserved. But there wasn’t any other lingerie set that needed expansion. Not at least to his recalling. “Which one is it?”

“I’m not saying.”

“Oh please,” he whines, dropping his head into her neck. His lips softly and slowly seal kisses into her warm skin.

“No, Calum. I’ve been waiting on this package for weeks. It got held up in customs and I-” she sighs at his lips sucking at her skin. Not hard enough to cause a bruise, but just enough to make her spine tingle. “You’re going to have to do better than that.”

Calum pushes up, with a huff, sitting back down on the opposite end of the couch. “This is killing me, you know?”

“Well, you ain’t dead yet. So I think you can tough it out for a little bit longer.”

“Begrudgingly--I want you to know that.”

She sits up, swinging her feet to the floor. “Your sacrifice will be duly noted. The mail will be here before you know it.” The couch releases her weight and Calum watches her pad into the kitchen. “Do you want anything?” she calls.

“I’m good,” he returns, knowing that he will be counting down the seconds until the mail comes. She returns with a glass of water, sitting back down on the couch, but bringing her feet up underneath her as she motions to the TV. “You watching that?”

Calum answers with a shrug. He wasn’t anymore. He originally turned it on mostly for the weather and some news. He found himself bored and flipping through channels before settling on the sports channel while he took care of Duke in the morning. Noise to fill the space since his brain needed the distraction. He hadn’t slept all that great the last few nights, decent sleep. The closer and closer the band got to putting out music the more his nerves kicked in--sometimes they were sneaky. The nerves come up faster than Calum had anticipated. And right now, they won the first round. But Calum was working hard to combat them so he could get about his daily life.

“Go crazy,” he finally verbally responds. And she picks up the remote, changing channels too fast for Calum to even understand how you could process what was on before decking it was a no. She eventually settles for HGTV--not quite caring what show was on. 

The first knock that comes to the door is the food that Calum ordered for the two of them. He answers it, popping up in the hopes it’s the mail. When it’s not, he sighs just a little but places the bag down onto the coffee table. “Your nugs, my queen,” he teases.

“Thank you, my good sir,” she returns with a grin, opening before divvying out what is for who. “You wouldn’t have happened to shot up like a bat outta hell because you wanted that to be the mail?”

Calum feels the heat in his cheeks, but bumps her shoulder gently. “No, why would I ever want that?”

“Oh I don’t know,” she scoffs in return, dunking a nugget into the sweet and sour sauce. They share a soft bout of laughter before turning their gaze back to the TV. Duke’s paws click as he ventures into the kitchen for a drink of water from his bowl. The lapping and splash of his tongue echoing just slightly as the screen goes dark between the show and the commercial break.

Calum lifts his gaze, taking in the soft angle of her jaw. She curls up around the carton of fries, eyes glued to the screen. Does she even have the slightest clue what she does to him? It’s not even the involved things like dressing up for him, or comforting him. It’s just her, when she’s munching on fries. Or when she sleepily walks behind Duke in the mornings. It’s when she hums as she cooks. It’s the dancing she does when she’s cleaning. It’s the pouts when she messes up on something and her brow furrows in as the determination settles onto her face.

It’s when she fucked up a birthday cake for him once--not greasing the sides of the pan enough and then adding a tad too much milk--called him crying about it and then in a minute flat resolved to make him brownies instead. Because she said she’d be damned if she didn’t make him something sweet to nibble on or pass along to the guys. And Calum’s not even that much of a sweets guy, which she knew, so she only settled on giving him half the batch she made. She, of course, saved the other half for her and her friends.

And it’s just the moments that she’s not even trying that makes Calum melt. Like when she paints her nails, she offers to do his first. Or when she lays down next to Duke, and in their shared silence, they seem to communicate everything with each other.

“I love you,” he states.

She turns, eyes widening for a second before grinning around her sip of iced tea. “I love you.” Her brows furrow just a little. “You okay? You’ve hardly touched your food.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine.”

“If you didn’t want McDonalds, I could’ve done something else. Literally anything else,” she continues on almost as if she hadn’t heard him.

“It’s not the food,” he giggles. Calum reaches out to caress her cheek. “I’m okay.”

She nods. “Okay.”

“I just love you, that’s all. Wanted to share it with you.”

Her grin is soft as it lifts her lips. “Good because you’re not getting rid of me that easy.”

“I wouldn’t dare dream of getting rid of you.”

Another silence envelopes them. Calum finishes his food and takes the empty containers to the trash. Another episode starts up from the speakers and just above it, he hears the chime of his phone. “Do you want me to screen it for you?”

“Yes please!” If it’s one of the guys, they won’t mind her answering. If it’s someone important, he doesn’t want to miss the call.

“Calum’s phone,” she answers but he can already hear her feet shuffling to him in the kitchen. “Okay, Ash. I’ll keep that in mind.” Her voice comes closer and Calum shakes his hands just a little to get rid of the excess water before drying them. “No, I can’t say what it is without taking a look. Did you use the soil I recommended last time?” Another pause comes from her and when Calum turns, he finds her leaning up the kitchen counter, phone halfway pulled down but not fully away from her ear. “Yeah, I definitely think you should consider changing soils. But I can take a better look tomorrow for you. I’m going to pass along the phone now.”

She hands the phone over. “He said it was important.”

“Thank you,” Calum says in a whisper, pressing a kiss to her forehead and then placing the phone to his ear. “Yeah, Ash?”

Calum’s not even sure how long the conversation goes on. At first, it is important information that Ashton’s trying to confirm--a date and time for a meeting that they had later in the week. He says he wrote it down where he writes down all their meetings but it’s not there. And Ashton’s trying to make sure that he doesn’t miss it. So Calum shuffles to his office and verifies in his calendar the time for the meeting.

But then the conversation diverges--they start talking about everything and anything. So much so, they’re laughing. Calum doesn’t even hear the knock at the front door. But he does notice her scurrying off into the bedroom. The door closes with a soft click. Duke comes trailing after her but notices the closer door and then keeps down the hall to the office. Calum reclines back in his seat trying to get another angle at the door. But it’s closed fully.

“You okay, gramps?” Calum asks Duke.

“Oh fuck off, mate!” Ashton laughs.

“Not you, you fucking egg. Duke--I was talking to Duke.”

“Oh!” Ashton giggles. “Sorry, I thought you was trying to talk shit.”

“I don’t have to try and do that to you.”

“Oi, don’t start something bro.” The two of them laugh and Calum bends down to scratch behind Duke’s ears. “Alright, thanks for confirming that meeting. I’ll see you tomorrow in the studio?”

“Yeah--bright and early. Talk to you later.” The call ends and when Calum spins around in his desk chair, his jaw drops as she steps out from the bedroom. It’s not exactly something new--as in something that she’s never worn before. But it doesn’t mean he ever gets tired of seeing her like this.

The white bustier pushes her breasts up and almost over the cups. And he travels the look down, taking in the baby blue skirt, fishnet knee highs. And he goes back up, taking in a black strap wrapping around her thighs. She notes the lustful gaze and steps right on the line of the threshold to the door.

“So,” Calum starts, trailing his gaze down and then back up to her face. “Not the black lingerie I was anticipating.”

“No, I’m waiting for the heels I want for that lingerie to go on sale. Besides, you didn’t like the collar I liked so I’m still searching.”

“It wasn’t that I didn’t like it. It’s just too similar to one we already bought.”

“You’re right, but still.”

Calum cracks a smile at the reluctant confession. “But enough about that. This--this is a cute outfit.”

She nods, smoothing out the pleated mini skirt. “It’s less about the outfit and more about these,” she says, tapping at the thin black band.

“And those are?” Calum asks. It’s one step closer into the room and Calum think he can make out a heart shaped metal loop in the middle of it. She takes a second step closer and Calum can see clearly it’s some sort of thigh garter--leather or something related as the material. “Oh,” he breathes.

She continues slowly to approach Calum and when she’s just in arms reach, she lifts the skirt up. It goes up inch by inch and Calum’s entranced. Watching more of her thighs revealed to him. And soon it’s black panties--mesh and if Calum remembers correctly crotchless. But wrapped around her waist is another band of leather. Two pieces hook to another metal hoop right on her hip bones and then one trip connects the top piece to the bottom.

“A harness garter belt--what do you think?” she asks in a whisper.

Calum exhales, desire stirring in the pit of his stomach. He reaches out, wrapping his fingers around her thighs and pulling her into him. He kisses in the spaces between the leather, gingerly, lips hardly touching her skin. “I think you look beautiful,” he hums, dropping his head on his neck to look up at her.

Her eyes are still closed and Calum softly runs the tips of his fingers up her thigh, tracing the lines of the harness. With a deep exhale, she finally blinks back to reality. “Not too silly?”

His brows meet in the middle of his face. Why would she think it’s too silly? There’s nothing silly about her standing in front of him, clearly excited about her own purchase. “Angel--I’ll be damned if I ever think this is silly.”

Swinging her leg over and settling onto his lap, she grins. “Thank you, love.”

Calum holds onto her hips, rubbing his palms down to her ass. “So you said this technically isn’t lingerie?”

“No--I don’t think so. But I think they could be--a small accessory to something I already have.”

They share a kiss, much too quick for Calum’s liking so he pulls her back in for more. And her arms wind around his neck as he continues to palm her ass. Here, he doesn’t really care what it is technically or not. She looks absolutely amazing. “I like it. In fact,” Calum starts, moving to grip her thighs before housing them both up and then plopping her down on the desk. “I really like them.”

Calum stands between her legs, nose brushing and bumping against hers. Here, she can feel her core aching as Calum’s fingers trail closer and closer to her heat. It’s feather light--his touch, but it makes her feel electric all the same. “Cal,” she hums.

“Yes baby?”

There’s nothing that comes out of her mouth but a small huff, a rushed and harsh exhale at the feeling of his fingers dancing across her skin. He grins pulling back just a little to see the way her face goes slack, almost as if she’s at peace with him between her legs.

“Was there something you wanted to say, darlin’?” Calum tries again, taking just a half step back away from her.

With her eyes still closed, she smiles. “I want to know,” she starts, exhaling softly to counter the thud of her heart in her chest, “if you’d so kindly want to make love to me?”

Calum can’t help his own small tuft of laughter. “Darlin’, I’d do so happily.” They don’t always wind up in bed like this--but it’s nice, to be comfortable even to be this forward with this and this open.

Calum takes her hand as she hops down from the desk. “Give me a twirl,” he asks. She obliges, turning in a circle for Calum, punctuating the back view by lifting her skirt up. “Silly girl,” Calum laughs, giving a firm but playful tap to her ass.

Facing Calum again, she wraps her arms around his torso. “But you love it.”

“I do. I love you.”

They share another kiss and she slowly walks backwards out of the room. They get lost in each other--Calum in the way she fits against him and her in the way Calum holds her, palms spanning across her back and tight enough that she wonders if he thinks she’s going to disappear but gently enough at the same time that she’d love nothing more than staying here forever in his hold.

Calum finds the zipper to the top and slowly drags it down. The material exhales, slowly falling away from her body and when it falls to the floor, he kisses her neck, down to the swell of her breast. Her moans are soft, just above a hum that makes just enough noise for him to hear. And it goes right to his gut.

Here there's very little need for words. When Calum gives, she takes happily. But when she tugs at his hair, Calum knows to step back, lets her give something to him. Her kisses are soft against his skin, but make him feel like it’s being set on fire. One that he’d happily stay in, let the blaze consume every inch of him, if it meant that she was always the one to take him.

His shirt goes to join hers. Her mouth teases his nipples as she descends further down on him. Calum thinks he sighs, all he can do is just shut his eyes and let go into the feeling of her teasing the cut of his hips beneath the sweatpants. She’s always like this, teasing him. At first, it used to annoy him. But now he loves it, loves just how close she’s willing to push him to the edge, push his buttons but always delivering at the end of it.

Her meticulous work, to watch him jump at every scratch of her nails and nip of her teeth, is enjoyable. But Calum blinks open his eyes to cup her jaw, which stops her. When her gaze lifts, Calum motions for her to stand. “Yes?” she grins standing to her full height.

Calum presses their foreheads together. “I missed you.”

“Well how dare I keep a man like you waiting?” With a slow kiss, tongues just barely dancing, Calum walks the two of them to the bed. The back of her knees hit the edge of it and she buckles just a little. Calum catches her from falling. “Turn around,” he whispers into her ear, “please.”

The instruction is obeyed and she spins to face the bed. Calum finds the zipper to the powder blue skirt and almost doesn’t want to take it off her. In the end, he does-- Calum lets the skirt fall onto a pool at their feet. Without even prompting she falls to her hands, ass grinding against his hips. He traces her spine with the pads of his fingers, following all the way down, over the curve of her ass and down to the opening in the panties. His fingers gather a bit of her arousal.

“Oh,” he groans. “So wet for me,” he hums with approval.

“Always for you,” she sighs. Calum teases her clit--a featherlight touch as he dances over her core. She lets herself fall a little bit more into the mattress--another moan leaving her lips when Calum takes one finger down from her clit to teasing her entrance.

Calum pulls away, bring his wet fingers to his lips and sucking them clean. “Taste just like heaven,” he hums. He gingerly guides her back to standing and uses her hips to get her to face him again.

More kisses are shared before they fall onto the mattress. Calum takes hold of one of the straps around her thigh and tugs her down, closer to him and she laughs. It gets caught off and morphed into a moan as Calum’s tongue licks a wide stripe up her. He’s careful of the mesh material of her panties, but knows that carefulness won’t last long. Not when her arousal coats his tongue. Not when her nails scratch over the muscles of his shoulders or tangle into the curls on his head.

She melts under the work of his mouth. The mattress merely becoming the vessel to hold the mess she’s bound to make and become. The room echoes the moans and slurps. Fingers gripping at the sheet, she chants Calum’s name. His tongue working magic over her core and just when she thinks she couldn’t possibly handle anything more, she notices the stretch at the addition of his fingers.

“Fuck,” she whines, lifiting one leg and he slips in even deeper, curling his fingers and hitting just the right spot.

Calum hungers for her pleasure--the high-pitched whine and groan as she releases. Some days it’s just the sound he needs to ground him. She gives short and breathless huffs, and quivers underneath him. “Gonna be a good girl?” Calum asks, fingers still pumping at her.

“Yes, oh yes, I will.”

“Gonna cum for me?”

“I want to, yes I’ll come for you. Make me your good girl.” Her voice sounds far away, as if she’s not fully cognizant of what she’s saying. Not quite babbling, but definitely talking so fast words bump into each other and slur together.

Calum grins, sucking at her clit again and she groans, head throwing back against the pillows. Her toes are curling--her whole body growing warmer with the passing second. The heat coils in her lower gut and she’s pleading. Though, she’s not sure who she is really meaning to plead to, but she wants to cum so badly.

Then it finally happens, one moment she’s sure she’s nearly in tears and the next, the coil snaps. She squeezes, hips raising off the bed and Calum continues to ride out her orgasm, gently pressing her back down into the bed. She hisses and starts to push at his shoulders, the signal that it’s too much. So Calum places one last kiss to her clit before pulling away from her glistening core.

Beneath him, eyes fluttering close, she looks angelic. Calum holds himself up above her and just watches the way she tries to collect her breath. “You’re beautiful, you know?” he whispers, not wanting to shatter the silence.

“No kidding?” she teases, winding her arms around his neck. The necklace dangles just a little in her face and she takes one hand to trace the chain. Hooking her fingers into it, she tugs Calum down to her. The taste of her arousal on Calum’s tongue makes her head spin. Calum caresses her side and stomach as the kiss deepens. Here is all they need--the soft and deep kisses, the moans that they swallow from each other.

Her hands leave from around his neck and begin to push down his sweatpants and underwear. And he lets her, even pulls back to kneel on his knees as she sits up. Their kiss hardly breaks and she’s quick to tug the cotton material down, hands wrapping around his length.

He groans at the squeeze--nothing too hard just enough pressure to make his whole body ignite. Her hand pumps him, once, then twice slowly and teasing him. “Baby,” he sighs, relishing the feeling of her hands working over him. The stay like that only for a minute or two before Calum pauses her to step down and full disrobe.

When he climbs back onto the bed, he crawls over her. “Welcome back, handsome,” she greets.

“Oh, it’s so good to be back,” he returns, grinning.

She runs her fingers over the tattoos decorating his chest, out of habit, out of something to ground her for a moment. There’s no way he’s real and it shouldn’t ever shock her like this. But sometimes it sneaks up on her and the realization of how madly in love she is with his man hits her all over again.

“What are you thinking about?” Calum asks.

“How much I love you,” she answers softly.

“I love you too,” he returns, bending down to kiss her. It’s soft and sweet--the kiss. For a moment, they just inhale the breaths of the other. It’s a tender moment, one that neither one wants to interrupt, so they let it linger, smiling at each other. She stretches up to kiss him, one hand trailing between their bodies and Calum catches the hint all too quickly when she traces along his length.

“I haven’t forgotten, love,” he exhales in a breathy laugh. “Trust me, I could never forget.” Once lined up, Calum’s slow to sink into her. One, he wants to drag this out, enjoy every inch of him that she grips of him. And two, because he wants to make sure that even in the lull that she’s ready to take him.

Her head falls back, hair pushing into the pillow and neck exposing itself to him. A tempting sight but Calum loses himself in the feeling of her wetness. He’s slow, pulling out just a bit before sinking further back into her. Her sighs and words of encouragement are soft from beneath him but they fuel him.

The pace quickens and both of them groan at the ecstasy. Out of reflex, she lifts one leg to readjust her hip flexor and Calum brings it up, resting her ankle on his shoulder. He kisses over the joint and the anklet, savoring just how much of her he can feel like this.

The chain dangles in her face, brushing in the valley of her breast and she revels in the feeling of Calum reaching the full depths of her body. She digs her nails into his flesh, more curses falling from her lip. But some of them get lost in the groans that win out. “God,” she huffs. “You’re everywhere.” And though it’s a bit of strain to get the words out because Calum’s pace is relentless as he snaps his hips into hers, she pushes the words out.

“You always take me so well,” he praises, watching the way her face contorts. “Oh, so soon, love? You’re going to cum again for me so fucking soon, like a good girl.”

Her whine slips out first but she nods, feeling the coil tightening yet again in her lower abdomen. Her body is hot, and she can already feel the prickle of sweat on her forehead. “Please, baby, please,” she begs.

“As you wish,” he hums, his own orgasm approaching faster than he anticipated. His body humming as the warmth spreads. The bed rocks just a little, hitting the wall and the sounds echo around them as they sigh and moan to each other. But the only thing that really matters to them, is each other.

“Fuck, baby,” he whispers, voice straining as she orgasms. No noise comes from her, but her mouth opens like if she had the breath she’d definitely be screaming his name. This time the quakes last longer, her whole body shaking. “You’re okay, you’re okay,” he hums, bumping his nose against her jaw, still riding through her orgasm.

“Shit, oh my god,” she shudders, wrapping her arms around his neck.

There’s a slight hiss when Calum moves again, and he kisses over her face, starting with her nose and then moving to her cheeks. Another quake takes her and Calum, not anticipating it, groans-- his orgasm now right on the edge. It won’t be much longer, but she nibbles at his earlobe. “Thank you,” she whispers. “Made me feel so fucking good. I want you to cum in me. So fucking deep,” she hums.

And while Calum’s trying to get his own rebuttal to the tip of his tongue, she squeezes around him. “Fuck,” he yelps just a little, his body erupting with his orgasm. His body shudders and he’s so blindsided by the feeling, his slips just a little, more of his weight settling onto her than usual.

She doesn’t say anything, just hums at the feeling of him succumbing to the pleasure. “Oh, that’s what I wanted,” she encourages. It leaves her throat like a purr and Calum shivers again at the sound.

They lay together, for a moment, her nails scratching lightly at the muscles in his back. Calum sinks into her, body going heavy. Her slight shift squeezes around him and he groans, sensitive. “Don’t--I can’t,” he laughs.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to.” Even her own voice sounds heavy and slurred. She kisses his temple and Calum pushes up. He’s slow to pull out, enjoying the drips that follow of his own release spilling out of her. With one finger he gently scopes it back up and into her. The familiar twinge of desire pulls at his lower gut and it’s almost enough. She even shivers, but Calum watches the way her eyes stay closed.

“You okay?” he asks.

“Sleepy now,” she returns.

“Let’s get cleaned up first and then we can nap.” His voice sounds farther away towards the end of the sentence and she assumes he went to the attached bathroom. The rush of water from the sink confirms it. Something wet and warm presses against her--no doubt Calum with a warm washcloth.

The clean up is swift as both of them share a shower and then under the sheets, they curl up around each other. Calum kisses the top of her head as she nuzzles in closely. “I want pancakes after our nap,” she mutters.

“I think we still have some blueberries.”

She pops up onto her elbow and grins a little. “It’s like you can read my mind.”

Calum laughs. “Maybe just a little bit.”

[tomurasprincess]

Kinktober 26: Demon (The Summoning Circle)

Day 26: Demon Title: The Summoning Circle Pairing: Kurogiri x Reader Word Count: 3.6k Warnings: Noncon, dubcon, demon sex powers, manipulation, coercion, death, orgasm denial, overstimulation, forced orgasms, mentions of past cheating (not Kurogiri), yandere Notes: Thank you to Literary Genius @burnedbyshoto​ for helping me when I was stressing out over an ending for this.

Kinktober Masterlist

You’ve double and triple checked the spell, gone over the necessary ingredients, and compared the sigils drawn on the floor to the Ars Goetia grimoire you hold in your hand over a dozen times at this point. There is no way that a single thing is out of place, no way that you’ve made even a simple mistake.

You have at least a general idea that you must be careful with these kinds of things, although you have no personal experience. According to the grimoire, if there is even one small error in the binding sigils, you will find yourself dead or worse when you summon a demon.

You’re not even sure where the book came from. You found it in your attic while cleaning and trying to distract yourself from the anger you felt towards your partner. You wanted revenge on them more than anything, and finding the book almost seemed like a sign telling you exactly how to get it.

So here you are now, attempting to summon a demon. You chose a lower ranked demon from the Ars Goetia, deciding to err on the side of caution even though you’re not sure this will work at all.

And so, with a deep breath, you find yourself chanting the Latin incantation in the spellbook, walking around the circle as you do and spreading incense. When you finish, you find yourself standing in front of a still empty summoning circle, feeling remarkably stupid for thinking this could ever work.

Until the room’s temperature begins to drop rapidly, causing you to be able to see the fog of your own breath in the cold air. All of the lights in the room dim and then shatter, scattering glass everywhere. The candles surrounding the circle sputter and flicker for several seconds before finally being snuffed out, leaving you in total darkness.

Despite the pitch black, you can see something moving in the darkness, something that looks like purple mist creeping in. There is a noise that sounds like when someone opens a window or door on a windy day and you hear the pressure of the air rushing past you.

The purple spirals upwards until it finally begins to coalesce into the shape of a man. The candles flicker back on, the flames flaring up far higher than they should be able to and causing strange looking shadows to appear on the wall. When your eyes finally adjust, you realize that there is only purple mist where the man’s head should be and yellow eyes staring at you like they see right through you down to your soul.

“You summoned me, mortal?” The demon’s voice is deep and full of amusement. He paces the very edge of the circle, and you’re suddenly very glad that you double checked the sigils, as he pauses every small step to investigate them. Checking for some sort of flaw to escape, most likely.

“I - maybe - I,” you stumble over your words and he chuckles.

“Maybe? It’s a yes or no question.”

“I did do a summoning, yes. But I didn’t - “

“Didn’t expect a demon like me?” He interrupts you before you can finish. He chuckles even louder when you simply nod your head.

“Of course you wouldn’t,” he states, “I am a high ranked demon far beyond your capabilities to summon, mortal.”

“Then how are you here?”

“I came to aid you of my own free will.” He has finished his cycle around the sigils keeping him imprisoned, turning to look into your eyes. The penetrating gaze he levels at you has you squirming, and you’re the first to look away.

“Why would you do that though?” You begin to pace yourself, nervous energy rising up in you at the unusual situation you’ve found yourself in. This wasn’t what you expected to happen, and you’re left off balance.

“Because I can feel your rage, mortal. You want to punish someone, don’t you?”

Your eyes snap back to his, and he gives a slight nod as if encouraging you to continue.

“I - do want to punish someone. My ex-partner.”

The mist around the demon’s face seems to swirl with amusement. “Let me guess - cheating?”

Your eyes widen a fraction at the demon being so on the mark. “Yes, I caught them in bed with someone else.”

“A tragedy, really. Anyone foolish enough to cheat on someone like you deserves whatever they get.”

You can’t stop the heat that rises to your cheeks at the slight bit of flirtation. “I - thank you. Is it something you can help me with?”

“Of course, mortal. Revenge is something that I am quite good at. But I don’t like to make deals through a summoning circle. Shows a lack of trust, you see.” He steps a bit closer to the edge of the circle and raises his hands up in a placating manner. “Let me out as a good faith gesture.”

Your body instantly tenses. The reasoning makes sense, but the thought of this demon being free puts you on guard.

“I’m not so sure about that one,” you say hesitantly. “The book says you absolutely should not do that.”

“What book is this?” The demon says curiously. “Surely it won’t hurt to allow me to see it?”

You can’t think of anything that he could do with the book to act against you, so you slide it across the barrier without putting your hand through.

He picks up the book and begins to flip through it, making some hums of acknowledgement as he reads the pages. He glances back at your summoning circle before turning a few more pages and finding the exact spell that you used to summon him.

“Ahh, so this is the spell you intended to cast for a lesser demon summoning.”

“I didn’t actually expect it to work at all,” you admit. “And I definitely didn’t expect to summon anything like you.”

“Anything like me? You mean an incubus?”

“I - what, I don’t - “ You stumble over your own words. Even someone as ignorant as you are knows what kind of demon that is. And it’s well over your experience level. “Is that what kind of demon you are?” You finally manage to get out.

“Oh yes it is,” he says in a rumbling tone of laughter. “You may call me Kurogiri. And what about you?”

You say your name before you can think better of it, and the demon called Kurogiri’s eyes brighten in excitement.

“This book has one thing right. A demon’s word is law. If I swear an oath that I won’t betray you, then I am bound to it. So why don’t you let me out and we can work out a deal, hmm?”

You shift around from one foot to the other while you consider things. He seems reasonable and willing to deal with you, and he’s even willing to give you an oath. All he’s asking is to not be locked in a cage. “I want your word first.”

His eyes flash with dark humor at your words. “I swear that I will not betray you.”

You feel the weight of those words settle into your chest, as if a physical bond was created. You realize this must be the oath, preventing him from hurting you, and so you walk forward and smudge the circle enough for him to walk through. He strides through confidently, eyes zooming in on you instantly. The look of malicious glee on his face causes you to inadvertently take a step back.

That expression on his face tells you that you made a horrible mistake. The air seems to get heavy as the room heats up, his power building and building. It hits you in the face like a physical force, causing you to stumble before turning on your heel to run.

But you don’t make it very far. As you grab for the doorknob, the heat of it causes you to jerk your hand back. You turn to see the demon standing in the same spot, arm raised as he beckons you to him. You take sluggish steps forward, almost as if in a dream. You can feel what’s happening, but you can’t stop yourself from walking towards your doom.

In no time at all, you’re standing in front of him, forced to look up at his face as he towers above you. You’re burning up, skin feeling too tight as an insistent throb between your legs begins. You try to turn away, but you’re frozen in place as the demon takes a now clawed hand and traces it down your face.

‘You - swore that you wouldn’t betray me.” You’re surprised to find that your voice still works.

“Oh I promise you,” Kurogiri whispers seductively, “you’re going to love what I’m about to do to you.”

And with that, a clawed hand tangles in your hair as he crashes his lips against yours. A dominant tongue slips into your mouth as his teeth bite against your lower lip. You can do nothing but stand there and let him do as he wishes, the throbbing between your legs only intensifying as you feel slick drip down your inner thighs.

He pulls away, leaving you gasping for air and your lips swollen and bruise. “What did you do to me,” you pant, finally finding yourself able to move as you squeeze your thighs together for some sort of friction.

“Just a bit of incubus magic,” he chuckles, grabbing you and lifting you easily as he carries you to the summoning circle. He lays you down on your back in the middle of the circle before taking time to undress himself slowly, removing piece after piece as if it’s a show.

You can’t help but admire how beautiful his body is underneath the fancy suit he wears. You squirm around, trying to move, to anything to relieve this fire burning through your veins. But with a smirk, he paralyzes you again before settling in between your legs. He removes your clothes next, forgoing making a show of it and choosing instead to rip them off of you.

Soon you’re laying in nothing but your panties, wet spot clearly visible through the material. “Well look at this,” he murmurs, “already so wet for me.” He glides a finger across the wet spot, drawing a whine deep from the back of your throat as he slides your soaked panties down from your hips. You’re left vulnerable in front of him, unable to close your legs as he spreads them far apart.

Your bare pussy is left completely visible to him, slick gushing out of you as he examines you. “Such a pretty pussy. I’m sure you won’t mind if I have a taste - “

He leans in to lap at your juices, groaning and causing vibrations to shoot right through you. He spreads you open with two fingers as he suckles your clit, sliding two fingers easily into your core. You’re still paralzyed by whatever power he’s using, and so you’re forced to feel everything, every action seeming more intense from your inability to move.

He increases the suction on your clit, tongue lashing and swirling against the throbbing bead and causing a moan to slip from your throat. “Hngg, please, oh shit - “

“Does that feel good, mortal?” He coos at you, curling his fingers up to graze a sensitive spot inside that draws a shout from you. “I am barely even trying yet, and already you’re such a beautiful mess underneath me.”

You pant heavily as his fingers work inside of you, tongue refusing to let up on your now aching clit. The tension is building and building, and you whine as your eyes roll to the back of your head. “Please, oh fuck,” you groan, not even sure if you’re begging him to stop or to never stop. “It feels so good -”

He lifts up just enough to take in your sweaty, breathless form, chest heaving and drool running down the corner of your mouth. “Do you want to cum?”

“Yes yes yes,” you babble mindlessly, right at the edge of an orgasm but unable to crash over. “Please!”

“Then call me your master, mortal.”

You’re too far gone to think of the consequences, the heat from within you burning through your veins. “Master, please let me cum! I need to cum so bad, please!”

He hums in pleasure, fingers inside of you quickening their pace, relentlessly smashing against your g-spot as his mouth latches around your throbbing clit again. You scream out your orgasm, juices squirting all over the demon’s face as you try to writhe.

Everything feels so sharp, so intense because of your paralysis, and you’re pushed over the edge twice more before he finally lets up. Your body is finally allowed to move, only for you to go limp as you shake and shudder.

You think things are over until you feel something hot and hard prodding at your entrance. Your eyes snap to his, eyes widening with alarm as you feel how thick he is.

“You didn’t think I was actually done with you, did you?” He flips you over, pressing your face down into the floor and raising your ass into the air as he sinks into you, inch by slow inch. You realize quickly that he doesn’t feel like a regular man, ridges and bumps running along his length that grind against your inner walls and force you to stretch around him even more.

Your fingers dig hard into the floor as you try to breathe. It hurts more than you would think, but in your lust addled mind, even the pain feels delicious.

“Does it hurt, little one?” The demon asks mockingly as you throw your head back. arching your back in a way that you can’t tell whether it’s to get away or to get closer. “I know I’m not like a mortal man, but trust me,” he grunts as he finally bottoms out inside of you, “you’ll take me anyway, and you’ll love every minute of it.”

The spines dig into your flesh, making your eyes water stinging sensation it causes. He gives you only a second to adjust before he’s thrusting, causing you to scream at the explosion of sensation.

He grips your hips as he pounds into you, forcing you back to meet his every thrust. There is one particularly large bump along his length that hits a spot inside of you that has you seeing stars with every single movement, and your whole body quivers as your stomach tightens.

You feel like you’re going to burn up from the inside, sweat dripping from your face and hitting the floor as the sound of pants and moans fill the room. His heavy balls hit your clit with every sharp snap of his hips, and the wet sounds your bodies make as they connect are positively obscene.

“Shit shit shit,” you chant as you clamp down around the many ridges along length, causing pleasure and pain to shoot through you which in turn makes you clench down even harder. “Fuck, it feels so - fuck it feels amazing,” you whine, realizing that your hand has come underneath you to begin stroking your throbbing, aching clit.  Your mind is so foggy that you aren’t even aware when you started.

But the tight circles you’re rubbing on your swollen little clit are not getting you any closer to that blissful climax. Everytime you get close, it seems to fade away, and you whine from deep in the back of your throat.

“Oh my, do you want to cum again, little one?” Kurogiri’s deep voice rumbles. “Beg me to take your soul and I will let you.”

The reality of the situation crashes back into you all at once. Of course, how could you forget? You’re being fucked into submission by a demon that you were stupid enough to release from the summoning circle. You can’t give in, can’t let him have your soul -

“Fuck, no, why,” you whimper in a choked sob as your orgasm slips away from you yet again. Your fingers increase their speed, grinding down so hard on your clit that you’re beginning to get sore. You push back against the demon’s every thrust, hoping against hope that maybe you can fool him.

But as if he can hear your thoughts, he instantly stops moving and your orgasm falls even further away from you. Tears of frustration are streaming from your eyes and hitting the floor underneath you. “Please!”

“I can do this forever, have you hovering at the edge with no release until you go mad with the desperate need to cum. Do you think you can hold on that long, little one?” He mocks you as he begins to move again, fast enough that it’s pleasurable but not as fast or as hard as you need right now.

“N-n-n-o, please!”

“Then say it. Say your soul belongs to me, and I will give you whatever you desire, little one.” He moves your hand away from your clit to replace it with his own. “Don’t you want to feel how good it is to cum around a demon’s cock?”

You’re sobbing and trembling, the fire in you threatening to consume you if you don’t cum right this moment. But still you shake your head back and forth, fighting not to give in to this sadistic demon.

“Come now, little one,” he whispers into your ear. “No one is going to save you from me. Just give in and I will make you feel better than you have ever felt.”

As he grazes over your clit with one finger at the same time as the ridge pushes against your g-spot, your willpower finally snaps completely. “Kurogiri, my soul is yours! Please just let me cum, please!”

He chuckles a bit, slightly at first before building into a triumphant, booming laugh that seems to come from deep inside of him. “The contract is sealed.” You feel a sharp tugging from within you, at the very core of your being. Everything in your being seems to be screaming out at once as purple mist shoots out from him to enter your body before disappearing, forming a connection between the two of you that will never be broken.

You want to consider the implications behind it, want to rage and scream at what was just done to you. But then he begins to move, and reason flies out of your head and is replaced with pure lust.

Rough fingers dig deep into the skin of your hips as he begins to ruthlessly pound into your aching pussy, thumb grinding down hard on your clit. He pushes against your g-spot with every single movement, and it isn’t long before the pressure reaches a crescendo.

You wail as you’re finally pushed over the edge, juices gushing from you as you squirt all over the demon’s cock. He doesn’t give you a moment to breathe, fucking you roughly through your orgasm and overstimulating you through several more orgasms.

Finally, he begins to twitch and throb, shoving himself fully inside of you as hot ropes of cum spurt out against your unprotected cervix. The warmth spreading out feels hot enough to burn your insides, and you cum one last time with a strangled howl before collapsing limply onto the floor.

You feel dizzy, the room spinning wildly as you try to catch your bearings. He collects you into his arms, the mist that makes up his face seeming to form into a smirk. “Now you belong to me, little one.”

“What are you going to do with me?” You say weakly, not able to move or try to get out of his arms. “Are you going to let me go now?

“Of course not. I have waited too long for you, and now I have you. Your body and soul are both mine, forever.”

You’re not sure why you feel so weak all of a sudden, body becoming heavy and sluggish as if you’re being drained of energy. You’re beginning to lose consciousness, vision turning purple around the edges. But his wording causes a thought to form. “I did the summoning correctly, didn’t I?”

He chuckles a bit.  “Yes, you did. But I was waiting, and I killed the pathetic demon you tried to summon.”

“And our deal? Were you ever sincere about it?”

“Of course I was sincere about it. In fact, your ex is already dead. Not only did they dare to put their hands on what’s mine, they discarded you like a piece of trash once they were done. Their punishment in the afterlife will be quite severe.” “What’s happening to me?” You whimper, voice breaking at the end from fear and confusion.

He grins maliciously at you. “I am draining you of every bit of life force you have. You will die, and your soul will be tied to mine for eternity.”

“But your oath!” You try desperately to stop this, to avoid being killed by this demon. “You said you wouldn’t betray me!”

“It's not betrayal if I intended to do this from the beginning, now is it?”

Your mouth falls open in horror of how stupid you’ve been, how truly in over your head you were.

“Now fade away, little one. Don’t fight it. When you wake up, you’ll be in your new home. In Hell with me, where you belong.”

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

Kinktober: @thewheezingwyvern​, @vixen-scribbles​, @katsukisprincess​, @hisoknen​, @trafalgar-temptress​, @wings-flames-and-ashes​, @burnedbyshoto​, @bakugotrashpanda​, @dee-madwriter​, @kittycatkrissa​, @reinawritesbnha​, @yanderart​, @dabilove27​, @anxietyplusultra​, @flutterfalla​, @angmarwitch​, @nereida19​, @babayaga67​, @fromsunnywithlove​, @dabis-kitten​, @bakugos-cumsock​, @yumeneji​, @the-grimm-writer​, @iwaizumi-chan​, @slashersheart​, @bunnyywritings​, @bakarinnie​, @angie-1306​, @lalalemon101​​, @videogameboiwhowins​​, ​@tenkoshimmy​, @baroque-baby​​, @bbyspiiice​​, @thirstyforthem2dmen​​, @blissfulignorance2000​, @bluecookies02-main​, @aryjaa​, @theodora3022​, @raekah​, @ineedmorefanfics​, @serosmissingtoe​, @deathmemeiverse​, @chibikochannumberone​, @saint-eridell​​, @miscellaneous-bnha​, @katsukis-sad-angel​

[oumaheroes]

Old Age

Word Count: 1772

Characters: Canada, England, and France

---

There were some days where Canada truly felt his age.

Most of the time how old he was didn’t really hit him. He happily pottered around work or home as easily as he imagined most humans his physical age did: running for a train he was almost certainly going to miss, tripping down the last few steps on a flight of stairs because he was staring at his phone and wasn’t watching his feet, or spilling coffee on himself when he missed his mouth taking a sip.

His colleagues, despite knowing who he was, spoke to him as an equal and Canada could happily pass weeks, or sometimes even months, without consciously being aware of how old he was- or even really what he was.

It was easy to forget, surrounded by humans every day, that he was not one. His ministers and co-workers spoke to him without questioning his position that high in government- that was admittedly unusual for a face as young as his. Occasionally, he’d bump into a young intern or graduate who didn’t know him and he’d have a nice, genuine interaction before a look of shock crossed their face when someone high up greeted him respectfully. It was a helpful, yet stark, reminder.

But overall, when you were surrounded by people who did know it never really hit him that his presence or job was something he took for granted and the passing of time was something he didn’t really take notice of. It was normal. He was there, he was called Matthew, sometimes, or Canada, but both were his name and the potency of what he was, was surprisingly quite forgettable.

Of course, what he was was never something he could completely avoid. Someone would mention a time, or a date, or a thing that had happened and Canada would immediately feel the distance widen between them all as it was made obvious that, to everyone else, what they were discussing was history. It was something passed, something that had happened to other people too long ago to properly connect with on an emotional level. An old battle, an old political bill; something that someone long long dead had said or written that now remained only as faint ink on curling, dusty paper.

But to Canada it was there in his head, the words clear and as easy to recall as if they were spoken to him yesterday. A benefit of nationhood, he supposed, to be fully aware of things that had political consequence, to be able to trace the makings of himself back through time and see how they spiralled and grew.

History wasn’t just words, to him, or mere events. Such things made up the foundations of himself, the building blocks of his life and he felt them thrum through him like a song, twisting and moulding him into being.

Becoming aware of his age and the difference between himself and humans were when Canada really felt the weight of the years he carried. Over three hundred of them made themselves known, hanging off his shoulders and settling down to his legs to hold him up. It was easy to briefly forget how old he was, but that knowledge was impossible to rid himself of entirely- Canada was made up of history, of the bones of time and they cracked together as he moved through his life to remind him of who he was with every step.

He had burned, he had bled, he had died. He had seen.

That was the point of him. To watch to passage of time and remember it, to hold the memory of his people within him and use their voices and experiences to push for the continuation of the future. Their future.

Canada was his people, was made by his people for his people and as he sat amongst them, discussing old old moments long gone with humans who could only read and dream of them, the distinction of what he was would hit him like a thunderbolt.

It was heavy, to be so old. To have seen so many things, to have lived through so much. To be what he was.

He had just had one of those instances. He and his cabinet had spent the entire morning discussing the founding of their nation and its independence in order to plan for the yearly celebrations and Canada had suffered through the whole time feeling every second of his age press against him.

When talks finally drew to a close and he could escape, Canada dragged his ancient body towards the centre of town. England and France were visiting, along with the rest of the UN, and he’d promised to meet them both for lunch before they too were pulled into an afternoon of far more internationally inclined meetings.

If he were honest with himself, what Canada really wanted to do was go home and watch TV; switch his brain off so that he could numb himself with bad reality shows. It was a good pastime that he enjoyed with guilty abandon and one that he would much rather have preferred doing. However, he’d made a promise and Canada was nothing if not a nation of his word.

Sadly.

England and France were already there when he arrived, tucked away in a corner table. France glanced up as the door jingled with his entrance, waving him over with a smile. Canada nodded at the waiter who motioned him through and settled himself down in a chair at their table between them.

‘Good afternoon,’ France greeted him with his usual cheek kisses, hair tickling Canada’s nose as he leant in close, ‘you arrived just on time, I was about to throw Arthur out of the window.’

‘You wish,’ England looked up from his phone and shot him a quick, but warm smile, ‘Hello Matthew.’

Canada’s heart sank. He really wasn’t in the mood to play mediator today, ‘Dare I ask why?’ he said, turning to France.

France gave an effortless shrug and settled back in his seat, ‘Do I really need a reason?’

‘Yes.’

Both England and Canada spoke at once and France gave a sly grin, ‘I won’t darling, you don’t deserve the trouble,’ he patted Canada’s knee soothingly and politely ignored England’s muttered “as if you could” from across the table, ‘but the idiot seems to think he’s correct about something which he very much is not.’

‘Oh, of course,’ England retorted immediately, ‘you can’t remember properly but I’m the one who’s wrong.’

‘Yes.’

‘No.’

‘What is it?’ Canada interjected quickly. The waiter who had greeted him at the door was shooting their table looks of alarm out of the corner of his eye and Canada smiled at him apologetically, ‘Maybe I could help.’

To his surprise, England and France shared a look, something unspoken passing between them, ‘You weren’t about yet,’ offered France, sounding apologetic.

‘When was it?’

‘Oh, not too long ago,’ England waved a hand airily, ‘only six hundred years or so.’

Canada blinked, ‘Six hundred?’

‘Or there abouts,’ England frowned again, ‘I’m not sure when exactly, but I know France is wrong.’

France scoffed, ‘You can’t remember when it is, but you know I’m wrong?’

‘Obviously. I know it was about fifty years after Agincourt, I’m not sure of exactly when but-‘

‘Well, there you go! You’ve muddled it up with something else.’

‘I haven’t! You held that ball, the one with the fucking shit tonne of flowers everywhere, and were displaying those golden goblet things you were so damn proud of and I gave you that stupid painting-‘

‘No!’ France interjected angrily, ‘You took that painting and then were made to give it back.’

‘I didn’t! It was my bloody painting- Jesus fucking Christ,’ England held his head in his hands, ‘that’s not the point, I’m using that as a reference-‘

‘Yes well, pick a reference that has a grain of reality in it, would you?’

England opened his mouth to argue back again but Canada didn’t hear him, by now long tuned out of the conversation.

Only. Only six hundred years ago. Canada couldn’t even imagine that amount of time, couldn’t imagine having lived so long that six hundred years was considered to be a mere drop in the ocean.

But to these two, it was. England and France had both been alive for millennia, had known each other for that long and had been alive without each other for even longer before that.

Sitting next to them, his own existence suddenly felt like nothing, felt insignificant in the history of mankind. What had Canada seen, that these two had not? He couldn’t even begin to imagine. Three hundred years felt more than enough.

It hit him, then, how long most of their kind had lived. He’d realised this before, of course, but still the comprehension about the difference in age between him and most of the world left him dumbstruck anew. Fuck, what about China; Lord only knew how old he really was. There wasn’t a point in history that it didn’t seem as though China hadn’t been around to experience, even from across the world. Whole empires and civilisations had risen and fallen and most of the nations Canada knew had personally been involved in them somehow. It was astounding to consider all the people who had lived throughout the centuries that, to Canada, felt like nothing more than characters in a story.

What on earth was three hundred years to age like that? To history that felt so ancient to him, so disconnected that it didn’t really even feel real, but that was as normal to most nations as his own history was.

How many years would Canada have to live until three hundred was something he would describe as ‘only’?

‘Are you alright, lad?’ Canada was jolted out of his spiral to find England looking at him with concern, a hand on his arm.

‘Yeah, sorry,’ he shook his head, ‘it’s just- you’re both so old.’

England coloured and France laughed, ‘We’re not old,’ England jabbed a thumb in France’s direction, ‘Well, he is.’

‘It is more about how you feel and act, dear, that’s more important and in that regard, you are far older than I.’ France yelped suddenly as England kicked him under the table, ‘Does the truth sting, Arthur? Is that why you felt the need to vent your frustrations on me?’

‘As if I need more of a reason-‘

They began again, in earnest, but Canada let them continue uninterrupted, silently and guiltily enjoying the feeling of being a child once more.

---

AN:

I must admit that not much thought or plot went into this. I wanted to write something short and somewhat silly as a treat for spending most of yesterday editing. Ideally, one day I want to take this concept and explore it more with greater care and detail because I think it’s something a newer nation like Canada would really struggle with.

300 years is a long time, and I’m sure it must be hard for him to feel that age and then go and speak to anyone from the Old World and be met with the reality of how truly old their kind can be. Canada is a baby, despite the centuries he has collected for himself, and I feel like there would always be that conflict within him about how old he feels around humans comapred to how old he is next to other nations. Maybe this idea is best explored as a headcannon rather than a fic, but I had a fun time writing it.

Anyway, that is my tuppence worth- thank you for reading!

[woopboopboop]

heaven is a place on earth; hell is too

a/n: i just like the idea behind the prompt so i thought i’d write it. and to @harrysgloves​, thank you for the encouragement sent early this year! happy reading everyone! :)

content warnings: strong language, graphic depictions of violence, mentions of drug.

[usually, in the story, the gang leader will kidnap a person, right? this time, it’s the other way around]

“Are you a demon?”

She stops twirling the handcuffs in her hand and put it on the wooden drawer next to the bedroom doorway. For a beat, she doesn’t quiet know what to say because it is not the common “where am I?” or “who are you?” or even him trying to escape. But, only for a beat. Then, she straightens from where she is leaning at the door.

When he asks the next question, she pretends to not hear and calls for Ezra. If it is not for the real intention behind this, she probably would entertain his question and tell him if there is any angel in the room, if she is one, it would be an incarnation of Lucifer.

The younger boy comes as quick as she calls him and stands beside her at the doorway, waiting for whatever she has to say.

“He’s still in the cloud,” she says, eyes still assessing Harry who is lying on his back on the bed before turning her attention to the raven haired boy next to her. “How many did you use?”

“Just like you wrote in the note,” Ezra answers. 

She hums and returns to look at Harry who is now looking at his hands, inspecting for who knows what and mumbling something. Well, she did want the drug to make him forget a little bit. But not to the point where he is delirious. In this condition, there is no way he can give her what she is looking for.

“Are you sure?” Her eyes return to Ezra’s confused ones. There must be something wrong somewhere. He did what she told him to. Maybe not in a way she had instructed it. “You do know there’s a point before the number five, right?”

When she said that the confusion in his eyes shifts to realisation and it dawns on him. That would explain it. He did not forget, obviously. He misread it. He should’ve given Harry a half of the vial, not the whole thing.

She let out a sigh, thinking how there is no undoing this now. She can only hope the effect of the drug will wear off soon. Besides her, Ezra looks like he is trying to say something but the words don’t come out. He gives up then, head drooping slightly, the tips of his ears are red. 

“It’s okay, Ezra.” She gives him a small smile, trying to ease his silent guilt as he knows this plan is important to her. The smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes but he doesn’t want to say anything, afraid that it will make the situation worst. Instead, he says his apology before leaving quietly and quickly after she dismisses him.

“Am I… on a boat?” Harry slurs.

At first, she answers him by shaking her head, hand grabbing the abandoned cuffs on the drawer while she strides over to him. The colour is muted in the room and she figures he can’t see much but the faint cold blue of the evening that is falling like a dusky curtain of the room. So when she stops a reasonable distance away from him, she answers him curtly, “No. Not anymore.”

The sight is a great pity. It is almost like seeing someone on the edge of falling off the pedestal. Who would’ve thought that there will be time when she can see a person who is deemed organised and calculated, feared in the underworld, be so weak. Unguarded. His once pressed, white dress shirt stained with dirt and blood.

Seeing how vulnerable he is in that moment; she can just end him then and there. That was the job after all. And she did pull the trigger that had sent brain pieces to fly everywhere before Harry landed face down on the flour sacks stacked on the boat with a thud, leaving white powder dancing in the air. Not really a way to go for a notorious gang leader if you ask her but the woman and the two men on the other side of the canal seemed content which made it another job well done.

Except that the brain blown was not Harry’s. And as far as the world, especially the Abramo who had delivered their order to end Harry’s life and insisted on witnessing it, is concerned, he is a dead man.

“Am I in hell?” His voice snaps her from her trance. She thought he slips out of his consciousness again when he went silence seconds ago.

This sod. She tilts her head, looking at him and shrugs. “Depends.”

There is something in his eyes and she knows he is trying to make sense of it all because she feels his resistance when she tugs his wrist closer to the bed post above his head. A part of him resurfacing, despising to be in such position. But his brain might still be too hazy to think through so he just let her cuffs him without much struggle.

“Oh! Kinky,” he teases, neck straining to look where his cuffed wrist is at which makes her scoffs. He then looks at her like he is taking note of her face, eyes narrowed.

Maybe he is remembering how she looks like so it’s easy for him to instruct his men to hunt her down once he gets out of there. If he is able to walk out there alive that is. 

If he wants to. 

If she lets him. 

Because, even though as organised and calculated of a man Harry is, this time, she has the few steps ahead.

///

“Now, really,” Harry starts. Sitting up becomes more of a task when one of his hands is cuffed and his brain feels like it is rattling against his skull with every move he makes. “If you wanted to see me so badly, we could have just meet up.”

When he woke up minutes ago, he thought he was in his bed until his senses kicked in and it hurt almost as his throbbing head. Since then, he has been trying to get out of the restrain that tied him to the bed post on top his head and figures out what is happening, where is he. Out the window, it is pitch-black.

He probably is in hell; his brain had decided to land him there.

In retrospect, it is as surprising as it is expected. To be in hell, that is. After all of the deals making, bloods spilling, life taking, fists colliding, he knows there is a place for him here. Only that he expects that it would be overwhelmingly hot and full of screaming human, or what’s left of them. Where he is now is opposite of that. The cold nips his skin and the silence is unnerving. Maybe hell is not all fire and brimstones.

“I tried,” the woman says. Her voice is smooth.

That smooth voice is a good sign. It shows that this person is still able to tolerate whatever deal that he can make out of this. But it is not necessarily safe.

“You are a busy man.”

In between the lack of conversation, he tries to place her somewhere and everywhere but he has never seen her before. Moving up to find a more comfortable position, the movement has caused a dull throb behind his head that makes him wince. Somehow, it also unlocks a sound of gunshot and his gaze flicks to her. At the foot of the bed, she is unfazed.

“You shot me.” His voice rumbles lowly; somewhere between amusement and danger.

“That what was asked for.” It is stated oh-so-matter-of-factly and he accepts it.

He is in no place to make a fuss about it since enemies, like friends or business partners, are made along the way. If anything, he is a little bit bewildered at the attempt of keeping him alive and he doesn’t like not knowing what brought him here. Well, aside from someone ordering this woman here to kill him, but he is not dead though, which makes the motive behind whatever this is, is more questionable.

“Am I dead? I am in hell?”

The questions are supposed to be echoed in his brain but his slightly hazy state betrays him which caused the words to left his mouth unfiltered. The words then hang in the air and it makes him internally cringe. Her unamused face certainly doesn’t help with the situation. “What?”

“I never really thought people like you believe in afterlife.” To be fair, he never really thought about it himself. He is too busy living his life here. Not the one after. “And that is the second time you ask me that question,” she continues.

“So, I am alive.” He swears his mouth is really trying to destroy all the reputation he has been building all these years of being a gang leader. Fearless, self-assured and all that but he conceals the uncertainty in his voice with a smirk. “Why? They didn’t pay you enough for you to complete your job? Maybe you are afraid my men would take revenge on my death?”

She raises one eyebrow, shifting her weight from one leg to the other and he takes that as a sign to probe further, “Sentiment, perhaps?”

“They paid enough. A vendetta is the least of my concern. And no, it’s not sentiment.” With every answer to his question, she takes a step closer until she stops at his side.

“Then you’re holding me for ransom? It would be a huge amount of money, although, I don’t think my accountant would be so happy with that much money flowing out –”

“I have more important purpose for you than death or money.”

If it’s not him or his money, so it might be for her own benefit. The thing about Harry or he would like to think so in this way about himself is that his concern when it comes to being in a situation or making a deal is he will be leaning unto anything that benefits him the most. He tolerates as long as he is presented with a mutually beneficial outcome. In this situation, it is no difference. She wants something from him and he wants her to let him go.

“Interesting.” A smirk on his lips is now blooming into a full smile as he tilts his head. “Maybe you can uncuff me first and then we can carry on with our business?”

If she hears him, she is purposely ignoring his question and diverts her attention to reaching whatever it is in her trouser pocket. When she pulls something out of it, she holds a picture of a man at an arm length. Its creased lines showed that it has been folded and unfolded multiple times.

He is about to take it from her hand to inspect something scribbled at the corner of the picture but she retreats her arm half way, still holding it between her thumb and forefinger. “Do you know him?”

“You know, we could’ve discussed about this over a meet up or dinner. The cuff is really unnessa –”

“Just answer me.”

If she has been quiet this whole time, passive, this is the first time he sees her reacting. The smoothness in her voice now has an edge to it, her eyes are hard and piercing; a presage of storm. He presses his lips together and answers with a nod.

“I need you to talk to him,” she says. The picture is folded and put in her pocket again.

He cocks one eyebrow towards her. “Why don’t you do it yourself?”

“I know only you can reach him.”

That is true, to a certain extent. The last question he has now is that will doing what she wants him to do benefits him too, so he asks in the way that he usually does. “What if I won’t?”

Like a fired bullet, her fist catches tight in the front of his clothes and then her hand finds his throat, knocking his head hard against the headboard. He juts his chin up almost defiantly and grabs her wrist with his free hand.

He pushes her wrist away but it is a futile effort as he can feel how her fingers reach near the particular throbbing part at the nape of his neck, digging in. 

“Fir – first the cuff. Now, you are tr – trying to choke me? Take me, fuck, take me on a dinner first, at least.” He grins despite his choked words and his ragged breath.

“You fucker,” she spats, eyes darken, “this is all a game for you, isn’t it?”

The storm he predicts reaches him and he is trapped in it as she pushes him impossibly further into the headboard, her fingers tightening around his neck while his loosens up around her wrist. He is whirling little by little, the full smile reduced to a tug at the corner of his lips.

“The Abramo was right when they come to us, to me, to launch their vendetta. You are a cocky piece of shit and the only place you deserve to be at is at the bottom of the cold, murky canal with a big gap behind your head!”

“Do you regret… no – not killing me?” He chuckles but it sounds strangled.

“You are making it really easy right now,” she snarls.

Maybe it is the restriction of breath or the warmth of her breath fanning out over his face against the coldness of the room but there is a glint in her eyes. He had been in near-death’s hold before but this feels like he is being thrusted into one without warning as he witnesses a sinister gleam in her face. She has been waiting for this moment. However, before she can end it or start it, she let go of him and strengthens herself up.

“Although,” she sighs, backing away. “I believe your mum and sister won’t find it that easy.”

It takes him minutes to be able to focus on her again, blinking and gasping a little. Her eyes are still boring into him. In between relief and dismal and the ringing in his ears, he notices her settling into the unfazed demeanour she was in before until –

“Dotty and Dusty will probably going to miss you too when you’re gone.”

His stills.

Nobody. Nobody knows about the cats. 

Rivals targeting his family is a part of his work hazard and he always makes sure they are under his protection. It is such trivial matter. It is only cats’ names. But to know it specifically holds a certain power against him because it either means that she had been in his house before or it means that she has been in close proximity with either his mum or his sister to know about that much information.

And at that moment, whatever security he puts his family under, it is not safe anymore. His stomach bottoms out and she is delighted to see him in that way to say the least.

“What do you want?” He grits his teeth, moving forward to fight and the cuff clinks against the headboard because of the sudden jerk.

“There’s only one thing that I want.” Her voice is smooth. She is back at the feet of the bed again, now, with a faint smile on her lips. “But I need you to be able to hold up a proper conversation first before we continue with the business.”

It is not much of a mock or provocation but he still feels a squeezing of terror and of anger. His jaw clenches. “I am talking to you now, don’t I?”

She is already walking towards the door, leaving him struggling to stand up behind her. The bed legs scrap against the wooden floor as he pulls the bed along with him when he tries to grab her arm or shoulder or hair but she is already far away from his reach.

“Not enough,” she says while sparing him a look over the shoulder.

When he realises he is not going to go anywhere, not when he is still restrained to the bed, especially, not when the wood under his feet begins to warp, he fell back on the bed, eyes squeezed tight to block the sharp pain of his head. Defeated.

“Get a good rest. I need you fresh first thing in the morning,” she says before the door shuts. 

Wherever he is, be it in the real world or the after, this is hell.

[divine-bangtan]

- mirror, mirror on the wall | ksj (m)

⤏ vampire!seokjin, pwp, medieval!au

⤏ word count: 6.5k

⤏ Being a vampire prince, Seokjin is used to feeling everyone’s eyes on him. In fact, he’s come to expect it from his subjects. So when you won’t look at him of course he’s not happy. After all, didn’t anyone teach you it’s rude not to stare at him?

a/n: listen,,,this is unedited and overdue bc I am trash. Also for someone who doesn’t like humiliation and degrading sex I sure had way too much fun writing this I have nothing 2 say for myself okay enjoy. Happy birthday Seokjin!

⤏ vampire prince!seokjin, human servant!reader, exhibitionism, degration, nipple play, fingering, slight anal play, squirting, biting, blood drinking, orgasm denial, spanking, candlewax play, oral (m. receiving), face fucking, hair pulling, pussy slapping, seokjin is fucking hung and his precome is an aphrodisiac, bath sex, mirror sex, cockwarming, creampie, what even is aftercare lol.

One minute had already passed, your trembling hand still hovering in front of the door while you worked up the courage to knock. A single bead of sweat which had gathered at the nape of your neck dripped down your skin, and you swallowed hard in an attempt to quell your nerves. Your attempt at delaying this was inevitable, he was expecting you, had summoned you personally and he could likely tell how long you’d been standing there as well. 

With that driving thought in mind, you chewed on your lower lip for another second and moved your hand to finally knock. 

 “You may enter,” came from within the room before your knuckles had even made contact with the wood. The deep voice was slightly muffled through the walls, but nonetheless it still made you shudder with its authority. Swallowing again, you leaned most of your weight on the solid wood to open the door. Something sinister hung in the air, and you stood rooted in the entrance of the prince’s private chambers, entire body thrumming with trepidation.

Glints of gold caught your gaze, coming from every corner of the space as the candles flickered and shadows seemed to grow and lurk where your stare didn’t quite reach. Everywhere your eyes landed screamed lavish riches. If it was not pure gold, the furniture was dripping in rich, red velvet. Curtains so thick they were easily able to block out the brightest sunlight cascaded down the walls, half concealing the intricate tapestries that adorned them. The entire space had a mysterious feel to it, with an underlying sense of danger that made your heart skip a beat. 

The entrance room alone made your head spin, and an unknown force pulled you further into the labyrinth, your feet moved as if possessed, deeper and deeper into the lion’s den. A gust of wind made the curtains rustle, carrying whispers you couldn’t quite understand. You moved to look closer at the paintings on the wall on the other side of the hallway, to inspect the scenes of battle they seemed to depict. However, something stopped you dead in your tracks, a powerful presence behind you. It had you whirling around, staring through a lavish open doorway.

You gasped softly when you turned and your eyes landed on the bathtub in the centre of the room, so large it was almost taking up half the space. Wisps of steam floated from the surface of the water which gleamed iridescent in the candlelight, no doubt filled with expensive lotions and perfumes. What was more impressive, however, was the many flower petals which adorned the water. 

Your eyes lifted to finally meet the eyes of your prince, Seokjin, who reclined against the edge of the tub with an air of relaxed ease. His arms stretched out either side of him, the slight bulge of muscle beneath his honeyed skin causing you to swallow extra hard. The position made his already broad shoulders look even larger, like they could block out the whole sky as he looked down at you. It suited him well. Regality, beauty, immortality. When he raised his dark eyes to pierce yours you felt as though you’d been lured right into the lion’s den, and he was about to devour you alive. A smirk tugged at his plush lips and his gaze burned a hole right through you, the carpet quickly became your solace. 

 “How may I serve you, your excellency?” You murmured, trying to keep your tone steady, yet you knew his supernatural senses would pick up the slightest tremble. There truly wasn’t anything you could hide from him.

A long silence came from his direction, filled only by the pounding of your heart. Warmth crept up your neck, heating up your cheeks under his intense scrutiny and you squirmed slightly, feeling the tops of your thighs already growing damp.   

“Wet…” he softly noted with humour, your human ears barely picking up on it. Embarrassment caused your heart to practically halt in your chest, could he really tell so easily? “My drink.” He spoke again, much louder this time and you jumped as you snapped out of your stupor. That was until his words registered. Drink? He wanted to drink? From you?

“My wine, over there. Bring it to me,” he pointed lazily toward a table across the room before sinking into the water until he was completely submerged.

 Oh. You couldn’t help the slight pang of disappointment that you felt at the fact that you weren’t going to experience a vampire bite. From what you’ve heard they were incredibly pleasurable, some even achieving climax untouched. But to be fed from by the prince himself, of course it was foolish of you to think something like that would ever happen to you. Blinking back frustrated tears you trudged over to the table, picking up the golden tray with the pitcher and goblets already placed on it.  

Complete silence filled the room after you set everything down next to the tub, warily eyeing the dark surface of the water. However, you were unable to catch a sign of the prince and took it as your queue to leave, defeated at having gotten your hopes up. He likely knew what he was doing, bringing you here to torment you. It was obvious how painfully attracted you were to the prince, how much everyone was. Others were definitely not shy in their affection yet you were unable to even look at him for longer than a few moments.  

A loud splash was all the warning you got before suddenly Seokjin broke from the surface of the water, standing to his full height in all his naked glory. Droplets of water clung to his golden skin, adorned by the occasional flower petal and it took every ounce of your restraint to not look down. One of his hands lifted up to sweep his wet hair back, exposing his forehead to your eyes and even that part of him was exquisite. The other reached to pick up his golden goblet, and he smirked in your direction before taking a sip of his wine. God, you truly did not know where to look, eyes raking over the expanse of his naked chest.

He smirked as you finally kept your eyes glued to his face, refusing to look even past his chest. Instead you paid particular attention to the rose petals which adorned his skin.

The two of you remained locked in a silent standoff, one that you knew you could not win. As if sensing your admittance to defeat, he sipped his wine, savouring the taste and you swallowed hard watching his thick, vascular neck move with each swallow. As if hypnotised by the depths of his rich pupils, you couldn’t seem to look away as he gazed so intently at you.

Leisurely he licked his lips, seemingly had enough wine, and the action caused your eyes to drop and watch his tongue swipe over the pillows of flesh, and for a microsecond his incisor could be seen.  Hook. The leer returned when he knew he had you, and his grip on his goblet accidently slipped, causing the liquid to run in rivets down his chest. But you knew vampires did not do anything by accident. Line. No, there was always an ulterior motive with vampires, an intention. He tossed his golden goblet aside, a dull thud coming from across the room where it landed on the carpet. Sinker.

“Oh dear, I seem to have spilled my wine. Clean that up for me, won’t you? The flowers too, they do wonders for my complexion but getting them off me is so bothersome.”

You nodded silently, quickly glancing around the room to find a washcloth. Where, where did his other servants keep them? You’d never been in here before, being a lowly servant yourself you’d never even been to this part of the castle before.

“Here.” He quipped, breaking your panic, and cocking an eyebrow when you gaped at the cloth that seemed to have materialised in his hand. “Are you just going to stand there?”

“N-no! Of course your grace,” you spluttered, almost tripping in your haste.

“Good.”

Now closer than ever, were able to get a much better look at your prince. But in consequence, he was also able to get a much closer look at you. At this proximity, his aura was intense, the width of his shoulders blocking the rest of the room from your view. He had no shame in his nudity, as if it were a gift to your eyes.

Frankly, it was.

Palpitations fluttered in your chest as your eyes took in the chiselled planes of muscle across his chest and abdomen, stained slightly pink from the spilled red wine. As you moved the fabric down his chest you swallowed hard, realising how far down the spill actually travelled.

Part of you ached to even lick his skin clean, secretly wishing he would ask you to. Your own cheeks pinked at the thought, at how you’d get on your knees for him in an instant. It was well known that it was even an honour to merely be degraded by him, let alone other things.

When most of the spill on his upper half was cleaned, you began plucking away at the flowers that stuck to his skin. You reached for a rose petal on his pec when Seokjin grabbed your wrist, stopping you.

“Leave it. I’m cold now, and bored. It will wash off rather easily in the water I think,” he mused, quickly turning to step back into the tub. 

“I can fetch your grace something that might entertain you?”

Perhaps that was all, he had merely brought you here to remind you of your place. A simple human, an ant under his foot. The thought of getting to leave the embarrassing situation had you feeling as though you could breathe easily again, until his next words came. “You will be my entertainment. Join me.”

 “Your grace! I-I,” you spluttered, cheeks warming at his brash words.

“Don’t worry, I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t sure you wanted this. But I can hear the way your little heartbeat quickens when I look at you, such a desperate little slut. How in that millisecond when I hold your gaze how excited you become, how much you squirm and look away. You know, it’s rude not to stare at me.” He growled. “Now strip, or I’ll come get you myself.”

With haste, you began to unbutton your dress as to not keep him waiting, although each felt like an eternity to unfasten with him watching your fingers slip several times. Your hands shook as you peeled your clothes from your warm skin, but it was only partly out of nervousness.  

The cold air of the room immediately caused your nipples to harden as your undergarments dropped to the floor and you were left bare in front of him. Seokjin’s eyes were trained intensely on the swell of your breasts, and you could have sworn you saw his tongue dart out to wet his lips for a moment.

You lowered yourself into the warm water slowly, yet you shivered at his eyes on you. Only able to stand his ogling for a few seconds you sank the rest of the way into the warm water, feeling your bare skin engulfed in the opaque water. Once again Seokjin stretched out against the side of the tub, looking like a lion sunbathing, but even at ease they were ready to attack at a moment’s notice.

“Come here.”

The water swirled around you as you inched toward him, heart palpitating at the uncertainty of it all. The temptation of teasing him crossed your mind, a hesitation, keeping you just out of his reach. Clearly this did not please him, as he tutted and lurched forward to grab you by your elbow.

“Uh uh uh, I don’t think so. Here,” he suddenly growled as you were pulled toward him, and you felt his bare chest suddenly pressed against your back. “I want to watch you, watching me. Look,”

One of the largest mirrors you’d ever seen sat opposite the tub, trimmed with gold and illuminated by at least a hundred candles. The splendour of itself was enough to leave one breathless, but the vampire whose fingertips were creeping up your side was making it much more difficult.

You arched your back, thrusting forward your decolletage as an open invitation. Surprisingly, his touch was warm, and an involuntary gasp slipped from your lips as you finally felt him cup your breasts in his hands. You watched him knead the soft mounds of flesh, the water level stopped just below your chest. Seokjin’s dark eyes drank in the sight of you, and the feather light brush of his thumbs over your nipples had you squirming all the more.

Like pleasant torture he continued to torment you with the barest of touches, not quite exerting the pressure you wanted, the brute strength you knew he possessed. It would have to be tempted from him.

“You’re like the evil queen from that fairy tale,” you taunted as he continued to stare at your reflection in the mirror. Exactly as you had predicted, Seokjin was quick to chastise you with a harsh pinch to your sensitive nipples.

“I’d watch that pretty little tongue of yours, if you want to keep it.” What you hadn’t expected, however, was the way he was able to growl.

“Are you going to ask if you’re the fairest of them all?” Came your jaunt, rising to the challenge.

Quick as a flash his hand was closing around your throat, fingers pressing into the sides cutting off any blood flow and the room around you began to spin.

“Eyes on me, keep them open.” He rumbled, his breath warm at the shell of your ear. “I’m tired of you looking away, such disrespect to your royalty.” When you pried your eyes open again you saw something glinted in his eyes, and his fingers pressed a little tighter against your throat and you whined breathlessly. “Listen to your little pulse quicken, even when I hold your fleeting life in the palm of my hand you moan like a whore. I could kill you right now and you’d probably come.” 

Right as you felt blackness creeping into the edges of your vision he let go and air rushed back into your lungs. The dizziness made you slump back against him, your eyes slipping shut as your surroundings were blurred. With a disappointed tut he pinched your breasts once more, drawing a whimper from you.

“Not so tough now, are we?”

Instead of answering him, you squirmed away from his ministrations, your behind effectively grinding against the length of him, hot and heavy under the water. Every second he went unanswered his displeasure grew, the fire in his eyes only burning hotter.

“Since you can’t seem to be an obedient little slut, I suppose some discipline is in order.” Swiftly you were reminded of his vampiric strength as he stood from the water, pulling you up into his arms as he sauntered over to a chair. He took his time, dropping you before he slumped into what looked like a velvet throne. Right in front of it sat another enormous mirror – how many could one person own?  

Seokjin pulled you out of your thoughts and down onto his lap, manhandling you until you lay face down, ass up. You shivered at the ticklish feeling of his fingers running up the backs of your thighs, which had broken out in goosebumps from the cold air of the room. His fingernails brushed over your rump before he grabbed each of your cheeks in his hands, kneading them before spreading them.  

The feeling of your glistening folds being exposed to the cold air had you gasping, involuntarily clenching and you knew he was watching intently. Seemingly pleased by what he saw, Seokjin blew on your pussy which had you squirming harder from the strange sensation. That, however, did not please him. Your hands which had been resting in front of you were twisted behind you, one of his hands circling your wrists like iron.

 “Still.” He pressed his thumb against your clenched rim, and you paused at the unfamiliar feeling. “It’s tempting, to fuck your tight little asshole. Hmm, maybe I should.” The tip of his thumb ever so slightly dipped in, but then he withdrew it to land a hard slap on your rump. He gripped the flesh in his palm, massaging it to soothe the sting and parted your thighs more. “Tempting, but no. Your pussy looks far too appetising tonight, especially with how wet you're getting. Do you like being over my knee? So eager to become my little human fucktoy.” 

Three more slaps landed on your ass, each one leaving a delicious sting in its wake and your breathing grew more jagged after you finished yelping. He continued to grip the globes of flesh as your aching cunt clenched, and he paused as you shivered.

“A little cold, hm?” Seokjin teased, knowing full well what it was that caused you to shudder. “Let’s warm you up then.”

Bracing yourself for another slap, a gasp of surprise left your lips when you felt little droplets of hot wax instead. Each one had you jolting, not able to move much due to him holding you down. But you were enjoying it, he knew you were enjoying it. Your back arched off his lap, the contrast of your cold skin mixed with the warm wax had you moaning louder with each droplet. The wax was almost too hot. Almost. But it cooled quickly, and if you were going to fuck with vampires you need to be able to enjoy pain with pleasure.

“Look at how nice and warmed up you are now, and how wet. You’re such a little slut for punishment. Is that why you purposefully provoked me into doing this? So I would have to punish this desperate little cunt of yours? Look at it,” he smirked, suddenly pulling you up and turning you so you sat with your back to his chest once more. He reached forward and yanked your thighs apart, so your soaked folds were on display in the candlelight. 

You just love being handled like this, like a whore. Consider yourself lucky, for I could have anyone that I please on their knees for me. So, show me how grateful you are, on your knees.”

Not wanting to displease him you quickly obliged, grateful for the soft cushioning carpet. However, it only drew more attention to the aching throb between your thighs, and the faint warmth of your sore asscheeks. Looking up from admiring the thickness of his thighs, you gasped.

In front of your face was the largest cock you had ever seen, his size was truly inhuman. He was larger than any lover you’d ever had before, his length alone put every man in the kingdom to shame. You licked your lips in a rather unsubtle manner to which he tutted.

“If you’re so desperate for it, do something,” he practically purred, one hand twisting in your hair to drag you forward. He was in no way gentle you thought as your scalp ached, but the way it had your pussy clenching - the way he knew it turned you on - certainly didn’t have you complaining.

The tip of his cock brushed your cheek, smearing a few beads of sticky precome with it and you were quick to turn your head to the side and run the length of your tongue along the throbbing vein. You chased the little drops of precome that ran down the underside of the length, lapping all the way up to the mushroom head of his cock. You moaned at the taste of him as you gave little kitten licks to his slit. His grip in your hair only tightened and you looked up at him with hooded eyes, your sopping core clenching when you saw how dark his gaze had gotten. 

It was unlikely you would be able to wrap your hand around his girth, and even less likely you would be able to fit him in your mouth. But still, you were eager to at least try. The tip of his cock slipped past your lips easily, and you suckled which drew a long moan from Seokjin. He pushed on the back of your head, and you pushed back in fear at the size of him.

“Don’t worry, it will fit. Vampire precome is a bit of an aphrodisiac, now open wide for your prince,” he told you with a glint in his eye. As if his words were compelling you, your jaw laxed and his shaft eased further past your lips. Eager to please him you released your grip only to steady your hands on his delectable thighs. He cocked an eyebrow at your action, but his steely expression broke when you opened your mouth ever wider and took him all the way in.

“Fuck!” Came from his plush lips and he threw his head back, hips rocking slightly. 

Surprisingly, you felt no discomfort and your gag reflex seemed almost non-existent, and you began to bob your head back and forth.

“Fucking hell…mm. You're such a good little slut,” Seokjin grunted as he began to thrust harder, the way he began to look wrecked had your cheeks warming. You swallowed around his length and he almost snarled, his grip on your scalp tightening. His cock plunged into your throat over and over, his endless precome filling your mouth with sweetness each time he pulled out so the tip rested on your tongue.

“You’re going to make me come, little human. Such a perfect mouth for- ugh - me to fuck.” He pushed in once more, pulling on your hair until your nose touched his abdomen, and you could feel your cunt weeping uncomfortably from his praise. “Look at the way your throat is bulging. You’re enjoying this too much, making such a mess on the floor.”

A small puddle had gathered beneath you, your need growing more and more, and the suddenly need for relief hit you hard. One of your hands let go of his leg to snake down your abdomen to ease some of the ache.

“Absolutely not.” He snapped, shoving himself down your throat again. “You’ve been such a good girl, don’t misbehave now. You will wait until, mfph, after I’ve come, and you will swallow every drop. I’m close.”

His grip on your hair grew brutal yet it only drew more moans from you as you had a high pain threshold. It was a beautiful sight as his thrusts faltered, the way his pillowy lips parted, the thick column of his throat flexing and his body trembling as his orgasm washed over him. Not to mention the heavenly moans he let out.

Ropes of his warm, thick release spurted to the back of your throat. It was far from unpleasant, however, nothing like the salty, almost bitter taste of human cum. Just about everything about vampires was designed to lure you in, and you moaned a little while swallowing the thick white liquid. 

“Good girl,” Seokjin cooed at you as you licked your lips. 

“Please, your highness. I need to come. Please make me come, it hurts.” You begged, practically whimpering at his feet. In his post orgasm bliss, he gently cupped your cheek, even stroked your hair a little with the other hand while he looked at you tenderly. 

“Come sit my sweet, let me ease your pain,” he cooed as he sunk back into his chair, easily tugging you around and catching you before you stumbled on wobbly legs. “Face the mirror.” A small whimper left you as you felt the length of him pressing into your lower back as you were brought flush against his chest.

“Hmm, let’s see. I wonder if I can make you squirt. Now wouldn’t that be fun,” he growled into your ear, grinning at the way you mewled and begged. “You’ve never squirted before, have you? That pathetic human boy I know you let fuck you behind the stables always left you unsatisfied.”

Your eyes widened, alarmed that he knew such a thing. “I’ve been watching you for some time, prey are always fun to stalk. Fuck whoever said you shouldn’t play with your food, they obviously don’t know how to have fun.” 

Your whole body trembled as he gripped the flesh of your thighs, hands tugging them wide open so your swollen folds were on full display. They were glistening from how wet you had gotten, your engorged clitoris pulsing from your increasing heartbeat. It was almost painful, the throbbing in your nether regions.  How your skin tingled and grew hot.

Each pound of your heart thundered in your ears like a drum, the aphrodisiac spreading through your bloodstream. It was like delicious poison, and you were dying a slow but beautiful death at the hands of a deadly predator. The only cure was to draw the poison from one’s body through release, through climax. Your cure was his body, his fingers, his cock, his bite. 

“Look at that,” Seokjin teased, a single finger swiping through your lips to collect your sticky juices. With a feather light touch he teased the slicked digit over your clit and you clenched helplessly at the promise of stimulation. You snapped your legs shut, trapping his hand between your thighs to antagonise him. “Keep them open” he growled into your ear, supernatural strength tearing the apart again. His hand drew away, only to come back with a sharp slap on your poor pussy. Out of instinct your thighs tried closing again, but Seokjin was quick to reprimand you again with a succession of harsh slaps. Each one made you almost jump out of his lap, but you quickly learned to force your legs to stay apart. It took a few more slaps which left your thighs trembling, but you managed.

“Good girl,” he cooed when finally, you did as you were asked. Your chest rose and fell from your heavy breathing, and his flattened fingers rubbed over your sopping pussy lips. “Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

You shook your head, unable to muster the words. However, a near scream came from you as two of his long fingers plunged into your wet heat, which was practically screaming for relief, crooking them and seeking out your most sensitive bundle of nerves nestled inside your cunt. You needed no preparation at all, the sheer amount of slick staining the insides of your thighs a testimony to that. 

“Another time I’d very much like to do this with my cock buried deep into that tight little ass of yours, sluts like you always seem to squirt more when you fuck them there. What do you think?”

Before you even had a chance to answer, his hand wrapped itself around the column of your throat, fingers pressing into the blood flow and restricting your pulse. The action left you lost for an answer, all your other senses suddenly skyrocketing because of the light headedness. At that exact moment when the room began to spin, his fingers pumped ever fasted, and mixed with the aphrodisiac that had your entire body tingling with electricity you found yourself hurtling into your first orgasm. 

However, it seemed the prince was intent on finding your breaking point. A wicked smirk spread across his face as you writhed in his lap despite being held firmly down, eyes rolling back as the room spun and you felt yourself gush around his fingers with a scream. 

“That’s it! Good girl, soak my fingers, c’mon. I know you can come again for me.” 

His assault on your most sensitive spot didn’t stop, and your thighs trembled as he relented his grip, air filling your lungs once more. You weren’t sure if your first high even finished before a sudden overwhelming feeling of pleasure gripped you, and your bones melted as you climaxed and squirted again.

Thankfully he showed some mercy, allowing you to grind yourself on his fingers at your own pace. The last waves of your orgasm ebbed away as you moaned softly, but you were far from satisfied. No, if anything you were just getting warmed up. While his fingers had felt nice, you needed the deep feeling of his cock or you felt like you might die.

“Please. I want you, I need you to fuck me. Nothing else matters right now,” the sound of your voice was pure desperation. 

“Nothing else matters?” Seokjin drawled, pushing your hair to one shoulder. “I could do anything right now if it meant I gave you what you want?”

“Yes, anything. Anything!”

The first brush of his fangs against your throat had your racing heart stopping, but he was quick to pull away. 

He lifted your body like you weighed nothing, manoeuvring you with his inhuman strength. The tip of his already erect again cock brushed against your entrance between your slick, swollen folds, and he began easing in. If you weren’t already so worked up the stretch would surely have been painful, but your cunt easily took him inch by inch. He hadn’t even bottomed out before you gripped him tightly, trying to rock for some friction but he held you still. 

“Look at me,” he growled in your ear, and your gaze met his in the large mirror right as he bottomed out and the tip kissed your cervix. Despite his strength you still managed to squirm somewhat, whimpering at the pleasure his cock brought. He seemed to relax his hold on you a little, allowing you more freedom to move which you quickly took advantage of. 

“Oh f-fuck, Seokjin,” came your breathy whine. His face twisted in pleasure and he seemed to give in, shifting his large hands down to your hips to aid you in your grinding. Back and forth you moved, panting heavily, skin glistening in the golden light as Seokjin watched the way your soft breasts moved and your belly bulged slightly.

“Sit forward,” he half grunted, half moaned as he slumped back in the chair. His words barely registered with you until he tugged on your hips, using his strength to begin fucking you harder on his length. With a yelp at the sudden change in pace, you grabbed onto his knees and your eyes rolled back in your head, helpless to do anything but allow him to do as he pleased. “You have such pretty tits, I love watching them bounce as you take my cock so well.”

His words of praise had your toes curling, that building pleasure in your abdomen growing tenfold, and it only made you want to please him more. “I love it, I love having you fuck me like this. You can have me whenever you want!”

“How delectable you are. I ought to punish you for keeping yourself away from me. For letting others whom are not worthy sample your sweet nectar. But alas, it was only a matter of time before you gave yourself to me,” he moaned, sitting forward so his mouth was right up against the shell of your ear. “Now, your reward for being such a good girl.”

As fast as you could blink, one hand snaked up under your chin to hold you in place. His pillowy lips brushed the flesh of your neck, seeking out right where your pulse was strongest. For half a second you felt a sharp prick, terror momentarily gripping you as the tips of his fangs found their mark. Seokjin bit down into your flesh like butter, the razor-sharp incisors burying deep. However, there was no pain, only a deep warmth that bled through your neck from where he bit you.  Within seconds he began ever so gently moving his hips, his cock still buried inside you brushing against your g-spot. The warmth began spreading across your whole body, melting your bones and your cunt began throbbing, an orgasm building very quickly.

“Oh- Seokjin, I-” Before you could even finish the sentence it hit all over, making every muscle in your body quake with pleasure. Thankfully he was equipped with adequate strength to hold you in place, like the perfect predator he was.

It went on and on, your muscles quivering, your cunt quaking and your little pants and gasps filling the room as he swallowed mouthfuls of blood. 

“So sweet,” he gasped as he pulled away, finally giving you reprieve. “Delectable.” His plush lips were stained pink from the little drops of blood that had escaped, some even dripping down your shoulder as you twitched from the aftershocks. 

His hot tongue swiped over your skin, cleaning any spots of blood that had been left. A wave of sudden nausea washed over you and you slumped forward, luckily for Seokjin’s reflexes his arms wrapped around you before you fell.

“Do you want to stop?” He whispered with a sudden tender note, hands cradling you gently when you couldn’t hold yourself up.

“No! No...please. I just need a moment...m tired,” you mumbled, eyes drooping. 

“It’s normal, don’t worry. I have something that will make you feel better, here.” Gently he began easing you off his lap, his length beginning to slip out but you whined in protest. “You have to let me move princess, don’t worry. I’ll fill you up again in a moment.”

Somewhat pacified by his promise, you allowed yourself to be lifted and before you could blink you were sinking into the soft cushions of the chair. Your eyes slipped shut after Seokjin had vanished suddenly, and you heard him rummage around the room behind you. 

“Here,” he murmured, and you opened your eyes to see him kneeling in front of you. His hand tenderly cupped the back of your head as he pressed a glass to your lips. 

The liquid was delightfully warm, tasting of plum and spices and you hummed happily as you swallowed it down. He whispered little encouragements to you, tipping the cup when you needed until it was empty.

“Good girl. It happens to all humans after feeding, you’ll be fine in a moment.” With that he disappeared, perhaps getting himself a drink while you recovered. The potion was fairly quick to take effect, filling your tired muscles with a thrum of newfound energy. One that had your libido coming straight back from the lingering aphrodisiac in your veins. 

“I can keep going,” you told him, standing with an air of determination. Seokjin was quick to rush to your side again, steadying you when your legs wobbled a little. He arched a brow in question, not quite believing you. “Please, I don’t want you to stop.”

“If you say so.” He appeared behind you, drinking in every inch of your naked skin like he was ready to devour you all over again. Seokjin hooked his arm behind your elbows, pulling you flush to him and effectively pushing your chest forward. 

“You’ll have to stay on your toes, do you think you can do that little human?” His teeth grazed your earlobe as he whispered into your ear. Eagerly you nodded, standing on the balls of your feet, entire being thrumming with a newfound energy as you felt the tip of his cock brushing through your folds.

Once again he sought out your entrance, easily sinking back into your warmth and you whimpered at how deep he reached from this new angle. Immediately he set a brutal pace, loud slaps echoing about the room along with your cries and his low grunts.

“Please, harder! I don’t want you to be gentle.” Came your cry, attempting to drop down to meet each move of his pelvis. Only a feral snarl came from the vampire behind you, fulfilling your wish by now slamming himself into you.

With each thrust his hip bones dug into your ass cheeks and your breasts bounced. The thickness of his cock had you moaning like a whore each time it split your walls open, his tip kissing your cervix. The angle of his hips was expert, he was obviously an experienced lover but you didn’t expect him to be this good.

“Look at me. Who’s fucking you like this? Who?” He growled into your ear. 

“Seokjin!” You wailed as he once again speared you on his length. A sharp slap to your clit had you keening, rising to your tiptoes again from the sharp stab of pleasure. “Prince Seokjin!” You hastily corrected, his slight discipline also reminding you to keep your gaze on your reflexion. 

“Good girl. Such an eager little slut, so ready to serve your prince.” 

“Always. I’ll always be ready and willing for you to use me as you please. Oh! I’m gonna come again!” 

“Good girl. Fuck, you can really take it. Come for your prince,” he growled, hand snaking down to rub circles on your clit. 

Muscles tensing you shuddered, feeling the euphoric feeling wash over you once again as he fucked you through your high. If it weren’t for him holding you up, surely your legs would have given out from how much they shook. A sudden wave of tiredness washed over you, the potion’s effect exhausted and you slumped in Seokjin’s arms.

He pulled out and you moved suddenly with a whoosh of air, soft sheets underneath your stomach. Seokjin was on you again straight away, picking right back up where he left off and parting your thighs, you moaned at the sudden stretch as he buried his cock into your cunt once again.

 “M-gonna, fill you uh- up, fuck!” He panted, thrusts growing sloppy as he panted loudly on top of you. Leaving no room between your sticky bodies, he draped across you entirely, barely keeping his weight off you. It was strangely comforting, making your toes curl pleasantly in your post orgasm bliss as Seokjin shuddered above you. Heavenly moans and profanities spilled from lips as he came, warmth spilling inside you with a few last thrusts. Lazily you reached beneath you, rubbing circles into your throbbing, blood fattened nub to ride out the aftershocks of your orgasm.

Still panting, he leaned down to whisper something in your ear as you drifted off to sleep before disappearing like a shadow in the night. Spent and muscles aching, you laid on the soft sheets as the sun rose, his words finally sinking in.

“See you tomorrow night.”

[averyhappychainsawhalloween]

Reverence | Part 5

Thomas Hewitt X You

You could not avoid the screams. Footsteps thundered from above your head and screams rang through the house. You couldn’t stop hearing them and suddenly you felt drawn to them. You had seen Hoyt dispose of people before and Tommy drag them off. But they were quick. A bullet to the head and then gone, maybe with a twitch of their foot. This was something else entirely. 

Maybe it was the darkness in your heart that led you away from Thomas’ bed and up the basement stairs. The roar of the chainsaw grew louder and so did the screams. Horrible, blood curdling screams that brought goosebumps up on your skin. The hair on the back of your neck stood on end and still you moved, shoving the metal door of the basement aside and stepping out onto the first floor of the house. 

The front door was swung open and chainsaw marks notched in the wood of the doorframe leading to the living room on your right. A scream caught your attention and you turned just in time to see a boy coming at you. He was sweaty, wide-eyed, and absolutely horrified. His blue plaid shirt was torn open at his shoulder, his skin ragged and torn, spewing blood down his shirt sleeve. His arm hung useless at his side, too many nerves and tendons cut at the bone to do anything with. 

And much to your horror his good hand caught your wrist and started to pull you to the front door. You slapped at him, kicking at his shins and pulling from his grasp. 

“We have to get out now!” he said, tugging you towards the door. 

Time seemed to slow down. Your struggling limbs were stuck in molasses too slow and too weak to stop him from dragging you across the wood planks to the porch and world beyond. It was bright outside. A cheery sunny morning that seemed so out of place with the blood splattering across the floor. 

A chainsaw roared behind you, low and strange to your ears. You turned your head, looking over your shoulder at Tommy tearing out of the kitchen the chainsaw spewing smoke from its engine. He was large and beautiful and you wanted to kiss him despite everything that was happening. 

Your hand that wasn’t claimed by this stranger stopped its futile attempts to get him to let you go and reached back, reaching for Thomas. 

You opened your mouth to call to him but it ended up being unnecessary, he was coming for you even without your call. 

Time slid back to speed and Thomas tore across the entrance hall. The chainsaw screamed in your ears drowning out everything else as it came down on the young man’s arm that is still holding onto you. The blade ate through the bone sending blood and gore spewing everywhere. Pieces of skin slap against your cheek, blood coats your face and hair and at the end of it all you’re holding a severed hand, its fingers still curled around yours. 

You watched, in shock, as the young man falls against the door frame of the front door trying to cradle an arm that is no longer there. He’s screaming but you don’t hear it over the call of the chainsaw. Thomas doesn’t pause. He slips the blade into the boy’s stomach and more sinew and blood spew out as the man’s face contorts in pain. He’s shaking and twitching as the blade chews through his stomach, tears running down his face. Thomas pulls back, the chainsaw going silent and now you can hear this stranger’s cries. He slides down the wall, leaving a streak of crimson behind him, and falls to the floor his good arm grabbing at his middle trying to put himself back together. He’s screaming and crying and choking as blood bubbles up inside his throat. 

Luda Mae and Hoyt enter, standing beside you. You all watch as the man takes his last breath and dies at the threshold of the Hewitt home. 

You feel their eyes on you, looking for horror or fear but you don’t have any. You can’t have any if you ever plan on getting out. 

“Nice to meet ya,” you say, shaking the severed hand clutching yours. Hoyt breaks out into a large belly laugh and slaps your back sending the hand out of yours and tumbling across the floor.

“Damn girl, you’re something,” Hoyt says, shoving his thumbs under his belt. 

Thomas was kneeling in front of the body as if uncertain the man was dead. When he was satisfied he wasn’t getting up again he looked over at you, his blue eyes searching for something that you were determined to give him. 

“You were wonderful, Tommy,” you said smiling. The blood on your skin had begun to dry and it pulled at your flesh as you grinned. He made a noise, and stood up leaving his chainsaw behind and crossed to you. Without any warning Thomas slid his arms around you and yanked you up into the air in celebration. Of his killing a man or your acceptance of it you weren’t entirely sure but he was happy and you wanted to be happy too. 

He slung you around easily, your weight a second thought to his joy as he carried you around the room. Your hands slid down his arms, relishing the feeling of his muscles tense beneath the skin. He was strong and deadly and he was yours. 

“Put her down, Tommy, you’ll hurt her,” Luda Mae said, fear creeping into her voice. Tommy froze and set your feet on the floor but you kept your arms around him. 

“It’s okay, I trust Thomas,” you said to Luda Mae before looking up at him. You let your hand move from his shoulder to cup his cheek. 

“There’s no coming back from this, honey,” Luda Mae said, her lips falling into a firm line. Her eyes hard as if waiting for the trick but there was none. You weren’t lying. 

“I don’t want to come back from anything, ma’am,” you said with a smile. Thomas had a hand on your waist but it kept twitching as if he wasn’t sure he could touch you outside of the basement or not. His eyes were on Luda Mae looking for permission. She looked between the two of you before finally nodding. 

“Alright,” she said. “Tommy take him downstairs.” 

Thomas nodded and quickly went over to the body, grabbing it and throwing it over his shoulder. He started for the basement and you began to follow. Luda Mae placed a hand on your arm pausing your procession. 

“Not you,” Luda Mae said. “We need to clean up here.” 

Reluctantly, you stayed rooted in place and watched Thomas descend the stairs and pushed back every instinct that told you to follow. 

You followed Luda Mae who grabbed a metal bucket and a sponge and set you to work scrubbing the blood from the floor boards. While Hoyt and Luda Mae fixed the marks carved out of the wall, you were down on your hands and knees running the sponge over the wood. You had to put your whole back into it, scrubbing over and over to get the blood out of the wood. It had soaked deep into the grain and you weren’t sure if it ever was going to come out. 

By the time the floor looked normal the water bucket was tinged red and the sun was low in the sky. Hoyt had clumsily put fillers in the marks and Luda Mae pressed fresh paint over it. It looked fine, but now that you had seen their quick fixes you were able to see all the different marks in the walls that had previously been covered. 

You shuffled into the kitchen, a soreness setting into your back from the afternoon’s work. You dropped the bucket and threw the sponge into the sink. 

“Thank you dear,” Luda Mae said, and then paused giving you a good look. “You’re still covered in blood, honey. Head upstairs and wash all that off.” 

Tired, you nodded and started upstairs. Exhaustion had set into your limbs and the idea of a warm shower was extremely appealing. You grabbed fresh clothes from your room and headed to the bathroom. You grabbed a towel from the linen closet and started the shower waiting for the water to warm up.

You stood in front of the mirror, taking in your image. You were covered in blood, dried and crusty in your hair. You looked different now. Hungrier, more dangerous. Gone was the girl who curled up in the back of the van focused on a cheap novel about fake love to tune out the words of everyone else. 

You liked this person in the mirror. This stronger version of you that had seen darkness and lived through it- lived with it. 

You weren’t entirely sure you wanted to go back anymore. To the life with rent and bills always on your mind, where work was your life and the people in it were always at an arm’s length. Where the phone rang constantly and you had to be sweet and polite to everyone or else lose your paycheck and everything else. 

Why give up a miracle if you didn’t have to? 

The door creaked open and you watched Thomas step into the room. He looked at you, his hand lingering on the doorknob as if waiting for you to yell at him to leave.

You looked at this new you in the mirror and then back at the hulking man standing at the threshold. 

“Come in and lock the door.” 

[cora-vizsla]

Cabur Chapter 4

Rating: Explicit (18+)

Word Count: 3.7K+

Warnings: Playful butt smacks. Smut. Fluff. Like way more fluff than I imagined could be put in one chapter. 

AN: Here is the next chapter. I honestly have no idea when I can get back to this. This semester is going to be rough but I'll be writing as much as possible. Thank you so much for everyone who has been reading this. I appreciate you more than words can say <3

You woke the next morning laying on your stomach with a giant arm slung across your waist. You smiled to yourself. You really hadn’t figured that things would go that way with Paz. Even once the two of you had talked about riduurok it hadn’t occurred to you that it would be more than just an agreement for the sake of the tribe.

You rolled over, careful not to jostle his arm as much as possible. He pulled you closer, resting his head on top of your shoulder. You stifled a laugh and just enjoyed how warm he was.

You thought about what led up to you sleeping all night in his bed. The two of you had picked on each other way more often than that but maybe it was just building to the point where something needed to happen. Din had said you were either going to kill each other or fuck each other. You guessed that the latter was better.

Eventually you made to move off the bed, but his iron grip kept you in place. He started peppering kisses across your skin again until you stopped him with a kiss of your own. He hummed against your mouth and you felt his smile.

“Good morning, cyare.”

“Good morning, cyar’ika.”

“Hmm. I could wake up like this every morning.”

“I won’t argue with that. I really need to use the refresher though.”

He huffed but let you go. You went to stand up and silently gasped at how sore your legs were. You took a few steps and were able to find your helmet, slipping it on and turning on the night vision, careful not to look at him.

“Good thing this helmet helps me see or I’d trip. Stars Paz you left our armor everywhere.”

“I’m sorry should I have washed it before I took you to bed?”

You laughed and slipped out the door, rushing to the refresher to clean up. Once the door was shut you took the helmet off and caught your reflection in the mirror. You were absolutely covered in love bites and hickeys. You ran your fingers across them and shuddered. When you looked down you saw the ghost of his handprints on your hips that took up most of your waist. You took a quick shower which helped your sore muscles. Once you were done you wrapped the towel around yourself and slipped your helmet on. You set another towel out for him before opening the door.

“Do we need to go to the village or do we have time to-“

You turned to look at him, but he stopped speaking when he laid eyes on you. He was standing near the kitchen in nothing but his helmet and pants that sat low on his waist. You were eternally grateful for the helmet hiding the look on your face as you let your eyes wander all over his body.

“How.. uh.. how was your shower?”

“It was good. I was a bit sore, so the hot water felt good.”

You walked over to him and looked up, still holding the towel to your body.

“Sore? Now why would you be sore, cyare.”

His voice was playful, so you tilt your head to the side.

“Hmm. I wonder why that could be.”

You let the towel slip from your body and pool at your feet. You heard him inhale sharply as he looked at you. He traced his fingers down your neck softly and moved his hands to your hips.

“Liking what you see?”

He chuckled and gripped your waist tighter as he picked you up and set you on the counter. You hissed when your skin touched the cold below you but didn’t get a chance to focus for long. He pulled your legs apart at your knees and moved forward, so he was pressed against you.

“I very much so like seeing you so bare in front of me; covered in my marks. Wish I could have seen you last night all disheveled.”

“You’ll get to. I am to be your wife.”

You could hear the smile in his voice when he hummed and pulled you closer against him.

“I like the sound of you being mine.”

“Possessive, are we?”

“Only for beautiful women who make the most sinful noises when I’m buried in them.”

You laughed and felt the heat hit your face.

“Oh, so now I need to be worried about all these beautiful women you run into.”

“I’ve never in my days-“

“Those are a lot of days.”

“Shut up.”

You laughed and he cupped the sides of your helmet affectionately.

“Like I was saying before I was rudely interrupted; I’ve never in my days seen a woman more beautiful than you.”

“You’re just-“

“I am not just saying it because you’re naked and I’m between your legs.”

You crossed your arms over your chest and looked up at him in defiance.

“And how do you know I’d say that?”

“Because I know you, cyare. I’ve been listening to you shit talk for a while.”

“Guess I need to change up then. Can’t let you get too comfortable.”

He chuckled and massaged your hips.

“I’m okay with that. Do we need to go to the village for anything today?”

“No. If they needed something a message would have been brought by now. They try to leave me alone a day or two a week cycle.”

“Why don’t we take a walk to my ship. I don’t have any comms other than that, so I wanted to check it and grab some more of my things.”

“Okay. Go hop in the shower and I’ll get ready. Good thing our armor is different colors, or I’d never be able to sort through it the way its tossed on your floor.”

“Cyare my armor makes yours look like pieces of scrap metal. It wouldn’t be hard to figure out.”

You playfully slapped at his chest and pushed him so you could slip off the counter. He ran his hands up and down your sides a few times before bumping his forehead to yours.

“I’ll be out soon.”

You smiled fully and hoped he was too. You were starting to catch yourself smiling more often and you hoped that wouldn’t change.

---

The walk to his ship wasn’t very long but you took your time. After spending so much time on desert planets, the greenery was exceptionally beautiful to you. It always filled you with awe seeing how everything found a way to grow no matter how much shade or crowding there was. Whereas Paz walked where was most convenient you always moved around things, especially smaller trees that were growing. Your reverence for life was unusual for someone trained to kill but Paz kept his eyes on you.

When a bird flew up in front of you, a small squeak came out of your mouth then you laughed fully. You watched it fly up into the trees and marveled how the light shone through the thick overhead of leaves. You looked back down and saw Paz was staring at you. You felt your face heat up realizing you had been acting childish.

“Sorry.”

You went to walk past him, but he grabbed your waist, pulling you into him.

“What are you sorry for?”

“I got distracted. I know you probably want to just get to your ship.”

“No, cayre. It hardly would have mattered what we did today just as long as I get to spend time with you. I like seeing you this way.”

“Being childish?”

“Full of so much life. You see the world differently than I do. I can’t even see your face, yet I can tell how much you love the forest. You look out for the small things just as much as you’re in awe of things bigger than you. You’re usually so guarded and shut off. Thank you for letting me see this part of you.”

Your face was positively on fire by the time he was done speaking.

“I just know that warriors-“

“Are allowed to hold onto who they are. If we were hunting or being hunted then perhaps I may be annoyed, but I think I would more so be distracted by just how beautiful you are.”

“Stop.”

“Nope.”

He let go of you and started walking. You looked over at him and shook your head. Paz was a brute of a man and his personality generally matched it. You wondered if Din knew just how soft and compassionate he could be but laughed at the thought.

“What’s so funny, mesh’la?”

“Just thinking about Din seeing you being so kind to me.”

“Oh, that’s funny?”

“Just Din seeing you do anything but yell and throw fists is funny to me.”

He hummed and suddenly pounced, grabbing you by the waist and tossing you over his shoulder. You screamed out a laugh and smacked at his back plate a few times. He rumbled out a laugh and carried you like you were nothing in his arms.

“Let me down!”

“Give me a good reason.”

“Because I’m going to be your wife.”

“Not yet. Try again.”

“Because you want to do anything to make me happy?”

He jostled you which only made you laugh again.

“You don’t sound unhappy. Try again.”

You huffed and propped your elbow up on his shoulder so you could rest your chin in your hand. You realized that you were pouting but you hardly cared. You were snapped out of your thoughts with a sharp slap to your ass. You gasped and tried to turn to look at him, but he tightened his arm on you.

“I told you to give me a good reason. Pouting isn’t a good reason.”

“You slapped me!”

“And I’ll do it again. Try again.”

He was trying to sound menacing but there was no part of you that thought he actually wanted to hurt you.

“Because it will deplete your energy carrying around dead weight.”

“Are you saying I’m not strong enough?”

“No! Stars don’t take it that way.”

“Try. Again.”

You smirked when your plan came into place.

“Because I’d rather be wrapped around your waist than tossed over your shoulder.”

He stopped dead in his tracks and pulled you, yanking you to his chest. You wrapped your legs around him and laughed.

“Is that so?”

“Does it matter? I got what I wanted either way.”

He growled and set you on your feet.

“I guess you didn’t learn last night that being a brat won’t get you far with me.”

You walked away from him, a bounce in your step. Once you were able to get a few steps away from him you looked to the side, looking at him from the corner of your eyes.

“I don’t know, Paz. It got me right into your bed, didn’t it?”

His steps faltered, followed by a few moments of silence.

“Cabur?”

“Yes?”

“Just wait until we get to the ship.”

---

The rest of the trip was spent laughing and pointing out different things in the forest. He pressed buttons on his bracer once you reached the ship. You looked it over and heard him shuffle.

“It’s not the newest ship.”

“Better than Din’s piece of shit Razor Crest.”

Paz barked out a laugh so you shrugged.

“I mean I’m not wrong. I feel bad his poor ad’ika is flying in that thing.”

“He takes good care of it at least.”

“That he does. It would need to be blown up for him to give up on it.”

Paz nodded and walked inside heading right for the cockpit. You walked to the side and touched the large weapon he always wore into a fight. It almost looked like a flamethrower, but you knew better. Flames would feel better than the straight lava that was thrown out of it. When you heard the ship hum to life you walked up to where he was sitting.

“Any messages?”

“A few from the Armorer as she moves. Not as many perished as we thought.”

“What happened then?”

“They just left. Took their armor off and left it behind.”

“Oh.”

You leaned over the back of the chair and loosely wrapped your arm around the upper part of his chest. He brought his left hand up and put it on your arm while his other hand flipped through messages.

“Looks like this is still the safest place for us. At least for the time being.”

You nodded and looked up to see the sky was starting to darken.

“Nighttime already.”

“Time flies when you’re having fun, mesh’la.”

“I guess so.”

You moved back as he stood. He took your hand and led you to the upper hatch.

“Go up there and sit. I have some rations we can eat.”

With a nod you pulled yourself up, easily climbing on top of his ship. You could hear him rummaging around but you were more focused on the forest. You were honestly relieved that the tribe hadn’t settled. You didn’t want to leave what was now your home, but you would have if it meant going with Paz.

“Here.”

You turned to see Paz handing you a ration bar. He shifted himself through the hatch and you held back a laugh at how hard it was for him to fit. Without his armor he would have made it easily but the beskar made him even more bulky. He sat down next to you and set the ration down on the other side.

“We can head back after we eat if you’d like.”

“Doesn’t matter to me. I usually spend a lot of time outside even at night.”

He shifted his body so he could put his hand on your shoulder piece.

“Why don’t you have a signet?”

“My clan never took one.”

“You could have chosen your own.”

“I never took pride in killing anything. Nor was I out doing anything after being given my title long enough to earn anything.”

“Would you.. will you take my signet?”

“The mythosaur?”

He nodded once.

“I didn’t earn that.”

“Neither did I. I was born into the family, so I adapted it to keep the Vizla clan alive. As my riduur you would be part of the Vizla clan. Din decided to break out on his own so it’s all on me now.”

“It would be an honor to wear your signet, Paz.”

“I can either have the Armorer make you new pieces or add them to what you have. Whatever you end up wanting.”

“We can decide that together. I want you to have a say in how your signet looks.”

Paz started moving his hand around and you tilted your head to the side. You hadn’t even noticed he had anything when he came up.

“It’s going to take time to get to her with everything going on. This was my biur’s. It was given to her when she became part of the clan. She wore it until the day she went on her final journey.”

He placed a mythosaur pendent in your hand. It was attached to a sturdy chain and felt heavier than you expected it to.

“Is this beskar?”

He nodded and watched you run your gloved fingers over it.

“It’s beautiful, Paz. Are.. are you sure you want to give this to me? This means so much to you and even just the metal alone I-”

“I am sure. I’ve held it with me hoping that one day I would add someone to my clan worthy of wearing it.”

Again, you were grateful for your helmet because there was no way you were holding the tears back.

“Thank you. I wish I had something to give you. I don’t.. I don’t feel worthy of any of this. You saved my life and now you’re being sucked into a marriage out of guilt and gi-“

Your voice cracked and Paz moved quickly so he was directly in front of you. He closed his hands around yours holding the pendant. His hands were so big that you could barely see your own. You took a steadying breath before speaking again.

“You’re giving me a pendant that means more to me than I have ever meant to anyone. You’re giving me a proud clan and a riduur that is strong. I have nothing to give you in return.”

“You’re giving me a chance to carry on with this clan. You’re giving me a strong riduur that would fight wars by my side. You’re giving me a reason to wake up in the morning beyond fighting. Our story didn’t start in the most peaceful or beautiful way, but I am determined to make it end that way. I feel no obligation to marry you. I want to be by your side because that is where I belong until we take our final journey.”

He pressed his helmet to yours and you sniffled.

“Cyare, my biur would have loved you and welcomed you with so much pride. Any clan would be lucky to have you join them.”

“I will forever be the lucky one. You can’t change my mind on that.”

“I will spend the rest of our lives trying to.”

You smiled and shut your eyes as the last tears fell down your face. The air around you felt free and light at his confession. It didn’t feel forced or overwhelming. It just felt right. So, when Paz started speaking you spoke with him, sure of everything you were saying. Nothing had ever felt so right to you.

“Mhi solus tome.

Mhi solus dar'tome.

Mhi me'dinui an.

Mhi ba'juri verde.”

Once you were done speaking, you both reached up to each other’s helmets and gently pulled them off. You felt your hair fall from the helmet, but you were far too concerned about the face finally looking back at you. You set his helmed down on your lap and put your hands on his face. He had the most beautiful hazel eyes you had ever seen. You had an idea that he had a strong jaw line but was blown away by what you were seeing. He smiled at you and you felt yourself break out in a grin as well.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were handsome?”

He chuckled and leaned into your touch.

“Would it have gotten you to share vows with me sooner?”

You smirked.

“Perhaps.”

He growled playfully and yanked you forward so you were straddling him. You looked up at him, finally able to look him in the eyes.

“You are much more beautiful when you aren’t dying.”

You giggled and he kissed you. You tossed your arms around his neck and his hands moved to your hips, holding you as close as your armor would let you be. The two of you kissed like your life was depending on it; the only way you could possibly survive was to have your lips working with his. When you finally pulled away your chest was heaving, and you smiled to see his was too.

“I’m glad you came to find me.”

“Me too, riduur. Now you will never be alone again.”

He pressed his forehead to yours and you smiled at it finally being flesh instead of a helmet. The two of you held onto each other, reveling in the closeness and belonging you both felt. It was crazy to you how everything had started but you were so happy it had. He was right. You weren't going to be alone, and neither was he.

---

It seemed like you had been in his arms your entire life. Nothing about it felt strange or awkward. When he slipped on the pendant the weight of it felt perfect. It would be a constant reminder of your promise to him and the history of his clan that you would always try to live up to. He had given you so much and you wanted to return that to him somehow.

The air was cold on your bare flesh but the heat between your bodies was making up for it. Both of you had taken your time pulling off your armor until there was nothing left to remove. When he pushed you gently onto your back you smiled when your skin met fabric instead of cold metal.

When he moved so he was hovering over you, you let your hands gently trace down his chest. He watched you intently while you tried to learn every inch of his body. You looked back up at him and he kissed you, consuming you entirely. You moaned softly as you felt him press into you, filling you entirely.

“You’re so beautiful. So perfect. Stars I never want to be anywhere else but right here.”

He started peppering kisses down your neck and gently moving in and out of you. He kissed down until he was right above the pendant that was laying against your bare chest.

“Look at you, laying below me wearing my signet. Fuck, mesh’la. How did I get so lucky?”

You looked into his eyes before he crashed his lips against you again. You held him close to you as he passionately made love to you. That’s the only way you could describe it. It was nothing like any other time had been to you. This was your riduur, your partner for life. No one else could ever hold you the way that he did, and no one would ever even get the chance to try.

He wrapped his arms around you and leaned back onto his knees, bringing you with him. Your legs wrapped around his waist as you two continued to move in harmony. One hand caged you against him and the other laced through your hair, tilting your head back so you were facing him.

“Look at me, cyare. Let me see you.”

You opened your eyes and looked into his. You saw so much love and adoration looking back at you. He continued to roll his hips up into you as the air was filled with your breathless moans. It all was overwhelming. His presence and the feelings washing between the two of you made tears prick at the corners of your eyes. He kept kissing you and pulling away to look at your face.

“Stars, Paz.”

“Yes. Come undone for me. Let me see you. Let me see all of you, my beautiful riduur. Cum for me.”

He hit the perfect spot inside of you, and you cried out when your orgasm washed over you. Paz groaned in response and held onto you tighter as he started pounding into you, chasing his own release. He kissed you as he came deep in you and held you close to him. You both were panting, desperate to pull more air in. Once he set you onto your back and laid next to you, he turned you so he could look at your face again.

“Gar cuyir ner yaim, mesh'la, ni kar'tayl gar darasuum.”

You cuddled into his chest and he took your hands in his, gently kissing your knuckles.

“I love you too, Paz Vizla. From now until the end of time.”

—-

Translation for last sentence- “you are my home, beautiful, I love you.”

[hankwritten]

The Weight of Other People’s Thoughts

Demoman/Soldier, 2k

Request for @lilythedragon05, Scotland

It was a bad idea to follow that tugging cord at the center of his being, the one that called him to Ullapool, and he never would have dared to entertain it if he knew it would have brought him here.

Jane sat by the ocean, stone’s throw from the town, but his distasteful frown kept his eyes locked firmly ahead instead of gazing dubiously at it. What had he been thinking? Coming to Ullapool had only make him feel worse, not better, a smirch against Tavish’s memory if there ever was one. Rubbing in Tavish’s face that he’d never go home again—and here Jane was, free to frolic across the whole damn planet, even if it took him to stupid countries ending in ‘land’.

He leaned further over his knees, barely feeling the sea breeze as he thought about his dead friend.

His murdered friend, he reminded himself. Murdered by someone who he thought he could trust, who now had to carry that guilt with him for the rest of his life.

Everywhere Jane looked it reminded him of Tavish. Maybe that’s why he’d come: self-flagellation. Appropriate punishment. Or maybe he was so desperate not to forget, he’d take the pain that came with remembering. Torturing himself truly, since he could look on the hills and surrounding coast that he had once only known through enthusiastic descriptions, see for himself the places where a young Tavish had played with dummy-grenades. He could imagine him talking to the local shopkeeps. He could practically see him walking up this very path, groceries in one hand, a newspaper filled with fried fish in the other as he took a large bite out of it-

Wait.

Tavish stopped dead, his face enveloped in utter shock. Still mid-chew, he said, “Jdra-ne?”

Jane leapt to his feet. “Apparition!” He pointed an accusing finger at the offending spirit. “Do not think for a second I will be cowed into repentance by the spectral manifestation of my guilt!”

Tavish nearly choked as he tried to swallow his bite of fish. “I…what?”

“Ghosts serve no purpose on my journey to recovery,” Jane continued. “Not even ones that look like my dead friend! Be gone creature of the other world!”

“What I- I’m not bloody dead.”

Jane squinted at him. He definitely didn’t look dead, totally opaque, no fettered chains representing his sins in life and his guilt over failing to help his fellow Man.

“…Are you sure?” Jane pressed.

“You’d think someone would know if they were dead,” Tavish grumbled poignantly, now glaring at Jane for some reason.

“I killed you though. It was-” -pickaxe right through the sternum, crushing, all the red bits coming out when they should have been in- “That was definitely fatal.”

“Aye, was, but I managed to limp my was back into Respawn range. Took a better part of an hour, but I made it.”

There was something odd to Tavish’s voice, something he wasn’t saying, but the realization that he might actually-seriously-really be alive was starting to set in and Jane was too afraid to believe it.

He took a step closer, past the bench he’d been enjoying his solitude at and completing a full circle around the Demoman. Tavish’s head followed him all the while, up until Jane came to a stop in front of him. “…Promise you are not a ghost?”

“I’m not a ghost,” Tavish said, as convincingly honest as he’d always been. Not that his acting skills hadn’t covered for his mendacity before-

-no, no that was a trick, it all turned out to be a lie a damn lie-

“Fine then. You’re not.” Though Jane would keep his eyes peeled for phantasmal anyway. “What the hell are you doing here then?”

“I live here,” Tavish huffed. “Gravel Wars are over, wasn’t going to spend the rest of my years in some blighted desert. Better question is what are you doing here, yank?”

Crap. Well, maybe a half-truth would suffice. “You always talked so much about Scotland I thought…” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I wanted to see what all the fuss was about.”

Tavish stood there, one hand still clasped around his groceries. The moment dragged on, vast seas of unsaid things between them, of regrets still festering, to which he ended with, “would you like me to show you around?”

Jane looked down, trying not to stare at his shoes but instead at the foreign soil around them. “…Sure. Why not.”

“Everything is incredibly vertical,” Jane complained as they climbed up yet another hill Tavish insisted was part of the journey.

“Aye, that’s why they call it the Highlands, BLU.”

Jane hated how fucking smug he sounded. Hated, and missed it all the same, missed how this bastard could set a fire in his gut just with one of his damn smiles.

“And there she is,” the Demoman said proudly as the crested the final ridge.

“Damn. Really went to crap in the last couple centuries.”

“Oi, don’t point fingers at me! I’ve only been around for forty of those.”

DeGroot Keep was shriveled and hunchbacked since Jane had last seen it, folding under its own legacy as ages had eaten the tallest spires first and chewed its way down to the cob. Still, he could just make out the choke points, the parapets, the places he used to go charging into with his mêlée weapon held high—all sanded down by the years, the vaguest memories of control points where a portal in time had briefly allowed Jane to witness their existence.

“So what,” he asked, following Tavish into the slight dip in the Highlands where the Keep nestled, “you live in here like some sort of anti-Italian?”

“An anti- what now?”

“Anti-Italians! Despises sun, allergic to garlic, doesn’t show up in mirrors, no sex life. Basic literary reference, RED.”

Tavish rolled his eye. “No, I’m not squatting in the dilapidated castle. Got a perfectly nice home down in the village, I just happen to have inherited this along with…all the other crap.” He waved his hand. “I’ve considered shelling out to having it restored but…dunno. Seeing it go from its heyday to this makes me think that in another couple hundred years it’ll just fall apart again.”

He sat on a piece of tumbled rock, one that used to hang over the Keep’s gate, a bright and shining keystone now used as a stool. Jane joined him.

“Don’t get much of this at home, do you? Old crap. Yer country’s still a wee babe you know, nothing’s even falling apart yet.”

“Incorrect!” Jane amended. “There are plenty of old things in America!”

“For last time lad, Thomas Edison wasn’t immortal, and he didn’t be build a second Shangri-La under Pennsylvania Avenue.”

“Your statements reveal both your ignorance and your compunction, but I was actually talking about mounds.”

“Mounds,” Tavish repeated dubiously.

“Yes! Mounds! Fourteen hundred years ago Americans were building ceremonial mounds in order to track celestial events! They look like animals from the top, lynx, bears, fish, all that crap. I used to walk next to this bird one every day on the way to school.”

Tavish blinked at him, tilting his head. “No offense Jane, but including Native people usually isn’t in your worldview. Where’d you even learn all ‘o that?”

“My mother taught me, so think insinuating more cyclops—lest you show disrespect against her memory and I am forced to take out your other socket!”

Tavish raised his hands defensively, but there was a smile creeping at the corner. “Alright, alright, I get ye. A Mum’s honor is a serious thing.”

“Hm. Good.” Jane glanced ahead, suddenly afraid of lapsing back into silence, as though Tavish would start to slip away from him if they did. “How is your mother?”

“Ah…she passed some years back.”

“…I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It’s alright.” Tavish paused. “I still see her sometimes.”

“Metaphorically or…?”

Tavish glanced at him, but then away just a quickly, as though frightened of what he might see. “I’d rather not talk about it, if that’s alright with you.” Instead, he stared ahead, the sun setting between its cradle within the mountains. “Heh. At least there’s something that’s the same no matter where you go. Always a sunset.”

“Guess so.”

Still, Jane found he liked this one better than the ones back home. At least, better than all the ones he’d seen before he’d met Tavish.

The next day was spent in the village, and Jane couldn’t help but yearn for more of Tavish’s time, more of his attention. His friend. His friend who was still alive. Tavish had a kind word for every person they passed, all of whom didn’t seem to notice Jane at all, simply starting up a conversation with their fellow local and submitting to the rhythm of the morning. Breakfast was some sort of potato scone, but Jane wasn’t hungry, so he just walked beside Tavish as the other man ate. They found themselves at the same bench where they’d first run into each other.

“So,” Tavish asked. “Ullapool everything you thought it would be?”

“Hm. It’s…nice. It is obviously not perfect for geographical reasons entirely outside of its control, but. I understand how it made you the man you are.”

“Me? Nah.” Tavish wiped off his mouth with his sleeve. “I made myself like this.”

Again, he wouldn’t look at Jane, wouldn’t say what they were both thinking. That things had gone wrong, that they had both fucked up. One of them more than the other, but Jane had found him again, and maybe they could still figure something out, still have time to unearth all that they had deemed too dangerous and buried in the sand.

Jane reached forward, and put his hand over where Tavish’s was resting on the bench.

And watched it pass straight through.

Jane sprang away. “I knew it! I knew you were a ghost!”

Likewise, Tavish stood up sharply. “I am not. I bloody told you I was’t.”

“Liar! I will not be swayed by any more perjury from your ethereal mouth!”

“I’m not lying!” Tavish snarled at him, his eye dark and narrowed, burning hotter than the words would imply. “I never lied. I never wanted any of-”

“Blasphemy!”

“Would you just listen for-!”

“You cannot guilt me apparition! For I know that-”

“Shut up! Just fucking shut up!” Tavish’s fist closed around the neck of his scrumpy bottle, half drained before noon, and threw it full force at Jane’s head.

Jane raised an arm to block the incoming blow, but the impact never arrived. A second ticked by, then two, then three, and slowly he lowered his forearm to reveal the panting Demoman behind it, shoulders heaving and an inscrutable expression tearing across his features.

“How’s that for the truth you bleeding idiot,” he said.

Jane looked to Tavish, then rotated his neck slowly, staring at the bottle that had landed in the grass behind him. He blinked, willing what he was looking at to make sense, to suddenly disappear and go back to where things were a second ago. To believe he hadn’t seen that bottle connected with his own nose.

There was something he didn’t want to do, but he did it anyway, turning his gaze forward inch by agonizing inch, staring down at his own hands. Fully taking how translucent they were.

The moment shattered, Tavish tore his eye away. “Fuck. Fuck I’m sorry. I shouldn’t’ve…”

Jane was still looking at his hands. There was panic, deep and overwhelming rising within him, but there was no raised pulse to accompany it, no sweat on the back of his neck.

He lifted his chin to Tavish. “What? I don’t…”

“I didn’t die,” Tavish said thickly. “You did. I killed you and I walked off and you just bled out for who knows how long and-”

-the pickaxe but also a sword, just as deadly buried two feet into his chest and the man above him trying to shove it in a few extra inches, strangled screaming as it pushed deeper-

Jane hadn’t been paying attention to the last half of Tavish’s muttered confession. The Demoman was crying now, pawing furiously at his one lone eye as stared out valley below them, looking anywhere but at Jane as his sclera turned red.

“I’m sorry,” he sputtered. “Christ Jane I’m so fucking sorry. If you came to haunt me or whatever I just- I just want you to know that you can’t hate me more than I hate myself. That it’s been killing me every day since.”

He collapsed on the bench, curling away from Jane as he buried his face in his hands.

It could have been some sort of trick. A ghost bottle or…no Jane wouldn’t even try. He attempted to remember what flight he had come in on but couldn’t. He grasped for how many years since the Gravel Wars had ended, and couldn’t find the answer.

Jane was a ghost, yet everything still hurt as much as it had when he had lived. Immaterial, and he still so badly wanted to touch Tavish’s hand.

He sat on the bench next to him. “I didn’t come to make you feel bad, Tavish.”

“Then why did you come?” It sounded like it was meant to be venomous, but instead it only sounded empty—empty and wet with tears, like a plastic bag trampled into a puddle.

Jane looked down at his hands. His useless, ghost hands that he could still knit together. “I…I wanted to see you,” he said truthfully. “I missed you.”

Tavish looked at him, bleary-eyed. He whispered, “I missed you too. So damn much.”

“Whatever I was doing before, I missed you enough to come here. To someplace I thought you would be.”

A panicked jolt crossed Tavish’s face. “You’re not leaving, are you?” The same man who a moment ago thought Jane had come to smother him with guilt was despondent at the idea that Jane might go after all, that he wouldn’t get a chance to hurt himself with his own regret anymore.

“No, no not yet,” Jane said. He tried his best to wrap and arm around Tavish’s shoulder. The mortal shivered where their skin met.

“Okay,” Tavish said quietly. “Okay. Good. Thank you. I don’t think I can…When I saw you sitting up here I couldn’t believe it could be fore something good. That the only reason you’d want to haunt me would be because you hated me.”

“I don’t hate you.”

It was true. Even though he remembered now, remember lying there, thinking how they’d killed each other, Jane had only ever hated the man who’d believed the TV’s lies.

“I really did come because I was thinking of you. Missing you.” Jane paused. “Today was fun. I’m sure you have a lot of other places to show me, right private?”

“…Sure. Sure whatever you want.” Tavish wiped at his nose. “I’m sorry Jane.”

“It’s alright Tavish.” He held his head in the crook of Tavish’s neck. “I’m sorry too.”

[noladyme]

La Cuervo - Chapter 21

She is used to the biker-life, having grown into a woman in the familiar embrace of SAMCRO. A bad decision and a gun-shot later, she gets whisked off to Santo Padre, and put under the protection of another club. What is supposed to be a short stint in the Mayan headquarters just north of the border to Mexico, turns into something more; when la quervo begins to develop feelings for el angel - and he seems to return them in kind...

TW: violence, blood, drug use, alcohol, smut, fluff, angst

In the spirit of "The Crown Princess of Charming", this is a story about O.C. Nina and Angel Reyes. It is obviously non-canon, as characters who have passed on, on Mayans M.C., are present in it, and others have been excluded completely. Nina is written as a cis-female, but I have tried to keep her race and looks as ambigous as possible. Should you find any of this story offensive, please let me know.

21.

“The bullet only graced her leg; but the wound was still deep enough for her to need crutches for a little while. Do you know of any pre-existing medical conditions?”. The doctor was explaining Nina’s condition to Angel. Nina was annoyed at how he seemed to think the curtain separating him and Angel from her and the other patients, was a wall; that would keep their conversation private. “She’s got asthma”, Angel replied. He sounded tired and angry. “That shouldn’t come in the way of her recovering fully… Not physically at least”. “What do you mean?”. “She is in chock. What she just went through did a number on her”, the doctor said. “We offered her a sedative, but she wouldn’t let us come near her with the needle. The nurse had to hold her down for me to apply the local anesthetic, to stitch her up; and she refused to let us do any blood tests, before we swore you were just outside”.

Nina shifted in the bed. Her leg was burning with pain, and all she wanted was to be far away from where she was. “You should have let me in there with her!”, Angel growled. He was clearly unhappy with Nina being prodded with needles against her will. “It’s against protocol…”. “Fuck protocol!”, Angel exclaimed. “And what fucking blood tests?”. “Sir; there are other patients here! You need to keep it down…”, the doctor said. “What blood tests?”, Angel demanded. “The woman who shot herself bit her. We’re checking for hepatitis B and C, and rabies…”. “Rabies? She’s not a fucking dog!”, Angel almost roared. “Just let me see her…”.

He opened the curtain, and met Nina’s eyes; trying for a warm smile, and failing miserably. “Hey mami… Have you been giving the doc a hard time?”. He came over to take her hand, and kissed the top of her head; before looking her over. “Why haven’t you cleaned her up?”, he asked the doctor. Nina was wearing a hospital gown, having been wrestled out of her own clothes, for the police to put it into evidence bags. She was still covered in blood-specks everywhere but her stitched and bandaged calf, and the around the bite wound on her arm; which had been covered by a band-aid. The doctor sighed defeatedly. “Look, I have about fifty sick and wounded people to tend to within the next thirty minutes; and my nurses are short staffed”, he said, and edge to his voice. “We have to help those who need us the most; and we can’t spend time washing down a patient who won’t cooperate”.

Nina tightened her hold on Angel’s hand. “I wanna go home”, she whispered. The doctor looked at her, as if startled that she could in fact speak. “Miss Teller, you should stay the…”. “Angel, take me home!”, Nina demanded. Angel nodded at her; letting the furrow between his brows speak for him. He put an arm behind her back, to help her sit, and grabbed her shoes from a bag on the floor.

“Mr. Reyes; Nina needs the care we can provide for her here”, the doctor said. “She’s not staying in this shithole. You wouldn’t even give her a private room”, Angel growled, and helped Nina put on her shoes. He let his hand hover over the bandage on her leg for a second. “We’re out”. “What about after care? Pain medication?”. “I know how to deal with bullet-wounds”, Angel said. The doctor gave him a displeased once over. “I’m sure you do…”, he grunted. He sighed defeatedly. “Ok… But I’m going to need you to sign some discharge papers, Miss Teller; stating you’re leaving against my recommendations”. Angel wrapped the blanket from the bed around Nina, to cover her naked backside. His movements were gentle but brusque. “Leave it by the desk. We’ll handle it”, he said, and put his arm around Nina’s waist. “Let’s go…”. The doctor rushed away to get the paperwork ready, and Angel half supported, half carried Nina out into the hallway.

It looked like the entire charter of Mayans were gathered by the front desk. Nina didn’t have the energy to speak, and focused on not supporting her weight on her pained leg. “How are you, mija?”, Bishop asked. Angel shook his head. “They can’t do shit here… The doc stitched her up, but that’s pretty much it”, he said. “That fucking bitch could have killed her!”. “Don’t…”, Nina croaked. He looked down at her, and his expression softened. “I’m sorry, cuervo”, he muttered, and led her to sit down in a chair. A nurse came over with a clipboard of papers, and pointed at the places Nina needed to sign. With shaking hands, she scribbled some intelligible doodles; and handed the board back. “Come back if you experience any unexpected pain”, the nurse said. “What, from her gun-wound?”, Gilly asked with a raised brow. The nurse scuttered off with a displeased look on her face.

“I’ve got the van outside”, EZ said, and looked at Nina with a worried expression. “But are you sure…?”. “I want to go home…”, Nina said bellow her breath. “Please”. Angel ran a hand through his hair, and shook his head. “The fucking exterminator… We can’t go back to ours until tonight”, he groaned. “The clubhouse is crawling with cops”, Gilly said. “Take her to mine. We got you, niña”, Coco said, and he and Angel got on either side of her; to help her get to her feet. More or less carrying her outside, the two men got her out to the van, and into the middle passenger seat. They flanked her, with Coco behind the wheel, and Angel letting Nina rest against him. She heard the other Mayans start up their bikes behind the van, and they drove away from the hospital. Looking out of the van’s windows, she noticed Hank and Taza drove up alongside them, and Bishop went up to front the caravan. They were in protection mode.

---

The Mayans were gathered on the small porch outside Coco’s house. Nina could hear them muttering and arguing quietly, as she sat holding her mug of steaming instant coffee. “Fuck! What the fuck are we going to do? We don’t have a switch!”, Bishop growled. “Keep it down, Bish’. She’s right inside”, Taza grumbled. “At least she took out our rat”, Riz said. “She didn’t kill her… Camille killed herself”, Taza said. “Fucking bitch…”, Creeper grunted. A muttering of agreements was heard.

Nina took a sip of the coffee, and picked at her broken nail. The pain from it, the bite, and the gun wound on her leg distracted her from the visions she was seeing every time she closed her eyes. She’d killed another person; no matter what Taza said. If she hadn’t twisted Camille’s wrist, and the shot hadn’t hit her head, she would still be alive. And Nina would have been dead.

Letty walked quietly through the living room, shooting Nina a wary look, before opening the screen door. “Angel. I filled the tub”, she muttered. She heard Angel grunt a reply of thanks, before he came inside with Coco at his heels. “I’m gonna clean her up”, Angel muttered, and went over to help Nina up. “Come on, mami”. Coco led Letty down the hall, and muttered something about her going to stay at Gabby’s for the night. He was worried; all the Mayans were worried. With no snitch to hand over to Palo, they most likely had a war on their hands.

Angel supported Nina into the bathroom, set her down on the toilet lid, and closed the door behind them. Almost unable to move herself, Nina let Angel untie the strings of the hospital gown, and pull it off her. Letty had left a bundle of clothes by the sink for her. It looked like a mix of her own and Coco’s; as she probably didn’t know what would fit Nina. Once she was naked, Angel carefully helped Nina into the tub; with her leg hanging over the edge, to not get the bandage wet. He cupped some water in his hand, and began washing her gingerly. For a long while, they didn’t speak; neither of them able to find the words for what had just happened. Nina knew that Angel had probably taken a few lives himself – it came with the territory – but she wasn’t a killer. At least she wasn’t supposed to be.

She closed her eyes, and leaned back in the tub, emerging herself in the water. The water filled her ears, and the world went silent for a few seconds. Closing her eyes, Nina tried to let calm fall over her. The water was warm, and Angel’s soothing strokes down her arms, made her drift into something resembling peacefulness. Her foot knocked over a shampoo bottle, and it fell into the tub with a clanking noise, that sounded like am explosion in Nina’s ears. It all came back again. The gunshot. Camille’s eyes. Gael’s eyes. The red mist of blood and brain matter. Death. It felt like arms were trying to hold her down – drowning her – and she let out a scream under the water; frantically grabbing for anything to get back to the surface.

Angel’s strong arms wrapped around her, and quickly pulled her out of the water; and onto the floor, where she sat shaking in his arms. “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to… please…”, she coughed and sobbed. Angel held her tight, and rocked her back and forth. “You’re ok… No one is gonna hurt you". “No, because I killed them… Everything I touch, dies”. “That’s not true…”. “Gael… Daniella… Camille… Jax…”. Her stomach was hurting from the muscles contorting as she sobbed. “You didn’t kill your brother, Nina…”, Angel said, burying his fingers in her hair. “Maybe if I’d done something…”.

With both hands on either side of her head, Angel made Nina look at him. “You didn’t do anything wrong…! You just survived”. He grabbed a towel, and began gently drying her off. After a while, he sighed. “I’m so sorry, querida. This was on us… on me”, he said. Nina met his eyes for a nanosecond, afraid to see her own reflection in them. “No. I killed her…”, she breathed. “I’ve murdered two people”. “No… No, cuervo”, Angel said. “You protected yourself from a monster, and you forced the hand on a crazy bitch, who was about to get herself killed anyway… You did nothing wrong”. “Then why do I feel like I deserve as much as I gave?”, Nina rasped. Angel cupped her face, and made her look at him. “Because you’re too good for this fucked up world”, he said. He put his forehead against hers for a second, before hissing her temple. “Te amo… so fucking much. If she’d taken you away from me…”. He seemed unable to finish the sentence, and simply held her close for a few more moments, before getting to his feet, and pulling the plug in the tub.

“It's time to end this shit. Were going to war with VM”, he grunted. Nina’s heart fell to her stomach, and she tried to stand; but slipped, and fell into Angel’s arms. “Don’t! Palo will kill you!”, Nina exclaimed, tears returning to her eyes. Angel wrapped his arms protectively around her, letting her lean on him. “This isn’t just about you, querida… We…”. “I don’t care! Please, Angel. I can’t lose you…”, Nina sobbed. Someone knocked on the door. “You ok in there?”, Coco asked. “We’re good. Be out in a minute”, Angel replied, before pressing his lips to Nina’s. “We have to finish this”. Unable to respond, Nina simply let him dress her in a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. She was shaking, and tears continuously streamed from her eyes. Angel wiped her cheeks, and pressed a soft kiss to her lips. “Come on”.

With her arm around Angel’s waist, she limped back into the living room. All the chairs in the house had been gathered in there, and the Mayans were seated down on them; making the room a makeshift templo. EZ hovered by the door, keeping his eyes on the street outside. He looked over his shoulder for a second, locking eyes with Nina. His gaze told her he wanted to say something, comfort her somehow, but now wasn’t the time. Angel led Nina back to the couch, to sit next to Coco. She let out a tiny yelp in pain, as her leg brushed against the coffee table, and Coco picked up a joint he’d apparently just rolled, and handed it to her. “For the pain, ma’”, he muttered, and lit it, as she put it to her lips. Taking a deep drag from the blunt, Nina instantly felt the dulling sensation of the marijuana stream through her body. Angel sat down next to her, and took her hand.

“First of all…”, Bishop began. “Nina, I’m sorry. From what I understand, what Camille did to you, didn’t have anything to do with you situation with Palo. We let her into our inner circle, and she… fuck… We let you get hurt”. “That’s not on you…”, Nina muttered. “Yes, it is", Bishop said. “I broke my promise that we’d keep you safe. We owe you". The rest of the Mayans nodded solemnly. “I… ok", Nina said quietly.

The president sat up straight in his seat, and lit a cigarette. “Ok… Let’s start with the good news”, he said. “Our rat is dead”. Nina had to swallow thickly, in spite of the cloud of calm the joint had left in her head. “Bad news is, we don’t have a switch”, Taza said. “And we don’t have anything to hold over Palo’s head”, Hank muttered. Taza looked at Nina. Their conversation about his secret returned to her, and she frowned at him just enough to let him know she still wanted him to keep quiet. “Let me talk to him”, Nina said. “He wants me; maybe I can…”. “No”, Angel said. Nina scowled at him for cutting her off. “I don’t want you getting killed over me! Just let me see him, and I’ll… I don’t know, apologize, or offer him a deal like I did with you”. Angel gave her a hard look. “You’re not going anywhere!”, he growled, and looked around at his brothers. “Even if Nina wasn’t here, Palo’s already fucked us over enough for us to go head-to-head with the Vato’s”, he said. “I agree”, Bishop said with a nod. “Bishop! Don’t do this!”, Nina exclaimed. “She’s got a point…”, Hank muttered. “Listen to the woman, Bishop. War doesn’t have to…”, Riz began. Bishop shook his head. “I’m done kissing Palo’s ass. Nina’s out of the equation from here on out. It’s war”. Angel nodded fervently. “War!”.

Nina took a final deep draw from the blunt. “I guess you don’t need me here, then”, she sneered, and got to her feet. “I’m gonna go sleep for about a hundred years; and if your dumb asses are still alive when I wake up, then yay… But I’m not holding my breath”. Bishop looked angrily at her. “I’m gonna chose to believe that’s the pain and the blunt talking”, he growled. “Shove it up your ass”, Nina sneered. “Coco, do you mind?”. “Letty’s room is down the hall to the right”, Coco muttered. “Follow the smell of hairspray”. Nina wanted to storm dramatically out of the room, but her wounded leg wouldn’t hold her weight, and she stumbled. Angel caught her, but she shrugged him off. Taza got up, and walked over to take her arm. “Come on, kid”, he said quietly, and led her down the short hallway, into the teenager’s room.

Nina sat down on the bed, and went to lean against the headboard. She wiped away a few stray tears. “I’m good. Thanks”, she said. Taza sat down on the edge of the bed. “You’re not… You’ve had too much happen to you to be ok”, he said. “And now, the man you love is walking into what will probably be certain death”. His words broke the fragile strings holding Nina together, and once again, she began sobbing. “I don’t want that… I don’t want any of you to get hurt for me!”. Taza scooted closer, and pulled her into his arms for a moment, before pulling back. “Nina, I love you; but you’re thinking a little too much about yourself at the moment”, he said. “Any one of those men out there would throw themselves in front of a moving car for you; but this war isn’t about your situation with Palo. They want war”. “Why?”, Nina croaked, and wiped her eyes. “Bishop and Angel are right. Palo’s overstepped our boundaries in more ways than one; and he needs to pay”. “So you’re behind this? You want war as well?”, Nina asked. Taza sighed. “No… I’ve seen Palo at his worst before… He’s a nightmare”, he said. “He’s not going to stop until every Mayan in the charter is dead, and then he’ll move on north; try to take out Oakland”. “Is Vatos Malditos really that strong a club?”. “They don’t fear death… And that makes them dangerous”.

They sat for a moment in silence, before Taza spoke again. “We know what needs to happen”. Nina’s eyes widened. “No, Taza; please!”. “I can finish this before it starts”, Taza said. “And I want to”. “What if they…?”. “I’m tired, sweetheart”. The VP squeezed her hand. “Every day I’m not being honest about who I am, I feel like I’m betraying both myself the man I loved”. Nina swallowed thickly. “You want to come out to the club”, she whispered. Taza nodded. “I’m afraid to… but by doing it now, I can avoid the people I love being killed in an unnecessary war. I have to”.

Nina took a deep breath, and then blew it out. The haze of the joint was already wearing off from the seriousness of the situation. “Do you want me to come with you?”, she asked. Taza smiled, and stroked her cheek. “No… This is something I have to do on my own”. He kissed her forehead, and got to his feet. “Whatever happens, just know that I think you’re one of the best things that has ever happened to this club”. Nina tried for a warm smile. “I love you, Taza”, she said. He winked at her, and left the room; closing the door behind him.

She laid back on the bed, letting herself accept the situation. A murmur of voices from the living room broke the silence. On one hand, she was happy she couldn’t clearly hear what was going on; on the other, she wanted to jump out of bed, and run after Taza – if only her leg would have carried her. She heard Taza speaking calmly, before being interrupted by Bishop; his voice a little more gruff. Taza continued speaking, before a group of voices rose. “You’re fucking kidding me!”, she heard Riz exclaim. Taza spoke again, being interrupted by Creeper’s voice. “… keep this from us?”, was all she could hear, before Angel cut him off. “… Nina in on this?”. Taza muttered something more, when Bishop growled. “… done!”. The president’s voice was cold. Taza spoke again, and then the door opened and closed. Nina heard a bike start up, and drive away.

She turned her back to the door, and fell back into tears. She didn’t know how long she cried, but in the end, she fell asleep.

---

When she woke, it was dark outside. The door to the hallway was slightly open, and a set of crutches were leaning against the wall by the bed. Nina sat up, and grabbed the crutches to get to her feet; before hobbling into the hallway, and went towards the living room. Coco was seated on the couch with a dazed expression, probably only partlydue to the blunt he was halfway through. Nina sat down on one of the empty chairs, and he handed her the joint. “How’s the pain?”, he asked. Nina took a huff of the blunt. “Better”, she said, unable to avoid chuckling, as the smoke left her lips again. Coco smiled at her. “Where is everyone?”. “Bish’, Riz and Hank are at the clubhouse; cleaning up after the cops. They brought the boy scout”. “Then I know who’s really doing the clean-up”, Nina said, and rolled her eyes. “Yeah… Angel’s grabbing food, and Gilly and Creeper went to Vicky’s”, Coco said. “Said they needed it”. Nina clenched her jaw, and braced herself. “Taza?”, she croaked. Coco reached for the blunt, and took a huff himself. “He left after he told us… Shit, I never knew”. “Are you going to… What are you going to do to him?”. Taking a last draw from the joint, Coco put it in the ashtray, to let it smolder. “I don’t know… We never had to deal with anything like this before”, he said. “What do you think should happen?”, Nina asked. Coco shrugged. “Taza’s a good VP. He kept a secret, but he hasn’t hurt anyone, or done something against our rules”. “He broke one rule”, Nina muttered. “It’s a fucked-up rule”, Coco grunted. Nina let a smile ghost her lips. “Taza can ride, and he can make decisions… That’s what I care about”.

Angel pulled up outside the house, and came in, carrying a large paper bag. He gave Nina a short smile. “You get some sleep?”, he asked. “Yeah… some”, she said. “I got burgers…”, Angel said, and put down the bag on the coffee table. “I went by the house, and opened the windows; but it still smells like shit in there”. “Letty’s out. Stay the night”, Coco said, and went to get beers from the fridge.

Angel sat down on the couch, and began unpacking the food. Realizing she hadn’t eaten all day, Nina’s stomach made an angry growl of hunger. “Woah…”, Angel said, and looked down at the blunt in the ashtray. “Munchies?”. “A little”, Nina admitted. “Are you ok?”. “Why wouldn’t I be?”, Angel asked. “Just… Everything that happened today, I guess…”, Nina began, before sighing, and shrugging. “What? You mean the part where my girl yelled at me, and then got shot?”, Angel said. “Or the part where I find out she’s been keeping secrets…”. He raised a brow at her, and Nina felt her cheeks burning. “It wasn’t my secret to share”, she muttered. “If you’re gonna fight, do it later”, Coco said, returning with three beers, and handing them out. “I’m hungry”.

They ate in silence, before Coco called it a night, and went to bed; tired as fuck, as he declared. Angel and Nina sat for a few moments more, avoiding each other’s gaze. “I couldn’t tell you…”, Nina finally said. “No, I get it”, Angel sighed. “It’s just… You kept this secret, that could have saved your life. And you didn’t let me help”. “That’s what you’re angry about?”. “I’m not angry, querida… I just wish you’d let me protect you”. “By hurting Taza?”, Nina asked. “I would have had his back!”, Angel said. “I knew that… At least I think I knew”. Nina shook her head defeatedly. “But if the rest of the club decides to punish him, you can’t stop that!”. Angel took the last sip of his beer, and began clearing the table. “We’re not letting that happen”, he muttered. “Who?”, Nina asked. “Me… Coco and Gilly… you”. He gave her a warm smile, and went to throw away the trash.

Nina got to her feet, and with the help of her crutches, she followed him into the kitchen. “How did everyone else take it?”, she asked, leaning against the doorway. “Riz and Creep are pissed Taza didn’t tell the club a secret that could save us from war. Tranq is… Tranq. He doesn’t let anyone know what he feels until he’s sure about it himself. And Bish’… I can’t read the man”. “But you’re behind Taza…”. “Yeah”. He came over, and gave her a short kiss. “Thank you”, Nina said. “For what?”, Angel asked. “For being… you”, she smiled.

Letting Nina support her weight against him, Angel led Nina back into Letty’s bedroom; carrying her crutches for her. She winced a bit, when she accidentally stepped down on her bad leg, and Angel frowned. He closed the door, and helped her get in to bed, before shedding his cut, and climbing in with her. “You gonna sleep in your jeans?”, Nina asked. “If I take them off, you’ll just start getting ideas…”, Angel smirked. “I got shot today, just before being drenched in another woman’s blood… And, we’re lying in a bed under a poster of Zac Effron. I think I can gird my loins”, Nina said with a scowl. “Maybe I can’t”, Angel whispered, and pulled her into his arms. He accidentally bumped against her leg, and Nina let out a small yelp. “Fuck. Are you ok? I’m so sorry!”, Angel exclaimed. “I’m ok…”, Nina whimpered. “Just don’t touch it”. “I’ll get you some drugs tomorrow. The good kind”, Angel promised. Nina chuckled, and pressed a kiss to his lips.

Thinking about the day after, she suddenly frowned. “What’s wrong, cuervo?”, Angel asked. “Tomorrow… What’s gonna happen?”, Nina said. “Clubwide lockdown…”, Angel sighed. “I’m taking you back to the house in the morning, to get your stuff. Coco’s gonna go with us, as an extra gun; but after that it’s back to the clubhouse”. “And then what?”. She felt herself starting to shiver, and Angel gingerly pulled her closer. “We called in backup. Bishop met with Alvarez today; and Oakland is coming down to back us up if needed”. “SAMCRO?”, Nina whispered. “What do you think?”, Angel smiled. “SAMDINO too… Don’t run away with Packer”. She pinched the skin of his arm playfully. “Ow!”. “So you’ll have the numbers… You might not even have to use Taza’s secret”, Nina said; ignoring his exclamation of pain. “We don’t know Palo’s numbers yet… VM has grown since Taza’s day”, Angel said. “We gotta be ready for a fight”.

Nina sighed, and put an arm across Angel’s chest; burrowing against him. “After this morning… I’m so sorry I got so angry…”. “Nah, I had it coming", Angel said. “I said some stupid shit… That could have been the last thing I ever said, before I lost you…”. “I did leave you; I fucked up so bad…”. “We’re past that, querida. I shouldn’t have brought it up…”. Angel brushed his thumb over her cheekbone. “But you were right. I should have found a better way… And now you’re going up against Palo, and you might not make it…”. “Nina…” Nina continued, unable to control her panicked breathing. “I’m gonna lose you! He’s not gonna stop until you’re all…”. “Nina, stop!”, Angel said. Nina felt her lungs beginning to close up, and she took a few heaving breaths. Her anxiety worsened, when she realized she didn’t have her inhaler. Angel dug it out of his own pocket, and pressed the button on the top, before holding it to her lips. Breathing in the powder, Nina felt her breathing return to normal, and Angel put away her inhaler again. “You have to relax, ma'. You’ve been through too much today". Wiping her eyes for her, he kissed her forehead. “I can’t lose you…”, she whispered. Angel looked deep into her eyes. “I’m gonna do whatever I have to, to get back to you”, he said, and kissed the top of her head. “I love you”. “I love you too”.

Tilting her head, Nina sought out Angel’s lips, and breathed him in, in a deep kiss. Angel carefully lifted her knee, to let her leg rest over his. She craved his closeness, needed him near her, more than ever; for fear that it would be the last night she’d get to sleep in his arms. Angel soothingly brushed his fingers up and down her lower arm. “I can’t deal with any more death…”, Nina said. Suddenly, without even knowing it herself, she’d made a decision. “I want to see Palo”. Angel’s eyes widened. “No, Nina. That’s not happening…”, he said, and went back to stroking her arm; though a bit more roughly than was comfortable. Nina pulled herself away from his grasp. “I can’t run away from what I did”, she said. “So, you’re going to let Palo punish you? Kill you?”, Angel asked. “No, I’m… You’re right. I haven’t done anything wrong; I’m not looking to be punished for anything”, Nina said. “But I can’t let anyone else die on my account. Not again”. "It's like we said. This isn't about you anymore". "But if I hadn't been here...", Nina tried. Angel sighed. “Get some sleep”, he said. “But…”. He looked at her intently. “Sleep. You’re in pain and you’re high. You’re not thinking straight. You’ll have a clearer head tomorrow”. He brushed his lips against her cheek, and closed his eyes.

To Angel, the conversation was over. To Nina, nothing was settled; and it took a long time, before exhaustion finally forced her to drift off.

---

[marshmallowprotection]

Iris

Pairing: Choi Saeran/Reader, 707 | Choi Luciel/Main Character

Description: Was there faith in a false paradise with a savior that spilled honey sweet lies to make you agree? There is no life to be found amongst those in a rotting flowerbed, only those clinging to the roots as the world awaits your demise. Why is he still here when others had long been plucked from the dying earth? And better yet, why are you still here after everything, clinging to his roots as if he’ll bring you life? Or is he the one clinging to you?

SE Saeran x Former Believer Reader

Word Count:

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[Read On AO3]

Chapter Three

Saeran didn’t stop running. 

It felt like a bomb had gone off. It was as if he were trying to wade through a disaster zone where there was only rubble and debris left of the world that existed before the explosion. 

It was a minefield of his death and despair that warned him to look where he stepped because of one false move and he would be like the world of the scorched earth.

Dead and buried six feet underneath the ground if he was lucky enough to be identified. Saeran felt this shuddering sensation from the second that he started to run and it hadn’t left him since. It was like his body was running on just the foundation of how to get away from something, not thinking twice to see if it was the right thing to do.

When he came through the front door, his heart was beating out of his chest, and there was nothing that he could do to stop it. Saeran knew that something had gone wrong and he knew that there was no choice left for him but to run and hide. If he didn’t flee from the problem as soon as possible, then it was going to blow up in his face and make matters worse for wear. 

That wasn’t what he wanted. 

The last thing he needed was someone meddling in his affairs. His mind was moving faster than he could stomach and his thoughts kept hitting him in the face over and over again with false hopes, guilt, shame, and many more emotions that he couldn’t wasn’t sure that he was ready to be feeling or dealing with again. Saeran was, to put it bluntly, panicking. 

These days, he was pretty good at masking his emotions and keeping them where they needed to be in his chest. He would deal with the ugly things in therapy if he had the power and then, the rest of the free time he had was spent trying to work in his garden, or simply laying back on the grass to take a nap in the sunshine. 

But, this was a full-scale problem and he had no idea how to address it.

What he did know was that he needed to be alone and he wasn’t sure what would happen if someone dared to get in his way. This is why he hurriedly entered the string of random letters and numbers to the bunker and stepped inside, ignoring the chime of the gate as it spoke and warned the others that he was home. 

Saeyoung didn’t seem to be around, so Saeran counted his blessings on that one. 

One obstacle was too much for him and considering what he had been dealing with the day prior when it came to his twin, he wasn’t ready to unpack that problem, either. The universe didn’t seem to care if he wanted to deal with it or not, because it kept stacking rocks on his chest. If it wasn’t one thing that went wrong, it was a hundred other things that trailed behind it. 

“Saeran, is that you? Or, is it Saeyoung?” 

“...” 

“Saeran…?” 

He passed by MC who peered out of the kitchen to see who had come home, and they opened their mouths to say something but Saeran just stormed right past them and entered his room. It was nothing against them, he just couldn’t handle it right now. He locked the door behind himself as quickly as he could and felt his legs starting to buckle underneath his weight—

Saeran had enough energy pumping through his veins that he was able to collapse against the bed and sink his face into the pillows. He had spent so much time trying to run away from these things only for them to blow up in his face again. He thought that he was finally trying to make sense of his life and to see you all over again opened the shame of his wounds. 

It almost seemed like he was starting to move past what happened enough to function every day without thinking about what he would be doing if he was still trapped in the cult. 

Was that just one of those falsehoods that he allowed himself to be lulled into? Saeran was always walking on eggshells to survive no matter what he was. He might not have been waiting for Rika to peer around the corner and scold him for existing, nor was he waiting for his mother to walk into the room with a scowl on her face before she raised her hand and struck him.

But, his mind felt like he was still there no matter how removed he was from those places. That’s what his therapist said. He was struggling to escape the memories because his body was wracked with so much fear and exhaustion from years spent being hypervigilant that it had left a mark on his brain that wasn’t going to leave him readily or soon. 

You couldn’t turn off something that you learned needed to stay on at all times. If you dropped your attention for a moment, then it was likely that you were going to be destroyed. That’s the theory that his head ran with and it went without saying that that was his problem. He knew that it was always going to haunt him, just as the dread pooled inside of him. 

His body felt overwhelmingly stimulated. Fear, shame, rage, guilt, and more feelings fluttered inside of his chest and left him feeling suffocated. It was too much, too much, too much all at once. How was he supposed to deal with all of these feelings when he had nobody to turn to which he could explain all of this? 

Opening this up would mean talking about everything that happened at Mint Eye. Everything from the moment that his memory began to work again. If he even started to talk about it to his therapist, then it would open up a can of worms. Because the more he said about what he was forced to do, the more that he had to admit that he’d done to you in the process.

The more that he said, the more that he had to relive. Saeran tried to ball up the memory of you in the back of his head with the rest of Mint Eye for a reason. You weren’t the worst thing to ever happen to a man named Unknown. You were the best thing to ever happen to him but he didn’t realize it at the time and it shattered everything.

His devotion to his savior was everything and because of that, he couldn’t see everything that was happening around him. 

He couldn’t allow himself to truly live in the moment because his mind was meant to be focusing on destroying everyone that hurt him. He lived in a state of confusion and sheer anger that was meant to blanket him with a cloud of detachment from reality to ensure his safety to his goals. He did things and he said things without thinking of anyone but himself. 

A selfish man, that’s who Saeran had been when he lived in Mint Eye and went by the name of Unknown. He didn’t want to be seen, heard, or acknowledged as the person that he once was, and that was why he simply allowed people to know him as an enigma. He lived in his pain, in his elixir, and his spite for such a long time that his memories clouded together and shrouded his awareness. 

There was so much that he couldn’t remember about Mint Eye and how it all started. He just came into existence one day and kept working. His memory was locked away from him tightly and left him reeling constantly. He didn’t want those memories back of the time where he existed alone. But, at the same time, a part of him didn’t want the memories that were bathed in your vision as well. 

Unknown had lived in a world of his own until you came along and truly, his thoughts weren’t his own until you entered his black and white nightmares. A saccharine smile at the edge of your lips spoke volumes of the person that might have existed underneath that elixir before you were saved by his savior,  no, by Rika. 

Your face haunted him just as much as the face of Jihyun Kim did. 

Just, for entirely different reasons. 

The things that he did to you—

The horrible words that he said—

The actions he took against you—

The way you looked at him when—

Your vision clung to him like honey that refused to let go of the things that it poured onto. In many ways, he missed you, and to see you out in the world free from your chains had struck him so hard that it made him sick to his stomach once again. In other ways, the thought of seeing you again filled him with terror and dread the likes of which he couldn’t verbalize. 

The realization that struck him when he saw you hit him like a ton of bricks. He panicked and decided to get out of there as fast as he could. It was what he knew how to do best. He knew how to get away to avoid anything that was going to cause something bad to happen. 

But, it was you, and that was what left him conflicted in the first place. You weren’t a bad thing, you were the furthest thing from bad, to say the least of how you made him feel. You were a shining light in a stormy sea. You were the moon in his cloudy night. You were the reason that he felt like there was still some kind of warmth in his barren chest. 

However, seeing you drudged everything up, even the sickening memories that he wanted to try and forget. He couldn’t forget them. He carried those sins on his back everywhere he walked. It was like the tattoo that dug into his bicep. It was going to stay with him no matter what he did and no matter how far he ran away from it. 

That was the price that he had to pay for what he’d done. Even if he had been out of his mind for so long, it didn’t change the fact that he put himself fully into those feelings and choices. That was why your memory brought everything back to him. He couldn’t bury it down, could he? No, no, no, Iris was always on the cusp of touching his freezing skin.

Iris, huh? 

“Iris,” his voice whispered the codename that he had given you as if it was a prayer that he used to sing every single night. It felt like coming home but at the same time, like breathing in the smoke of his fire and brimstone. “Iris, Iris, Iris, Iris… Iris… Iris…” 

That’s why his fingers were trembling so badly and the feeling of a chill was rolling down his spine. He sucked in a desperate puff of air as the panic finally caught up with him. All he had been thinking was to get home and to lock himself away before it hit him like this. He’d been running on autopilot since the moment that he’d caught a glimpse of your face. 

Saeran hadn’t even realized it was your face until he saw the curl of your lips as you smiled at the view of the sky. You were sitting in the same spot that he always placed him, just so that he could look out of the window and gaze at the world around him. It was strange how you had managed to find this place all on your own and somehow know just where he might be. 

Was the universe trying to taunt him with his reality? 

His nails dug deeper into the fabric beneath them. The only thing that he knew was that seeing you opened up every wound that he had tried to push away. It was bad enough the blood lingered on his hands to this day, he didn’t need the shadow of what happened back then to hit him like a ton of big bricks all at once. It was hard enough, but this… this flood was only beginning. 

The panic overwhelmed him, causing him to lose control of his breathing until his vision went white and he lost track of where he was and what was happening around him. The only thing that he knew was the dread and anxiety… and the haunting melody of Mint Eye’s hymns lingering in his ears as the memory of you overcame him and he slumped against the bed. 

—

It wasn’t often that he went to ceremonies anymore. 

If the Savior asked him, he would. But, if he didn’t have to go, he wouldn’t go to them. It wasn’t something he needed to do. His job was more important than that. He had to protect the safety and all of the goals that they aspired for in paradise. He was the only one that she entrusted all of their goals to and he knew that was a greater honor than what the believers that could be nameless fodder could ever be given. 

Today was different, though. 

All because on his way to the ceremony, he found another nameless believer standing at the doors that led to the gardens. Your hood was off your head and hanging against your shoulders as the sunlight did kiss your cheeks and you seemed lost in thought. Everyone was meant to be in the church before the clock struck twelve times at the peak of noon.

Either you were wandering around because you didn't know any better, or you were in a bleary haze of elixir. There was no other reason for any person to be meandering about like that. He did not care but his Savior would. 

Believers were meant to be seen, not heard. If you didn’t have a job to do that was important, you needed to stay out of sight and mind. You needed silent reflection to reach the level of sheer devotion that would bring you whatever honor the Savior wanted to give to you. 

He scoffed when someone thought high and mighty of themselves to be gifted something as important as he was.

Nothing more than a meathead that would wind up serving their use and then being thrown away the second that they weren't useful to the cause. If you were meant for paradise, you would be molded to paradise or perish. You had to be strong. If not, then what use were you? 

Those types never lasted long… Well, they did, just not the way they expected. There was plenty of space in the basement to transform someone into a mindless drone. It was how all the guards were trained, after all. Cocky and so stupid, but strength couldn’t be wasted when the group was trying to grow in power to take down its enemies. 

He only paused when he stepped behind you, and you didn't bother to look back at him. That was an insult, alone. Unknown grabbed at your shoulder and whipped you around to face him and you blinked, not frightened, but surprised that someone had touched you or bothered you as you slacked off your duty to attend services for salvation. Savior checked the cameras, too, he wasn't getting in trouble for you. 

"You're supposed to be with the rest of the sheep, following the Savior's words," he said, voice dry and devoid of pleasantries. He was trying to scan your face to see if he knew your identification number. "You better have a damn good reason for skipping out of your sole duty." 

You didn't seem to realize who you were even speaking to, either, because you responded, "Well, what would Savior say if she knew that you were skipping out on your duty, as well?" 

That sass and backtalk could have alone warranted enough for him to laugh and call someone to wrench you to the basement. However, for reasons that he would never understand, he decided against that at the last second. Nobody was dumb enough to talk back to him. It had been a while since he felt anyone bite. 

Unknown had simply grown so accustomed to people cowering and running away from him, that he forgot what it felt like to have someone stare at him with such condemnation in their eyes. There was something inside of your soul that hadn't been beaten out of you. Most people who went through the process were devoid of their emotions were allowed to feel nothing but the pleasure of nothingness.

However, a select few had more adverse reactions that change their perspective on everything. Those were the people that his Savior was interested in and invested in. She liked to say that the people that had hum that darkness that flourished in such a way like this were truly the gifted few. 

He had his doubts about that but her word was always absolute and final. It interested him to know that someone still had something left inside of them and it wasn't submission.

He had been living in a cycle of feeling the same numb feelings for so long now, that he almost forgot what it felt like to feel anything. He had forgotten what it felt like to experience a challenge and to know what it felt like to have someone look at him and want to push back against him. 

It had almost grown boring to live the same cycle over and over. But, he told himself that it would be worth it when the destruction paid off.

The Savior said the same thing. 

It would be worth it in due time.

It was just this hum that seemed to linger in his heart that told him that he could have some fun. 

He wasn't always interested in fooling around or testing the limits of some other person, but at this moment where you barely shared any words, he felt something that he wanted to feel more of. Which is exactly why he wasn't going to let you get away with this.

He laughed in your face. 

You still didn't get it. 

"What's so funny? You're probably going to get in just as much trouble. We're both believers in this place. You're wearing the same robe as me, therefore, we hold the same ability. Are you laughing since you think you've caught me or some shit? I'm in the middle of doing—"

He leaned in close and watched as you began to finally hesitate,  "Haven't figured it out? That's adorably pathetic. Are you sure there's anything in that brain? I am the strongest member in Mint Eye, I am the Savior's chosen believer, I am the man who will secure our paradise with my blood and sweat. I can do anything I desire simply because the Savior trusts me to give her what she needs. If you haven't figured it out, I control security and your position. My name is Unknown and I am your worst fucking nightmare."

—

“He didn’t talk to you?” 

MC shook their head. 

Saeyoung had to press his face in his hands. He breathed in deeply before he looked back down the hall at the area where Saeran’s room was located. “Okay. This isn’t the first time that’s happened to him but how bad did it seem when you tried to talk to him? Was it okay? Was he angry? What did it seem like to you?” 

Saeran liked to be alone sometimes. He was still having a hard time trying to come to grips with what it meant to be free from Rika’s control and Saeyoung didn’t want to pressure him. He had made plenty of mistakes time and time again trying to make the right choice for Saeran, but he knew that pushing too hard wasn’t going to make anything right. 

If he wanted to be alone, he could be alone for as long as he wanted. They would bring dinner to his door if need be, but to think that he didn’t even say a word to MC, which he almost always did, even on his bad days…? That wasn’t a good sign. Saeyoung couldn’t always speak to his twin, but he knew that Saeran had MC if he wanted to find someone to talk to. 

He’d never talk to the RFA, not willingly. 

His room was his sanctuary and Saeyoung was doing his best to give him space and time to breathe, even if that was hard for him. His therapist had told him that that was one of his real issues. That he wanted to make things better as soon as he could for his loved ones without thinking it through first. It wasn’t exactly reckless, but it did give him an explanation why his act before he thinks style didn’t help.

His room was on the opposite side of the bunker than the room he and MC shared to give him that space and comfort that he wouldn’t otherwise have if they’d been right on top of each other. That was better for his mental state but him isolating himself wasn’t exactly the greatest thing in the world. He only did that when something was seriously wrong.

It happened quite often in the beginning. Saeyoung didn’t quite realize the extent that of his damage until he spoke about it in therapy, simply that he had “made him brother come and live with him since he was a danger to himself at the time,” and while he couldn’t elaborate on why he did that, it seemed like his therapist was able to cut right through to the things that he missed. 

He erased Saeran’s freedom of choice. 

It had been a necessary evil in Saeyoung’s eyes. Saeran was lashing out at everyone in the hospital, he truly needed better care, but he wasn’t safe there. Jumin could only lie and pay people off so much in the hospital about those attempts before their father found out. He had to steal Saeran from the place just to ensure that their father couldn’t find out about them. 

It was a mistake on his part but he didn’t know what else to do at the time. Jumin was already trying to handle everything else and Saeyoung knew that if he didn’t do something, it was going to put everyone into something that they didn’t need to be involved in. He knew that it was going to make his twin angry with him, but he never considered what that would do. 

It was another reason why they felt so fractured from each other, even to this day, because he had done something to save Saeran but he never even asked if Saeran would be okay with it. He had done what he had done when they were kids all over again, and in retrospect, he now understood what was wrong with that and why he should’ve done it differently.

There was no wonder why Saeran had trouble trusting him, even if Saeyoung had been tricked and played for a fool as well. He never should have done something without asking or explaining first, that was his fatal mistake. He was still paying for it to this day, but this evil tried to convince himself that it had to be done.

Jumin had warned him that it was becoming too dangerous and if they had to put Saeran into the intensive care unit, his risk of being located was much higher than it was under a false name. He was in a bad place from whatever drugs they had given him to keep him underneath their thumbs, but it was so much more than that. There was so much pain in his heart. 

There were a lot of risks to consider in their lives and it was better to be safe than sorry, even if that meant that someone might get hurt in the process. That’s why he made the choice that he did, even if he knew that it was going to crush Saeran and upset him. Because no matter what happened, nobody deserved to be found by that man. 

They might’ve been free, but not from a man named Saejoong Choi. 

He had recently secured the title of Prime Minister and the less he knew about the boys, the better it was going to be for them. He was not involved or anywhere near the aftermath of Mint Eye, but if it continued to be a talking point in the public eye… God, he could count his blessings for now since he wiped them clean from the agency’s servers and the country database. 

That had taken a long time. He wasn’t even sure if he was going to be able to make it through without being caught back then, but he had. Everything was legal and squared away, so it wasn’t going to hurt them now. All you needed was a little editing and a rich friend to stay out of sight and mind. 

As long as they stayed underneath the radar and out of sight, he knew that he could protect the two of them. Saeyoung had the two of them listed underneath false identities, the same way that he had done for Vanderwood. Jumin had been able to validate it further, and they helped a lot. He owed so much to Jumin but the man wouldn’t let him pay it back properly. 

No, the only way that he could pay it back was by providing work and support to C&R only way that he knew how. He spent hours of his time trying to ensure that their systems were better than better, it was the least that he could do for Jumin. He was covering everything in his protection and really, it was worth the trouble. 

It wasn’t like he needed Jumin to pay him for the work. 

He had more than enough money stashed away to keep everyone happy and healthy from now until the end of their lives, but it just didn’t feel right to live that way without giving something back for the length that everyone had gone to, to protect him and his twin. He wasn’t working himself like a dog to the brink of death anymore, but he was providing service. 

Jumin had commented that he was doing it in Jihyun’s honor, but also because the RFA was family, no matter what. They had gone through so much together and they couldn’t ever forget the bounds made during their time with the group. Even if there weren’t any plans to hold any parties at the moment, it would never change their relationship to each other. 

If you survived the amount of stress and trauma that the RFA had in the past year, you would be happy to come out of it with people that understood what you went through. There were things that nobody else would ever be able to understand. They all walked hand and hand into this, and they left the same way, even if it burned to see the truth.

Not everyone got to escape, though. 

The name Jihyun left a truly sour and bittersweet feeling in everyone’s mouth, but nobody wanted to speak ill of the dead. What point was there? As angry as Saeyoung was, he shoved it to the back of his mind because no amount of wanting to unpack it was going to help him unbury the hatred that he held inside of his heart now. 

He wasn’t going to get his answers. 

All of the answers died when Jihyun did.

Just as the rest of the RFA was holding onto the reality of their lives with a grain of salt. Everyone had to confront a devil they never thought was going to stand in front of them. The fact of the matter was that what they thought they knew wasn’t ever the truth at all. It was all a fabrication, for one reason or another. 

The truth of what happened to V was being sold as a lie to the public to protect Saeran from being in the line of fire, for one. There was no mention of Saeran amongst the remains of believers and that was pure because Jumin had ensured that it was taken care of. It may have covered his tracks and kept him safe and sound, but—

But, most everyone had started to believe that Rika had been the one to kill Jihyun for trying to stop her from hurting others.  That was a nasty rumor that couldn’t be stopped. Everyone knew that she’d once been dating the photographer, but news of her sudden death left people stunned. That alone had made people wonder what their relationship was like and who Rika truly was.

Yet, those murmurs were kept quiet merely out of respect at the time… but now that the truth was out in the open that she wasn’t dead and what she’d truly been doing had come to light? 

There were even a fringe group of people who believed that Jihyun had been the founder of Mint Eye and Rika had simply been trapped with him, with no choice but to obey. No former believers were able to speak on their experiences and the ones that were remained were far too traumatized to confront the rumors at hand. 

They needed to heal, not be hounded by media who wanted to treat them like some kind of circus act. Though, Saeyoung was aware that Jumin was trying to put together the pieces that was another thing entirely. He wanted closure in his way and that was why he was personally seeing to the secrets of Mint Eye and protecting everyone. 

Saeyoung was helping him with it to an extent, but there were things that Jumin knew not to say to him given how sensitive things were. He had dealt with some of that work earlier after he tended to his appointments but nobody was aware that this was still going on to the extent that it was. He hated to lie to his MC but he didn’t want to worry them about this. 

They had their trauma from that situation to contend with… to witness someone lose their life was something that wasn’t a joke. It didn’t matter how you felt about them in life. It’s human to not want to see someone end cruelly, at least, people like MC who were gentle and kind. Saeyoung had… seen plenty himself. 

It never got any easier to deal with. 

It was one of the things that Vanderwood always told him to glance away for, but he would force himself to stomach it because he had no other choice but to live his reality. He had to know what could happen to him if he wasn’t faster, stronger, and better than everyone else who tried to get in his way on a mission. That probably was a huge factor in why he could lock away those feelings but… it was still too much. 

That mark changed everything. 

Yoosung and Zen were the only ones that didn’t know who killed Jihyun. Jumin and Jaehee found out after the fact, as did Saeyoung. This was something that nobody wanted to discuss but it was a fact of reality. Saeran had been upset, uncontrolled, and lost. He panicked, lost himself, and it fired off the gun before he knew what he was doing. 

It didn’t change the fact that his brother’s hands were stained with blood. 

But, the situation was a complicated mess of pain and misery. 

It was too late by the time Jumin got Jihyun help. It was too late to stop the bleeding. It was too late to help him internally. It was too late to make things right. It might have been different if Jumin’s guards had arrived even a minute earlier, but there was no changing the past as it was already done. It was just what happened and nobody could’ve stopped it. 

He couldn’t have stopped it, either. 

Saeyoung had passed out from the blood loss and exhaustion that he sustained with the agency, so he hadn’t been able to do anything about it. Vanderwood and MC were the ones that witnessed every bit of it. Neither one of them was able to do anything. Nobody could’ve stopped it. That was the reality of things. 

Survivor’s guilt was a hell of a feeling. 

That hung heavy on Saeyoung’s shoulders. He wanted to take the blame for it himself if it would protect his little brother from any more harm, but Jumin had looked him in the eyes and told him that Jihyun wouldn’t want the twins to suffer after he gave his life for them. He lied and covered their tracks to protect his best friend’s honor and wishes. 

There was no denying that they were already deeply entrenched in all of this… whether they wanted to be or not. Saeyoung stepped up security and ensured that everyone was safe online from any comments or suspecting theories. He scrubbed things clean for hours to ensure that nobody was spreading those things to ruin more lives. 

The death of Jihyun Kim wasn’t the only death in Mint Eye, but he was a popular artist and people would whisper about who they thought him to be and what they thought him to be. The same way that they whispered of their theories of Rika and the woman that they thought her to be underneath the glimmer of a seemingly lovely young woman. 

It was a mess but it was too much to deal with in the waves that it hit them. No matter how angry he was about everything that happened, he had to protect everyone as best he could. He couldn’t worry about what people said about V or Rika because it was bridges burned and they would have to forever be marked by those choices. 

In life, and death. 

Saeyoung tried not to dwell on them for very long because of how angry he was. It was one subject that he was fine burying away because there was no untwisting those memories of his past. If he started, it’d make him feel shameful, guilty, and more. He blamed himself for everything but he was working on his perspective. But, even a year away from the pain didn’t change much. 

People were going to think whatever they wanted but not about his family if he could help it. 

That’s one of the many things that the public whispered about. The RFA was a footnote to the life of what Rika Kim had become to South Korea.

 Sure, all eyes lingered on the charity that she once created, and plenty of people whispered about it with the members who had been involved with the cult in any way, but when everyone was cleared from suspicion the more information slipped through the cracks. 

It was shaky ground for quite a while, but it was more of a murmur now instead of a screaming shout that couldn’t be ignored. It was treading water but at least they were high enough that it wasn’t going to pull everyone back underneath. As far as Saeyoung was concerned, he wasn’t going to let anyone fall on his watch. 

The RFA had already suffered so much and he wasn’t going to lose the family that he had now. Even if he had to work harder to ensure that. He gave MC a tired smile as they noticed the line of exhaustion as it grew on his face. He knew that he was pushing it. If Saeran wanted to be alone, he needed to give him more space. They had that argument the night before that was still weighing on him, maybe—

Maybe, that’s why he was so anxious.

MC was always one to notice when he had that look in his eyes. They caught his hand in their own and smiled back. “Let’s give him some time, okay? I’ll make sure to put his dinner on ice in case he wants to grab it later, but he needs some space right now. He did go to therapy today, too. I’m sure it was hard to unpack everything and come back home.” 

Saeyoung squeezed their hand. He trailed, “Yeah, yeah… I know you’re right. I’m sorry. I just wish… I just wish that he could talk to me if he’s upset. I understand why he doesn’t but… it doesn’t change the fact that it hurts that we aren’t the kids that we used to be. “ 

With a knowing smile blooming on their face, they narrowed their eyes at him. “And how did your session go, Saeyoung? I recall that you had an appointment as well today after you met with Jumin about business.” 

That was the point that he knew he had his situation to deal with. He turned away from his brother’s room and decided, for once, he would back off and let him take his time with his feelings first before he tried to see if there was anything that he could do or if there was anything that he might have wanted from him. 

It was important to make sure that Saeran knew that the olive branch would always be there. 

“Well, would you believe me if I told you she wouldn’t believe me when I said that it’s possible to help cats fly?” 

“Saeyoung, I’m pretty sure Jumin shut down the cat jetpack idea.” 

“You never know when it could be useful!” 

“Saeyoung…” 

“Imagine the possibilities, though! It would make a cat-stronaut a definite reality because if you can teach them how to manage flight patterns, it’s going to be a cinch in space!” 

“Saeyoung!”