#sorry about the bland looking clouds by the way. i tried to do this without a reference and its very obvious i did.

[py6oto]

once again i offer you a mix of hlvrai and a game i like. this time it's sky!!

i originally wanted to draw the whole science team, but i forgot and by the time i noticed it was too late for me to dare trying.

i have the entire thing (mostly) planned, but i dont wanna post it yet. id like to post it with a drawing of everyone.

2023.11.18

[is-nini]

I already require more daddy King Zhongli

Please make it happen ;-; I would be very grateful

Thankyou for requesting ლ(^o^ლ) please enjoy, sorry if there's any mistake or typo and.. I'm sorry if some parts is not to your liking, feel free to point out

What if..

King! Zhongli x reader. (part 2!)

Warning:

Smut, 18+, brat taming, size kink, spanking, pure filth!

Word count:3k worddddd

"This is your cone accompanied by f/f cake with f/f ice cream your highness".

A maid comes towards you as you look at your feet on the garden that seems to be sad alongside you, your tears threating to fall out, the maid looks at you in panic- she tried everything to make you smile, giving you sweets that you like, making your favourite drinks, trying to bring you out to go on a plushie shopping spree but nothing cheer you up.

The cause of your sadness is Zhongli has been so busy, he didn't mean to neglected you but.. he cannot play or spend time with you currently.

Whenever you try and come to his work room the door is always locked and the guards keeps telling you that he is busy.. because you're a good girl you listen to the guard and doesn't come back to his work room as you walked with a gloomy face, even the guards feels bad but- an order is an order.

The castle maids saw your gloomy face and try to cheer you up but.. you ended up with sadness on your face everytime.

The maid wishes that the cakes and sweets will bring you back but- no. The maid sigh and pat your head, trying to make you smile even though it is not proper for a maid to do so.

"Call me if anything happened your highness".

She said and walked away, leaving you in your own sad world without the affection of Zhongli. You eat the cake that seems to taste bland, you sigh and jump out from the chair and walking inside the castle gloomy aura around you.

Three maids is peaking out from behind the wall as you walk with sadness. They can't bear their princess like this.. even though the maids and you have a different status, you never treat them like a slave, you would go around the castle to see what to do- even if they say they don't need help, you're always willing to.. with the smile that can melt the coldest heart.

That's it, they are determined to help you anyway they could! Even if it means going against boundaries and possibly getting to be in jail, they will help you they don't care.

They started to talk on how to make you happy again and it seems there's only one way..

~~~~~~

A knock was heard on the door as Zhongli sigh and rub his temple with a frown on his face.

"Please leave at once- can't you see im busy?".

He asked more like annoyed by the fact that someone is annoying him, the maid behind the door is trembling, after she lose a bet with her friend she now is the one who must talk to Zhongli about you. She gulp as the guard looks at her using a look that said "welp, goodbye".

"I-its u-urgent Y-you're highness".

She stutter out. Zhongli glare a little at the door and sigh loudly as he went back to his paperwork.

"Hurry".

That's all he said as the door opened revealing the maid, he looks at the trembling maid, a little bit annoyed.

"What is so important that it needs to cut my work?".

He asked, she gulp again and play with her finger.

"T-the p-princess".

Just those two word and that's all it took to break Zhongli's hard gaze in to worry and fear.

"What happen? Is she okay?! Is there someone trying to sneak in to her room again?!".

He asked as he cleans up his table and stands up with worry in his eye. The maid shake her head and proceed to explain what has been happening to you.

How you're sad.. how you're aura is filled with despair and so on and so forth.

Zhongli just looks at her unbelievable is swirling in his eye. He completely forgot about how time has passed by since he last take care of you. His work important but you're so much money important, he can always think of something to use as a reason to not finished his work anyway.

He rushed passed the maid to go to your room as the maid sigh in relief and the guard puts a thumbs up for her.

His heart is beating so fast it felt as if he wanted to burst to millions pieces. He can't believe he forgot about you-! He just hope you can forgive him.

You played with your dolls with gloomy face but stopped when you heard a knock on the door.

"P-princess? Open up please".

Zhongli! You wanted to be happy but no. You have your own plan! To be bratty, to not listen to him and make him as sad and guilty as possible that's your revenge. So when you heard his voice you growl abit.

"What do you want?".

You asked, shocking Zhongli at the tone of your voice and the lack of respect. It triggers his inner dom put you in your place, punishing you and torturing you until you're begging but decided to put that aside and stay calm.

"Princess open the door please".

He said as he hold the door knob, waiting for you to open the door dor him just like he always taught you.

"Open it by yourself".

He's shocked he opened the door he does feel guilty for forgetting about you but you need to understand he did it for you and this bratty act if your's is making things worst for yourself.

You don't feel guilty at all, you don't sense the storm coming slowly as Zhongli open the door and went inside your room, you keep looking away from him, distracting yourself with your dolls.

"Princess, that's not how you talk to Master".

He's patients is running low as he locked your bedroom door with you not noticing anything. He uses his Master card thinking that you will get the hint. Buttt no, you will still be a brat for him for revenge.

You scoff and ignore him, whatever he says just go above your head as you scowl.

Suddenly his hand grabs your arms and force you to look at him. When you do look into his eyes, it's clouded with lust and a little bit of anger. The eye that tells you to behave because you're gonna get punished.

You wail and wiggle around as he takes your chin and forces you to look up.

"Who taught you to be bratty hmm?".

His voice drops a couple of octaves and squeeze your chin a little bit harder, you tremble against his stare and touch. You turn your gaze away and squeeze your eyes shut, not daring to look at him straight in the eye.

"I asked you who taught you to be bratty".

He asked (more like state) again with more push on his tone, making you whine.

"N-no one! No one!".

You asked as you felt his hand slowly to your hips, you open your eyes a little and look at his hand on your hips.

"What do you say when you're being bratty to master?".

He asked pulling you upward so now you're standing with him as he hold your waist harder. You wail and wiggle around trying to get out of his grip as your pussy slowly getting wetter and wetter.

Even though your master is scary when he is mad.. you can't deny that the dominating aura makes your knees weak and your pussy wet. You just can't.

Even though you have been a brat but he has trained you to be good for him just by touching and staring at you, he could bring you down to your knee.

"S-sorry!".

You answer his question. He hums in satisfaction, you thought that you're done but the next thing you know you were thrown on the bed.

"Hmnp!".

A sound comes out of you as you're lying on the bed, Zhongli comes up to you and take something from his back. A handcuffs.

"Do you think master will let you go just because you say say sorry? After the stunt you pulled you neeed to be punished princess".

He said as he cuffs the both of your hand behind your back after rolling you over. As you lay on your stomach, you feel your waist being pulled up, ass on the air in front if Zhongli making the skirt rolls upward revealing your panties, you can feel his gaze your pulmp ass, and you tremble as he stroke your butt.

Unconsciously you move around your ass, you moan out as you feel your essence drops down to your thighs, Zhongli stare at your wetness that drips down your thighs as he smirk finding a way to tease you.

"Getting turn on by the punishment? You're such a slut aren't you? A bitch for master, being turned on because of punishment, we haven't even started yet".

He said as he suddenly slap your ass hard, you squeal out as you shake your ass to try and stroke the ass on anything that could makes you comfortable.

"M-MASTER!".

ah.. stupid little girl for him, cute little bitch, your pussy can be seen clenching from your undies. He stroke your ass and then slap it, over and over and over again. At this point you are a whining, whimpering mess, and he haven't even started the main course yet.

"So wet.. so fucking wet for master.. your pussy is clenching around nothing princess. Its so sad isn't it? You wanna be fucked full but because you're a brat, you can't".

You moan at his words and he slap your ass again, makin your body jerk forward a little bit. He laughed and stroke your panties slowly and shove it downward.

You can feel the wind against your wet pussy. You felt his long finger circle around your pussy for a second and then slap your pussy hard.

"M-MASTER HURTS! IT HURTS!".

you said it hurts but your pussy is getting wetter and your master notice this, he growl beside your ear and nibble on it a little.

"You're trying to lie? You said it hurts but you're body clearly enjoy this.. such a slut for master".

Yes, yes you are his stupid little slut. He moved away from you and walk towards the cupboard beside the bed, you stare at him, your red cheeks pressed against the bed and a patch of tears was seen below your cheek.

He takes out something that looks like a vibrator, but because of your tears you're not so sure but when he pressed the vibrator against your pussy, your doubt is melting away.

He pushed the vibrator inside you and put is on highest level, he shove it deep inside you, he opened the cuffs and then flip you so now your laying on your back, you moan at the relief from your hand and moan at the vibrator inside you.

"Don't you DARE touched the vibrator with your hand or play with yourself. This is your punishment so stay there".

He pulled away from you as he watched you writhed and tremble, moaning and squealing a high pitched not out of your mouth. Zhongli smile at the sight, satisfied that you're being a good girl, he takes the sofa near the bed and takes out a newspaper and started reading calmly, your moans and whimpers becomes his music.

"M-MASTER! MASTER! I- I WANNA CUM! WANNA CUM MASTER!".

You shout out, your master looks at you and smile.

"Go ahead and cum baby, do it. Do it for master, come on".

He cooed as you cum hard, body trembling, but the vibration on your pussy didn't stop. It keeps going and going because you're pussy is so god damn wet now the vibrator is slowly slipping out. Unfortunately Zhongli notice this and sigh, he walk towards you and use your underwear that's lying beloe your feet. He helps you wear the undrewear, pushing the underwear upwards along side the vibrator. And now the vibrator is inside you and this time, your underwear is holding the vibrator up your pussy.

He laughed at your sniffling and moans as he put it back in and proceed to go to the sofa and read the newspaper.

You wail and moan, feeling the vibration again and clenching around the vibrator, the feeling of wanting to cum is present.

"MASTER! WANNA CUM! WANNA CUM AGAIN MASTER! WANN- WANNA CUM!!!".

Zhongli just laugh as he saw your hand clenching on the bed sheets below you, he moved closer to you and take your head in his, making you clench his hand so so tightly. But.. Zhongli barely feels the pain as he found a new position to read the newspaper with one hand.

You cum again and again, you're slowly loosing your mind on your 3rd cum you beg him to stop but he ignore you so you pull Zhongli hand and suck on it, nearing your 5th cum, he felt your tounge and squeeze it little by little.

"MASTWE MASTWE MAKE ITH STOPH!".

you beg him to make it stop because you're so overstimulated and you know that you will squirt after this. As you suck on his fingers, his other fingers left the newspaper, he touched his middle finger and just lightly touched your clit it doesn't seem much but for you it's so overwhelming as you squirt hard on the bed and his finger.

You're body jolted upwards as you let put a high pitched moan, you're squirt gets a little bit higher everytime your body jolted upwards.

"Hmm squirting so good baby, so good, good slut for master, such a good fucking slut yeah? Feeling fucking good everytime you jolted upwards, you're little stupid body trembling hmm?".

He cooed at you, his words just fades out as you drown on the pleasure and overstimulation. He takes your now very wet panties down and takes out the vibrator and throw it somewhere around the huge bedroom.

"Now you're ready to take my cock, since you have been such a good girl, squirting everywhere for Master".

No respond comes from your mouth, your jaw is dropping down and your tounge is out, feeling so so overstimulated that now you cannot make any coherent sentence.

"My baby cannot talk? Did the vibrator mess up with her head? Well it's okay, i will fuck you dumb with my cock next".

You can hear the sound of zipper opening. You opened your eyes a little and looked at Zhongli, seeing his pants is already somewhere on the floor and his thick huge cock is out in the open.

"M-master!".

He hums, now that you saw him and know that he is about to fuck you, your head is filled with him and him alone. The king size bed creak at the movement as he grab your leg and slide you to him a swift motion.

"Yes yes, will take care of you Princess".

He said slowly sliding half of his cock inside your wet and warm pussy, his cock is so big- bigger than the vibrator.

"MASTER! MASTER! SO-SO BIGGG AHHNNNGGGG~ MASTER IS TOO BIG! MASTER IS FILLING ME IN! SO FULL! S-SO FULL MASTER~".

You moan out, cumming the 6th time. He grunted and looks at you, eyes full of heart. You're sooo cute, lost in the pleasure just by him pushing his dick in and cumming just by him putting it in.

He then pushed the rest inside you a dent of his cock is on your stomach, you squeal again as your hand fly to his biceps and squeeze it. Zhongli grunt and started to move in and out of you.

"Hah- your pussy is sucking me in Princess, you're soo greedy huh? First you want attention now you want my cock?".

He laughed as he ripped your dress open, your breast is now out in the open. He goes from slow tempo to rough real fast, in the nick of seconds, his eyes is staring at your breast and your face, entrance by the cuteness his little princess show him.

Youe breast is bouncing up and down from his thrust, your face is red and filled with tears, your mouth hangs open and your head is thrown back, your back is arching from pleasure as your upper body turns around a little bit.

His cock is hitting you everywhere, every crevices inside you, occasion grunt comes out his mouth. His hand grab your breast as he bent a little bit, his long soft hair flows down a little bit.

He squeeze your breast and played with your nipple, tweaking and pinching it, his face is slowly getting closer to your breast as you felt him played with your nipple, his tounge is going up and down on your nipple at a fast pace and then he suck it hard, bitting gently.

You're pussy is clenching around his cock and sucking it in. You can feel his dick twitching inside you too, his cock goes in and out, you can feel his bump on your stomach, he then stayed inside for a while and push his cock from your stomach. You squeal out and wail, legs trembling as he hold it while he went in and out.

You're seeing stars and moans is spilling from your lips as well as Zhōngli's grunts.

"S-so good princess, you're so fucking tight, cute little pussy all for Master, his dick is imprinted on your pussy and stomach huh-? Fuck i wanna cum!".

He grunt you just nod, can't even talk the only thing from your mouth isa bunch of giberish, he can only hear you say a bunch of master and Zhongli.

He giggle at your cuteness as you both nearing your high. Your pussy clench on his cock as you both cum at the same time, you squirt the second time all over him as he push all his cum inside you.

"Such a good girl, good girl for master, shhh it's okay master's here".

He shush you and held your body near him as he baby you. Your eyes is hazy and your body is trembling, his cock is still deep inside you, you don't mind you actually enjoyed it.

He brings you koala style with his cock still inside you and brings you towards the big sofa, he pushed one of the button and the sofa turns into a bed that's enough for the both of you.

He sleep beside you after laying you down. He hugs you and keep praising you, shushing you to calm down and just take a deep breath.

"You're good princess, you're amazing okay my good cute little princess".

He said as he peppering your face with kisses as you slowly slip into dream world.

"I..wuv.. zhongli..".

You mutter out, his stroking on your head just froze, hearing the gentleness and the pureness of your word when you say you love him makes him smile and kissed your lips a second too long.

"I love you too... (Y/n)"

[seeuonadarknite]

smile for me — yandere kozume kenma x f. reader

warnings: slight angst, abuse, threatening, noncon, hickeys, oral, creampie, kidnapping

Kenma was always quite the outcast. He had a difficult time fitting in with the rest of his classmates, and preferred just being a face out in the crowd. In fact, the only real friend he maintained throughout junior high and high school was his upperclassman, Kuroo.

But their time together was cut short as Kuroo had to move on and graduate with the rest of his fellow third years. Once he left his life for good, Kenma's world turned black and white. Every bland day felt the exact same.

Wake up, attend class, go to practice, go home, sleep, and repeat. There wasn't any real reason for him to continue playing, seeing as his original reason for joining was to be there for his best friend. He was an adult now, having better things to do with his time.

Compared to his performance last year, he was mediocre at best. It was sad for his teammates to see him like this, but they couldn't blame him. He had no outside motivation and no reason to give it his all. At this rate, it'd probably be in his best interest to just give up and quit volleyball.

But his pessimism came to an abrupt end as soon as the doors to the gymnasium opened up on that rainy day during practice. Looking up from the dirty gym flooring, his eyes landed on your graceful figure. Not only were you a sight for sore eyes, but you brought colors back into his world once again.

“Everyone! This is [y/n]. She's going to be your manager for the year.” The coach introduced you to the rest of the team with a large grin covering his features. You gazed at each and every player on the court, briefly studying their features.

“Hi! I'm excited to be here with you guys and although I'm inexperienced in volleyball, I'll try my best to help you guys out in any way that I can!” There it was again. That damned smile you always seemed to wear. 

Your beaming smile lit up the dark cave Kenma had been hiding himself in. And he wanted it all to himself. However, it was as clear as day that Kenma wasn't the only one on his team looking forward to seeing you more.

—

His obsession started off innocent. Kenma was just a dependent person, and without Kuroo, he needed somebody else to rely on. At least that was what you told yourself.

At first he would just walk you to your homeroom class. It was on the way to his, so where was the harm in it?

But it gradually became overbearing. Not only would he walk you to homeroom and practice after school, but he soon began walking you home from school in order to “protect you from creeps.”

He followed you around like a lost puppy. An insecure, lost puppy. If you ever tried gently approaching the subject by telling him that you're alright on your own, he'd simply stare at you with glossy eyes and frown.

It somehow felt worse than him getting angry at you. You just felt pure guilt, and would end up apologizing for bringing it up.

Kenma knew what he was doing. With the advantage of his lack of friends, he could cling to you like a magnet without any questions asked.

From an outsider's perspective, it looked as if you had him wrapped around your little finger. But it was really Kenma who had the upper hand. It didn't take him long to analyze your overall personality and learn how to evoke certain emotions from you.

He was strategic, calm and collected. He knew he wasn't the kinda guy you'd go after, so he'd have to take extra measures in making you reliant on him. In a few months time, you'd be begging him to walk you to class and you'd be afraid of being without him.

It was perfect. As long as he played his cards right, everything would go to plan.

“[y/n]! I know this is sudden, but I've really enjoyed spending time with you during practice and I'd love to maybe.. take you out sometime?” Or not.

Kenma was on his way towards the front of the school where he'd normally meet you to walk home with you. He had planned on asking you if you'd like to hang out at the nearby arcade after school. However, he was beat to it. Right before his eyes was the sight of Lev asking you out on a date.

The situation at hand didn't dawn upon him until his vision was filled with the sight of you pressing a gentle kiss onto the lanky Russian's cheek. Sure, he was peeved at his teammate for asking out his crush. But your positive response was what had caused the crushing sensation in his heart. He thought he was going to be ill.

You stabbed him right in the back. That was supposed to be him. Was he not good enough for you? He crossed over so many bridges in order to earn your attention, yet it still wasn't enough. You'd never choose a guy like him.

He'd have to make you.

—

It had been a few days since you last interacted with Kenma. It was weird; you were used to him following you around wherever you went with his focused gaze constantly diverted towards his game. Sure, having him by your side 99% of the time was mildly inconvenient for you, but it was something you had grown used to.

It was nice having somebody that seemed to care about your feelings so deeply. While your bubbly attitude helped you in terms of popularity, it didn't quite fill the void. Not even the boy you had recently began seeing really seemed to deeply understand your emotions like Kenma did.

As much as you hated to admit it, you needed Kenma just as much as he needed you. That was why you were more than willing to walk him home for the first time in days after being asked.

Whilst you didn't understand why he took a break from walking around with you like this in the first place, you were glad to know that he was doing alright. You really did worry about his wellbeing during your time apart. Perhaps you had grown a soft spot for the introvert.

“Do you.. wanna come in?” Kenma kept his gaze on the sidewalk as he offered you to come over. As much as you wanted to agree and try and rekindle your friendship over pop drinks, you unfortunately already had plans for that evening. Lev promised he'd take you to see fireworks at a festival in town.

But you couldn't just flat out reject him. There was something wrong with him and you wanted to resolve things before goofing off with his teammate. Flashing him a small smile, you nodded your head and followed him into his vacant house.

As soon as the two of you slipped your shoes off, he led you into his living room and plopped himself down onto the couch. You could tell that he was nervous by the way that he was timidly fiddling his fingers and avoiding your eyes.

“I can stay for a few minutes. Lev promised he'd take me to see the fireworks in town, but I want to know what's been going on with you before I leave. I care about you, Kenma.” Were you joking? Kenma was about ready to be emotionally vulnerable with you and you decided to bring him up?

It seemed as if your words flipped a metaphorical switch in Kenma's brain. His immediate change in expression gave you chills. “No.”

Furrowing your eyebrows, you stood up from your spot on the couch and narrowed your eyes at the pudding head. “I'm sorry?” Your intuition was right. Something was wrong with him.

Following you in suit, Kenma stood up from his spot on the couch and began making slow strides towards you. For each step that he'd take towards you, you'd take a step back. By the time you had taken around five steps back, you ended up with your back pressed up against the living room wall. How cliche.

“Kenma, what's gotten into you? Are you okay?” Even during a time like this, you were still seemingly worried over the male's wellbeing. It was almost laughable.

Instead of lashing out, Kenma gazed at you with dulled eyes. Taking a few steps backwards, he took in a deep breath and prepared himself for his next plan of action. “Just.. follow me. I need to show you something.” Only you could understand Kenma when he murmured like this.

Something about the whole situation was off. The apathetic look in his eyes was unsettling to say the least, seeing as his eyes were clouded with frustration just a minute ago. But you wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt.

So you took him up on his offer and allowed him to take the lead. He ended up bringing you upstairs into his room. Upon first glance, there was nothing that stood out. His bedroom was exactly how you expected it; organized and cleanly, yet not quite bland. The figurines and posters he had set up complimented the room nicely.

But it didn't make sense to you. Why was he so insistent on having you follow him up here? You easily could've continued your conversation inside of the living room, so what gave?

Click. Glancing over at the pudding head, you watched as he swiftly locked the door, rendering it difficult to exit and impossible to enter. Before you could question his actions, Kenma shakily pulled out a pocket knife from his pant’s pocket, slowly inching towards you with the weapon. “Get on the bed..” He almost seemed unsure of his actions.

But his reluctance quickly turned into assertiveness when you wouldn't oblige. “Now.” His arm stopped shaking. One step closer and the blade would be poking at your throat.

You reluctantly climbed onto the queen bed placed up against the wall. There was a window! Perhaps you could— “Don't even think about it.” His tone was dripping with uncharacteristic dominance as he spoke.

Climbing up onto the bed, he lightly nudged your shoulder, quietly ordering you to lay down. Of course you were going to listen, the guy had a weapon in his hand. As much as you wanted to question his actions, your body was in a complete state of shock. What happened to the innocent, introverted boy you once knew?

Noticing your shocked expression, Kenma sighed, crawling up in between your legs. “[y/n], you're all that I care about. I just want you to love me back.” His face heated up as he inched his head towards yours, leaning in to press a chaste kiss on your lips.

However, your reaction wasn't as positive as he wanted it to be. As soon as his plump lips pressed against yours, you immediately drew your head back, forgetting about the weapon in his hold. “Kenma! What has gotten into you? You know that I'm seeing Lev!” You couldn't be gentle with him anymore. There was a line you sure as hell weren't willing to cross with him.

Upon hearing the Russian's name, Kenma clenched his teeth, wearing an expression with pure lividness written all over it. Even after mustering up the courage to confess his feelings and to even kiss you, you still weren't content with him. There would always be somebody better and he'd always have to go through desperate measures just to earn your attention.

But as he gazed down at your petrified expression, he came to a realization. He didn't have to fight for your attention and idly stand by as you gave it to other people. He had the upper hand. He was in control here.

There wasn't a single damned person on this planet that could stop him from taking you away and ravaging your innocence. You belonged to him now. He was the only person you'd get to look at from now on and there was nothing you could do about it.

“You know.. I don't know why I thought you had a thing for me. I guess I was just being really, really stupid.” He gazed at you with a vacant expression. You almost felt bad for him. Almost. But your guilt was gone as quickly as it came once his fingers began peeling your shirt off. “But it doesn't matter anymore. It doesn't matter at all.”

Dropping your shirt onto the hardwood flooring of the room, Kenma gazed at your bare skin with pink tinting his cheeks. Your skin was like a blank canvas, and Kenma was ready to paint a masterpiece.

The hairs on the back of your neck stood up at the feeling of his plump lips peppering gentle kisses across your collarbone. Sooner rather than later, he made his way up towards yours your nape and his soft kisses turned into nibbling. “Kenma. Please..” Your voice was strained as you begged him to stop.

But your pleas only egged him on as he began running his tongue over your neck, giving you a ticklish sensation from his wet appendage. He eventually attached his lips onto a certain spot on the side of your neck before sucking on the sensitive skin like a leech. It was your first real hickey and it ached. It felt like your skin was being sucked by a tiny vacuum.

The worst part about it all was that he ended up leaving a giant trail of hickeys from your neck to your chest. Your entire upper body was scattered with vibrant love bites.

Wiping his swollen lips off with the back of his hand, Kenma sat up and admired his work. Just the sight in itself caused metaphorical hearts to form in his eyes.

But it wasn't enough. The need to feel your soft skin against his own overruled Kenma's insecurities, as he reluctantly pulled his t-shirt over his head. Before he could begin dreading the thought of you laughing at his scrawny figure, he leaned down and stared at the bra that blockaded him from your breasts. That wouldn't do.

It was difficult to say the least for Kenma to try and figure out how to remove your bra, especially with you thrashing and squirming beneath him. Not being able to figure out something as simple as a bra clip was frustrating enough; you deliberately making it difficult just pushed him over the edge.

“Stop squirming or I'll cut you.” His small voice was stern as he scolded you for moving. You wanted to believe that his threat was empty, but his exasperated expression told you a different story.

After what felt like trying solve a jigsaw puzzle, he finally freed you from the death trap of your bra, eagerly throwing it off to the side. It didn't take long for him to place a hand on each of your breasts, kneading at your skin like cat.

Kenma felt like he was on a power trip as he fondled your breasts and squeezed your hardened nipples between his fingers. The way you sat idly whilst he leaned his head downwards and began swirling his tongue around each bud was absolutely exhilarating. You knew there was nothing you'd be able to do to defend yourself without hurting Kenma, and you weren't willing to make that sacrifice.

The fact that you still seemed to care more about his wellbeing than your own caused his heart to skip a beat. He really did have you wrapped around his finger.

As he sucked on your soft mounds, he trailed his hands down to the waistband of your shorts, tugging at the fabric. He soon diverted his attention towards your bottoms as he eagerly slid them down to your ankles, leaving you in nothing but the thin material of your panties.

Of course, it didn't take him long to grab onto the sides of your panties and pull them off as well. He had waited far too long for this moment and he wasn't going to waste a second of it.

Upon first glance, Kenma was mesmerized. He couldn't help but bask in your naked glory. The sight in itself was so entrancing that his body began moving on his own as leaned down on his stomach, bringing his face so close to your sensitive parts that you could feel his hot breath fanning your skin.

“Kenma.. Please don't do this.” It wouldn't hurt to try and stop him one last time, right? Even if you weren't officially a thing with Lev, it still felt wrong having another man's hands exploring your body like a sacred temple.

Unfortunately for you, Kenma was trapped in a lustful trance, leaving your pleas unheard. Without further notice, Kenma flicked his tongue against your clit, stimulating the bundle of nerves. As he parted his lips to suck on the sensitive nub, you couldn’t help but unintentionally wrap your legs around his head, practically grinding yourself onto his face.

The sight of you almost bucking your hips into his face gave him a sudden burst of confidence. He plunged two fingers into your greedy hole, feeling his cock twitch at the feeling of your muscles tightening around his thin digits. God, the look on his face screamed shamelessness.

Your back arched as he pumped his fingers in and out of your drenched cunt, feeling a tight knot begin to form in your abdomen. Thinking rationally was out of the question; all you wanted was for him to finish you off and give you that sweet release.

Fortunately for you, his tongue seemed to swirl at just the right pace and his fingers seemed to curl at just the right angle as they rubbed up against your g-spot. It wasn’t long until your hips suddenly bucked upwards whilst you reached your end, feeling your walls clench around his digits and your juices coat his hand.

Although Kenma’s expression was as nonchalant as ever, you could just tell he felt triumphant by the glint in his eye. The look in his eye was akin to the way he’d look after defeating the final boss in a video game.

Dread sat deep in your stomach as you finally came to your senses, allowing your surroundings to truly dawn upon you. Realization struck you like a bolt lightning as your captor pulled his last articles of clothing off, allowing his erect cock to spring out.

The fact that he was a hell of a lot more hung than you pictured for a scrawny guy like him just added insult to injury. This could not be happening. “Stop looking at me like that.” How on earth he still managed to act timid was a mystery to you. This was all on his own accord. And only on his.

But his lustful desires overruled any possible guilt he could feel. If he was being real with himself, there wasn’t a guilty bone in his body. He needed to claim your body as his.

Prodding the tip of his throbbing cock at your entrance, Kenma gradually slipped himself inside of your needy cunt. His movements were painfully slow. The way he slowly pushed his length into your hole really allowed your insides to memorize the shape and form of his cock.

By the time that he had fully inserted himself inside of you, your back was arched and you were moaning like a pornstar. Before doing any movement, Kenma leaned downwards, catching your lips in a needy, desperate kiss. And although the kiss went unreturned, Kenma felt a surge of euphoria take over his senses.

Without further notice, the pudding reared his hips back, only to slam back into you, earning nothing but a choked moan from you in return. Kenma’s timid movements were nowhere to be seen. He thrusted into you at an unbearable pace.

If you weren’t so overridden with forbidden pleasure, you’d be shocked over how rough he was in bed. Was this really the same guy that didn’t have the guts to talk to you without looking up from his game? Where did this sudden burst of confidence come from?

Your internal questions went unanswered as Kenma used your hips to steady himself as he pumped his throbbing cock in and out of your cunt. You’d be shocked if the death grip he had on your curves didn’t end up leaving bruises.

After awkwardly trying to find a better angle, Kenma ended up hoisting your legs over his shoulders as he thrusted even deeper inside of you than before. Tears stung at the corners of your eyes as the tip of his cock pressed up against your cervix with each rapid thrust.

Trailing his hand down south, Kenma placed his fingers onto your nub and began rubbing circles into the sensitive bundle of nerves. It was all too much. You hated how much pleasure this man was giving you. But you couldn’t help your muscles from twitching as you suddenly arched your back, releasing your flow of juices onto Kenma’s cock.

The way your cunt hugged his cock had his eyes rolling backwards. It didn’t take him long to hold onto your hips with a vice like grip as he shot his load into your cunt, perfectly filling your womb with his thick, sticky fluids. By the time that he pulled his cock out of your aching hole, fluids were dripping down both of your legs, staining his bed sheets with cum.

As the both of you struggled to catch your breaths, the sound of popping rang throughout your ears. After pathetically scooting your trembling legs over to Kenma’s window, your heart shattered at the sight before you.

Fireworks were going off in the distance— the fireworks you promised you’d see with Lev. Wrapping his arms around your bare figure from behind, Kenma placed a chaste kiss below your ear before whispering bittersweet words.

“This is how things are meant to be. Come on, smile for me..”

[danjo-ao3]

Revelations

Pairing: Reaper/female Reader

Summary: You are an unfortunate soul who gets to know Reaper’s wrath, but things turn out quite differently from what one would assume.

Rating: 18+

Tags/Warnings: oneshot, choking, kind of breath-play, angst, masturbation

Word count: 4600

A/N: I had yet to write fem. reader with Reaper in this way and tbh I like it so much I just might continue this at some point. Anyway, enjoy~

***

One of the perks of working with Talon was the great pay at the end of the month, it really made for a comfortable life at a time at which the world was spiralling into chaos. And if you didn’t think too hard on what it was you did for a living, you could almost pretend like it was just another job like any other.

You distinctly remembered the day you signed the contract that forbade you to breathe a single word of the work you did for Talon to anybody. As cliché as it sounds, you needed the money and they promised a steady income. All in all you couldn’t complain.

“I’m surrounded by incompetent idiots!” The man in the middle of the room was seething, he grabbed a chair and threw it against the wall, leaving ugly tears in the wallpaper and bending one of the chair’s metal legs in the process. A hush fell over the room and its few inhabitants, your teammates stood still and nervous in the face of Reaper’s wrath.

Ah yes, the one downside to working here. Reaper was a man not known for his kindness or patience, if you worked with him you knew it was going to be a bad day. He usually operated alone, the only support he needed was someone to hack his way in for him. But some missions simply were too large scale for a single agent, just like the one you’d just finished an hour ago.

And now here you were in the debriefing room, Reaper yelling at various agents for the fuck up that happened.

You tried to melt into the shadows of the corner you were currently standing in, unwilling to take the blame for anything that had happened, you were just unfortunate enough to have gotten looped into this meeting even though all you’d done was some prior intel research work, you hadn’t even been a part of the team on the field.

“I’m done with this,” Reaper announced, his mask flitting over every individual red Talon helmet in front of him, “from now on I’ll operate alone again.”

You rolled your eyes under your helmet at his theatrics. Good, you thought, nobody wants to work with you anyway.

“You’re all getting a pay cut,” he growled and already moved to leave, but in your endless stupidity you just had to let your mouth speak before you knew any better.

“No!” You exclaimed, suddenly the center of attention in the room. Incredulous eyes were on you even though you couldn’t see any of the other agent’s faces. It was what you would have done, too. Hah, look at the idiot trying to object to Reaper, they were probably relieved that he would finally have someone to let all of his frustrations out on.

You tried to stand your ground, feet a shoulder width apart, head held high, but quivering as your heart started to beat frantically while you watched as Reaper stomped over to you. He was like a cloud of thunder rolling in towards a small city. Run, folks would say, get to cover. But there would be no escaping this particular thunderstorm.

With one final step he came to a stop in front of you, his massive frame accentuated by the light cream wallpaper behind him. He looked like the grim reaper himself, all that was missing was a scythe.

“What did you just say, agent?” Oh, he was pissed, you were so dead.

You swallowed around a very dry throat, your eyes glued to the empty eye sockets in his white skeletal mask, then tried to speak but it came out as a croak.

Reaper took a step closer to you, you only barely managed not to take one backward in fear.

“Speak up,” he barked, arms crossed in front of his chest.

“I just–you… I–” you stammered but were immediately interrupted by him.

“I asked you what you just said,” he hissed, and all the air left your lungs. He was going to make an example of you, wasn’t he?

You tried to straighten your spine and suppress the tremors currently running down your body.

“I… said ‘no’.” You tried to sound like you were sorry for being insubordinate, but it just came out as a whisper. What was he going to do with you now? The suspense left you shaking in your boots.

“You think you can say no to me?” The way Reaper’s voice had lowered made you nauseous, fear licked at your insides uncomfortably, but–what was this? Were you… blushing? The heat in your cheeks was startling you, what was happening?

“I’m–I’m sorry, sir.” You finally lowered your head in a sign of submission, hoping to appease him somewhat. It was just that you needed all the money you could get right now, most of the pay you got went straight to your sick brother who needed urgent care in one of the most prestigious–and expensive–hospitals in Zurich.

All of a sudden a clawed hand shot forward and grabbed you by the throat, pushing you into the wall behind and startling you so much you grasped at the hand holding you an inch from the ground. Reaper loomed over you, casting you both into shadow, you desperately tried to breathe through his choke hold but found it was becoming increasingly difficult.

He just stared at you with those dead eyes, features hidden from view just like yours at the moment.

“Everyone out,” he said, tone final and leaving no room for discussion–not that anyone was stupid enough to make the same mistake that you’d made. No one was going to save you anyway, Talon made sure that agents kept to themselves, operating in anonymity with the helmets agents were required to wear at all times.

From the corner of your eye you were able to see how everyone practically fled from the scene, not even sparing a last glance towards you, probably already arguing about who would get your stuff when you would be dead in like two minutes.

“Sir–” You tried to speak up but it was so hard to get enough air; you didn’t want to die, you couldn’t die–your brother would be doomed without your help.

“Tell me your name, agent.”

Oh fuck, he really meant business, huh?

You managed to whisper what he wanted to know, his hand on your throat squeezing just a little tighter in response.

The lack of oxygen in your blood was making you delirious, your heart was still frantically trying to keep you alive, darkness was creeping in at the edges of your vision, the man’s proximity confusing and terrifying and–arousing?

“Do you know what I’ll do with you now?”

Shit, when had he gotten so close? The blush on your cheeks deepened considerably, spreading further down to your chest. Why did he sound so ambiguous…

“You’re gonna kill me,” you gasped, trying to blink away the bright spots dancing in contrast to the shadows at the edge of your vision. A pathetic whimper escaped you at the pain of his claws digging into your skin, they were to be felt even through the padding of the armor you were wearing.

“You think I’ll let you off the hook so easily?” He pushed you even further up the wall, the pressure on your jaw and windpipe becoming unbearable.

“Please,” you breathed, pulling at his wrist in a futile attempt to get him off, but nothing was working. Contrary to his words he was killing you, you were convinced of it. As you rose up the wall, you thought that this was actually your very last moment, certain that Reaper was just toying with you.

Aside from the painful throbbing of a headache forming behind your eyes, there was still that persistent warmth spreading through your body. Up until now you’d had no idea that you could get turned on by being choked, but here you were, hanging onto life by a thread while a faceless mercenary was strangling you, and your body had no qualms about reminding you that you were yet very much alive. Thrilling, that was the right word for what it felt like to you. How fucked up was that?

The moment came, Reaper pushed into your personal space just a little more and his hand adjusted its grip just so, his claws brushing over your skin as it broke out in goosebumps and you were lost in a sea of pain and delirium, you forgot who it was currently pressing you against the wall of the bland debriefing room–and it had been so long since anyone touched you–that it forced a small moan from deep within you.

Immediately you stilled, a moment of clarity cleaving through your muddled senses, reminding you that this was not an appropriate response to being choked within an inch of your life by your team leader.

You watched in trepidation as his head, too close for comfort, tilted to the side just a little, felt his grip on you falter the slightest bit, as if your response had startled him just as much as it had you. And you weren’t surprised in the least. What the hell happened here?

To your great relief, he let you sink back down until your feet touched the floor again, alleviating some of the pain and discomfort in your upper body from straining against his hold so much.

Face hot from both arousal and humiliation, your visor started to fog up with the humidity of your hard breathing, making it hard to see through it, all the while hoping that maybe he decided to let you go after all. But he wasn’t moving away from you, nor was his hand leaving its place around your neck.

The vibration of his dark voice, modulated by that mask, shook you to the core as he hummed in thought and intrigue, the sensation going straight between your legs. You clenched your knees together to make it a little more bearable, hot arousal was making itself known in your core, pulsing in the rhythm of your heartbeat.

Damnit, why did this turn you on so much? A small sob was bubbling up in your chest, you didn’t want to enjoy how Reaper was treating you, but your body thought otherwise. He was still staring at you, his scrutiny was starting to become unbearably intense and mortifying, but oh how you enjoyed it.

“You like this,” he observed suddenly, and you wanted to die of shame at his comment, because it was true. Why, oh why was it true?

You tried to turn your head to the side, but he used his hand on your neck to keep you in position, you were no match for his sheer strength; it made you weak in the knees.

“You like being manhandled. A little… roughed up.” His voice had taken on a raspy, hoarse quality and it did nothing to soothe the fire that had started to burn through you. Images of him pushing you against the wall, clawing the clothes from your body bombarded you, of him just bending you over the big meeting table and having his way with you.

Another feeble moan left you as you rubbed your thighs together, trying to get some kind of friction against your core. But of course it didn’t help, you doubted anything could help right now but the things you wanted Reaper to do to you. At the same time you were way too afraid to voice these desires, sure that the mercenary would simply dismiss you, humiliating you even further. You were glad that the helmet hid your fierce blush and glassy eyes.

You watched him through your lashes, he was still looking at you in an expectant kind of way, was he waiting for you to confirm his theory, that you wanted to be ‘roughed up’ by him? Oh, he was so right, but no way in hell were you going to say it, not if you were still sane enough to bear in mind the consequences. What good would it do you, he’d probably laugh at your pathetic desire for something he would never give you in the first place. So you stayed silent on the face of his inquisitive stare.

Suddenly you were pressed against the wall again, but this time by both his hands on your shoulders, evidently he was done waiting now, the moment was gone.

Relief and disappointment warred within you, the latter leaving a sour taste in your mouth.

“Next time you object to my orders in front of the team you’ll face much worse,” Reaper spoke dark and dangerously, “got it?”

With a frantic nod you sagged against the wall when he finally released you.

Without another word he simply turned and left through the door, not even bothering to close it again.

As you stood there staring after him, you wondered what the hell had just happened and why that insistent throbbing in your nether regions didn’t seem to want to stop. Something was seriously wrong with you, it was a miracle that he had left you pretty much unscathed, aside from your hurt pride.

***

It was late in the night when you finally retired for the day, your joints ached and your muscles were sore from a long day of wearing your armor. You entered the communal showers alone, the only upside of staying up so late, you figured.

As you removed your armor, your thoughts wandered to Reaper and what he had done just a few hours ago. Goosebumps rose on your skin when the cool air of the changing room hit you, or was it the memory of being held by a strong hand around your neck? Probably a bit of both, you shouldn’t let what happened get to you so much, especially now that you’d had a little time to let your mind shift focus from the feelings and urges that the man had invoked.

A small shiver ran down your spine, goodness, you really had let yourself get carried away there, you needed to make sure it would never happen again. Best to stay as far away from Reaper as possible.

Curiously, you stepped in front of one of the mirrors hung above the sinks in the shower room, your eyes immediately landed on your neck and your mouth fell open in shock at the dark angry marks you found there. You touched your skin with two slightly shaking fingers, tilting your head and tracing the bruise from the front to the side where there were additional scratches left by sharp claws.

A small shuffling sound behind made you clutch your chest in fright and turn around, but there was nothing to be seen, you were still alone in the room. Must have been your frayed mind playing tricks.

With a deep breath you grabbed a towel and went into one of the shower stalls to turn on the water on the hottest setting. Mist was soon rising from the tiled floor where the water was disappearing down the drain, giving you the signal that it was finally warm enough.

When the hot water hit your shoulders you sighed in pleasure, the warmth always helped you relax and soothe your aches from a long work day, today was no different. As you closed your eyes to let the water run over your head as well, you let the serenity of the darkness and warmth hold you for just a moment.

Talon’s standard soaps, shampoos and shower gels had a very distinct marketed-for-men-smell, like they had only been chosen with the male part of the organization in mind. And unfortunately, as you started to soap yourself up, it started to have an effect on you; you were getting aroused again, just the thought of a man with you–it had been so long since you’d had any form of physical contact like that–you really yearned for someone’s touch.

With a small sigh you lathered up your chest, went up and over your breasts, enjoying the feel of the slippery bubbles against your wet skin and how nice it felt when you brushed over your nipples. Closing your eyes and pretending it was somebody else–some faceless Talon grunt–you went even further with one hand down your stomach, swirling a finger around your belly button and finally cleaned yourself between the legs.

Oh yes, this was nice. Pent up frustration from earlier brought you to full arousal in an instant, two fingers found your clit and the last thing on your mind was cleaning yourself. The hand that was still at your chest was going higher, first over your left and then your right shoulder before it caressed your neck.

It was like you’d touched an open wire; electricity ran through your entire body, connecting every nerve ending and lighting them on fire. Pure heat gathered in your abdomen, your fingers pressing into the bruises on your skin and feeding that electric current with a mixture of pleasure and pain. A small part of you was raising its voice in alarm but there would be another time and place to reflect upon what you were currently doing, right now you needed release–badly.

Slowly, the faceless Talon grunt in your mind started to change, his red mask was losing its color, revealing white bone surrounded by black leather flowing down into a long coat, his gloves became sharp talons gouging into your skin. Your fingernails were a poor imitation for the claws you remembered though, and you whimpered with want for the original.

Still, that orgasm you’d been working on was fast approaching, the sensations bombarding you as the water was running down your body, your hand wrapped around your own neck and you rubbed yourself fiercely between the legs.

Just as you leaned against the shower wall to completely let yourself go, there was this shuffling sound again, ripping you from the cusp of that climax and flooding you with adrenaline and fear of being caught masturbating in the shower. With wide eyes you tried to see through the mist that had accumulated during your shower, but it was nigh impossible to see further than a few feet in front of you.

Then you heard them, heavy steps were moving over the tiled floor, growing louder with every footfall.

Petrified, you stayed very still, your hands not moving from where you were still touching yourself, convinced that their position on your body would not be mistaken for what you were actually doing. This person would pass your shower stall and go about their business… right?

But you actually knew that this was not an agent going to take a shower at two in the morning, those footsteps could only belong to one person. The question was, what was he doing here?

Like a deer caught in the headlights, you didn’t move a muscle until Reaper stopped right in front of you, the dark, vague outline of his broad shoulders slowly cutting through the milky-white mist. You didn’t dare breathe as he came forward, one hand extending towards you, but ultimately landing on the shower controls. The water turned off and left you standing in deafening silence, leaving only the mist to keep you warm.

Shivering, you blinked through wet lashes at the mercenary towering above you, his hand still next to your arm on the shower wall, unmoving and menacing. His mask was staring at your face blankly until it turned downwards and landed on your hand still wrapped around your neck. As if his gaze burned you there, you dropped that hand and used your forearm to hide your chest from his view.

“So it was you,” he growled in his otherworldly raspy voice that was reverberating in the small shower stall around you, intimately close.

Right, he hadn’t seen your face in the briefing room, but the marks on your neck gave away that it had been indeed you whom he had strangled. And now he had found you, not only with your hand between your legs, but also with your other in mimicry of his fist around your throat.

Talk about awkward.

“S–Sir,” you stuttered, unsure of what was happening or his intention of cornering you in the shower in the early morning hours. You tried with all your might to suppress the urge to apologize, you’d already told him you were sorry for speaking out of turn earlier, there was no need to do it again. Also, it should have been him apologizing for surprising you like this, while you were naked in the shower, alone, helpless, vulnerable.

Again you shivered, the true extent of your circumstance beating you down like an oversized sledgehammer.

Had Reaper come to finish what he’d started, was he going to strangle you to death? Or–and you were really hopeful it was true–had he come because of how he had noticed how turned on you’d been and wanted to lend a hand?

There was only one way to find out.

Tentatively, and with shaking fingers, you resumed your ministrations on your clit, rubbing it in very small circles, trying to override the fear still lodged in your brain with the pleasure created by the friction, while staring back at Reaper through half-lidded eyes wet from the water.

Again his mask tilted down and down until he saw you working yourself up. Your pulse spiked when he took a small step towards you, his heavy boots stomping wetly against the ground and blocking the exit of the shower stall.

You barely managed to keep your eyes open, but they went wide again when you felt his gloved hand against your throat. This time it was even more intense without your armor in the way. Would it hurt you even more like this, without that protective barrier between your soft skin and his sharp talons?

You couldn’t help yourself and moaned quietly, feeling your own voice vibrate against his palm that was not yet pressing or squeezing, it was just resting there on your windpipe, a reminder that this was in fact real and happening.

The hand between your legs sped up a bit with arousal, Reaper’s presence driving you into a frenzy. There was just something about the danger he exuded, the threat of violence and death that short-circuited your brain and turned your body into goo. How he just held you, loosely, but with that unmistakable strength underneath that grip, it made you shiver in delight, wrung a small whimper from you.

Now if he just squeezed a little, made it hard to breathe–you needed to feel that lightheadedness, the darkness creeping in at the edges of your vision, to lay your life in his hands. You needed more.

“Please,” you whispered, barely audible, but you knew he’d heard when you finally felt that pressure on your throat, wringing another moan from you as you lay your head against the wall. A few spare drops of water ran down your face, you felt his gloved palm slicked up by the water on your skin, could smell the leather even over the shampoo you’d used.

Cold was creeping in around you know, it ghosted over your wet skin, leaving goosebumps wherever it touched, small shivers racked your body, your knees were shaking. But on the inside you were burning up, a blush had formed on your cheeks, the result of his proximity and just the fact that he was looking at you, while you were pleasuring yourself, no less. Goodness, you wanted him to fuck you so badly, it made you whine desperately, speed up your fingers against your clit, and your free hand hold onto the wall behind.

Just a few more seconds and you’d come, you knew it in your bones, in the way your hips were undulating and how the heel of your hand was now pressed against that bundle of nerves and how you’d slid those two fingers inside your hot core in search of that spot.

But still you needed more. You had Reaper here with you and you needed him to choke you, leave it up to him if he wanted you to live or die. Give away all control, wanting to know if he deemed you worthy of his mercy.

When had you become such a frantic mess?

Were you that desperate to die? Reaper wasn’t known for his kindness after all, the possibility of him just fucking killing you was very high. And this was what was turning you on so much you would have slid down the shower wall if it hadn’t been for Reaper holding you by the neck.

Freshly wet eyes were staring at the man before you–his cold, dead mask–you tried to blink away the stubborn tears flowing freely down your cheeks, hoping he would not notice them on your already wet face, while you were angry at your emotional response.

Angry and so turned on.

“Harder,” you gasped and immediately closed your eyes in bliss when he generously gave you what you craved so badly. A papercut fine scratch made your breath catch, one of his claws must have broken your skin.

It took only one more thrust of your fingers, one hard press against your clit and you came with a sob, your body going rigid for a few heartbeats before going completely slack in Reaper’s grip.

The pressure on your neck had abated somewhat, Reaper gave you the chance to catch some much needed air, and you sucked it in greedily, panting like a dog through a dry mouth.

Heat had spread through your entire body, the cool kiss of the air against your skin barely feasible to your blissed out senses. The only sensation you were aware of was Reaper’s hand, just holding fast enough to keep you on your feet.

Somehow you couldn’t look at him anymore, the reality of the situation slowly creeping along your conscious and making you aware of how fucked up it was what just happened. With the awareness came the awkwardness, the slow panic of self-conscious fear–the need to say something, to get away. But at the same time you were speechless, still incredulous that what happened actually happened.

With a final deep breath you closed your eyes and before you could open them again the presence of the man’s hand had disappeared, and when you did manage to look again, so had the rest of him. Just vanished into thin air.

There was no trace of Reaper at all, no sound of heavy footsteps or the swishing of his leather cloak, nothing.

As you used the wall for support to stabilize yourself, you risked a glance outside the shower stall, searching for any sign that he had been indeed in here. There was no way you’d only imagined it all, it had been way too real; cold fingertips felt along your neck where his hand had been only seconds ago, then reached up to wipe at your still wet eyes.

You were slowly going insane, that must have been it.

Wrapping a towel around your rapidly cooling body, you tip-toed into the changing room to dry off completely. As you passed the mirrors, you had to stop and stare for a moment–there was a very small cut on your neck now, the blood already dried, but as you scratched at it there was new red liquid oozing out.

So it hadn’t been your imagination after all.

Huh.

–end.

[snowbellewells]

A Cottage by the Sea {Part Five}

Here we are at last! After months off (I’m truly sorry for that wait, by the way!) I’m back with the next to last addition to this @cssns20 story - only the final part/epilogue left to go.  I meant to have this up much earlier today, but I had several different things come up that made me later.  I hope you all who are still reading will enjoy... :)

Summary: Princess Emma has always been drawn to the shores of Misthaven, where the sea meets the sand near her parents’ castle. When an unknown boy washes up on the beach, with eyes as fathomless and blue as the waters that brought him to her, he soon becomes Emma’s best friend, her partner in crime, and her other half.  But the tides give and the tides take away, and as her blue-eyed boy sails in her father’s navy and risks all in defense of those who made him family, unexpected danger and challenge will try to tear them apart, and might well show him just where he came from that day he first appeared to her from the sea…

From the beginning on AO3, and here on Tumblr

Part Five

Calypso looked on with a mother’s concern and doting affection, treasuring the chance to see her son happy.  After so many years separated from her children, to have one of them here on her island where she could speak to him each day, brush back the wild dark hair from his face as she had done when he was just a little boy, no longer having to miss him, and knowing he would always be safe. It was nearly inducement enough to put a protective barrier up around her hidden home - an enchantment as she’d had before letting it down to allowing Killian’s princess passage, that would keep others out, and her son and his beloved in.

Yet, tempting as it was, the sea nymph knew better than most that she could do no such thing. Killian might find contentment here, now that Emma was by his side, but she could never force him to stay in such a manner. She would be parting him cruelly from the life he had worked hard to make for himself, and from the people who had taken him in - those who had become hs family when Davy had taken he and Liam from her arms. Having been forced to live with such loss, she would force no such thing on anyone else.

No, she would not make her beloved boy - long since become a man - remain here. She knew he would go, and even as she feared what might await him on his journey back to Misthaven; almost sensing that the threat from the deep was not yet over, she could only treasure this interlude she had been granted, to see Killian again, and to let him know he and his elder brother had always been loved and wanted.

~~***~~

Far below in the depths, fathoms beneath where Calypso watched anxiously, eyes drinking in every second of her son’s presence she could, and where Killian Jones and his royal lady love splashed and frolicked in the tide, another pair of eyes waited and watched, biding his time. True, he used supernatural means to do so - a dark orb of swirling greenish water housed in a gigantic open half shell platform brought the image to his underwater lair - but it was just as effective. Twice his younger son had escaped his clutches - once washed ashore as a youth before he could drag Killian down in his watery hold, and the second time foiled by the righteous nymph who fancied herself saving the whelp’s life. ‘Saving him? Bah!’ Davy’s glowering evil mind recanted. What could be more glorious than receiving his destiny? Sitting at his other side with Liam, ruling over the deep?

All these years, he’d been missing the set, the pair; he had his elder son - the wreck nearly a decade ago had seen to that - but he would not rest until both his sons were with him, his rule and legacy complete.

Of course, though he might hold his firstborn in thrall - unable to escape and return to the land of the living unless Davy released him, not after so long under the sea - that did not mean his eldest remained willingly. A dark glance over his shoulder gave him a view of Liam silently waiting and watching until orders were given him. Brooding, was more accurate, the immortal fiend thought angrily. Unlike the other souls lost and gathered into his unholy crew, Liam still looked much as he had when he had first been pulled below. He was not a mindless shade, hollowed and twisted beyond recognition as many of Davy’s captives for any length of time became. He still stood young, proud, and tall; broad-shouldered and handsome, just the sort of right hand a king of the deep would require, and Davy knew it well; it was just as he had envisioned long ago when he sent the typhoon that had claimed Liam’s young life. Unfortunately, the flaw in his plan was that it was meant to have brought him Killian as well, both his heirs to flank him and support him - his powerful living legacy. Instead his youngest had slipped through his clutches by chance or Fate - or interference from the dratted creature he had once charmed into loving him, who had borne him two strapping lads. To his way of thinking, Calypso had known full well just who he was and the darkness within him, but had then grown a conscience and set herself to oppose him at every turn.

��Liam!” he bellowed. Though he knew his eldest lingered just nearby, rekindled temper made his voice boom and reverberate in the small space, bouncing off the cavernous rock that encased his throne room. “It’s time my boy,” he pronounced, evil fire lighting eyes that had once been as blue and mesmeric as either of his sons’ but were now clouded and dark - foreboding whatever his mood. “Kilian will join us soon, as he should have long ago.”

The elder Jones brother, face steady and resolved, without flicker of emotion to betray his true thoughts came to stand at his father’s side dutifully when beckoned. He nodded at the boastful proclamation without comment, though if one looked closely - as Davy was too absorbed to do - they would have seen the strain in Liam’s every muscle, the tension radiating from his clenched jaw and tightly balled fist. His concern for his long-missed younger sibling would have been evident if one were watching, though he had learned long ago that luckily his power-mad sire noticed only what pleased him and related to his own concerns. He didn’t want Killian with him out of any genuine desire to reunite his family, but through some twisted ideal of dynastic completion.

Though he couldn’t hide all of his concern, Liam schooled his face into a mask of bland curiosity and obedience as he looked to Davy who growled, “You remember the job you are to do?” 

“Aye,” Liam affirmed simply with a curt nod, leaving out that he had every intention of doing the opposite when the moment came.

He left soon after, knowing his keeper - all the moniker his pitiless sire truly deserved - would never suspect him to do anything other than exactly as he decreed. ‘Thank the gods for small mercies on that score,’ Liam thought as he swam from the lair with unnaturally strong, tireless strokes. Such blind tunnel vision was all he really had to count on in his hopes to turn the tide.

~~***~~

Emma was genuinely surprised by Calypso’s warmth and affection as the gracious sea numph accepted her thanks for her aid and guidance in finding Ogygia before drifting lost at sea interminably. Of course this otherworldly being - uncannily graceful and stunning in all respects - was Killian’s mother! Not wonder he had always been able to charm any person he met with a mere smile or twinkle of his eyes! The part that staggered Emma was that the woman would embrace her and bless them as a couple rather than begrudge her pulling Killian away when she had just found him again. Princess trained in regal bearing and dignity she might be, but all the same, Emma could only tightly hug Killian’s mother in return, blubbering an apology about not being able to desert her parents and her people, which Calypso acknowledged with a calm gesture of understanding, and then boarded the ship, trying to quickly wipe away the stray tears that had escaped down her cheeks. She was glad to be able to say she had met his mother, and Killian deserved a moment alone to say his farewells - at least for the moment.

“Your princess is truly a lovely young woman,” Calypso told her son warmly, squeezing his hands in her own, hating to think that soon Killian would once again be out of her reach. “She is as enchanting and kind as her lady mother, Misthaven’s Queen, is reputed to be. I have no doubt that she will rule justly and well when the time comes.”

“Nor do I,” Killian agreed softly, his assurance, and the pride her felt for his beloved clear in word and tone. “But Mother, I…”

“And she loves you,” Calypso continued, cutting him off because she knew she must tell him all before her emotions choked her. “Above all else, she holds you closest to her heart, my son. Right where you deserve to be. It does a mother’s heart good to see it.”

Killian bowed his head, flushing to the tips of his ears, pointed like hers he realized now with pleasure to have a trait in common with this mother he hated to part from. “And I love her,” he replied without hesitation, “But you know that I love you as well… don’t you?” He pressed their joined hands to his chest, just over his heart. “That I do not wish to leave you?  Emma’s people look to her; they need her… and I have responsibilities as well.  Her parents, they took me in…”

“Never fear, Killian,” Calypso soothed her son easily. “I do know. And you will never fully leave me. You will always be my baby boy. You - and she - will always be welcomed here, should you ever wish to return.”

For a long, heavily charged moment mother and son leaned into a lingering embrace - full of comfort, which neither wished to let go. Foreheads touching, Killian tried to breath in her scent, to memorize the sound of her voice - all the things he had forgotten before. 

“I will always be here for you, Son,” she promised as he turned to stride across the sand and into the ship to sail home. “You know where to find me… whenever you need.”

Her son waved one last time before joining his princess at the bow, and soon their little ship was no more than a speck on the horizon, drifting further and further away.

~~***~~

They had been on the water some hours when a gentle bubbling and foaming disturbance of the surface appeared just ahead of their boat. Both Killian and Emma noted it, but were not terribly concerned at first. It was only when the waves around them began to roll and grow choppy, forcing Emma to grasp the sides tight-lipped and white-knuckled and Killian to eye the frothing, churning, and ever-expanding disturbance with worry he did not wish to voice. This was clearly no mere passing dolphin or larger tide as he had first hoped. He remembered too just how malevolently and suddenly the storm which wrecked his vessel and drowned the rest of his crew had blown up. He could not bear to see such a calamity befall Emma.

Glancing to his side, Killian’s heart swelled with admiration and affection for her as she braced herself and remained calm, neither crying nor panicking as many an untested sailor might have done. She was silent and steady - every bit as determined to hold her own as he was to see her home safely. However, he was about to caution her to wrap a length of rope around her oar-lock and then her waist securely, so that if she were tossed overboard he could haul her back in before she was lost, when suddenly their small craft bucked and lurched so strongly that she was thrown to the deck on hands and knees, and he nearly toppled down on her, despite his own more seasoned sea legs.

Before Killian could even reach to help her up, some unknown form broke the surface in the center of the spinning waters, and once it did, the worst of the pitching and rolling calmed. A head, then broad shoulders, emerged seemingly from the deep - as impossible as it should have seemed. However, they did just leave the island of his mother the sea nymph, so neither felt quite as supported by usual logic as they once had been. It was only as the figure glided toward them on the waves, as if they could simply float atop the water weightlessly without the effort of swimming, that Kilian recognized its build and look with a shock of disbelief. As the mysterious arrival raised unmistakably blue eyes to meet their awestruck gazes, the single word fell from his mouth on a harsh, ragged breath. “L- Liam?”

Emma’s head whirled to stare at him, then the aquatic visitor, and back, slack-jawed and goggle-eyed. She wanted to make sure she’d heard him correctly. Liam? The brother who had died when Killian was a child? Who had been lost to the sea at the same time it brought Killian to her? How was that possible? The thoughts cropped up in her mind one after another, but turning to see the intensity and confusion, the pain and the dawning joy on Killian’s face made her hold her tongue.

Tears started in the corners of her own eyes all the same, though he managed to speak again softly, “Brother? ...Is it really you? You- you drowned.” His face almost crumpled, and Emma wanted desperately to take his hand in comfort, but she held back, sensing that the brothers needed this moment - however it was happening. “I thought you were lost.”

Somberly, the shaggy head of hair lighter and curlier than Killian’s nodded to confirm his words. “Aye, it’s me, Little Brother.” He glided closer, out of the water up to his waist, until he was right next to their vessel, facing Killian as he reached out tentatively. “I was drowned… more or less. But I have not really died, not as one normally understands it.  Oh blast, am I buggering this up!”

Emma knew her face must match the look of perplexity covering her sailor’s. The words this man was uttering didn’t make sense. And yet, Killian would not - could not - leave him hanging, regardless of his confusion. He reached forward and met Liam in a tight, frantic hug of reunion after so many years apart, She heard a strangled sob leave the younger Jones, muffled against his elder brother’s shoulder, which was in turn shaking rather markedly with a soundless anguish and relief of its own.

When they finally parted, Liam’s hands were resting on Killian’s shoulders as he peered into his brother’s eyes intently. “I will explain all - as best I can anyway. I swear it, Killian. I am sorry I could not make myself known to you sooner.”

Killian nodded in acceptance of those words, looking almost dazed - as if afraid to even blink or speak for fear his beloved sibling would vanish from him again.

“But first,” the elder Jones continued, “I must tell you how I have reached you now - and warn you to be on your guard.” 

Tremors ran down Emma’s spine at the words themselves, and the tone in which they were spoken. This was not idle chatter, but a true threat, and she could only imagine who, or what, he might warn was coming their way.

Killian gave his older brother a curt nod of understanding, urging Liam on. It was clear how they would have worked impeccably well together - an unstoppable team on any ship - if things had been different, if they had been allowed to sail into adulthood side-by-side. They do not argue or waste time, but instead each obviously trusted the other at their word, without a second’s hesitation, and moved forward without fail toward what must be done - not allowing room for doubt nor fear.

Liam cleared his throat, eyes lowered to avoid quite holding contact with either of their faces when he continued, voice gravel-rough and low. “Of course you know of Davy Jones and his infernal locker…” he began..

Again, Killian nodded in confirmation, “Aye, naturally.”

“What most do not know - what I myself could not have known all those years ago, still just a lad, and would never have believed, is that Davy Jones and the legend surrounding him - his locker, his cursed crew, the Flying Dutchman - all of it is true.”

Neither Killian nor Emma spoke to interrupt him, though it was a near thing, both of them staring frozen and gobsmacked, trying to figure out how they must have misunderstood Liam’s words. Finally, Killian gathered his wits enough to sputter incredulously, “You mean to say that you’ve been held prisoner - a part of that villain’s crew all this time? How - how is that possible?”

Liam shook his head resignedly, answering with little more than a shrug and a low voice. “I do not begin to know the whys and wherefores, Little Brother. Until seeing you here before me, I had genuinely lost all sense of time passing, and much memory of who I once was and what I felt long ago - a sort of suspended animation, if you will.”

Emma had remained quiet throughout their exchange - partially stunned into speechlessness and partially from a desire to allow Killian the time and space to be reunited with the sibling he had mourned as long as she had known him. Yet, with this revelation, she found her curiosity overruling her previous restraint. “What allowed you to come to us now then?” she questioned, tilting her head as she attempted to study his face - familiar, but not as open to her as Killian’s had ever been. She didn’t mean to be mistrustful, but all of this tale was strange - straining belief, in fact - and his arrival to warn them at just the opportune moment seemed almost too much a coincidence.

“A fair question indeed, your Highness,” Liam answered respectfully, with a slight dip of his chin in differential bow. For a moment, his gaze slid back over to Killian with such proud approbation, as if congratulating him in finding such a sharp lass and valuing that about her, that Emma felt herself flush with pleasure.

He granted her a small but transformative smile; in truth, the way it lightened his whole aspect made him seem an entirely different person. Not only that, but the familial similarities between he and the brother she had grown up beside became all the more evident when his expression drew her in just as Killian so easily did. “In answer to your question - as fair warning, as much as it is in my power to offer you - Davy sent me to the surface anyway. He made me have you in my sights, ready to do his bidding at the moment he chooses to strike. I did not know whether I would be able to thwart his intent and show myself or speak to you ahead of when he wished, but it seems I can, and it was worth any effort for me to at least try. I believe he knows my loyalty is not fully his, in whatever degree I am free of his influence, and so he has not told me all. Have no doubt he will attack when you are weakest though, when the moment is most opportune for his victory. Please, both of you, be wary and ready. I will help you in any way I can, but I can never be fully assured how much of my will might be my own.”

Kililan’s brow furrowed in anger and disgust, his concern for the sibling he loved clear as he asked disbelievingly, “He controls you?”

Liam bobbed his head in grudging confirmation, but he wanted them to know as well as possible just what they were up against. “To a large degree, yes. If he wills it, that seems often to be the case, at any rate. Thankfully, he has numerous minions, most much more eager to serve as they are grateful to be - at least in some measure - alive. He is often distracted and not actively ordering me to do anything, and as such, I am often able to do as I will. Not that I have much to see or do here trapped within the ocean. It would have been better for me to have perished outright, but he did not allow that - not when he sent that storm to gather us both to his side.”

The elder Jones shook his head in frustration, gritting his teeth before concluding ominously, “I fear he will never rest until he has captured your soul as well, Brother… And I do not know how much I will be able to aid you or resist his orders when he directly states otherwise.”

Before he could divert his gaze, obviously ashamed that he could be used as a pawn, made to hurt those he most wished to protect, Killian brought his hand quickly to grasp his brother’s forearm, bringing Liam’s stormy gaze up to look on his own, clasping his long lost hero’s hand in a firm, brotherly grip. Killian vowed solemnly. “Understood. We will be on our guard. But do not think for a moment we will hold you to blame for something beyond your control, either.”

Emma stepped closer, looking into the slightly greyer, more muted blue of the brother she had just met’s eyes as well. “Take care of yourself too. See that you weather the storm as well so we can meet again. And thank you… for the warning.”

The shaggy head, which had once been carefully close-cropped and tended light brown curls nodded, seeming to know better - just as his younger brother always had - than to argue with a princess so prepossessed and determined. There was a sheen of unshed tears filming those wise, weary eyes as he hesitated every second he felt able, but in the end he dared not linger further, loath to draw Davy Jones’ attention to the princess and lieutenant if they could by pass his waters undetected.

Unfortunately, the entire sea was the evil being’s domain - and all those upon it a part of his purview. All three of them knew - and Liam from a sickening knowledge of seeing and living the aftermath of when struggle against Davy for survival ultimately failed - it was a battle that would take all they had, with the outcome Emma spoke of anything but assured.  Still, the fact that they knew it was coming, could steel themselves and prepare for the worst, somehow steadied them. Neither Killian nor Emma had ever been people who had backed down from a fight - and they were calling on every bit of that resolve in the moment.

Though Liam was more than reluctant to leave his brother and Killian’s beloved - a princess! And a woman he already found himself feelings  brotherly affection for - he knew he must do so soon. The last thing he wanted was to destroy their one advantage and let Davy know they were aware of his plot. Nor did he wish to lead his predatory sire right to Killian and Emma; let them get as close to their home and safety as they could before the nefarious, supernatural captain caught them up.

“Aye,” he finally managed to choke out harshly. “May we do so.” One more quick bow of his head, reverence in the gesture before he offered a warm, loving smile and then sunk so smoothly beneath the surface of the water that it barely rippled, unlike when he had appeared. Almost as though he had never been there at all; leaving Killian and Emma to turn to each other, vowing to fight through together, to find Liam again, their eyes promised it even if no words were spoken, whatever they were about to face. 

~~***~~

Sure enough, they might have hoped otherwise, Killian and Emma felt Davy Jones’ presence approaching before they reached Misthaven’s shores. The otherworldly menace’s arrival was heralded as much by the change in the wind and the waters around them as the chill of foreboding that made the hair at their napes stand on end. Though he had not yet shown his cursed visage, the way what had simply been a pleasant breeze now picked up to whip at the sails, their hair and clothes, and to howl in their ears, and the way what had been a light blue sky turned a sickening chartreuse full of scudding grey clouds ever-darkening with ominous intent.

For an extended moment, Kilian’s eyes sought Emma’s across the small hull of their rolling vessel, being tossed more and more as the waves crested higher. “If we capsize, Emma,” he spoke slowly, firmly, as if to imprint his words on her memory if he were not still there at her side. “Swim for land in this same direction,” he indicated the way they had been traveling, over her shoulder. “We nearly reached the harbor. A strong swimmer - which you are, Love - might yet make it on their own strength.”

She wanted to ignore his words, to shake her head in wild denial that she might need knowledge he wouldn’t be there to provide. She had no intention of losing him again. And yet, the confrontation they had hoped to avoid was surely coming any minute; they would not outrun the master of those lost to the Deep.  The little vessel that had taken her so far, and had nearly borne them home again was no longer managing any progress forward, merely struggling to remain afloat as it rode wildly up and down on the ever-rising swells.

And then, at long last, with a loud, whooshing roar, it was as if the ocean itself parted, a huge, dark shape, which solidified into the monstrous hulk of a ship surged up from the depths of the open chasm. As it leapt to the surface, righting itself to mount a wall of water, the split in the waves fell closed once more, leaving the blackened, ruinous black ghost of the Flying Dutchman towering before them not more than fifteen feet away - like a shark poised to swallow smaller fish too stunned or too late to flee.

No sooner had Emma been able to swallow hard in a throat suddenly parched with apprehension, her fingers clenched in the material of Killian’s sleeve, above all else determined she wouldn’t let him be taken from her again, when everything around them went horribly, unnaturally still. The waves, the wind, all their surroundings silently seeming to hold their breath before all chaos broke loose. For one last moment, she and her lieutenant fixed their eyes on each other; wordlessly swearing to see each other on the other side, whether or not it was within their power to follow through on such a promise.  Then he turned to face his sire - if one could truly be made to believe that the monstrous captain towering over them at the prow of the other ship could have had any connection to the true and honorable man Killian had become. Intending to remain at his back, to do whatever she could to help him fight and keep them afloat, Emma straightened her shoulders and stiffened her spine as they waited and watched.

Sound and fury returned to the world around them as the accursed captain reached the very helm of his ship, bringing him fully into view as his low, malevolent chuckle at their show of resolve seemed to set the waves crashing and churning once more. “Oh ho, Killian, you’ve brought your intended to our long-awaited reunion, have you? Not particularly well-advised, but she is a pretty wench. I supposed I can see why you’d be loath to leave her behind.”

Killian’s frown deepend, the muscle in his jaw working as he bit down on his anger. Those eyes that she usually likened to the brilliance of a summer sky or the blue of his beloved ocean were instead lit with the pale fire of the hottest of flames at Davy’s callous words. “Hardly,” he clipped in a low growl. “I had no intention of meeting you at all. And I’ll not have you getting anywhere near Emma.”

“Is that so?” Davy snarled, his own temper seeming to erupt at his offspring’s defiance. “We’ll just see about that!”

The waves their little boat floated upon suddenly seemed propelled forward, rising on a towering crest of water as if drawn to Davy’s hand. Skilled a sailor as Killian was, there was no steering them anywhere else when the very elements were turned against them. The air seemed to quiver just as Emma found herself doing, in spite of her best efforts as they came face-to-face with the accursed being. The boards of the vessel beneath their feet groaned and creaked as the frothing sea bearing it seemed ready to dash it to kindling. The air whistled and howled, whipping her hair against her face until she was nearly blinded. And yet, she saw the horrifying shade who faced them, the dark cloud of obsession clouding eyes which might once have been clear and striking as the sons he claimed as his own. He stood taller than the average man, seeming even larger with the wild hair and wide-brimmed, ostentatiously old-fashioned hat atop his head. All his dress was from a more ornate and bygone age, and yet looked gone to ruin rather than impressive, almost mildewed, or perhaps it was a growth of some sort of moss or coral upon his apparel after so long within the sea. Beyond the visible appearance however, the aura of evil power practically radiated from his being, and Emma felt herself draw back before even realizing she had done so.

Pleased with the nightmare impression he never failed to make, Davy Jones chortled in maniacal glee. “Oh yes, I see you there, Princess. Try not to fret overmuch. No matter how brave, they always cower before me in the end.”

She wanted to contradict his words, to call back that Killian wasn’t afraid and that she believed in him, but Emma found her tongue was stuck to the roof of her mouth, speechless and unable to react other than to stare, frozen, until with one last murderous crow, Davy cackled, “You’re both in my clutches, and no hope to escape. Look your last on the world above.”

Then they were falling, plummeting back to the surface with such speed and force that the boat rolled and cracked in two when it hit the water again. Swept underwater and swirled around dizzyingly, Emma fought to retain any sense of which way was up and to break free of the whirlpool ravenously threatening to suck her further down.

Her lungs burned; her rational mind knowing she would have to draw breath soon - and that it would be nothing but saltwater and spell the beginning of the end. She paddled madly, flailing for some sort of light, when suddenly, a solid arm caught her around the middle and pulled her back toward the air at last.

Certainly she had expected for Killian to have somehow reached her, though she couldn’t begin to account for the strength and speed with which she was fished from the drink. However, upon gulping her first sweet breath of air and catching a glimpse of her savior, she found not Killian, but his brother keeping her afloat. Coughing up the water she had somehow swallowed and attempting to speak her thanks, the words died on her tongue at the seeming blank and unknowing countenance Liam bore, nothing like the warmth with which he had looked at her mere hours ago.

“Liam?” she attempted to gain his recognition, even as an awful feeling stole her breath yet again. “What’s wrong? It’s Emma… don’t you remember me?”

Still he made no response, solidifying the frightened certainty that he was under Davy’s control once more and no longer acting of his own volition. Wriggling and kicking to try to break free, Emma found quickly that her efforts were useless. There was no escaping the iron grip he had on her.

Yet, even as her own panic rose to as crescendo, Emma found herself needing to find Killian, to know if he were better or worse off - and already praying that he had not somehow been swallowed by the vicious waves his sire had conjured to claim them. As her eyes flew across the distance, they came to rest on both a thrilling and blood-curdling scene. Her love stood feet planted on the overturned shell of their boat, splintered oar in hand as the only weapon available to him, and waiting as Davy drew near, magically skimming across the tops of the waves, ready to face him once again and for all.

She struggled anew against Liam’s iron hold, but he barely moved; her efforts to free herself having so little effect they might as well not have happened at all. He didn’t speak, though his expression was tormented, torn as if he were indeed in conflict between what he wished to do himself and the command that decreed his actions otherwise. Yet that did not stop Emma’s trying to reason with him, trying to break through. “Liam, please. You know me. I’m on your side, remember?” she pleaded, even as she continued to try to escape his hold. “We want the same thing. Let me go and we’ll help Killian, alright? Look, he needs us.” She flung her arm out desperately, hoping to make him see the real place they should be focused.

Liam’s gaze did move to his younger sibling for a moment, and Emma’s heartbeat quickened at the longing she saw in the elder brother’s countenance; the aching need to stand shoulder-to-shoulder and fight together for something good and true once more. But then he jerked his gaze from the scene of impending conflict once more, muttering to himself as if to drive home a point he would not have himself forget. “Not yet, not yet,” his lips were moving as he repeated it almost like a mantra. “Must wait for the opportune moment…”

Puzzled, Emma worried that she had heard him say that very phrase before, when cautioning them that Davy would choose the opportune moment to strike. All she could take from that was the fact that he woudln’t release her and hadn’t yet gone to his brother’s aid was that his father did have him under his command. Yet, Liam also looked far from peacefully mindless; he might be under duress, but he was aware and hating every second of it. Even as she was in danger from him, even as every fiber of her being clawed to get to Killian’s side and help him any way she could, her heart still broke for Liam.

“You can beat this, Liam,” she murmured fervently, trying to catch his gaze and ceasing in her struggles to rest her hand over his much larger one in solidarity. “You’ve fought him this long, hang in there a little longer.”

Something sparked in his gaze at her words, something Emma didn’t fully understand - and yet, it gave her hope. It was conscious and alive, and truly him, not Davy holding his mind captive. Had she gotten through? Had he already broken free? Then what was he waiting for?

Both of their attention snapped back to the battle sides drawn before them once more at the taunting voice of Davy Jones. “Come now, boy. You had to know you would lose to me. A mere mortal - and with something so precious to lose. Join me, part of the ship and crew that sails forever, scourge of the sea. You’ll have power, your birthright, your brother with you again. Plus, as you can see, Liam holds my ace in the hole. We’ll see your princess safely to shore if you join us. Refuse and fight, and she becomes one of us as well.”

Even at a distance, Emma could see the rage in Killian’s eyes at the demon’s words - the threat to himself already known, but unwilling to stand for the threat to her. He glanced their way only briefly, but it was enough for Emma to see Liam give the tiniest jerk of his head to the side, an unspoken denial to whatever Killian had asked with his look. “Opportune moment,” she heard him vow in a whisper once more as he held his younger brother’s stare for a resolute second longer.

Then Killian whipped back to face their sire once more with a defiant glare and what could only be called a battle cry. “Never!” he snarled, fire in his eye and retribution in his bearing. Though Emma could do nothing but watch, and though the dire situation seemed completely unchanged, she was galvanized by her love’s certainty, believing that he would prevail. Whatever had passed between he and his brother, it had been the final push he had needed.

With a roar of vengeance, the taker of imperiled souls surged forward, Emma’s gasp swallowed by the howling, churning elements at his command swelling along with his ire. As certain as she had been mere moments ago that Killian could stand firm, she was terrified that she was about to see him consumed, and the rest of them with him. Still, just as Davy’s huge bulk and accompanying wave towered over her sailor, ready to cascade over his head and bury him in the rolling depths, Killian released another feral howl and charged forward himself, meeting his villainous father head on. Boldly welding the broken spar of the boat before him, he stabbed with a force Davy could not have reckoned on, sinking the jagged tip of the wooden stake into the monster’s chest.

For a horrible beat of time, their foe appeared unfazed, and then it was as if he began to deflate, then shrink - as if no one had managed to strike such a blow before, and his defenses were not actually equal to the task. Lurching with outstretched hand to grasp either Killian or his weapon in a final strike, there was suddenly an explosion so loud it seemedd to shake the very atmosphere. A blinding flash of light radiated from where man and monster grappled to the death, then darkness fell - equally blinding - and Emma was suddenly adrift. No longer held, unable to place anything in the black night that had suddenly engulfed her, she paddled to stay afloat, and seemingly alone. Lost and completely at sea.

Bobbing aimlessly on the surface, it was hard to tell how much time had gone by, or how far she had been carried by the waves. The huge crests and white caps had receded, leaving it a gentle rise and fall that Emma was in no danger from, yet she could not feel that all was well until she understood what had happened, where she was - and where Killian was as well. Trying she might to strain and peer through the darkness however, she couldn’t make out any recognizable landmarks; nothing but the waves surrounding her and buoying her up. It was as if she had gone from the center of battle to being the only person left on Earth or sea, the silence and dark felt so immense.

Eventually, the repetitive motion of the gently rolling swells soothed her into a doze, her eyelids fluttering closed. Despite her concern for her beloved lieutenant and her occasional unconscious paddle to stay upright, after all she had been through, Emma succumbed to a restless sleep.

~~***~~

Her eyes didn’t open again until her feet drug across rough stones, having finally been carried into the shallows and touching the rough bottom not yet become sand. She jerked back into awareness with a gasp; alarmed and not at all sure where she was. Blessedly, when she looked around herself, Emma could see once more - the endless horizon stretched out before her streaked with peaches, yellows, and pinks as hte sun rose over the ocean. Even more relieving, at her back she could see rocky, deserted coastline. Devoid of people or buildings, but land all the same.

She struck out for the shore, gladly swimming toward the land that was nearer than she could have guessed. Was this Misthaven yet? Had she been carried elsewhere as she drifted and slept? There was no way to know, and she found she didn’t even care in comparison to simply getting out safely. If only she knew where Killian was…  

She had barely scrabbled out upon the rough, sandy beach, feeling water-logged and half alive and at a lost for what to do, when she heard her name called over the water. “Swan!” the moniker that only he had ever used, an affectionate shorthand between the two of them, hit her ears with the welcome impact of beautiful music.

Turning, her mouth fell open in awe at the sight of him rising out of the water with otherworldly grace - as if right in his element (which, in truth, he must be). There was an ethereal glow about him, gleaming from his dark hair and the tips of his rather pointed ears, outlining his strong arms and slender waist as he emerged from the deep, sent back to her on the tide once more. “Emma” he repeated, voice low and ragged with emotion though relief and joy showed across his face. “We made it, Love. He’s gone and we’re still here!”

Unable to hold back any longer, as impossible as it was to believe, when he opened his glowing arms in welcome, standing in the ankle deep water, she felt tears of joy spilling over as she cried out his name on a sob and ran to meet him. 

Feet splashing through the shallows, the slap of her skin against the near-velvet texture of the wet sand as the water splashed up with each steps, Emma was laughing and crying all at once as she gained speed. The exhaustion and defeat that had dogged her mere moemtns before completely gone at the sight of his smile. She hit his arms in a flat out run, bowling them both over and into the water again, witha  yelp of surprise from Killian, a laughing tangle of limbs.

She was kissing across his cheeks, his forehead, his chin, anxious to press her lips to every bit of his skin, having feared that he had finally disappeared where she couldn’t follow. Pulling back fro only a second as he tangled his fingers in her wet hair and cradled the back of her head in his palm, she tried ot splutter out enough words to make sense. “H- how is this possible? How did you - How are you here?”

Killian chuckled, a low, comforting rumble that vibrated from his chest to her palm where it rested over his heart. He licked those gorgeous lips, parting them to answer her, and suddenly she couldn’t stand not to be kissing them for even a moment longer. The explanation could wait.

Surging forward, she captured that luscious mouth with her own, just barely murmuring, “Never mind… it doesn’t matter. I’m just glad you’re here.”

Killian might have been taken aback by her enthusiasm at frist, but he recovered admirably. Pushing back, his tongue entered the fray in a delicious bid for control of the kiss, which she ceded, humming in pleasant abandon as he rolled her to her back in the sand and surf, breaking lightly and pleasantly against their bodies. Hovering over her, his eyes sparkled in enchanting glee, and he had the audacity to lick his lips as though she were a delicacy laid out before him. “Emma, my love,” he breathed hoarsely, lowering his ips to graze along her collarbone, licking and nipping in a way that made her squirm with blissful anticipation. “We’ve made it home.”

“Mmm,” she tried to answer, but the wordless sound was all the confirmation she could muster with her body humming pleasantly from his attentions.

“We should go to your parents, Love,” Killian suggested, though half heartedly at best. “Let them know we’re alive.”

She nodded, but made no move to go anywhere, merely sinking her fingers into the muscles of his forearms, gasping and arching toward him in supplication as his nose pushed aside her wet and slightly askew bodice and that wicked mouth latched onto the flesh it had been covering. 

“Later,” she finally managed breathily, having all she could do to hold on for dear life to him. “We have all the time in the world.”

Tagging: @cssns @kmomof4 @jennjenn615 @searchingwardrobes @laschatzi @whimsicallyenchantedrose @teamhook @revanmeetra87 @spartanguard @therooksshiningknight @optomisticgirl @tiganasummertree @thislassishooked @winterbaby89 @jrob64 @stahlop @elizabeethan @donteattheappleshook @drowned-dreamer @shireness-says @thisonesatellite @lfh1226-linda @ultraluckycatnd @gingerchangeling​ @xsajx​

[mtherhino]

One side, two lives

Chapter twelve

You should be thanking me

First Previous Next

Warnings: talk of anorexia, self hatred, lot of swearing, swords, a bit of blood and general angst

Virgil yawned as he walked out of his room. He had finished beating Remus in super Mario carts a while ago and had decided to take a nap. As soon as he left his room his anxiety shot up. The former dark sidegriped his chest and leaned against the hallway wall to keep from falling down. He didn’t know why but he suddenly felt like he was on the verge of having a panic attack. He took a few deep breaths to try to calm himself down and not hyperventilate.  

Once he calmed himself down enough to actually stand he started walking to the living room. He saw Patton sitting on the couch looking upset and Logan sitting at the dining table with annoyance written all over his face. Virgil didn’t know what to do. He had never been that great at comforting people and he didn’t even know what happened in the first place.

The former dark side looked back over at Patton again who was mumbling to himself and had a fairway look as he stared at the floor.  Virgil couldn’t make out what he was saying but he heard the words “right “ and “wrong” a few times. In the end Virgil decided it would be better to try to talk to Logan rather than Patton, at least that way he couldn’t  figure out what happened to make everyone upset and Thomas’s anxiety spike so suddenly.

The  anxious side walked over the table and sat down. Logan looked up and Virgil gave him a confused look, the meaning was pretty clear, ‘what the hell happened?’ The logical side sighed and put down his book. He explained everything that happened during and after the wedding, making sure to keep his voice down the whole time. Although he tried to tell the story without any biases a bit of annoyance and anger slipped into his voice when he told Virgil about the others skipping over what he had to say.

When he finished his explanation Virgil didn’t know how to feel. He knew it was wrong what Roman had said to Deceit, even if he does hate the despicable snake, and he defiantly needs to apologies, but that doesn’t excuse the others behavior. Roman was trying to do what he thought was right, though his decisions may have been pretty bad he wasn’t trying to make all this shit happen, plus’s all of them had decided that Thomas would go to the wedding. Not only that but they all should have listened to Logan sooner, maybe they couldn’t have avoided some of this.

Not being able to think of anything to really say the purple clad side sighed tiredly. Logan nodded in agreement.

“That’s, that’s defiantly not good, any of it. I’m sorry you were talked over, I should have been there –“. Before he could finish his sentence Virgil was cut off.

“I mean no offense by this but I think it was a good thing you weren’t there. There was enough chaos as it was having anyone more there would have just added to it.”

           Virgil went to argue but stoped himself. He knew deep down that Logan was right but that didn’t make the feeling of guilt and fear that was rooted in his mind go away.

“Thanks Logan. Now that I have all the fact I think I’ll go talk to Patton about all this. This was really helpful.” Logan smiled a little at the praise as Virgil went to talk to the father figure of the mind scape.

           Virgil sat down on the other side of the couch from Patton who still had a faraway look in his eyes. The anxious side’s eyes softened, the description of Pattons panic attack didn’t sound good, and he wasn’t even there for it to see how bad it really was.

“Hey Pat.” The moral side looked up when he heard his name and seemed to be surprised to see Virgil next to him. Once he realizes it though he quickly put on a clearly strained d smile and sat up a bit more, putting on his “cheery” attitude.

“Oh hey kiddo! I didn’t hear you come in! What’s up?” Patton said with a smile. Virgil continued to look at the fatherly side with a sad expression.

“I heard about what happened today.”  Patton’s smile faded into a look that wasn’t quite readable until it was replaced with a much sadder smile.

“I see. I’m sorry if we caused you any stress kiddo. Me and the others just had a…. disagreement on what was the right thing to do.” Patton tried to explain.

           Virgil hummed and offered Patton a side hug. The moral side leaned into the hug and Virgil tried to comfort him. Just as the anxious side was about to say something all three light sides heard running coming from the hallway. The yellow clad dark side stoped in the entrance of the hallway, distress written on his face. Patton stood up and quickly walked over to deceit Janus.

“Janus whats wrong?”

“I most certainly wouldn’t like to know if any of you have seen Remus. I definitely “can” find him in the dark side of the mindscape.” The lying side said, worry dripping form his words.

           Logan’s head shot up when he heard that, finally putting down his book and walking over to Janus, a concerned look on his face. It slightly surprised Virgil how worried the logical side looked, usually he showed as little emotion as he could.

“No I haven’t even seen him today, which is odd.” The logical side mumbled out the last part, confusing the others in the room. “Are you sure he isn’t in the imagination?” Logan said with a concerned frown.

           The deceitful side shook his head.

“He “wouldn’t” have told me if he was going.” Janus said with sad and slightly guilty eyes. Virgil wasn’t sure why they held guilt in them but he decided it was about time he joined the conversation.

“I was playing Mario cart with him earlier today but that was at least two hours ago.” The anxious side said as he stuck his hands in his hoodie pockets, not liking the fact that the others where now looking at him. “He was acting like his normal Remus self at the time so I don’t know what could be wrong.”

The sides took a minute to ponder what could have happened. Out of know where a dark and ominous aura took over the room. Janus summoned his cane as soon as he felt it and the other prepared themselves for whatever was too come. Virgil watched in awe and horror as the room changed around them.

The warm tan colors on the wall shifted into a dark grey that had bits of gold speckling the color. The curtains became long and changed into a blood red velvet fabric. Almost everything in the room took on sharp twisting edges that looked like they could belong in a castle. Lastly a throne materialize from the ground at the back wall of the  room, the perfect place to survey everything. The throne was a dark black that seems to soak up any light that touched it. The back and seat had some maroon red cushioning, gold tipped the edges of every spike, as well as right above where the head would be if someone where to sit down in the mighty chair. The room finally settled and it looked a lot more like a throne room then a living room. The sides took a minute to take in the now slightly unsettling features to the mindscape before a voice spoke up from behind them.

“Much better. The whole room was so bland, not at all befitting of a king.” An oddly familiar voice said. All the sides turned quickly to where the voice was coming form and saw a figure emerge from a cloud of mist. The figure, the side, had his head bowed so that they couldn’t see his face. Janus stepped in front with his cane in a defensive position ready to protect the others. Virgil tried to focus more on the new side and saw that had he had a golden cape trailing behind him as well as a glowing sword that he held in front of him like a cane, ready to be used if the need arises.

Virgil gasped a little and took a step back, making the others even more nervous then they already where. The reasons for the anxious sides actions where because he recognized this person in front of him. It’s him. The one I saw in my dreams, the one that kil-, Virgil shook his head trying not to think about that part of his dream. But how is this guy here? How is he even real?!

Janus was the first to say something as he raised his cane at the stranger.

“Who are you, and what do you want?” The snake like side hissed out, sounding a lot braver than he actually felt. The royal side laughed, a cruel and cold sound that made the other sides, light and dark,  stiffened. The figure raised his head and the group group gasp lightly. Because there staring right at them with the most evil look any of them had ever seen, was their friend and prince, Roman.

           Virgil was the first to speak this time.

“Roman? It that you?” The anxious side said with tears in his eyes as he took a small step forward, only for Janus to hold out an arm stopping him. Although the sides where all just aspects of Thomas, they each had little differences about there faces that made it easier to distinguish who was who, no one side could look exactly like another, not even Janus. However there stood someone that looked exactly like the creative side they all knew and cared for, all except for the side’s red and golden eyes. The side also had a black streak in his otherwise brown hair. The Roman- look-alike side barked a harsh laugh at the smaller side’s words.

           “You think I’m that pathetic excuse for a side? Your idiotic prince? Well thankfully for all of you, I’m not.” The side said with a smile. Virgil growled and was about to speak up in Roman’s defense before Logan covered his mouth. The now angry purple side turned to the logical one of the group and glared. The taller side shook his head and mouthed the words ‘just wait’, his eyes giving away that he was more than a little weary about the situation. It took a minute but Virgil eventually nodded and Logan let him go hesitantly, both turning back to the new side.

           “If I may, if your not Roman as you say, who are you?” Logan spoke up boldly. A smirk formed on the red eyed side’s farce.

“Well, Logan, I’m something a thousand times better than that stupid prince.” The side took a step forward, his word dragging behind him, while the others stepped back. “Im the most powerful side you’ll ever meet,” another step, “the true king of the imagination,” another step, the others backs hit the wall.

“And most importantly of all,” the side swung the sword forward so that it was now at Janus’s throat.

           “The new king of the mindscape.” His smile was wide and his eyes glowed a dangerous gold.

                                   “I am Pride.”

           Janus glared at the person in front of him.

“That’s impossible, Roman holds the roll of pride. He’s literally Thomas’s Ego.” The dark side said. Pride growled in anger and Janus had to admit, he was tempted to take a step back. Still the yellow clad side had to hold his ground, besides, there was nowhere to go.

“Maybe he was at one point, but for quite a while now, even while imprisoned, the roll of pride has belonged to me.” The side smiled. “Roman hasn’t done a great job of filling in for my job so I decided to come back. That fool could never do anything right, don’t you agree?” When pride said does words he looked directly at both Patton and Janus. Janus only glared at the side more, but Patton wrapped his arms around himself, lowering his head in shame and guilt. The king’s smile only grew as he saw the effect his words had on the sides.

“What do you mean it was his roll?” Virgil said while he tried to stop himself from punching the man, though he wasn’t able to stop his glare.

“Why its quite simple really.” Pride said with what would be called a charming smile if it wasn’t so sinister. “You see when creativity was split into Roman and Remus, it wasn’t quite the clean cut everyone hoped for.” Patton only cowered more as the king spoke. “Remus wasn’t pure evil and Roman wasn’t pure good. Remus not only represents intrusive thoughts but also embodies self confrontation, which can help Thomas, where as Roman is not only Thomas’s hopes and dreams, but his pride and ego which where always considered as bad things.” Pride was frowning as he spoke about what he represented being something evil.  

“That’s what Thomas and Roman where always told. That being prideful lead to selfishness and only thinking about yourself. It wasn’t long before Roman, who was still a child, started to hate this side of himself and kept thinking that if one part about him was wrong then he must be a bad person. I honestly don’t know where he could have gotten such black and white thinking from.” As Pride said this he glared at Patton, making the moral side tremble. Janus stepped between his gaze and glared right back at him. Pried rolled his eyes and continued, his sword now lowered.

“As Roman grew up his self hatred never stopped, and slowly but surely, he started to break.” The others eyes widened as they started to catch on to what pride was getting at. Pride smiled at the fear that was present in all there faces.

“Remus had tried to help his brother but to no avail, and one day, Roman couldn’t have been more than 13 years old, the young prince ran as far as he could into the imagination as voices screamed at him in his head, Remus chafed after him. The  brothers ran all the way to the tallest mountain in the imagination, the land had shifted around them to make it easier for them. When Remus had finally caught up to his brother he found Roman crying in pain and with cracks of gold littering his skin. And before he knew it, Remus wasn’t looking at just his brother, but another entirely knew side.”Pride grinned as horror made its way onto all the sides faces. This is what he wanted, for them to see what their actions cost him.

“Roman had willingly tried to split himself again to make all of you happy, except this split didn’t turn out as well as the first. There just wasn’t enough to make two whole sides from an already split creativity. Since I was only a fraction of what he represented Roman stayed himself while I became something, new. So me and Roman where still connected afterwards, the only thing was that only one of us could exist in the mindscape.” Pride frowned at the floor as his memories darkened.

“I was the first to realize it, so of course I tried to kill him. If only one of us could exist, then it was going to be me.” The king’s frowned turned into a glare and his voice became harsher. “Roman caught on quick and started to fight me, Remus was still on the sidelines not knowing what to do and who to help. I’ll admit I wasn’t the brightest back then. While we fought I yelled at Roman about how everyone was going to pay for what they did to me.” The king shrugged, but the movement held much more anger then he thought it would.

“I would say I was right to be angry. I mean I was only created to be thrown away. Unlike Remus there wasn’t anything good that I represented. I was just the thing that everyone hated and wanted to get rid of, the thing everyone despised.” Pride turned his glare to the sides, all of them looking regretful as they found out about what their actions had caused. Good, Pride thought, they deserve to feel like shit after what they’ve done.

“ I would have won the fight if Roman and Remus hadn’t cheated. After hearing what I had said Remus had decided to help out Roman. After a while they finally beat me and my form started to disappear. They both that I was just too unstable, that I died and Roman just got his flaws back. And that’s how it stayed until recently.” The sides took a minute to take in the information.

“Wh-what happened that, that made you come back?” Patton asked, still not being able to look at Pride. Pride grinned, a mixture of joy, anger and satisfaction in his eyes.

“Well when Roman sacrificed what could have been Thomas’s big break his confidence was shattered, and since he became weaker, I finally grew strong enough to speak to him.” Patton’s eyes grew wide. Im the one that said we should go to the wedding. I’m the reason pride came back? I’m the reason where in this mess? Patton thought to himself.

“After that I helped to lower his ego and pride bit by bit, though it wasn’t very hard. I only told him things he already thought about himself. Plus Thomas was feeling so disheartened that Roman literally got sick! Ha! Honestly even if I never said a word to him I’m certain that his depression and self loathing would have done my job for me.” Pride said, chuckling a little at how simple it had all been.

Virgil felt nothing but white hot anger and sadness for his prince. This scumbag had been making Roman feel worse about himself than he already did and he took joy in it?! What kind of selfish bastard does that?! This time it took both Logan and Janus acting quickly to stop Virgil from charging and punching the royal side in the face.Pride turned to the enraged side and smiled.

“And that’s not even the worst of it. Before I even came back Roman was already suffering. He had horrible insomnia because he was worried about disappointing others by not getting his work done. And not to mention his eating disorder.” The other sides turned to Pride in confusing, except or Virgil, he simply looked broken as Pride confirmed his suspicions.

“Oh, don’t tell me you didn’t know? Roman had terrible anorexia, he could barely stomach eating half the time, if he could get away with it he would skip put on eating for days. He hated how he looked and even shape shifted in front of others to make himself look skinnier.” The king smiled at the horror and sadness that was painted on the sides faces. “Once he even said to me that he only ate because he didn’t want to pass out and not finish his work. He didn’t want to dissappoint everyone.”

Pride laughed distracting the others from their thoughts.

“Today just turned out to be the last straw for him. After trying his whole life to be good and be what other people wanted him to be, being called the evil twin broke him. His only purpose in life was to be Thomas’s hero and now he wasn’t even that.” Janus dropped his cane when he heard that. He knew after the video ended that he went too far and that he needed to apologize to Roman but… he hadn’t meant to hurt him like that. A thud was heard form behind him and when the dark side turned he saw that Patton had fallen to his knees, tears pouring down his face.

           Pride ignored the fallen side and kept talking, wanting the other sides to hurt as much as possible.

“Once again Roman ran away into the imagination, except this time no one followed him. On accident he found himself right where it all began. He felt horrible for what he said to Janus and didn’t think anyone would ever forgive him. In the end Roman wished that he could disappear, spare everyone from his mistakes, so I helped make that wish come true. Your prince gave up, so I came back.”

The others let the words sink in. They had broken the prince so much he had wanted to just go away so that they would be ok. All of them had tears in there eyes at this point. Virgil did his best to keep his voice steady as he spoke.

“Where is he then. Where’s Roman, and Remus too for that matter.” Pride smiled and the room seemed to grow colder. “Honestly you should be thanking me that I got rid of those idiotic twins for you.” For a moment it seemed like time stoped. There was only silence. Then Virgil let out a cry of rage and charged at Pride. Logan didn’t hold him back this time, instead he charged with him, both of their eyes overflowing with tears.  

           Pride seemed unconcerned with the two enraged sides charging at him. He simply swept his hand to left and the whole room rotated, sending the two light sides crashing into the wall. Virgil groaned as he turned around and leaned against the wall. His noes was bleeding and he was fairly sure that he broke it. He looked over at Logan to see the logical side rubbing his head and with his glasses on the floor next to him, now broken in two. Before they could stand up a glowing sword was pointed at their faces.

“Just give up. Your friends are gone, and there never coming back.”

Wow it’s been a while. Sorry iv been gone for so long guys, school just started up again and it been hard trying to find time to just sit down and write. Anyways I hope you enjoyed this slightly longer than average chapter, I tried to put all the angst in it I could. I hope that your all on the edge of your seat waiting to find out what happens next. Well I’m going to go die now, have a good week humans, bye!

Tag list:

@lovelivingmydreams

[oliverwxod]

I know places (George Weasley imagine) Pairing: George Weasley x reader

Warnings: Freds death mentioned, one swear word maybe, angsty, (they’re like 20 in this btw) 

Summary: An old school friend comes by Weasleys wizard wheezes to check in on how George is coping after the death of his twin Fred. And he’s not coping well. 

REPOSTING BECAUSE TAGS DIDN’T WORK 

It had been too long since she had last visited Diagon Alley, and it had changed. The atmosphere was as dull as the weather, grey clouds and grey skys blending in with the bland colours of the shops that used to be full of joy and colour. The death eaters ruined it when they came by years ago and it had never fully recovered, just like the witches and wizards of the magical world. The end of the war and Voldemort’s defeat still fresh in peoples minds. 

Celebrations never happened due to the mourning of the hundreds lost, it was going to take a while. 

Y/n looked up to the towering shop in front of her, the once new purple and orange paint vibrant, now peeling from the bricks, the colours faded with the years and the damage the death eaters lefts behind. It was scarily quiet, y/n supposed no one was ready for jokes at the time being, it would come with the recovering process. 

The sign on the door read CLOSED in bold letters, but she had come all this way and had spent time gearing herself up emotionally or mentally for this. She knocked on the door, three sharp taps that echoed through the streets. The sound of footsteps smacking on the wet pavement behind her caught her eye, stepping back from the door to glance in curiosity. It was just a passerby, running to get out of the rain. 

Once she turned back to the door she let out a surprised gasp as George Weasley stood there staring at her in confusion and curiosity. 

“George” she whispered barely audible. She didn’t know why she was so taken aback by his presence, she had come to see him after all. 

“Y/L/N” he spoke, the use of her last name always bugging her. He took in her appearance, a green cloak tied tightly around her shoulders, her posture as straight and proper as always, matching the confidence she held in herself. George always guessed it was the Slytherin way.

“what are you doing here?” he asked. He was baffled by her presence, he had not heard much from her since he left Hogwarts all those years ago to pursue the shop with Fred. He had only briefly seen her during the battle of Hogwarts almost a year ago.

“ I-” she was speechless, unsure how to word the fact that she just wanted to see him. 

“Ministry business?” he asked, having heard from his parents and Ron that she had taken a position working in journalism for the ministry. 

“No- I just … I wanted to see you” she spoke watching as his brow furrowed at her words, no doubt not understanding it. 

“Would you like to come in?” he offered, not sure what else to say. 

“please” she said softly, eyeing the rain that was falling harder by the second. She stepped inside after him, watching as he turned his back on her. Y/n took the moment to observe the inside of the store, it was still packed full of things that brought a smile to her face. 

Puking pastels and Peruvian darkness powder, Love potions and Pygmy puffs.

  “How is business?” she asked, George almost cringing at the small talk, he hated it. 

“Haven’t opened since” he spoke glumly. “Reckon people don’t have it in them for it just yet ,feels insensitive while everyones still recovering” 

“How are you?” Y/n asked the big question. 

“Why are you really here?“ he ignored her question, too used to people asking it.

“I told you, I wanted to see how you were doing, this past year- can’t have been easy” she said. 

“Why are you here now, out of all days” he asked, trying to make himself look busy. Y/n spotted a bottle of fire whiskey on the counter, half empty, it was clear he wasn’t coping well.

“I-I don’t know” she spoke truthfully into the quietness of the store, she watched as George moved, walking around the counter, creating an extra barrier between then. 

“I think of you a lot” she said open and honest, it shocked him. “Even more so recently” He stared at her, an expressionless face as he tried to think of a response. 

He could lie, say he didn’t think of her, that he didn’t read the articles she wrote every week, or he could finally admit that he thought of her often too. 

“My heart breaks everyday at the thought of you being alone” she said, meeting his eyes briefly before looking away and diverting her gaze to the rain hitting against the Windows. 

George knew that Ron must have said something to her, their offices at the ministry just across from each other and Ron often took to updating him on her without George even asking . 

He wondered if she was also alone and whether that was the reason she came to see him. 

Y/n had always been an independent person, she didn’t have many friends at Hogwarts, a few close Slytherins she had grown up with, but apart from that she was fairly alone, it had a great deal to do with the whole school knowing her parents were active death eaters. George was the only one who ever bothered to talk to her, even if it meant sneaking around. 

“How are your family?” she asked, hating the silence that had fallen, George used to be a man of words but now he seemed to not be able to find any words. 

“I’m sure you already know the answer” he said quietly.

“your brother wishes to see you more” she spoke, letting him know that she knew he hasn’t spoken to them in a while.

“If you came here to make me feel guilty then you can leave” he glared. 

“I came to see you, as I said. It appears that I still care for you even though you have never shown me the same.”

George stood staring at her unbelievingly at the realisation and feeling like the worlds biggest prat.

“I can not tell whether you are just ignorant or wildly clueless George” she sighed, starting to walk around the table in front of her filled with back to school boxes of jokes. 

“You know… I remember in 5th year.” she spoke still staring at the table of jokes “I took Daphne Greengrass to the hospital wing because you had tricked her in to eating some puking pastels. I came to find you to scold you and while I was telling you off we both started laughing… and then you reached out, tucked a piece of hair behind my ear and I thought… I thought you were going to ask me to the yule ball, but you didn’t, you just turned away from me and said nothing and then I found out the next day you were going with Alicia Spinnet… and that’s when I realised you didn’t feel anything for me.” She spared a quick glance at him, before adverting her eyes again. 

“But naive little me still had hope” she chuckled quietly under her breath. 

“Y/n- I didn’t know-” George started. 

“I’m not angry at you” she shrugged “its clear you were just clueless, but then in 6th year when we went through all that trouble of sneaking around Umbridge for the whole year, I thought… wow that’s a lot of effort to go through for supposedly meaningless hookups.” 

“I don’t know what you want me to say” George said at loss for words, he had seemed to be at a loss of what to say as soon as he saw her standing at the shop door, she was the last person he expected to check in with him.

“I don’t want you to say anything, unless you want to” she spoke quietly. “It was never my intention to talk about this. Like I said, I just came to see how you are”

  “I wish we could change the past, but we can’t ” George mumbled.

“I suppose not” she spoke feeling the weight his words held. “I should go” she decided.

 George nodded twice, silently watching as she made her way to the door, stopping as he reached the handle. She looked at him before speaking. 

“I know you don’t want to hear it, but I am sorry, Fred deserved the world” her voice was sincere and George sighed shutting his eyes tightly before opening them again. 

“Stay” he spoke “have a drink with me”

[weeb-stomper]

Won’t be Without You

Villain Deku x Fem!Hero!Reader

A/N: Hello! This is my first fan fiction that I’ve written. It’s completely unedited, so I’m sorry for any spelling/grammatical errors. Feel free to message me with suggestions and corrections, I appreciate any input you’d take the time to offer! 

Warnings: Kidnapping, imprisonment, violence against reader, language

-------------------------

     A dizzying sense of nausea crashed over you like a wave from the ocean, stirring you from unconsciousness. A dull, throbbing pain in your head made itself fully known as your head rolled forward, chin resting heavily against your chest. You tried and failed to bring your hands to your face, only then realizing that they were bound tightly behind you. Jerking your head upright, you tried again to tug your hands free. Horror swept through your mind, and an attempt to kick out with your legs confirmed that they were also well-bound to the seat you sat in. The scratchy and rough material peeled away at your skin as you struggled, a slick, wet feeling rolling down your hands and collecting on your fingertips before falling to the cracked pavement floor. The disgusting, rhythmic dripping of what could only be your own blood pounded in your ears over and over again like a drum, causing you to double down and fight harder against the restraints.

    Small whimpers and yelps left your mouth as you thrashed in a desperate attempt to free yourself for what felt like hours, only stilling when you had long since used the reserves of your strength. Only now, huffing out ragged breaths and sweat rolling down the slope of your neck, did you stop to look around the makeshift prison cell. The room was dark, a small window set high into the wall acting as the only source of light. Sounds of zooming cars could be heard faintly every once in a while, their headlights pouring into the room and bathing it with artificial yellow light before abandoning to the pitch-blackness once more. In the moments of illumination you could see the bland, red-brick walls of the oppressive room, the shapes of the barrels and crates surrounding you revealed by the streaking lights. The sound of a far-away door clicking open stopped your inspection in its tracks.

     Your head shot towards the noise, panic washing through your mind, and you could see light pouring into the room from the top of a set of stairs about 15 feet to your right. Trembling, Y/N hung your head once more and clenched your eyes shut in a poor attempt to pass as unconscious. The sounds of two distinct sets of footsteps filled the room. They approached your bound figure at a steady and consistent pace, one coming to stop directly behind you while the other took up post in front of you. A rough, calloused hand slid across your shoulder, and you couldn’t stop the resulting shudder. The ensuing chuckle was far too familiar. You jerked away from the sound, tucking your head forward against your chest in a sad attempt to create distance between yourself and Shigaraki as you bucked wildly against your restraints. The thought that those killer hands had touched you, even for a second, almost caused you to pass out right then and there. Tears pooled in your eyes, choked sobs and grunts escaping your throat despite efforts to stuff them down. A much smoother hand gripped your chin, easily yanking it up from its semi-protected position, and you froze completely when your y/e/c eyes met a nostalgic set of striking emerald green ones. Confusion clouded your already overwhelmed mind.

     “...Izuku?”

     A wicked smile twisted your previous classmate’s face as he stared at your grief stricken expression, his hot breath fanning across your sweat-soaked face. 

     “Surprised?” he asked excitedly, his hand sliding up from your chin to rub tears away from under your eyes. “I’m so happy to see you, Y/N. I’ve missed you so much since I went away.”

     Reeling, you took in the sight of your childhood friend. Midoriya was crouched between your knees, easily balancing on his toes as he looked at your face with melancholic adoration. He wore a crisp white dress shirt tucked into creased black slacks, a simple belt with a small silver buckle adorning his waist. A dark green tie hugged his neck, disappearing underneath a pristine black dress vest. The black leather glove on his right hand hid the thick scars that you’d always thought were so beautiful. His wild curls had been cut shorter, revealing a neat undercut on the back of his head. He looked exactly as handsome as he had when he’d disappeared during your freshman year at U.A, almost four years ago.

     “This is where you’ve been this whole time? No one’s seen you in years, Izuku, we thought you were dead!” you spat at him, turning your head to escape the affectionate touch. “Don’t touch me!” you almost screamed. “Do you have any idea what this has been like for us? For your mo-”

     SMACK

     The coppery taste of blood filled your mouth as you sat in stunned silence, your cheek already beginning to swell. Your head swiveled towards Midoriya slowly, as if on a post, and you looked up at him with defiant eyes. He was standing again, teeth bared in a vicious snarl as he bore down on your bound form. The tension in the air ratcheted up to an unbearable level as the stare down continued, not caring about igniting his wrath at this point. You were mad, you were hurt, and there was no way he was going to let you walk away from this either way, so you were going to let him feel the full array of the pain you’d endured during his absence.

     “You’re telling me you ditched Katsuki and I to be a villain and you still hit like a sissy?”

     He bristled at the jab, fists clenching tightly at his sides as he worked to restrain himself.

     “You’d do well not to antagonize me. I’m happy to see you, but not that happy.” he said, voice laced with malice.

     “I’ll do whatever the hell I want!” you screamed. You stilled when a weight settled onto your neck.

     A hand now gripped the base of your neck from behind, one finger missing. Anger and indignation melted into stark terror as Shigaraki leaned in close to your ear, the sound of his sickening laughter biting into your sanity and making your skin crawl. As if to solidify the unspoken threat, the black detachable collar of your hero costume dissolved into ash. Midoriya crouched between your bound legs once more, fixing you with a level stare.

     “I’ll be straightforward. I want you to join the league. Be with me again, like before.”

     Your eyes blew painfully wide, mouth falling open. “You’re joking.”

     “Don’t you remember what those ‘heroes’ did to us? They bullied us, they ignored us, they called you a villain. Kachan humiliated us almost daily and no one batted an eyelash. And now he gets to be the #1 top hero? How is that fair? Why should you dedicate your life to a society that hates you? Join us, you and I can be together again.” His hand snaked up from his side to press against your cheek again, thumb running gently across your bottom lip. “We can be together the way we always wanted.”

     Your nausea returned full-force as his fingers ghosted across your face greedily. What is he talking about? Izuku had been your closest friend. He’d supported you through bullying and family crisis, self-esteem issues, classroom anxiety, and just life in general. In return you’d done the same by answering a seemingly endless stream of phone calls about the most recent heroics from the news or glimpsed on the street or supporting him through a particularly nasty confrontation with Katsuki. But despite your closeness, you’d never been or even wanted to be involved. If he had romantic feelings for you then this was the first you were hearing of it, and it wasn’t good news. Setting that aside, you decide to press this moment of vulnerability, hoping to stir some sense of the golden heart you’d always admired.

     “Zuku, is this really who you want to be?”

     He recoiled from your like you’d struck him, nursing his hand against his chest, and a jolt of fear ran through your icy veins. “Who cares who I wanted to be? I pined for hero society my entire life and they rejected me!” he bellowed, rising to a standing position to pace a few feet in front of the seat. “If they don’t want me the way I wanted to give myself to them then they should at least take responsibility for the person I became instead.”

     You scoffed at the delusional rant, anger boiling lowly behind your y/e/c eyes as you stared up at the shell of your friend. “That’s bullshit and you know it Zuku! We got into U.A, we made it into hero society! Hell, you were a top performer in the hero course! It was all within your reach, and you skipped out to join these guys!” The muscles in your neck twitched with exertion as you worked to remain perfectly still, a lifted finger dancing tauntingly in your peripheral vision. You took a deep breath and lowered your strained voice. “We never stopped looking for you. y’know. You could just come home with me. Walk away from all this right now and I’d never say a word.”

     Calm down. Katsuki’s probably out looking for me right now. I just have to stay calm till he turns up.

     At that, Midoriya stopped pacing. He turned to face you, a pained expression on his face. Striding forward, he waved off Shigaraki. You sagged against the seat in relief. The adrenaline that had pounded through your veins had been burned off, and all it left behind was absolute exhaustion. You were unable to resist when Midoriya ran his fingers through your hair, both of his hands trailing down your jaw to hold your face between his palms. He inclined your head towards him and pity surged through you at the glossy look in his once optimism-soaked eyes.

     “Do you still love me?” he asked in the most pitiful voice you’d ever heard from him.

     You leaned into his gloved palm, nuzzling it weakly. “Of course I do, Zuku. You’re my best friend. But...I just can’t do this for you.”

     He knelt down between your legs again, scooting as close as possible before resting his forehead against yours.

     “Please agree to stay with me. I won’t be without you again.”

     “Come with me instead.” you said, not hiding the desperation in your trembling voice. “You and I are the only ones who know you’ve been here, and I’d never say a word. We could make something up and go back to normal.”

     Midoriya sighed heavily. He stood up, pressing a light kiss to the top of your head before walking towards the door. Shigaraki followed without a word, shooting a vicious smirk over his shoulder.

     “Where are you going?” you asked, panic creeping into your voice as he drew closer to the door.

     “If you won’t agree to stay then I’ll just have to keep you here by force, doll. You’ll come around eventually, but until then you’ll just have to stay right where you are.”

    Completely drained and unable to thrash anymore, you sagged limply in your seat. Darkness enveloped you once more as the door clacked shut, and dread ate at your gut while you prayed for someone, anyone, to save you from the man you’d devoted your life to finding for four agonizing years

[mulderist]

DEVIL AT MY DOORSTEP

Post-Orison Hurt/comfort || MSR, UST || Scully POV || Moderate violence || AO3 link

A/N: This fic was originally written way back in 2001 when I was in college. It was my first post-episode fic and I posted it to FF.net back in the day. I unearthed it 3 years ago and gave it some extremely heavy edits because it’s that ridiculous and dramatic (lol). I then nervously posted the revised version to AO3.

@today-in-fic

"If you want to pack some things we can get outta here," Mulder said as he walked into my bedroom. I pulled open a dresser drawer revealing my copy of the Holy Bible. I felt the strong weight of guilt in my hand as I lifted it out. Mulder noticed the book. "You can't judge yourself," he tried to reassure me. I walked over to my bed and carefully sat my beaten body down.

"Maybe I don't have to." I told him.

"The Bible allows for vengeance."

"But the law doesn't."

"The way I see it," Mulder began as he leaned toward me, "he didn't give you a choice. And my report will reflect that, in case you're worried. Donnie Pfaster would have surely killed again if given the chance."

"He was evil Mulder. I'm sure about that without a doubt. But there's one thing that I'm not sure of," I said softly.

"What's that?"

"Who was at work in me? Or what? What made me - what made me pull the trigger?"

"You mean if it was God?"

"I mean - what if it wasn't?" There was a beat of silence and I could sense that Mulder wanted to say something. Instead I felt his hand gently slide across my upper back. I looked up at him and could see the concern written on his face.

"I'll finish up out there," he said. Then he moved past me and back towards the bedroom door, pulling it behind him.

I slowly stood and went to my dresser to find some clothes. I tossed an outfit on the bed and stripped off my pajamas leaving them in a heap on the floor. As I absentmindedly packed an overnight bag I took a look around my bedroom. The bookcase I had pulled over on Pfaster to slow him down resulted in a disjointed cascade of books and broken trinkets. There were stains of crimson blood, more than likely my own, which dotted the once clean carpet. The thought that blood was shed in my bedroom made me swallow hard. I scanned over my bed to the wall where my mirror once hung. All that remained were jagged pieces of glass and the remnants of the frame. More pieces scattered the floor. I closed my eyes briefly attempting to block out the events that had occurred. Then a shudder shook me back into reality and I turned to leave my room.

The police had finally cleared out leaving an unsettling calm in the apartment. I was grateful Mulder took it upon himself to answer their questions. As I walked to the living room I could still smell a faint scent of lit matches combined with the dying fragrance of my candles, though they had been extinguished for some time now. I stopped after I crossed the thresh hold and looked down at the large burgundy stain on the rug. Very faint markings of a chalk outline could still be seen on the floor. I saw Mulder sitting on the end of my couch with his elbows on his knees, hands folded. He rose when he realized I was in the room. I said softly,

"Let's go."

Mulder nodded and followed me out the door, locking it behind us. Once we got outside he took my bag and popped the trunk to place it inside. I took my place in the passenger seat and winced slightly as I reached across to grab the seat belt. My eyelids felt like lead weights and I couldn't help but let them close as I leaned my head back against the headrest. I heard Mulder get in the car and start the engine. He tried to make conversation on the ride to his apartment but I think after a short while he realized I didn't want to talk just yet. He knew me well. The remainder of the drive was in silence. Even after Mulder parked the car we still said nothing. It wasn't until we had stepped inside his apartment that he uttered,

"I can put some coffee on." I glanced up at him and nodded with a heavy sigh.

"I think I want to take a shower."

"Sure," he replied, sounding slightly wounded, "It'll be ready once you're done."

Jesus, why are we doing this awkward small talk? He handed me my overnight bag and before I went down the hall I squeezed his hand. After I closed the bathroom door behind me I put my bag on the floor then turned on the water for the shower. As it warmed up I slowly shed my clothes and inspected myself to see if there were any injuries I might have missed. I turned slightly and saw the initial stages of bruising setting in on my upper back. My naked figure in the mirror was unsettling. I had never seen myself look so vulnerable. I turned away from the defeated reflection and pulled aside the shower curtain, stepping into the warm waterfall.

Steam began to swirl around in the tiny room, creating an eerie fog. The slight burn of the water began to relax me as it massaged my tired frame. I self-consciously crossed my arms over my breasts and placed my hands on my shoulders. I then ran a hand over my wet hair. "Ah, dammit," I hissed. My index finger found a remaining chip of glass hiding at the back of my head. A speck of blood oozed from where I was pricked. That's when I noticed my fingernails. There was a fine line of scarlet caked under them.

Blood.

Blood that was not mine. My hands showed traces of the struggle in my apartment. I flexed and tightened my right hand noticing how awkward and stiff the movement was. Sprain, edema, contusion, hematoma: bland clinical terms I knew all too well. I took the bar of soap off its dish and began working it into a lather. As the suds formed on my arms, I tried to wash away the gritty feeling, the sense of guilt, and the memory of Donnie Pfaster.

Pfaster. His cryptic face clawed its way to the surface though I tried desperately to suppress it. His was the face of pure evil, a vision of a demon that shook me to my core. When I took the case I tried to prove to myself that it didn't bother me. I had gone through the counseling sessions during and after Minneapolis. Bouts of anxiety would return every once and a while, flashes of terrible things usually triggered after a particularly difficult assignment. Subconsciously I knew I was kidding myself when I thought I had overcome what happened.

For a fleeting moment, time seemed to melt away as I stood there breathing in the heavy steam. Water pushed the soapy residue from my body and I saw a light red trail spiral down the drain. I closed my eyes for a moment but couldn't shake the chaos that happened in my apartment. Pfaster was in my home - the devil at my doorstep. I angrily grabbed a bottle of shampoo and squeezed some of it into my hand. As I massaged the gel into my hair the familiar scent wound around in the air and my mood softened. Then my thoughts turned to Mulder. He told me not to look any further and I followed his advice. I don't know how he ended up in my living room with his gun drawn, ready to do what I was shockingly more capable of doing. He always managed to find me – to save me. I was still in shock when he rushed over and held me close. I just stood there, motionless, letting my weapon slip from my fingers. Every time I ended up in his arms I had this overwhelming feeling that I'm safe and it's a sensation I never want to lose. As I rinsed my hair I did what I feared most.

I lost control.

The water felt tepid as it mixed with the scalding tears in my eyes. I brought my hands to my face as if to conceal the pain and anger from myself. Oh God I thought. Everything was rushing at me too fast; horrible sounds and smells returned shocking my senses. I lost the comforting warmth that had enveloped me. Stability failed and I placed my left hand against the cool tile wall. My knees softened and with a hand over my mouth, I tried to muffle my crying. My shoulders lurched as I sobbed and I moved my hip closer to the wall for support. Water raced down my bruised back. My arms slid across my stomach and I held on, trying to shield myself from the terrible thoughts flashing in my mind. I leaned a shoulder into the wall almost as if I expected it to open up and embrace me.

"Mulder…"

I didn't realize I had said it aloud. It's not the first time I've called out to him but it felt different as I stood in his shower. I needed to say his name. I needed to know he was on the other side of that door. I needed to allow myself this one fleeting moment of vulnerability and begin to accept the unacceptable. As my sobs slowed one was caught in my throat. I hated how I sounded when I was upset and more often than not tried desperately to express sorrow in silence. Over the roar of the water I exhaled deeply and wiped my eyes. My hands found their way to my shoulders once again and I breathed in the last few clouds of steam. Then I turned off the faucet, pushed aside the shower curtain and stepped out onto the waiting bathmat. I pulled a towel off the hook and gently dried off, finding comfort in that familiar scent once again.

I got dressed and combed my hair then walked out to Mulder's living room. There was a lone mug on the coffee table. I happened upon him lying down on the couch, eyes closed. I moved closer and noticed that his brow was furrowed. I touched his shoulder causing him to stir.

"Mmm, sorry I must have dozed off. Did the shower help? " he said while he sat upright and ran a hand through his hair.

"Yeah, I think so. I feel a little more human." I joined him in the space he had cleared. He stretched then reached for the mug and took a long swallow. I leaned back against the couch.

"I can pour you a cup if you'd like," I heard him say. My fingers began to fiddle with a tender spot on my left hand.

"No thanks." I know Mulder could tell I had been crying, puffiness under the eyes was not easy to conceal. I could feel my cheeks flush and I licked my lips as I searched for something to say.

"I'm sorry, Mulder. I'm still having difficulty finding the words right now and I can't stand this awkward small talk."

He shook his head after swallowing a sip of coffee. "You know I can see it on your face. And this awkward small talk wouldn't be so awkward if you would just let me in. It's like I told you earlier, I've never seen something give you this much of a head trip before."

"I have to be able to accept this on my own terms, Mulder." That tasted bitter. "I've been trying to forget for five years. I just can't do this right now." I got off the couch and started to head for his bedroom. After pushing the door slightly behind me, I turned down the sheets and slowly crawled into the large bed. I gingerly placed my head upon Mulder's pillow and felt the smoothness against my skin. Every muscle in my body struggled to unwind. Before I closed my eyes I noticed a shadow move in front of the door.

"I'll be fine." I muttered under my breath.

The last thing I heard was the click from the door being closed.

I awoke in the dark to a stinging sensation in the side of my head. My mouth was sore and I could taste blood. There was a taunt strip of cloth tied tightly around my head causing my cheeks to hurt. My hands were bound behind my back and my bare feet were tied together. I weakly struggled to shift positions, fighting the pain in my temple. Once my eyes focused I slowly maneuvered myself near the light source coming from the crack underneath the door. Where the hell am I? I couldn't see anything in the room aside from the hardwood floor. I attempted to sit back up and tried to figure out how I got here. Adrenaline had kicked in now and I started thinking of a way to escape. Then I saw a shadow sweep across the floor. Suddenly the door pulled open. I shot back against a nearby wall in a lame attempt to protect myself. I looked at the figure in the doorway and it didn't look human. The figure bent down, grabbed my ankles, and dragged me on the floor out of the closet into the empty room. I writhed and twisted in its grip. A dim light from somewhere else in the dilapidated house illuminated the figure just enough so I could distinguish human hands as they removed the tie from my ankles. The man reached over and forcefully pulled me up by my shoulders to my feet. Our eyes met for a split second as I stood and in that moment I felt malevolence swarm over my body. His pushed me in front of him and a smile snaked across his lips.

His hand roughly clung to my bare shoulder as he shoved me down a hallway. Everything in the sparsely lit house looked the same, bare and unremarkable. There was a warm glow coming from one of the rooms on the left and he led me in that direction. It was a master bedroom. Once inside I was shoved towards the bathroom. I saw an oversized bathtub nestled in the back under a window. There was a double sink to the right and the white porcelain toilet resided next to it with a towel bar hanging low over the tank. Candles covered just about every surface to provide mood lighting for whatever diabolical plans he had in mind. He moved me over to the sink and untied my hands for a moment, only to tie them to the towel bar. I saw the horrible smirk form on his face as he stepped back to look at his work.

"It'll all be over soon." And with that he left the bathroom. My mind yelled at me to escape. I pulled violently at the bar, foolishly hoping that I could pull it off the wall and run. Then I leaned my head down to meet my hands and try to loosen the gag. As I feverishly worked I heard a thud from the other room. I stopped for just a second and listened and to my horror I saw the man pull Mulder's body into the doorway and toss him on the floor.

No!

"Mulder! What have you done to him?!" I yelled against the gag. The man lunged at me and struck me across the face. Then he snatched my jaw and pressed the flat side of a knife against my cheek.

"Don't worry Girly-Girl. I have plans for him too." I fought the tears welling in my eyes. He moved away from me and went toward the bathtub, reaching for the faucet to turn on the water. I tried to free my hands from the towel bar while he was distracted. My fingers squeezed together and with a tug I was loose then I quickly removed the cloth from around my mouth. I looked out into the other room and saw Mulder stir but just as I did Pfaster noticed I had gotten one step closer to escape and took measures to slow me down. With a flash of metal his knife came quickly across my right hand. I tried to grab it; tried to disarm him for even a moment. He caught my arm and plunged the blade in-between my ribs. I screamed. He attacked me again, this time hitting my upper arm. I took all the strength I could muster and kicked Pfaster in the gut sending him back towards the bathtub. I cried out over the roar of the water and fell to the floor just missing the edge of the sink. I started to crawl in a prone position to the door and out into the bedroom, blood soaking rapidly through my tank top. I had to get to Mulder. He was lying face down on the floor and I could tell he was injured or God knows what else.

"S-Scully.." he muttered as he lifted his head revealing a gash on his cheek. My injured hand reached out for his, finding his fingertips and holding as tight as I could.

"Mulder, please…" I pleaded. "I need you to get up. I can't –" Pfaster was on his feet now. He turned around sharply and quickly ran out to seize my leg. I kicked him in the shin but he still managed to pull me in his direction. I cried out for Mulder as I was dragged back into the bathroom. Pfaster brought my arms above my head and held them together while straddling me. My right arm went numb from the stab wounds and blood started to seep into the bathmat as my body was pressed onto the tile. I winced as he tightened his hold on me, pulling my injured arm more than needed.

"You know," he began once he caught his breath, "I didn't think I'd finally catch the one that got away. That red hair never left my mind. I wasn't going to stop until I found you." My lips moved as I tried to form words, but no sound escaped. He stood and yanked me up off the floor. I could barely fight against him and that's what frightened me the most. I was running out of time. Still with a grip on my shoulders he turned off the water to the bathtub.

"Let her go, Pfaster," said Mulder from the doorway, his voice sounded dark. Pfaster pressed a hand over my mouth before I could put a voice to my suffering. The taste on my lips was nauseating.

"You're not going to take her from me. Not again," said Pfaster. Then he brought his face close to me and smelt my hair making my skin crawl. Then he dropped me in the tub, holding me under. I kicked and thrashed as hard as I could but I was growing weaker. I heard Mulder yell.

Two shots rang out.

The frigid cold water sent a shockwave through my body and stung my wounds. It hurt to move. It hurt to think. I could feel my body shutting down. All of my energy started to fade and I physically couldn't struggle anymore. I couldn't move. My breath slowed as I stared at the ceiling. The lights from the remaining candles flickered back and forth across the walls.

My life started to slip away.

Then I saw Mulder's face above me as he climbed into the tub. He reached in and quickly picked me up from under my arms then shifted my weight so he could slide his right arm under my knees. As he lifted my limp wounded body out of the bathtub I closed my eyes and heard him say "I'm sorry, Scully. God I'm so sorry." He carried me out of the bathroom, leaving the body of Donnie Pfaster behind.

Mulder knelt down with me on the floor of the barren bedroom, holding me tight in his arms. I coughed and sputtered, expelling the bathwater. He pulled out his cell phone and I knew he was calling for an ambulance. "Yes this Agent Mulder with the FBI, I have an agent down!" He gave some more information then tossed the phone aside. One hand pressed firmly on my side, adding compression to the oozing stab wound. "Help is on the way. Just hang on." My eyelids fluttered and I said his name.

"Scully, talk to me. Come on."

"What happened to you?" I asked weakly.

"That bastard cold-cocked me once I made it upstairs. He must have already had you tied-up in the bathroom. God, I should have shot him as soon as I saw him."

"I can't Mulder…" I said with a shiver.

"No. No. You have to stay with me, Scully" he said with a wavering voice.

"I can't feel …I don't…I'm sorry," My words were nonsensical as I tried to focus on him. My fingers grazed his shirt before I lost consciousness.

Mulder began CPR.

His lips felt so warm against mine as he forced air into my mouth. I felt the wetness of his cheek as he leaned in to deliver each breath. I was so numb I barely felt the chest compressions. His hands were soaked in my blood. Desperation crossed Mulder's face after he gave two more sets of compressions and saw no change.

"Dammit Scully, come on! You can't leave me!" I heard him say as he pressed on my chest. His composure was gone as he tried frantically to revive me. Mulder choked out a sob as he clutched me to his chest. He rocked back and forth then let out a primal, gut-wrenching scream.

A siren was heard howling down the street. Red lights flashed in through the window and danced along the ceiling as the ambulance pulled up. The paramedics flung open the door to the house and called in inside. It didn't take them long to find us. They rushed in and took me from Mulder so they could begin their work. He slid back a little and sat with his head in his hands. The EMTs readied the defibrillator to restart my heart. One of the medics cut open my shirt and stuck pads on my bare chest to prepare me before using the paddles. Then a paramedic called,

"Clear!"

I cried out and woke with a start; my hands pushed me into an awkward upright position on the bed. Disoriented at first and head spinning, I started to piece together where I was. The layout of the room became more familiar as my senses came into focus with the morning light. My weight shifted to my left elbow and as I rubbed my eyes I heard the bedroom door open, Mulder said my name as he entered. I sat up and he joined me on the bed. The wave of tension broke and quickly I leaned forward to wrap my arms tightly around his neck.

"I had a bad dream," I said softly, feeling my lip start to tremble as I pulled him closer. I felt like a child that needed to be consoled.

"Tell me," he whispered.

"I was in a house, like when I was taken before." My throat felt dry causing my voice to falter. "Pfaster dragged me into a room lined with candles and was intent on finishing what he started. You were there too but you couldn't - There was so much blood, Mulder," I pulled away from him and drew in a breath to try and regain some sense of composure. "It all just felt so real. " I shook my head and ran a hand over my hair leaving it to rest behind my neck. We sat there for a moment, no words between us. At one point he tenderly kissed the top of my head. Finally he said,

"I was hesitant to tell you, but I heard that song as I was getting ready for bed last night."

"Really?" I asked.

"Yeah," he looked down and motioned to take my hand, "I tried to call you but you didn't pick up. I guess you could call it divine intervention."

"That was playing in my apartment. He was playing that damn song…" Mulder leaned in and embraced me.

This time I buried my head in his chest and unwillingly started to hear the opening notes of the song fade in once again. My eyes closed and my hands pressed harder against Mulder's back, pulling him closer.

With those phantom tones I was replaying what had happened mere hours ago. The panic of knowing Pfaster was in my home, the anger that drove each blow I threw at him, the fear when he had me pinned down and screaming out for help.

Don't let go.

The tempo sent me reeling back to Minneapolis. That house. That closet. The feel of the rope around my wrists. Falling down those stairs and feeling paralyzed by fear. What was going to happen to me? Would I ever see Mulder again?

Hold on to me.

The rhythm began to fade and I felt the mist in my eyes. I pushed back for a brief moment and looked at Mulder as he brushed away tear that found its way to my cheek.

"Stay with me," I whispered. He nodded and I moved over, allowing him to slip into bed alongside me.

"It's alright. I'm here." He kissed the nape of my neck knowing there wasn't much else he could do but hold me. And that's all I really wanted him to do. At that point I didn't care that I had broken down. I had never wanted him closer to me than in that moment.

I was so tired. My body ached and eventually my sobs began to subside. The air was no longer caught in my throat. I began to listen to the cadence of Mulder's breath and I wasn't sure if he was still awake. My inhale met with his. Once he noticed my breathing began to slow he slid his hand from under mine. Fingertips found a strand of hair and placed it behind my ear. I could feel the sunlight coming through the bedroom window.

"Thank you," I uttered, my voice raspy and heavy with exhaustion.

"Rest. I'm not going anywhere." I struggled to shift positions and turned over to face him. My hand found his cheek and I moved closer, sharing his breath. The hint of smile tugged at his mouth. Ever so slightly my lips parted and I felt warmth as his lips met mine. Soft and tender.

At last I was able to begin to forget.

[stopeatingwhales]

“dance with me,” x noel gallagher

this was one of my earliest requests and i’m so unbelievably sorry it’s so overdue! i honestly went all out with writing this (it’s the longest fic i’ve ever written from this date). my honest face by inhaler helped me write the ending/the last part to this, so thank you inhaler anons ;) x

Pairing: high school noel x reader

Warnings: low form of assault, but it’s very brief (from another character - not noel) + A LOT of softness :)

Word count: 4.772

Requested by anon, I’m so sorry it’s so late <3

༉‧₊˚✧

“No, I want you, she’s so heavy is the best song!” I exclaimed, throwing my hands up in the air, a repulsive look plastered on my face. “Imagine thinking that Polythene Pam was the best,” I added, my loathsome expression increasing in disgust.

I was at Noel’s house, sitting on his bed in his shared room, accompanied by his younger brother Liam as Abbey Road by the Beatles blasted out of his record player. The atmosphere of the space was extremely calming - Noel sometimes joining in on Oh! Darling as it spun around on the player, his guitar strumming the notes lightly projecting the song louder, whilst his knee bounced up and down to measure the beat. I laid down on his bed, adorning his scent whiffed all over the sheets as I played with a few of my hair strands, humming along to Paul McCartney’s voice quietly, not interrupting the soothing sounds escaping from Noel’s guitar. The occasional curse word slipped out of Liam’s mouth - his eyes pinned on the simple question written on his homework sheet. He hadn’t done any of his work for the past two weeks, receiving multiple detentions - to which he didn’t attend - until the headteacher of our school decided to threaten him with an expulsion. During the time I was with them, I had slightly helped on a few of the questions littering his maths sheet, hinting at the answers so he would be able to properly figure them out himself. However, trying to teach a naughty 12-year-old how to do long division was exactly like being able to balance a spoon on your nose whilst laughing. Completely and utterly impossible.

Me going over to Noel’s place wasn’t unknown; I tended to go over to theirs once or twice during the week, most times after school because I had nothing better to do. We usually hung out in his room, mainly because we were both drained from how exhausting school always was, and plus, we didn’t need to go anywhere to have a laugh together, we always did. No matter where we were, we somehow found a way to brighten everything up - perhaps by smoking a joint together in a plain field, watching the sunset as we impatiently waited for another rave to pass by us, or by spending our evenings in relaxing moments like these, listening to our favourite albums without a care in the world, the occasional argument slipping out of our mouths about which was the best song - usually ending up in Noel ignoring me for the sum of 10 minutes before I gave in and apologised for my stupid remark. There’s no best song by The Beatles, they’re legendary for a reason.

“Shut it, otherwise I’m ignoring you again,” Noel replied, staring at me with both his eyes squinted together. I lifted my head up from his pillow, scoffing. Knowing this was going to happen, I didn’t reply to his silly remark, dropping my head back down onto his pillow once again. Despite the groggy feeling partnering in the room due to the heater being on, his scent was sweet. He smelt like a packet of heavy Marlboro cigarettes, whisked in with cheap aftershave from the shop down the road because he’s skint from buying too many cigarettes and ‘forgot to buy one the other day’. Nevertheless, it was alluring. I adored his scent, mainly because it reminded me of how the littlest things in life can mean the most to you. It continuously reminded me that doing simple things like these add to the empowering lifestyle of being a teenager in a dying city; Manchester was left to rot due to the prime minister focusing all her time and dedication to unimportant things, rather than helping the poor and lower class. It gave us a sense of freedom, that without the higher class evoking their worry in our troubles, they forgot about everything and let us be. We could do whatever we desired now, whether it be partying until you’re unable to walk for three days, or skipping school because you can’t be bothered to see people that only retaliate at you for petty reasons. It was the bittersweet rivers of life, we were poor but we had fun with it, dancing until our last breath before dawn.

“Noel,” Liam said, lifting his head up from his crinkled worksheet. “Don’t you have that school dance soon?” he added, the temperature of the room now feeling like it was upped one hundred degrees due to my cheeks reddening. Since me and Noel didn’t have that big of a friendship group, and both of us having somewhat a troubled love life for our age, our minds never brushed past the thought of going to the leavers dance. It was itching towards the end of the school year, meaning that we were going to leave school, so going and taking part in the fun of a last dance was quite hyped up. My mind sometimes brushed the idea of me and Noel going together, but we were only friends. Plus, wouldn’t that just be weird?

I tried to subtly raise my head to look at Noel, my eyes trailing from the plain white ceiling to his slim-structured body. The neck of his acoustic guitar was gripped gently by his left hand, his right caressing the strings softly as his playing came to a close from the question hanging in the air. He shifted around in his seat a bit, adjusting where the guitar sat, before clearing his throat and answering the question. I was tempted to ask him the same thing too, my curiosity over the subject now being the only thing pitted in my mind. “Well, yeah but I haven’t got no one to go with, init?” He said, staring straight at Liam, then the piece of paper lying in front of him on his bed. My heart sank a little as that sentence launched out of his mouth abruptly, my thoughts now following on with unspeakable things of what I could’ve answered to that. I knew he really wanted to go with someone, but there wasn’t anyone who would be willing to go out with him, even for just one night.

“Couldn’t you just go with Y/N?” Liam asked, turning his head to look at me. My eyes widened expeditiously, my crimson cheeks now turning to fire as I chewed on my bottom lip. The heat bubbling in my body caused me to feel a slight tingle at my lower back, the feeling of sweat beginning to form on all the spots that weren’t visible to both boys - the skin I owned underneath. “Unless you’ve got someone to go with, but I doubt that,” Liam added, chuckling after his words.

Ignoring his comment, I stayed silent for a few seconds, my eyes darting to my fingers as I fiddled with them - figuring out what to answer. “I mean, we could just go as friends I guess?” I said, now staring straight at Noel. He stared back at me, his eyebrows shifting around a bit, contemplating the idea that was now punctured in his brain. “There’s nothing wrong with that,” I added, reassuring that I did feel the same way at first - friends shouldn’t be going together - when it’s no harm dressing up and having a couple drinks with your best friend, we do that all the time anyways.

“I suppose so,” He replied, nodding his head as he darted his head back to the record player, reaching out for the opened water bottle placed by the record player - taking a short sip of it before carrying on his sentence. “But you have to admit Polythene Pam is the best song,”

~~~

As I walked through the school gates I was for once welcomed with a feeling which wasn’t dread. I gazed around the mundane, dimmed colours of the school’s front whilst anticipation filled my veins whole, adoring my body like a little child, after begging and begging for minutes on end for their guardian to buy them a treat they had been eyeing at for what felt like a year, their carer gives in from the child’s immediate persistence, causing the kid to be on a cloud-nine-level of euphoria and exhilaration. For once, I felt excited; apprehension for the tales ahead buzzed through my body, for my usual, stale state taking a departure once my eyes made contact with the known building for once. Tonight I was going to enjoy myself, even if I despised the majority of the people who were attending. This was one of the last chances I got to enjoy myself at school - and since we’re going for the its-the-last-day-of-the-world vibe - I might as well make the most of it while it lasts.

Walking up to the main building, I saw bright, flashy colours being projected from inside the large hall, reminiscing me of the many raves I had hazily attended with Noel whilst we were drunk off of our heads. The sparkling lights, the huge domes of crowded, drunken teenagers - just like me and him - trying to find a place to fit in, accidentally stumbling into an open, warm embrace to another dimension crammed with unknown faces, an introduction to the exact same embrace they’d be entangled in when they go back home to their parents in the middle of the night - whom were sick to their stomach in worry because they didn’t know where their child was. You belonged to your families, but you refused to believe that life was as bland as it had become; there’s more to life than studying for exams, everyone says. You don’t want to end up like the small percentage of people who refuse to live their lives because it's the only one they’ve got. You want to live your life because it is the only one you’ve got.

My shoes echoed a light tap on the concrete as I paced slowly, my mind entranced in thought, wondering the crowds I’d be exposed to once I set foot inside the chattering room.  As I made my way to the glass door, I stared at my reflection briefly, adjusting my hair a little bit due to it falling out of place from the small gusts of wind that had accompanied me on my way to the school. A rush of nervousness focused on my mind until I gripped on the handle, pushing the door open, revealing the view of teenagers dancing about, drinking, laughing or slobbering on each other's faces. My anxieties were cleared when I saw every girl dolled up in dresses; the one I was currently engulfed in wasn’t that nice - it being the only dress I’ve had in my wardrobe for a couple years (since I wholeheartedly have a brutal hate for dresses). I was forced to keep it in my closet in case there was a time and a place I needed it, for unexpected times like these,  a leavers disco, my date being my one and only best friend Noel Gallagher. I was astounded to realise it actually sat on me the same as it used to, only a little bit shorter due to me growing in height. I was the same height as Noel, yet we would always have arguments over who was taller - always being shushed by Liam as he was figuring how to write a paragraph describing what happens in Act 5 of Macbeth. Get a room, you two.

Wandering on the sidelines of the grand hall, I picked up on the little decorations which had been ripped off the walls from careless students. The colour of the room was a simple blue, making it quite hard to study everything from the human eyes. Bits of what seemed to be silky red ribbon - the flashing lights of the room making it quite hard to figure out what shade it was - ripped up tissue paper, and a few bursted balloons. Music was playing, blasting out of huge Marshall amps, stacked upon each other on the main stage, where years worth of plays and performances were repetitively played almost every half term, my mind reminiscing on the first play I did in year 7 as a side character. The many screams that escaped people’s mouths as the chorus of Boys Don’t Cry by the Cure, prevented me from living out the memories for the last time as I set foot in the hall. Humming along to the melody, I waved my arms around in the air - not too far out, in case I accidentally come into contact with someone rushing past me - my fingers twiddling together as I spun myself around slightly. The ambience of the room felt very uplifting, reminding me of, yet again, those fun times I had experienced with Noel on the many late nights of the summer holidays.

My eyes briefly caught contact with a table as I was walking - the drinks stand. It sat straight ahead of me, yet it was positioned facing the crowds of people mingling about singing along to the new song that began playing. As each step began bringing me closer to it, I attempted to analyse what was suited up for options, squinted my eyes together. There were four fish-bowl-like tubs, with nothing but flavoured beverage inside them, all of them being a different shade - one lighter than the other, one darker than the other. Once I made it to the table, I continued to vary my choice, my eyes completely enthralled by the options. Bowls were left almost empty, some fully empty. As I placed my finger on the one which had the most drink in it, I squinted my eyes together again, wondering if it was the best choice.

“You come here alone?” chirped up a voice in front of me, behind the table. As I raised my head up, I met eyes with the person, noticing that it was one of mine and Noel’s mates. There were stacks of paper cups lined up behind him, along with one small stack sat on the wooden table beside his stood body - for easy access when having a lot of customers, especially at the start of the dance, when all the people attending want is a drink to murder the awkward atmosphere building up in the place.

Laughing lightly, I smiled. “Well, I’m supposed to be here with Noel,” I said, quickly scanning the room after to see if he had made it yet - clearly not. “But he doesn’t seem to have arrived here  yet,”

I heard a laugh escape the boy's mouth. “You and Noel?” he asked, grabbing a spoonful of the drink I was eyeing merely seconds previous, snatching a paper cup from the pile lined up perfectly beside him, gathering some of the drink before splashing the liquid into the cup. “I was wondering when that was going to happen,” he added, more or so mumbled, as if he was trying to hide it from me. I noticed he rolled his eyes slightly, his eyebrows furrowing together as he dropped the spoon he was pouring the drink with back into its original position - inserted into the bowl.

“Sorry?” I asked, confused by his comment. He handed me the drink after swishing it around in his hand a couple times - perhaps to check if there was enough to the point it wouldn’t spill, or maybe because he was stunned by my upfront approach against his words, mustering responses in his head before spitting back at me. It felt like there was a lot on his mind - a lot he wanted to say, most likely things to me.

His eyes wandered around the table separating us. Fixating both his palms on the table, keeping it steady, he sighed, sucking in one side of his mouth before exhaling. “Well, he’s more of a pretentious twat if I’m honest,”

I was shocked. My jaw was practically on its way to drop to the ground and smash at full force - as if it were being thrown off the tallest tower in the world. Why did he say that? “Plus, he’s your best mate, are you that lonely not to go with anyone else?” he scoffed, clearly aiming the question towards why I hadn’t gone with him. There was speculation of him liking me between conversations I had with our small friend group at school, but I tended to avoid bringing it up in conversation; I got too uncomfortable. We weren’t close, he was always there simply whenever we hung out at school. Apart from that, we barely ever saw him, let alone know anything about him.  

“Come on Y/N, let’s dance,” he said, circling the table, walking round to where I was standing, my eyes facing the bowls. He grabbed my arm roughly - turning me to look directly at him. “You deserve better than that fucker!” he exclaimed, attempting to drag me closer to him, as he pulled us to the middle of the room, where everyone was dancing. Gripping onto the beverage tightly in my free hand, I pulled it close to me, in case I’d manage to spill anything on the floor, becoming the cause of someone’s injury from slipping and ripping their clothes. His body language seemingly began to turn more aggressive as we made it to the centre of the room, the pressure being put on my wrist getting more and more tight. The idea of me and Noel dancing in the room played on his mind as it did with mine too, noticing the amount of people dancing with their significant others. Perhaps the reason he kept adding so much strength was because he was jealous, the same sort of jealousy when you find out two of your supposed best friends had gone out together and forgot to ask you to come - when without a doubt deliberately did it since they didn’t want you attending. His grip was slowly seeming out more pain in my body.

My hand began to ache; the force he was pushing onto my wrist was causing my hand to tingle from the lack of blood circulation. The idea of throwing my drink at him, knowing I wouldn’t drink it anymore due to what he was doing to me, “Get off of me, you bitch!” I shrieked, jittering my hand around in all ways possible, causing him to turn his face to look at me, scold me perhaps, until I took the chance and threw my drink straight at him - aiming for the eyes like pepper spray gauging to the root of your eyes, blinding you in immediate pain. I heard him shout, instantly releasing his hold from my hand, as I headed to leave the room straight away. Practically everyone had their eyes glued to the pair of us, staring both of us questioningly, the sound of my heels clanking against the wooden floor ringing through my ears painfully as I exited the immensely tensed stiff room.

~~~

Walking outside of the building, I made my way towards the gate I once entered, couching to lean against the wall that was placed beside it. The aged wall felt cold, the little bumps of hardened cement sticking out of the bricks digging into my dress, eventually into my back. The contrast of my heated body against the freezing wall brought a feeling of relaxation - the stressful situation that had previously occurred just moments ago finally began departing from its connection to my thoughts. I held my face in my hands, slowly feeling my wrist go from its numbed state to a softened feeling of fuzz; I moved it around a little bit, noticing I had somewhat control of it now. The past tingly feeling I felt on my hand had come to my head instead, as I started to weave myself into thoughts about what people would take and think from the situation. I was almost certain someone was going to mention it to everyone and everywhere imaginable - casual teenager gossip, a girl got assaulted, spread it around!

As the skies unfolded newer, darker shades, welcoming the night, the stale breeze picked up on itself, cluttering my hair, throwing it to other parts of my face - like how it was before I had entered the building, this time as if I had rolled down a mountain and stood up injury free. Collecting my arms in an embrace to warm me up, I leaned my head back against the brick wall, staring at the twinkling night sky. It was surprising how much light the moon emitted. You didn’t need that many lamp posts at all, unless you were walking in an area where the moon was unable to shimmer its colours: a dull alleyway, where there's only one small light hanging on the wall, basically broken, a flickering light flashing out of it, just managing you to get through the dust and dirt cascaded around you. Almost telling you that, you’ll be able to survive your hardships, as long as you believe in the light to keep shining.

Staring at my shoes, I admired the little sparkles glimmering from my shoes. They were small, short-cut heels that I put on to make myself look fit for the part of a schoolgirl ready to depart from her beautiful teenage life and enter a world of womanhood. I was growing up, and I just hoped that the future that was slowly unravelling itself to me was going to be better than I anticipated it to be. Tonight went to shit, though.

“Y/N?” a voice said, speaking up as it walked through the gate’s entrance. Straight away I was able to know who it was. Noel.

Moving my head from the view of the night sky, I locked eyes with Noel - who was standing in front of me, concern miffed on his eyes. He was clothed in a cheap looking suit, perhaps one he found in his mother's closet which belonged to his father previously, or maybe one he stole from a friend. It fit him perfectly, as if the brand tailored to his bodily structure. His hair looked as if he had done it properly for once, rather than having it in its usual, worn down state. “Why are you sitting alone, and outside in the freezing cold?”  

I scoffed, recalling the situation. However, I avoided mentioning it; it would only make the rest of the evening more dreadful to experience. “Rough night,” I mumbled, turning my head to the glowing skies again. “Where were you?” I asked, attempting to change the subject expeditiously. Thankfully, it worked.

“Thought it started at ten,” he replied, walking to lean on the wall beside me, but not sitting like I was. He shuffled his feet a little bit, small, minuscule rocks causing a scraping sound to ripple out from underneath. It was a soothing sound at first, the coarse scratches against the floor reminding me of walking in the middle of a sea of leaves in a park in autumn, completely emptied, without a soul to be seen when there's not a single tree alive and blooming anymore. A ghost town, when in summer would be compressed with thousands of people trying to get past the sweaty, sticky air causing you to cough a couple times. You walk through, stomping on whatever leaf your shoe comes into contact with, a crisp, crunchy sound mounting from it. You slow your pace, wanting to breathe in the cool air, capture the moment before it’s too late and you’re getting your keys to unlock your front door. “Guess not,”

Sighing, I shook my head. “It’s fine, don’t worry, really,” I answered, my eyes trailing to the school building once again. “It’s not like you missed out on anything,”

As if on cue, once my eyes made contact with the place, the loud music that was being projected out of it came to a halt - cutting off mid song, forming goose bumps on my arm out of frustration. You don’t cut off a song halfway, patience, please. I’d always say to Noel, when he got sick and tired of listening to I want you (She’s so heavy) for the fourth time. We’ve listened to it four times! Regardless, you twat. You don’t cut off good music.

I heard Noel snicker lightly, knowing I would get bothered - even if I didn’t physically show it. What was replaced with the rasp, echoing sounds of some random dance song, was the music I was silently waiting for all night. The slow dancing song. The most memorable moment of the night. In all honesty, the song that was playing was bad - but that’s not the point.

As the music progressed on, I imagined myself in the hall, slow dancing with Noel. Tonight made me realise something: over the past year and a bit of mine and his friendship blossoming, he became someone that I needed in my life, in my future. Like how tea needs its milk and sugar. Like how to write you need a pen. You couldn’t take one or the other out of the equation; it wouldn’t make sense - at all. It was weird enough knowing we used to hate each other in class, not because someone said something to the other to piss them off, neither of us really didn’t know. We just hated each other’s presence - until we both shared a spliff together one morning before school; I had forgotten my last cigarette at home, and him - not exactly knowing why he did it - offered to have a hit of his.

“Dance with me,” he said, lifting his body off off the wall, once again standing right in front of me.

“What?”

“Every girl deserves a dance,” he started grabbing my hand, preparing himself to pull me up. Our eyes made stale contact, his brunette eyes interlocking with mine. They had a certain shine to them under the moonlight, a certain twinkle I was never able to notice before. “Especially you,” he added, dragging me up from the icy, dirty floor.

My heart fluttered as he pulled my body close to his, his hand adorning my hip as his other held my hand and pulled it closely to his chest. My grin was as wide as the sun in 360 degree view, heating up my face in a light blush, not noticeable in the dark. A part of me felt as if he noticed; his small smile widened slightly when the rush of warmth embraced my skin. I placed my free hand on his shoulder, allowing my fingers to feel the cheap fabric he was wearing. I didn’t care how expensive or how low-priced, all I needed was Noel, no one else. He knew me like no one else did.

Pulling Noel closer to my body, we began swaying, the soft sounds of the music playing in the background. I’m sure everyone else in the town would be able to hear the music at one point; they used an unreasonable amount of amps for the songs. I hugged his body, adoring his scent once again. The same, cheap, worn down smell, whiffed with what smelt like a hit of weed, perhaps to calm himself down. He looked quite nervous when I first saw him. He was nervous, for me.

“Y/N,” he said, causing me to lift my head from his shoulder. I stared into his obscure, enthralling orbs, my heart softening. His pupils were dilated, his bottom lip sank into his mouth. He seemed anxious, worried about what was happening, until he exhaled his breath, a breath seeming like it was meant to escape decades ago, and cocked his head to the side, leaning in.

Heart pounding, I did the same, as our lips brushed against one another's. The kiss felt extremely overdue, as if it was meant to happen on the morning we first bonded on our new knowledge of our shared habit. He tasted exactly like how I imagined: sweet. Sweet with a hint of honey. Sweet with a hint of hunger, as if this was needed far, far long ago. This kiss was a response to every conversation we ever had, every lock of the eyes, every embrace. We continued swaying whilst our lips adventured on the feeling of something new. Love.

So when you ask me, how was your school dance? Because you like to push your nose into everyone else’s business, I’ll tell you, it was the best night of my life, like the end of all things usually is.

[ithinkthereforiamfandom]

MarvelLock

(As a welcome to my newest Patreon Kate (sorry this took so long dear one), and I confess a touch of self indulgence. Loki was Actually first in Mitguard many years before Thor, and he met an interesting human, who was high as kite!) Established Johnlock, Established LokiSigyn,

In this AU Loki does not die on that ship and indeed finds the sunshine again!

Loki landed in Midgard, he had heard tales of this land where his people had once been Gods and had also heard endless lectures that this could be no more, as they had to leave Earth and it’s peoples to their fate. The whole was pointless, but he had decided to look the City of London in the eye because it sounded like a challenge. To look a city in the eye must be an interesting feat and it was said that the London Eye was quite impressive.

“Could you direct me to the eye of London?” Loki asked a neatly dressed policeman. “The What!?” “The city's eye, the London Eye. I wish to meet it’s gaze” The man had given him a quizzical look, maybe one could only met the eye by invitation, as a Prince could he not appeal to their Queen. “Down by the river" had been his only direction but his guide gave a further “follow the smell" before going on his way. Loki could smell only one source of water so he made his way towards it. The destitute were everywhere but he understood that the city looked after them, maybe it had a kindly eye, he thought grinning to himself until further enquires led him to an enormous wheel strung with carriages.

This was the great City of London's eye!

Loki barked a laugh of disappointment, it was a perfect metaphor for the whole damn planet, all just spinning in place pointlessly! “It won’t blink you know" Loki started and turned to the voice. One of the destitutes had approached him, a striking face but Loki could smell the poison he’d put in his blood. Curiously Loki held his peace hoping that maybe his sudden companion would speak again.

“You asked after the eye like you were about to have a staring contest and were so clearly disappointed to see it… you’re not from around here, no. You smell wrong, like winter but it's the middle of June and you move strangely too, like you ride a lot of horses but you don’t carry the callouses of caring for them, gloves would mask the marks of riding.” Loki watched the interesting mind race behind those odd eyes. “Sherlock Holmes" Who held his hand out for a polite shake in the manner of someone meeting a new animal, cautious of bites.

“Loki Odinson" He responded in kind and the heat of Midguard blood startled him almost as much as the words that followed “Norse mythology, god of mischief, shape shifter and Mother to a few supposed monsters… this isn’t your real skin is it? It feels wrong too” Loki's eyes filled up blood red right through the sclera as he allowed his Joten face to push through his human skin. Sherlock look intrigued and oddly relieved. Like he has been waiting for his mind to leave him all along.

Loki smiled as questing fingers lightly traced the patterns in his Joten skin, he couldn’t break his glamour for long but to enthral one mortal was really no risk. “This is my true skin Sherlock Holmes, Fenris and Sleipnir are no monsters but if you treat something as monstrous for long enough what’s the difference.” He was growing melancholy and that was not the purpose of this journey. He would entertain his new found friend instead, so he grabbed the hand that lingered on his skin, he had some time while the poison was working during which Sherlock Holmes would dismiss it all as fantasy and hallucination.

The revelation of his true nature had sparked an idea in the mad man's head to they found themselves outside of a bland looking building. “So this establishment is where your brother spends his leisure time, but refuses you entry…” Loki read a small brass plate that displayed Diogenes Club and the rather impolite phrase of ABSOLUTE SILENCE that was engraved beneath it. “You say he has cut you off because of the poison, the drugs, and you would like me to play tricks on him for your amusement…” Loki studied the face in front of him it was sickly and underweight but with arresting eyes and a fine frame to the body. He could work with this. “Just don’t let him touch you" Loki warned as he wove the spell, his magic was still young and could be unstable. “Won't be a problem” Sherlock had managed before the rush of the magic stole his breath.

The door swung open and two men strolled in; hair just slightly longer than proper matched well with impeccably tailored suits. Sherlock took a slight lead to the tea room where the so called powerful but most just plain boring sipped and chewed in their desperate collective solitude. No Mycroft, he shook his head at Loki and turned them towards his brother’s office, pausing beside the doorway to the antechamber he tried to figure out his next move. The fussy old secretary would interfere and he was at a loss until Loki moved him to face himself in a brushed steel light fitting… He barely held back a gasp as his illusion self vanished but not just his illusion, he and Loki were simply gone.

Loki grinned as he guided his shocked accomplice towards the entrance, entering was easy enough and he swiftly moved them into the office proper as the brother's assistant had left the door open to drop off some documents. A pallid man sat at a desk frowning at words and scratching his own mark irritability on each page. A tray beside him held a plate of sweet confections and some hot beverage gone cold, cancelling all sound around them Loki turned to Sherlock. “Okay, what next?”

Sherlock's smile split his face and he hoped he would remember this after the high. “The biscuits, Mummy, our mother sends them by the batch. He always eats too many, has since we were kids" He watched incredulously as Loki waved a hand and the biscuit in his brother’s fingers snapped in two. Startled his brother tried to pick up one piece but it broke again and so did the next one. Sherlock could see the sweat form on his brother’s temple and waited for his next move. A crack, deafening in the habitual silence, heralded spilled tea and fallen papers as his brother’s fussy desk split in two under his palms. Mycroft was on his feet now staring at his secretary who had glanced into the room and continued without a word. The phone was next and the plastic shattered into his palm, his trousers were the final casualty. He’d tried to dust the plastic’s shards off his hands and then fled in his ragged clothes to the next room.

Sherlock followed crying magically silenced tears of mirth as his brother pointed and waved soundlessly to his beleaguered secretary, climbing to her feet she glanced into the office again. All was as it should be. “Are you okay sir, you look a bit peaky" She’d queried quietly and Mycroft had nearly fainted dead away as he had turned and seen his office in perfect order.

Sherlock guided Loki back the tea room and took a few breaths to collect himself, he nodded to his companion to drop the camouflage and led them out to the streets in the requisite silence before collapsing on a park bench to chortle out his thanks.

Loki nodded as his almost friend thanked him, he could smell the poison was leaving Sherlock’s blood and knew he would need to depart soon. “It was my pleasure, the pointless rule of silence, it that your brother’s doing" “No it’s a general rule, avoids political discussions which inevitably always get loud, good rule though” Sherlock was sobering fast so Loki lead them to a small well tended park and settled them on a bench. “Enough poison Sherlock, no more drugs" He watched as Sherlock took in his words but cast a sleep charm upon him before there could be an argument.

If Midgard held One such as Sherlock Holmes maybe it wasn’t so pointless and he was smiling as he went home.

… Ragnarok and one mad titan later. ...

Loki lay on a couch and watched the Midgard sun rise over the green land they had called Asgard because where else would they live. Sigyn would be awake soon and Loki would forever be grateful that she was among the survivors who had trickled in after the attack, Heimdal could see them, see what remained of the Asgardians after that harrowing battle and they had gathered everyone to their new home.

Sigyn had been away in Vanahiem with a small group when Hela had attacked and there had been a few groups in other Realms but Thor had insisted everyone be present in their new home as the people of Asgard rebuilt.

Loki's face clouded over as he remembered how he had gained a wife, she had been delivered by an emissary of Jotenheim, and he had watched his brother’s blood boil as Thor had very slowly realised that the emissary was not actually asking for aid for the clearly ill woman in his charge. Thor had stood to say something, no doubt very kingly and self-righteous, so Loki stepped between his brother and the trouble maker to graciously accept the gift of a spouse from the new king of the Joten, he had been the one to destroy half of their city many years ago and had aided greatly in the repair as recompense.

The woman raised wary eyes as Loki guided her to the healers and then promptly guided her to his chambers after they had dismissed her suffering as simple exhaustion. He was quietly furious as she sank into the couch, he was no healer but he knew who might help, many years ago he had been having fun on Midgard, in London, it wasn’t far. He had watched the mortal many times after that first meeting, he had displayed a brilliant mind but far too many scruples, Sherlock! ... his companion had been a healer, between them they would aid his wife.  So he gathered up his precious cargo and stepped though space, South and West over the waters.

John was pecking his way through a blog post as Sherlock prepared dinner. “Sherlock" a voice called from their lounge, holding up a hand for Sherlock to stay where he was John peered into the other room. Loki stood in the lounge holding a limp form to his chest. “John!” John dashed forward as Loki lay the woman carefully on the couch. She wasn’t human, half-mast eyelids showed blood red eyes and the distinctive Joten markings pushed through pale human skin.

Sherlock knew that voice but stayed in the kitchen as John had indicated, Loki had sounded relieved to see the doctor so clearly there was a medical problem, he turned off the gas and collected John’s kit as well as a blanket upstairs. He put the kit at John’s side and stepped around Loki to drape the blanket at the woman’s feet, John would pull it up when he was done so Sherlock clasped a hand to Loki's shoulder in support and quietly headed to the kitchen, two more for dinner then. He let John get on with clearly urgent work.

She had been a cast off like himself, an insult intended to remind Loki of what he was but she was also a true person in Loki's eyes and he had made sure she knew that.

He chuckled to himself because she had learned; she had healed and become his wife but she also grew fiercely independent and though they were wed they saw no need to be in constant company. Loki was pleased with her boldness and proud that she had recovered from her ordeal so excellently.

He could hear her waking, these new chambers were small but suited them with a simplicity that Asgard had never really possessed. It had been a few months since everyone had been called to this new home and the quiet domesticity had been a balm he did not know he’d needed but his heart froze as a loud thump came from the bedchamber.

“Sigyn, my love. Are you well?” He called as he rose then raced through the small house, because he knew the answer. He knew there would no joke to share, of two left feet, or playful mocking of Midgardian shag carpets. His wonderful wife lay pale on the floor as she tried to rouse her body from the collapse.

Loki lifted his wife with quiet words to sooth her distress, there were human healers, a hospital a short way away. He could maintain her illusion for her and hoped they would be able to help as he turned on his heel and stepped through space into a strange room. “My wife, my wife!” He approached a woman standing nearby, her clothes and name tag identified her as a doctor, like Sherlock’s John! “Please aid my wife, she collapsed a few minutes ago, it’s never happened before!”

He lay his very soul on a steel treatment bed and also wept with relief as the room burst into action. They fussed and took readings from all kinds of things that they attached to her arms, fingers, and head. She spoke to them quietly and called to him for answers when she could no longer talk then when once again he was told exhaustion and he nearly screamed, but these were uninformed human doctors. “I’m going to bring her regular doctor, he can consult for you" He gritted out before he threw himself through the doorway of the room, stepping through space once again into 221B Baker street.

“John!” He called this time and Sherlock answered “He’s occupied at the moment Loki, he won’t be long" “Unoccupy him then, my wife has collapsed and these simple Midgard healers know nothing!” Loki was pacing the dingy room when John appeared. “Your wife collapsed, what were her symptoms before it happened” but the end of the sentence was muffled as Loki grabbed John’s shorter frame firmly around the shoulders and stepped through space back to the hospital door he had left from.

“No! Loki, no, I’m not looking at a thing" John adamantly refused as he had been out and out kidnapped from London without even his phone for Sherlock to trace. He could see Sigyn, Loki's wife where she lay resting on a gurney in a pile of blankets. “Just review the tests John and I will return you personally!” “No Loki we discussed this, my phone is at home. Sherlock will be going spare. Trust Loki, there needs to be trust.” Loki almost roared with anger but a quiet coughing sound from the bed drew his gaze, she was laughing weakly at him and shooeing him off with a small gesture.

The regular staff had long since cleared out as the Asgardians had quickly made arrangements with the nearby hospitals, they would be needed until healing rooms could be set up and currency could do anything on Midgard. He returned her small smile and gave John a glare for good measure before he step through space and almost straight into Sherlock, who stood in the lounge in his coat and scarf obviously waiting. Loki had been about to comment on blinding, pig headed loyalty but Sherlock simply flashed a ring shining on his left hand. “I know, he’s lovely isn’t he" Growling at the nonchalant comment Loki quickly confirmed his consent and wrapped an arm around Sherlock's waist before he thrust them both through space to John’s side.

John was smiling by the time they returned and Sigyn seemed more awake too but there were tears in her eyes and he rushed to her side. “What did you do to her!" “I did nothing, what did you do to her” John responded as he turned to lean against Sherlock and whisper in his ear.

John watched the bed from Sherlock's arms. Sigyn held Loki and copied John’s gesture of quiet words in the only ear she would need. He watched as Loki froze and then shook, John heard sobs which turned to laughter as Loki scooped Sigyn off the bed and stepped magically though the entire wall, like it was the illusion, before heading towards the reception area. He heard more laughter and walked beside Sherlock as they followed it at a human pace.

Loki smiled with tears on his face as he thanked the staff, he rejected the offer of a wheel chair, refusing to put his wife down so that she might simply walk. “Regular exercise is important in early pregnancy Loki" John had called to him but this was irrelevant for the moment. “Maybe a taxi rather" Sherlock had suggested which made sense as stepping through space had taken him practice and took effort so there was no way to know its effect on a baby. “Loki, get them home first Love" His beautiful, glowing, miraculous wife had chided gently as he had turned for the door. “We'll wait" Two smiling men had said in almost perfect unison and they did wait, quite patiently until Loki strode out from a different doorway and embraced them both.

Arms lock around chests and shoulders as the three men embraced tightly over the good news. Loki dropped his head to Sherlock’s shoulder and said a quiet thanks in John’s ear. When they left the hug they were back in Baker street. “We will visit as much as we are able. John I hope you’ll remain in attendance of Sigyn's condition" Loki turned to John who looked a bit crescent fallen. “I’m not an obstetrician, a birthing doctor.” “But she would prefer you by her side, even if you’re only consulting. I believe you’re familiar with the practice of consultation” He flicked his gaze to Sherlock who was glowing, and Loki knew that look very well. He had worn it just that morning, pride in his partner, and a fathomless depth of love

@fanishjuli @mofftissfan @sarahthecoat @loveismyrevolution  @riorothbates @underestimatemethatwillbefun @anotherwellkeptsecret @benaddictedandsherlocked @johnlockismyreligion @almosttomorocco @superwholocklmt @strangeps3lyricsmuffin @chinike @sillystring111 @ben-locked @jobooksncoffee @notjustamumj @johnlockunicorn @chained-to-the-mirror @thinkanddoodle-batch @melmey-fanfics @the-persian-slipper @melsesowieso @morgendaemmerung89 @shiplocks-of-love @pri1982 @kitten-kin @francj96 @sabrina-phynn @colourfulwatson @thejohnlockoutlet @lady-phoenix-of-tardis @shoshililly @mrb488 @yaycoffee @pippn-frodo @barbsiebabe @skullinitium @boisinberryjamarama @anchored-in-high-tide

[fortune-fool02]

A Light’s Darkness

Jonathan Joestar x female reader x Dio Brando

Okay, this was an idea I had and it is inspired by the Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde situation. 

Warnings: angst

Please enjoy.

Throughout his entire life, Jonathan had been forced to live a certain lifestyle. He was of the noble name of Joestar and was set up on a pedestal, having his life set out for him before he could even walk. 

Live how other nobles did, proper and cultured, endure every opera he was forced to attend and continuously lift his head high to dawn the finest of clothing and arts. Servants stood by his side, ready to rush off and get anything he asked of them on a whim’s notice. Many would adore this lifestyle, having riches at his fingertips and anything he wanted, but while it was glamorous, Jonathan wanted something else. 

As a Joestar, he was forbidden to indulge in anything that could tarnish the family name and reputation. This led to a bland life with no sparks of excitement nor colour, and that was what Jonathan wanted. He wanted to experience things without harming the family name. To experience the desires and urges that whispered in the back of him mind, tapping their nails against his skull that he was forced to swat away. 

He wished to find a way to live out these desires without fear of judgement, and so that was what he dedicated months of research to. Of course, this was silent, a secret only he knew of. He didn’t want others to know of it in concern that they wouldn’t understand it and try to stop him. Though, [Name], his beloved, had always told him to follow his dreams and that she would always support him. That was one of the many things he adored about her. 

It had taken months of failures, corrections and alternatives before he had done it. The chemical formula was complete though it still required testing. And Jonathan was more than willing to use himself for the experiment, this was his research and therefore it was only right that he endure it. He drunk a small sample of the formula and wrote down some notes on it, keeping a watch for any notices in behavioural changes or anything new. It took only a matter of moments after that before the formula took effect. 

His body erupted into agony, flames scorching under his skin and flowing around his body with his blood. The room around him spun madly, a disorientating cloud filling his head. For a moment, Jonathan believed he might have been dying with the pain. That was when he noticed his reflection in a mirror, his dark hair grew lighter and lighter, matching the colour of the sun in a golden blonde colour. Those bright blue eyes melted into an amber glow as his features changed, growing sharper even. 

When the pain faded, the man standing in the room was no longer Jonathan Joestar but someone else entirely. And the sense of freedom he felt was incredible, no chains to bind him to expectations and judgement, no fear weighing him down. He felt as if he was born anew. Dio wasted no time in dressing himself in more clothing to his taste before venting off to explore, in search of something to enjoy. 

This cycle continued for a handful of days, Jonathan would wait until nightfall before taking the formula and allowing himself as Dio to go out and enjoy what the world had to offer. But he also made sure to spend time with [Name] and the others to ensure that he was alright and maintain his relationship with them. Though, things got a little...problematic one night with Dio. 

[Name] had been heading to the manor to see Jonathan when she crossed paths with Dio, with their minds being the same, he was aware of who she was and her relation with Jonathan. And as a man, he had thoughts and desires involving her but these he kept quiet out of respect, but Dio thought no such things. He had spoken with her, giving a polite facade to the [Hair colour] woman. He could understand why Jonathan would have such thoughts, she was beautiful and kind. Perfect for Jonathan. 

Dio had invited her to a house of his own for drinks, a way for them to get to know each other better with him being a “very good friend” of Jonathan’s, and she refused politely. That was when the anger began to swirl and fester inside of Dio, she refused him. Him. How could she do such a thing? He insisted still and yet she continued to decline them, and that was when he snapped. His hand made contact with her cheek hard, leaving a sharp stinging pain there along with a mark rapidly forming. Tears trickled from her [Eye colour] orbs from that, holding the slight burning cheek before getting up and dashing off. 

Jonathan was not happy about that, he was devastated. Dio had harmed his [Name]. He couldn’t allow Dio out anymore, the man was becoming aggressive towards others and Jonathan struggled to keep him at bay. There were moments where he would start transforming without the formula now, and that terrified him. The last thing Jonathan wanted was someone to get hurt because of Dio, and so he locked the formula away but that did little to help as Dio continued to grow stronger with each passing day whilst Jonathan struggled to keep the monster at bay.

He began secluding himself away in his laboratory that he constructed in the cellar, refusing to leave the room and, as expected, the servants grew concerned for their master, as well as everyone else.  

[Name] stood outside the door to the cellar, concern twisting inside of her in a serpent. Jonathan’s behaviour worried her and she wanted to help him in any way she could. She brought her hand up and knocked against the wood. 

“JoJo, it’s me, [Name]. Can I come in?” she called out, hoping that he heard her, there was a tone in her voice that gave concern. She just wanted to make sure that her lover was alright, the mark on her cheek was gone now and it no longer stung. Though, she could easily remember the pained expression on his face when she told him what happened, he looked so hurt as if he was the one who had been struck. He did what he could to help her calm down but there was this look in his eyes, a hidden anger towards whoever had harmed her. 

She could hear movement and shuffling around on the other side of the door, so she knew he was awake and about. She tried the door handle to find it locked, “JoJo, please, let me in.” She spoke softly, her hand resting against the door. 

“[Name], I’m sorry but...I can’t.” Jonathan’s voice was soft, hushed and tired. He sounded exhausted. Concern flourished more now. This was not like Jonathan at all. 

“Jonathan, please, I want to help you. I’m worried about you. Please.” He could hear the soft concern stitched into her tone and it tugged at his heart, he wanted nothing more than to throw the door open and hold [Name]. To feel that sense of security and protection that she was able to give off, and yet he didn’t want to risk Dio harming her again. But...

Slowly, hesitantly, he unlocked the lock on the door, allowing her to enter. Her eyes swirled with worry at the sight of him. His hair a mess, exhaustion carved into his form with his heavy shoulders and slumped posture. 

“Oh JoJo...” She rose her hand up, gently caressing his cheek and he leaned into her warm touch, missing it. “What are you doing to yourself, JoJo? Why trap yourself down here?” She kept her hand there, softly caressing his cheek to offer whatever comfort she could. Jonathan pulled away, despite not wishing to, and wandered back into the cellar and over to his desk, once neat and organised now a mess of paper, and slumped down in the chair. 

“Need to finish this...I need to get it right.” he responded, turning to the piles of papers on his desk and sorting through them. Get what right? When did he start doing all of this? 

“JoJo, what are you talking about? What is all this?” She asked, standing by his side and placing a hand on his shoulder, gently rubbing it. He didn’t look at her, still attempting to arrange the papers. 

“I...did something terrible. Something against science.” he told her, how could he think this was a good idea? Why did he have to meddle in something that should have been left alone? He needed to fix this, he needed to get rid of Dio for good before he did anything else. The thought of that seemed to anger the alter ego as a familiar buzz started to fill his head. 

No, not now. Not with [Name] here. Jonathan held his head as the aches began to slide down his spine and spread throughout his body, feeling that burning anger clawing at his soul. A pained groan slipped his lips as he held his head more, turning away from his [Hair colour] lover. 

“[Name], please...get out of here, please.” Jonathan begged, trying to repress the anger and force it back into the box but Dio wasn’t allowing that, pushing back against Jonathan with force. He wouldn’t be silence. [Name], oblivious to what was happening, gave him a confused look. 

“Why? I can’t just leave you here. JoJ-” Before she could finish her sentence, a pained cry ripped from his mouth, flecks of his dark hair already starting to lighten blonde. 

“[Name], please! I’m begging you! Get out of here!” he shouted, his attempts growing more desperate and fearful as the transformation proceeded. [Name] took a step back, a little shocked by this sudden change in tone and the look in his eyes. His hair continued to lighten more, the his feature altering as his eyes did before forcing himself away from her, holding himself in a way as one would attempting to restrain something. 

[Name] only stared in silent shock as Jonathan’s form changed painfully into someone else entirely, his pained cries altering in tone and voice until there was no trace of Jonathan’s sweet, kind voice among them. Instead, there was this deep, soothing voice like velvet but that did little to soothe her fear. There, standing where Jonathan was once, was Dio. 

She blinked once, twice, trying to understand what she had just witnessed. Jonathan had...transformed into Dio. Jonathan and Dio... are the same person? How is this possible? Dio straightened his posture, ran a hand through his golden blonde locks with a heavy sigh, relieved to be in one in control again. Sharp ember eyes soon landed on the [Hair colour] woman standing there, shaking lightly with cold fear raking her body. 

“Greetings, mademoiselle.” he spoke, lips curling into a smirk at the fear she radiated. A mouse in the presence of a hawk, afraid, He sauntered over to her, his hand trailing along the desk and brushing away the loose papers, his eyes locked onto her. “How is your cheek? It seems to have healed well.” That seemed to snap [Name] out of her trance and she turned on her heel, bolting towards the door to escape him. Dio only chuckled at this action, finding her futile attempt of escape adorable, as he grabbed her wrist tightly, pulling her back towards him and away from the door. 

“JoJo has always been so wary of us meeting, my dear. It was inevitable that out paths cross yet again.” He twirled her around, his hold on her firm and unyielding, refusing to let her go. She was such a delicate flower, in his eyes, one that belonged to him. [Name] did try with all her might to fight against Dio but it was useless, the man’s grip remained. 

“Let me go!” She shouted, trying to kick him in the knee only to be responded with a chuckle. 

“Now, now, you wouldn’t want JoJo to be hurt too, would you? He and I share this body and what harm comes to me comes to him too.” That made her look at him with worry in her eyes, such an adorable expression. His other hand grabbed hold of her jaw, preventing her from looking away from him. “You’re so sweet, like a delicate rose.” 

[Name] tried to move her head away, unable to from his hold, as he pressed his lips against hers. His grip keeping her in place as he kissed her deeply, [Name] tried to pull away from it, not wanting his lips upon hers but she couldn’t. She made no attempt at all to reciprocate the kiss but that didn’t bother Dio. The fact he was able to kiss her, to hold her and touch her, was what mattered. He could break down Jonathan’s mental state with this, crumble down the relationship between he and [Name], all of this allowing Dio to grow stronger to claim the body as his own for good. 

Jonathan made the mistake of messing around with something he didn’t understand, and now he and all those he cared for would suffer the consequences. 

[vampire--dad]

For the Witcher Writers’ Circle prompt bingo!

Prompt: Grieving

I am so sorry

(you did this to yourself kell)

——————

(song: play this when i’m gone — Machine Gun Kelly)

I’m writing you this message just so I can say that I love you.

The letter slips from Jaskier’s satchel as Geralt moves it aside to find his nice black doublet. His eyes follow the parchment as it falls to the floor and sees his name penned delicately across the folded page. He’s almost scared to read it, especially today. But he does. He picks it up from the floor and sits on the edge of the bed as he unfolds the page. He almost hears the bard’s sweet voice in his head, wishing that it was more than a figment of his imagination, that it was real, that he was still here.

They both knew it would happen someday, but Geralt had hoped they’d have more time. Jaskier’s death came early even for a human. Some sickness had caught him. Yennefer and Triss did everything they could, brought all the help they could muster, but nothing worked. No herb or potion could cure whatever it was that ailed him. All they could do was ease the pain as he slipped away.

The witcher sighs as his eyes pass over those three words. Jaskier could never say it too many times. It never lost its meaning. He proved it in new ways every day, even on his deathbed.

I had to let you know that everything about me was you.

As if Geralt didn’t already know. Jaskier loved to say that Geralt was his smile, his laughter, the sparkle in those beautiful blue eyes that he misses so sorely. The witcher almost smiles thinking of those eyes and how Jaskier used to set them upon him and smile and tell him for at least the fifth time that day that he loved him. Sometimes Geralt wasn’t sure why he did. Jaskier would lay with him late at night or early in the morning, brushing a hand through his hair, and remind him of all the reasons he adored him.

But not even those memories can ease the pain of the truth. Those eyes now remain closed, the smile nothing more than a memory that Geralt clings to. Sometimes, if he closes his eyes and relaxes enough, which doesn’t come easily, he can almost feel Jaskier’s fingers in his hair, brushing through the snowy locks and twisting them into a braid. He only wishes it was real. That he was still here next to him peppering kisses on his cheeks and making him laugh like no one ever could.

I think it’s time for me to leave, but I’ll never leave you.

He dares not look outside. He knows that by now Eskel and Lambert will have laid his body on a pyre. He promised himself that he would hold himself together for as long as he could and seeing his body, having to accept once again that he’s gone, will break him before the funeral even starts.

His free hand rests on the chain around his neck that carries two rings. They dangle just below his medallion, close to his heart. Both are made of gold, one shaped like two vines woven together, the other simple, but not bland. They hang next to his heart as a reminder, something for Geralt to remember his husband by. Not that he needs it. Jaskier is burned into his brain like a brand. No matter how many years pass until he sees his lover again, he’ll never forget him.

“Dad?”

Ciri stands by his door in a long dress of black silk with a light cloak drawn around her shoulders. Jaskier did love that dress on her. It brought out those beautiful green eyes, he’d say. Geralt can tell that she’s already been crying. Jaskier, her papa, meant the world to her as she did to him. He loved that girl as fiercely as Geralt does. She has his wonderful imagination, his creativity, his way with words that Geralt could never understand, and, unfortunately, his flirtatiousness. He hears Jaskier every time she tells a story of a hideous monster or a wonderful woman she’s met on her travels.

Geralt sets aside the letter and stands, returning to his search for his doublet.

“I’m almost ready,” he says shortly, not trusting himself to say much more.

“Are you?” she asks softly. Geralt doesn’t respond. He can’t. A lump forms in his throat that he chokes back down. “I don’t think I am… I’m not ready to say goodbye to him…”

She sniffles and sighs, letting out a chuckle to try to lift her own spirits.

“Gods, I’m a mess already.”

“That makes two of us,” he replies thickly, leaning against the dresser with a sigh.

The pain in Ciri’s voice only adds to his own. Tears shine in his yellow eyes as they meet Ciri’s green ones. Her lip trembles as she throws herself into Geralt’s arms.

I’m not gonna lie and tell you it’s alright. It’s alright.

“It’s alright, Geralt.”

Those were his last words to his lover. His voice was barely above a whisper, weak and shaking in his chest as his heart came to a stop. Geralt wonders if he knew when he said those words how deeply they would hurt him when he was gone. He remembers feeling Jaskier’s hand go limp in his, watching his eyes close for the last time and the life slip from his body, wishing he’d had the strength to say ‘I love you’ one last time for him to hear. Yennefer and Triss were quick to leave the room, each holding their breath so Geralt wouldn’t hear them cry. He shakes his head slightly, trying not to think about the moment his husband passed. It only hurts more.

Ciri helps him fiddle with the buttons of the doublet. Usually he would hate wearing these things and would much prefer to wear his armour, but of all people, Geralt insisted that they bring out what little finery they allow themselves to have. Jaskier loved to see them all dressed up. Over the years he shared with Geralt on the Path, the witcher convinced him to wear something slightly more protective than silk and lace, but he loved to dress up. He liked to look pretty for his White Wolf, as he would say so affectionately.

“He would have loved this outfit,” Ciri says softly.

“He would have loved yours more, petal.”

Ciri draws in a slow, calming breath at the use of one of Jaskier’s old nicknames. Her eyes are already reddened and puffy.

“I should have gone out last night and picked some daisies for my hair.”

You’re gonna cry and baby, that’s alright. It’s alright.

It’s a struggle, but Geralt manages to hold back his tears until the fire roars and envelopes Jaskier’s body, wrapped delicately in the finest silk Lambert and Eskel could find. The funeral was going to be painful enough without having to see Jaskier’s pale face.

With his brothers’ arms slung around his shoulders, Geralt looks up at the clouds that hang above their heads and sighs shakily, tears streaming from his eyes. Eskel glances at him and pulls him into a hug. That’s what really breaks him. All of a sudden he’s sobbing quietly into his brother’s shoulder, Lambert’s hand still on his back. Eskel clenches his jaw and blinks tears from his own eyes as they meet with those of his younger brother. Lambert quickly looks away. Even at a funeral, he doesn’t want his brothers to see him cry. Jaskier had become incredibly close with Geralt’s brothers. Eskel loved to share his stories with him for his songs. He always made it known that those stories weren’t of the famed White Wolf, but another charming warrior. He never wanted his brother’s fame, but at least Jaskier gave him the credit. Lambert used to have such terrific exchanges with the bard, sharing the most creative empty insults and making each other howl with laughter. Late at night they’d share much kinder words. Jaskier would tell the witcher that his voice would pair wonderfully with his own. Lambert never took him up on the offer. He should have.

Ciri has her head buried in Yennefer's shoulder, crying her eyes out again. Her papa was her sunshine. She was his daisy. He made sure that she knew how to collect her skirt when she sat down, how to curtsey, how to braid her hair— not easy things for a girl to learn when she’s raised by wolves. Luckily, though he didn’t have sisters of his own, he had many, many cousins. Yennefer was expecting a wild, boyish, awkward child when she took Ciri into her care. She was surprised to meet a polite young lady with expertly braided hair. She often spoke of her fathers, one being a little rough around the edges but loving and kind, the other being like a walking ray of sunshine. Yennefer eventually met this wonderful man she described and found this to be oh so true. She and Jaskier spent many nights together drinking expensive wine and gossiping. He often told her of his latest quarrel with his husband, but no matter how disagreeable he could be at times, he always spoke of Geralt with love and affection. She remembers those nights fondly as she watches flames engulf his body with tears rolling down her cheeks.

I wrote you this song to keep when I’m gone if you ever feel alone.

Geralt hasn’t slept properly since he passed. The only thing that grants him relief from the exhaustion is the exhaustion itself. In the early hours of the morning he’ll pass out, only to wake a few hours later, still alone. That’s quite possibly the hardest part. He’d grown so used to Jaskier lying next to him, snoring softly, that trying to sleep alone is almost impossible. He misses tracing the curve of his back, burying his face in the crook of his neck, kissing his hair and neck to wake him, watching those bright blue eyes flutter open. He wouldn’t dare sleep with another. He doubts he ever will. Jaskier was his light. Nothing can replace that. No one can.

But the weight of being alone becomes heavier with each day that passes. The chain around his neck feels like an anchor, but taking it off would hurt even more. He finds himself bed ridden some days, not seeing much of a reason to get up. He knows what Jaskier would say. He tries to listen. The others don’t say anything, other than words of encouragement. They know how Geralt feels. Jaskier’s passing weighs heavily on all of them but it’s nothing compared to him, the man he would have followed to the ends of the earth. The weight on Geralt is unimaginable.

Part of me doesn’t want this cruel world to know you.

“Freak.”

“Mutant.”

“We don’t want your kind ‘round here.”

“You’re no different from the things you hunt, you know that?”

Jaskier used to work himself into a frenzy over those comments. Geralt reassured him that he was used to it, it came with the occupation, but the bard wouldn’t accept that.

“What the fuck do they think they know?!” he would exclaim. “They call you all these names, but they don’t know you. Not like I do.”

“I wouldn’t want anyone else to know me like you know me, songbird,” the witcher would reply.

Jaskier would turn to him, still annoyed, but smiling. That was the one thing about him that never aged, his smile. Wrinkles slowly formed around his eyes. Grey streaks appeared among his mass of chestnut hair. But his smile never aged, even framed by a thick but well kept beard.

“Well, no, I wouldn’t want anyone to know you quite that well either. But still, Geralt. They don’t give you a chance.”

Geralt would chuckle and shake his head. Jaskier hated how adorable the witcher thought he was when he was angry, but that anger quickly melted when Geralt pulled him into his arms.

So just try and keep in mind everything that I told you.

Jaskier would shower Geralt in compliments, if not just to see him try to hide how flustered he was. He’d give him all of the nicknames he could come up with and deepen the blush on Geralt’s cheeks by peppering kisses on them and on the tip of his nose. Geralt had maybe one or two nicknames for him. His favourite was songbird. Jaskier would smile brighter than the sun whenever he called him that.

“Your eyes look like rays of sunshine, dear heart. Like the finest gold.”

“Sweet Melitele, your hair, my love. It’s so soft when it’s clean. It looks and feels like fresh snow.”

“Have I ever told you how wonderfully intelligent I think you are, my dearest? You like to act like you’re not, but I know you are. If I had met you at Oxenfurt I would have thought you a scholar.”

“Stop it, Jask.”

“Why? Oh, is my big scary wolf getting all flustered because I called him pretty and smart?”

“No. Witchers don’t get flustered.”

“Bollocks to that. I see you blushing.”

Maybe there was some truth to all the things Jaskier said to him.

This is the last time I’ll ever open up my eyes, I apologise.

That moment haunts Geralt. He tries his best not to think about it, but late at night it flashes before his eyes, clear as day.

Yennefer had sought him out early in the morning, waking him from what little sleep he was trying to get. She looked exhausted, but they couldn’t afford to stop working. Jaskier was getting worse, she told him. She didn’t need to say anymore. They both knew. They were losing him. Geralt was out of bed and up the stairs as fast as his legs could carry him.

Even weak and dying, Jaskier’s smile could light up a room in seconds. Despite the tears beginning to slip from his eyes, Geralt smiled weakly and sat on the edge of the bed, brushing his fingers through Jaskier’s hair and kissing him softly. He had to. He didn’t want to admit it, but he knew then it would be the last time.

Jaskier managed a soft chuckle and told him he looked like shit. Nothing could quash his sense of humour. Geralt told him he wasn’t looking much better and immediately regretted it, even if it was just a joke. Jaskier shrugged. He seemed to have already accepted his fate.

All of a sudden, Jaskier’s breath rattled in his chest. The smile slipped from Geralt’s face as he leaned over Jaskier and gripped his hand firmly. The bard had kept on smiling and reassured him he was alright. Geralt begged to differ, but stayed silent as Jaskier cupped his face gently and told him he loved him. He said it with such finality that Geralt just about started sobbing then and there. Jaskier wiped a tear from his cheek gently but before he could speak again, he coughed, his hand falling from his face and clutching at his chest. Geralt looked on helplessly as he fought to draw one last breath.

“It’s alright, Geralt.”

He doesn’t remember much after that. He remembers clutching Jaskier’s body to his chest and sobbing, but he can’t recall how long he sat there. At some point, Eskel had come in to pull Geralt away. He didn’t want to go, but Eskel had to remind him that there was nothing he could do now. He was gone.

In that moment, Geralt’s whole world had come crashing down before his very eyes.

——————

Tags: @lovelyeskel @jaskierswolf @patchwork-quilts @viking-raider

[flying-nightwing]

Act II: The Racetrack

Hey guys! I’m not sure I’m entirely satisfied with that one, especially the dialogue feels off. But this is something to drag me out of my writers block so yeah I’m not at optimal capacity. Anyhow, I hope you still enjoy!

Side note, I think this is the fic I used the least italics lmao. Also this is semi edited

Part 1 in Masterlist! 

Part 3 is out now!

Pairing: Tim Drake x Reader

Word count: 3256

Warnings:

 regular amount of violence, language

“Tim”

At the sound of his name, Tim jumped up from his sleep. He had no idea he had even closed his eyes, but there he was, sleeping perfectly still in his chair in front of his open computer. He blinked, looking down to his coffee, then up to Bruce.

“I’ve got a location”

That woke Tim up better. He was suddenly alert and attentive. “Where is it?”

“The Gotham Cup” Bruce replied, showing him two VIP passes to the Nascar race later that day. It made sense now that he said it, as the big crime families would meet there, as each one of them owned a racing team. “It’ll have to be a no cape mission, we’ll have to operate in broad daylight”

Tim nodded with a sigh. He wasn’t a fan of that type of recon, as he’d have to socialize as Tim Drake-Wayne the CEO and answer questions that would distract him from his mission. It also meant potentially dealing with press corps and cameras, which meant he’d have to be extra careful in his recon. At least the attention would be divided between him and Bruce.

“What time?” He asked.

“It starts at two, but the social event is on at one”

Tim looked down to his watch. It was now almost 11:30. He finished his now cold coffee and stood up with yet another sigh. “Guess I’ll have to go make myself presentable, then”

Bruce chuckled, but didn’t add anything more.

---

The sun was high in the sky and the racetrack was buzzing with activity. People with teams’ shirts and caps were mingling around, and the line of the bet counter was stretching all around the building. Tim walked beside Bruce, both of their VIP lanyards hanging from their necks and contrasting with their black dress shirt. They turned heads as they passed the lines and different booths, mostly ignoring the whispers that arose around them. They soon reached the VIP entrance, getting in without having to raise the badge or lower their sunglasses.

It still surprised Tim, even after all this time, the sheer power of the name Wayne. 

They climbed the stairs to the terrasse, where there were considerably less people, and those who were there were dressed in fancy clothes rather than fan gear. There was s soft ambient music playing in the background and plenty of seats under the roof’s shade. The whole place screamed money, yet Tim found it extraordinary bland. 

“You take ten o’clock, I’ll take two” Bruce instructed. “Meet at the bar for the start of the race”

“Got it” Tim nodded, checking his watch. He had exactly one hour and three minutes to try and find out more about which big shot would have beef with city hall. He began walking towards the rail, leaning on and pretending to be interested in whatever the entertainers were doing on the turf in the middle of the track. The seats around were gradually filling with fans who were willing to sit still for hours under the sun to watch cars drive in circles, eating their overpriced hotdogs. Tim didn’t understand the fun in that, but then again, they would probably not understand his idea of fun either.

With a sigh, he pushed himself from the rail and returned to his task. However, he didn’t see the person walking by and bumped into them. “Oh f--” He stopped himself from cursing out loud. “Sorry”

He paused, squinting at the semi familiar face in front of him. You smiled.

“What, no champagne to spill on me this time?” You teased as you recognized the handsome face from the gala the other day. The connection clicked in his eyes as he understood where he saw you before.

“Oh, hi!” He hurried to answer. “Uh, it’s you”

“So I’m told” You chuckled. He wouldn’t have recognized you on the spot, with your wide hat and brighter clothes. At first glance you seemed like a totally different person, but as he took in your features, it was obvious it was you.

He could recognize those memorable traits everywhere.

“So uh, you left before I could talk to you, the other day” He scratched the back of his neck. “I haven’t seen you much around either”

“I’m not from Gotham, so that would be pretty normal” You replied as you leaned on the rail. “I’m only here for a few days”

“Oh?” He asked, suddenly a little more interested. He raised his sunglasses on his head, looking at your directly. “I hope you weren’t too spooked by what went down at the gala”

You tsked, shaking your head. “Poor mayor” You sighed sadly. “It’s terrible what happened. At least no one else was injured. I was terrified when the smoke went off, but I’ll be okay”

He gave you a small, awkward smile. “Glad to hear it”

“So, do you have a name?” You changed the subject.

“Tim” He nodded, then told him your name in return. “Nice to formally meet you”

“Pleasure’s all mine” You gave him a charming smile. “So, what does such a handsome man do in such a place?”

He visibly blushed at your compliment. You could see he was not used to receiving blunt raises like that, but he really was handsome and you had to say it out loud. His bright eyes and sharp features drew you in just as much today as they did a few days back at the gala, where you had desperately wanted to stay and chat for a while before kidnapping the mayor. You still had time to spare today, so you wouldn’t miss your chance now.

“I- uh” He scratched the back of his neck, chuckling nervously. He didn’t seem like someone who would get nervous, but you thought it was cute. “My father, he wanted me to come with him. Publicity stunt I guess. What about you?”

“My cousin is a pilot” You lied easily. “I’m here for support”

“Oh! That’s great” He lifted the corner of his lips into a small smile. “Which car?”

Your expression turned sheepish. “... 43? 34?” You tried. “Something with a 4. I don’t know! I don’t follow the sport at all”

He chuckled. “Here for the free cocktails?”

“Guilty” You gave him a complicit grin. “Honestly my family just said ‘hey, let’s go to Gotham for the Nascar cup!’ and I followed because why not”

“I get it” He nodded as you began walking around side by side. He was more relaxed now, his hands in his pockets and his head tilted toward you. “My family does that all the time too. If one wants to go somewhere, usually the bunch follows”

“You have siblings?”

“Yeah” He grinned. “Four brothers and one sister, and I’m the middle child”

“Oh wow” You blinked. “How do you even deal with this?”

“By outsmarting them at every turn” He replied with a sarcastic sigh. “That and arming myself with enough information to blackmail them into doing my shit”

You laughed, throwing your head back slightly. You didn’t know, but his heart skipped a beat at the simple action. He thought it sounded like the sweetest melody he wouldn’t mind hearing again. “Sounds like a good survival strategy” You said. “So, you’re the smart one, eh?”

“I think I’ll go ahead and take this one” He nodded after a small pause. “You have no idea how low the bar is”

You laughed again, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “It sounds like a lot to deal with” 

“Do you have any siblings?”

You were walking slow around the outside part of the VIP lounge, under the sun. Clouds were coming and going, giving you intermittent moments of shade. It really was a nice day outside. You looked down. “No, not really”

You could feel his eyes on you, but it wasn’t harsh. Just curious, like he didn’t want to pry and ask. However, he had a gaze that seemed to see through everything at that moment, and you really didn’t want him to see through the half lies you built to avoid the truth. 

“I was adopted” You admitted, looking back up to him. That wasn’t a lie.

“Oh” He blinked a few times in surprise. “So was I”

Your eyebrows raised at his quick answer. You half expected the bundle of invasive questions that usually came with it, but at that moment it was clear he wouldn’t require further explanations. You were glad he understood.

“We already have more in common that I would have expected” You smiled sweetly. “I’m glad we bumped into each other again”

“Y-yeah, me too” He nodded with a timid smile this time, like that little shy front took over again. You deducted it returned when you made a move on him so far, but he didn’t seem to dislike it either. 

“Maybe we--” You paused when you caught a glimpse of the time on the giant board on the other side of the track. If you kept going on like this you’d miss your window. Shit shit shit. “Oh shoot”

“What’s wrong?”

You recomposed yourself and gave him an apologetic smile instead of straight up bolting away. “I told my mother I’d be down by the pits for the beginning of the race, she’s going to start calling me non stop soon”

His face dropped slightly in disappointment. “Oh, yeah, maybe you shouldn’t worry her”

“Sorry, Tim” You pouted, before lifting your finger and going to the nearest bistro table, and took a napkin from the fancy display. You then snatched a pen from a man walking by, ignoring his protests, and you wrote your number on the fragile material. yOu handed back the pen without looking at the angry man and went back to Tim, who had an amused expression on his face. “Here”

“Thanks” The smile returned on his lips as he glanced down quickly at the digits.

“Call me sometimes, yeah?” You winked, walking backwards. He lifted the napkin and nodded, then you were gone.

As you jogged down the secondary staircase, you forced yourself to put Tim at the back of your mind. There was no rule in your contracts to regulate your private life, but it was obvious you couldn’t let anything get in the way of your mission. You got down to the pits and sneaked in a small storage room, where a change of clothes was waiting for you. You pulled off the stupid hat and took off your clothes to change into a tight black suit and a holster belt for your gun and the roll of duct tape at the bottom of the bag. You finally pulled the black helmet as the finishing touch and got out undetected.

You returned into the pits like nothing, blending with the flow of people gradually becoming more important as you got closer to the garage #29. You really looked no different from the staff with darker suits, only missing the sponsors patches. Behind your visor you spotted the driver you were looking for, seemingly arguing with a blonde girl and walking away, throwing his hands in the air.

The timing couldn’t be more perfect.

You followed him as he watched intensely his cellphone, going somewhere quiet. He paused in a corner away from prying eyes, typing quickly. You stepped in front of him and waited a few seconds until his eyes lifted up to you.

“What the fuck do you want?” He grumbled. “Go back to work”

“If you’re asking so nicely” You said, pointing your gun at him as you dropped your bag on the floor. 

“Yo what the f--” 

You used his momentarily surprise to side step him and sneak an arm around his neck. He trashed in your hold until he went limp. You let him drop on the floor and began undoing his suit, pulling it off with a few difficulties when the limbs were concerned. You then slipped it on and bound the driver at the wrists and ankles, then taped his mouth and threw the roll on him. You returned to the pits, ignoring people who tried to talk to you, including the blonde from earlier. You went straight for the car and slipped in, only waiting for the crew chief to place one last word before you headed for the start line, getting into your designed position. As the other cars joined the start grid as well, you warmed up your tires like the rest of the pilots around you. You observed the commands of the car, making sure you hadn’t forgotten a function since your quick training in nascar driving. 

Soon enough, the lights turned green. You didn’t hurry like some cars, you opted to lay low in the main platoon. You would avoid getting attention to yourself that way. You especially chose an average team to hijack, so nobody would expect you to be leading or trailing behind. You made sure to spot your target a few cars in front of you; a bright orange car with the number 12 painted in blue. 

The pilot was your target. He was one of Gotham’s influential men, drawing attention with his sudden philanthropy gestures and involvement in city politics. He liked to flash his money out, and that apparently went through buying an entire nascar team and racing as the pilot as well. But his fervent support for Batman and his bunch of vigilantes got him a big red dot on the forehead by other influential characters of Gotham. Falcone did not appreciate the support for his enemy. 

You counted your laps, getting closer to the 34th. You launched your offensive, accelerating and taking your curves more towards the center. You swerved around cars to come head to head on the right of 12, taking your gun from the inside of your suit. You rested the nozzle on your elbow to stabilize your aim, then waited out the curve. As soon as the track hit the straight line, you shot three bullets in his neck and retreated your gun again. You saw the body fall back into the seat, the car losing control and crashing in another one. 12 went up in the air, flipping several times before the yellow flag went out. 

The medical staff hurried to the accident, and you knew they’d soon see the bullets and stop the race. So when the pits came into view, you got in. Staff were flagging you off, yelling at you in confusion as to your presence there. You only accelerated, knocking equipment as you went. You pulled the hand brakes to realize a 90° turn into the garages. People jumped out of your way as you escaped by the pits and to the outside of the stadium. You drove into several metal fences until you ended up in the fan zone. Only the security was there, but they were on foot or on segways, so they didn’t stand a chance. You tore through the Cup banner and drove straight for the highway. 

Drivers honked as you speeded by them, heading for the city before the police helicopters could spot you. The buildings would provide you with a much needed cover, even if the risk of you crashing would be greater with significantly more obstacles. As you entered the first shadow of the skyscrapers, you took an exit ramp to Chinatown. You accelerated in the traffic, rolling on the sidewalks and knocking down trash cans as you went. You crossed through five just-turned red lights, causing one small pile up at the junction of one of the big avenues. You knew the helicopter was hovering somewhere close, and the police began tailing you once you entered Gotham Lower. However, the motorcycles were no match for a Nascar grade car. 

However, you knew the game was on when you heard something being thrown onto your door and denting in the metal. A pointy end got through, and immediately, you knew what it was: Batman had entered the game. You were surprised he’d show up in the daylight. 

You were even more surprised when you noticed it wasn’t in fact Batman, but his pupil in red. He was on an unmarked motorcycle with a black helmet, trailing slightly behind so you couldn’t shoot him with a good aim through the window. So instead, you took a series of sharp turns in hope you could shake him off, as you didn’t have a rocket launcher to deter him from following you this time. You ended up in the Diamond District, where you decided to change your strategy. If he wanted a piece of you, he could have it. 

You made a last turn into a dead end alley, then made a U-turn and waited at the end. Soon enough, you saw Red Robin pull up at the other end. He put a foot down as he came to a halt, no doubt staring at you through the tinted visor of his helmet. You revved the engine a few times, your foot pressing on the gas pedal in controlled movements. He leaned on the bike, ready to accept your challenge.

Before he could prepare too much, you shifted gear and took off, clouding the brick wall behind you with smoke from your tires. He pushed the bike straight and accelerated too as you drove toward each other full speed. You were about to start a manoeuvre, but had to abort as three shurikens shattered your windshield. You stopped at the other end and faced him again, before punching your what remained of your windshield. Immediately after, you speeded toward him again. This time however, you didn’t leave him time to take out weapons. You deployed the emergency brake and gave a tug left to your steering wheel, making the rear of your car tracing an arch. Red Robin deducted your intention last second, and had to swerve into the pile of trash bags so as to not get violently reaped. You took the opportunity to drive off back into the streets, where the police presence had quadrupled and the traffic cleared. 

But you had a plan for that too.

As if on cue, two identical cars to yours pulled out from garages on both your sides. You changed formation, placing yourselves one after the other and changing the order every two intersections. When you felt like you had confused the police enough, you drove into an underground garage, forcing the police to slow down. You however, cruised over the speed bump without a hassle. After a tight, 180 degrees turn, you slipped into a side unit, where a member of your team closed the door right after. You stopped the car and heard the police fly by, holding your breath. Then, silence fell. You pulled off your helmet, then slipped out of the car through the window.

You took the phone your team member handed you, pressing the first and only number saved.

“It’s me” You spoke up when the other end picked up. “It’s done”

“Great work, (Y/N). Meet back at the corner of sixth and 24th” 

“Copy that” You replied and hung up, letting the phone fall on the ground and crushing it with your boot. You caught the bag with your change of clothes, slipping out of the suit and putting on the clothes to blend in outside. 

You sneaked out of the garage, regaining the busy streets of Gotham with a smirk.

[hitbythunder]

Chandrilan Moons - 1

A Kylo Ren x Reader story with much angst, possessiveness and dark themes (warnings will be updated as the story progresses) –> Read also on AO3

Summary: Growing up under the loving care of your foster-mother, Leia Organa, there had been nothing for you and Rey to want for. Though not of kin, you loved Rey as your sister and spent a happy childhood with her on Chandrila. But when the boiling galactic politics demanded for Leia to take action, for the Resistance to rise and fight, the girls could no longer evade the cruelty of the world. Kylo Ren sought a map as a key to revenge, to freedom, and had no use for a force-unsensitive young girl like you. You were simply a means to an end. Until his darkness latched onto you, drawn in by your light as you were by the demon that is Kylo Ren - inevitably gravitating towards each other, bound to be one. Like the Chandrilan moons.

****

____________________________xXx____________________________ 1- Prologue

+On board the Finalizer, orbiting Jakku+

The echo of heavy footsteps, determined and ominous in their approach, were enough of an announcement to have each trooper filled with dread. While the prison sector of the Finalizer had rarely been a much frequented place, the imminent presence of the Commander had the corridors wiped clear of any living soul having lost their way here. Except, of course, for the poor sods assigned to guard the occupied cells, frozen in place as their superior rounded the corner. In a cloud of pitch-black cloth he moved, his long cape and flowing robes billowing in the wake of his powerful strides, almost seamlessly melting into the surrounding's black walls and floor. Only the stainless steel details of his helmet gave him away, glistening in the dim light. Like a demon, a creature born of darkness, he seemed to glide like an ominous shadow along the hallway, swallowing everything in his path. Even morphed into the blackness of clothes and interior, he was imposing in a frightful way and with the hood drawn deep over his unique helmet, the Commander appeared like a giant walking among men.

For many he was indeed an otherworldly creature, the heir of darkness as the direct descendant of the legendary Darth Vader and exceptional force-user, Klyo Ren. His name alone having grown men tremble in fear, striking terror among both enemy and his own men. Because no one was safe from his violent tantrums and unabashedly display of power. Though not even a handful of (living) people were acquainted with the scope of his abilities.

Kylo didn't acknowledge the troopers at the door, not beyond how one tolerates the presence of a fly but just barely so, and entered the prison cell holding the Resistance pilot. He too was just an insect to Kylo, a vessel which had no use apart from the memory-cells its brain possessed. Said brain cells held a clue to Skywalker's whereabouts, a vital piece of information which Kylo longed to obtain. To find his uncle, to confront him with all the hatred and rage Kylo had harnessed against him over the years since the fateful night at the temple, and to kill him slowly and painfully once in his clutches. Sweet and alluring, the prospect of revenge had been whispered to him in lonely moments, promising so much more power once the cursed Jedi ceased to exist. And Kylo craved that power, which would enable him to surpass and free him from his own master - a sadistic and foul creature that used Kylo like a trained dog, at his beck and call, while keeping his powers from further development. Although it had been Snoke who had led and taught him in the ways of the dark side, Kylo couldn't shake the feeling that his master had become envious of his capabilities as a force-user, thus putting any progress on hold. Apparently, a useful weapon ought to be powerful but not threateningly so, as to keep it under control and so that it didn't surpass its usefulness.

But Kylo had enough of it, growing hatred simmering in the core of his mind and blending so neatly with the cacophony of negative emotions there, that Snoke had not the slightest idea of his apprentice's developing enmity. The brunt of Kylo's hate translated into raw violence on missions, a welcome outlet whenever it all became too much for him.

Patience was a key to success in this case and so Kylo bode his time, gathering strength through his own training and through spilling blood in the name of the dark side. There wasn't a more beautiful color than the red liquid of life, bright and vibrant as it flowed freely, turning almost black when seeping into the earth. Just like Skywalker's blood would, once Kylo got hold of him and the anticipation thereof thrilled him to a point of barely restrained impatience. Translating in an even shorter temper and unpredictable moods these days. As well as zero tolerance for insects that dared to waste his time, like the pilot currently restrained in front of him.

"I will get the information I want." Kylo growled through the voice-coder of his helmet, a rasping and sinister tone in the otherwise quiet cell, and increased the onslaught on the pilot's mind without mercy. "Even if it means to pick your brain apart."

Unable to uphold the playful bravery, Poe Dameron's excruciating screams bled through the durasteel walls onto the hallway.

+++ +Two days earlier - Resistance Base on D'Qar+

"Rey, wait up! Rey!" I called across the hangar area, running towards a particular X-wing starfighter and its ready-to-board pilot. Heads turned as I passed them, but ignoring their perplexed stares, I made a zig-zag through the small crowd in my way. Rey turned to find me in front of her, slightly panting and cheeks flushed from the sprint.

"What are you doing here? I thought you were practicing the harpiton." Rey surprised us both at how reprimanding that came out and we bristled in unison at the notion of her sounding like our foster-mother. Rey seemed very excited, perhaps even nervous, about her very first flight in an X-wing starfighter, type 406-G with upgraded shoot-assistant and improved hyper-drive, based on carbo -

"D'Qar to Rey! Hello, is anybody home in there?" I waved her hand in front of Rey's face, far too long for her liking. She gently swatted my hand away, replied:

"Sorry, you were saying?"

"Stars, I guess I don't even want to know where you always drift off to." I sighed, but then continued with a fond smile. "I came to wish you good luck for your flight and to remind you to make me a holo-gram of the stars up there."

"Thanks and don't worry, little sis, soon you'll fly among the stars too." Rey replied as we hugged, then beamed with barely contained joy. "See you later, sis!"

I slowly made my way back to the entrance of the underground-base, one last look over my shoulder confirming that Rey had taken off for her flight-lesson into space - being among the stars literally! To play the harpithon (a mixture of a harp and a hang) seemed bland, if not ridiculous, in comparison and I highly doubted that my playing skills would be of any use in the war.

What a world it would be if music could bring peace., I mused as I strolled through the hallways of the ever bustling base, soon reaching the more quieter area where the private quarters lay. We girls shared a room, spacious enough to get along but still rather stuffy, especially with the unwieldy harpiton in the middle. I began to practice, my fingers gliding along the strings and drumming against the round metallic corpus at the bottom. Soon I lost myself in the soft tunes, for it always reminded me of my home-world Chandrila and of the many childhood-years I had spent there along with Rey - always with Rey. Though we were not blood-related, we had grown up together and became as close as sisters could be - perhaps even more so because we shared unknown origins - under the gentle care of our foster-mother Leia Organa.

Back then, when Leia had been a senator, she had participated in a charity-program for orphans and had taken us girls in. Little Rey had been about 3 years and I still a new-born then. Leia's position as senator had provided well for us, without wanting for anything, though Leia had never spoiled us. We had had a happy childhood, with all the ups and downs of family-life that made it worthwhile. And although we had learned rather early not to be of the same kin, we had grown to love Leia like a mother.

With Leia's husband, Han Solo, it had been quite a different story. We had rarely seen him, because of his occupation as smuggler Han tended not to remain in one place for long - and also, as we had always suspected, he had never approved of Leia's decision to adopt us. He didn't say so himself and Leia would never admit it, but the distinctly reserved manner in which he behaved around us - not unkind but also far from loving - which was often paired with an almost painful expression, made us doubt his affection towards us. Although Rey in her youthful optimism had always tried to reach out to him (thus perhaps her affinity for technology and ships), Han refused to become the father-figure we longed for. It was only us girls, Leia and her handmaid Gemma in a small but luxurious estate in Hanna City (capitol city of Chandrila).

Much later, when I was about 15 years old and Rey 17, we learned that there had been a child before us, a son of Leia' and Han's blood. The son whose loss - Leia never told us what had happened - had torn the parents apart and suddenly we understood both Han's reticence towards us and Leia's wish to save us orphans from an unknown future.

At about that time, the former Imperialists had spread the rumor that Lea was Darth Vader's daughter and further she had some affiliation towards Kylo Ren - the rising apprentice of the dark side - was her son. Leia had neither confirmed nor denied any of it and kept her secrets close, always avoiding our questions regarding that matter so that eventually it became a taboo among those surrounding her. But the rumors remained. Of course, these accusations - though unproven and doubted by many - had harmed Leia's position in the senate, enough to force her to resign her seat as senator. Ultimately, she decided to leave our home and travel around the galaxy in order to form the Resistance. Still teenagers at that time, we weren't involved at all and remained on Chandrila. It had been three difficult and sometimes lonely years for us girls, at the prime of our puberty. We both tried to find distractions for missing Leia: Rey in her training with the Force and an interest in technology; and I in acquiring a broad knowledge of the galaxy and its history, languages and customs, which in included the ways of the Jedi as well as their sinister opposite the Sith. Though the sources of information available to me at that time had been limited and always supervised by Gemma with a watchful eye. It had required quite some finesse of me to sneak even grains of info about Darth Vader or Kylo Ren past her.

Essentially we tried to be good daughters Leia would be proud of and when she finally allowed us join her here on D'Qar, we were happy beyond the moon. That was 4 months ago and while D'Qar didn't feel like home, I was just glad to be with Leia and Rey, my family.

Engrossed in both play and thought, I hadn't noted the knock on the door, nor the swishing noise as it opened and was rather surprised when Leia sat down on the bed to my left.

"You play very lovely, dearest." she said, a fond smile on her faintly highlighted lips. Despite her rank as General, Leia had always kept the regal posture and an excellent choice of clothes that stemmed from her royal upbringing. And in times as these, a tough but wise leader was exactly what the Resistance needed.

"Thanks, it's a song I've composed myself." I replied as I shifted my chair backwards, away from the harpiton, in order to turn my body fully to Leia. "Though I was wondering if ..." my eyes dropped to my lap, to the ceiling, anywhere but Leia's intense brown eyes. "...if there aren't more useful skills for me to obtain."

"___________..." Leia sighed, knowing even without the Force where this was leading.

"I could become a pilot - not of a starfighter but perhaps a freighter? Or I could-"

"We've had this discussion many times before, dear, and my answer hasn't changed." Leia put in with finality, not wanting to draw this out (yet again).

"But it's not... I feel miserable sitting here while Rey is up there-" I pointed to the ceiling, imagining Rey having the best time of her life while flying "-becoming an even better pilot than Poe." I huffed in annoyance, continued though with a calm yet sad expression: "I know I'm not as good as her at combat or piloting but there must be something I can do to help our cause!"

Leia regarded me for a moment, silently waiting for me to regain my composure and return to a sensible mind-state before she answered:

"Don't compete with your sister, dearest. Your capabilities might not be obviously useful as of now, but trust me they are of great value and one day the Resistance will need a smart, well-educated lady just like you."

"Mhm..." I nodded solemnly, unsatisfied by the answer given but unwilling to continue a lost discussion. As kind as Leia's words were, they only sugar-coated the fact that I would never be like Rey. Rey who was athletic and agile in her movements, cunning and brave during fights while also having a knack for mechanics and technology. And as if that wasn't enough, every-body's darling Rey was a decent Force-wielder too.

Since early child-hood, Leia had always watched out for signs that we may be connected to the Force, having us forgo some simple tests once in a while, and at the age of 13 Rey's powers had finally awakened. Well, no such luck for me though, because the Force seemed to shun me despite my best efforts to connect with it. Resulting in another shortcoming on my part in comparison to Rey and excluding me from the special bond Rey and Leia therefore built.

Leia's famous brother, Luke Skywalker, had already vanished into his self-imposed exile to stars-knew where. So in lack of a proper teacher, Leia had to manage not only her role as senator in a rather turbulent political period, but also her new responsibility to educate Rey in the ways of the Force. They had spent countless hours together and sometimes I had joined them to at least understand the theory of the matter, albeit unable to perform the practical parts. We learned of the eternal conflict between light and darkness in the Force, as well as about the Jedi order and its fight against the former Empire - a substantial part of galactic history which many thought of as legends nowadays. And although I knew that it wasn't anybody's fault but pure chance, I had always envied Rey and deep down wished to be just like her. Knowing that it never would be.

[kopikokun]

Request 03 : Jaehyun + Bestfriends to Lovers + “Fuck it, a new year is about to start, and I can’t go another year hiding this from you - I love you.” (72)

New Year’s Eve was something you always looked forward to. The annual occasion had your gut whirring and you biting your lip swollen in excitement.

Your group of friends classified you as the positive type. The type who looked past the gloomy clouds to see a rainbow. The type who tilted your head skywards when it poured, fluttering your eyes shut and letting the minuscule droplets pelt down onto your face.

You thought negativity was overrated. Sure, you could feel sorry for or punish yourself for forgetting your umbrella that one rainy day, but wouldn’t it be better for both you and the people around you if you just took everything with a smile?

Thus, you didn’t take New Year’s as the end of something good, but rather the beginning of something bigger, better even. You were often teased for this mindset. People said you sounded like their aunt on Facebook with ‘Live, Laugh, Love’ posters against her teal walls. Jaehyun especially just loved to rave about how old you sounded. That he felt like he was hanging out with a yoga instructor when he was around you.

You scoffed. It was almost comical how he said all that, yet here he was in your bedroom – like every New Year’s Eve – flopped on the bed beside you.

“Hey, what are you thinking about?” pestered Jaehyun.

“Nothing.”

“Don’t lie. You’re doing that funny face you do whenever you’re deep in thought.” Jaehyun tapped your nose.

You swatted his hand away. “I do not make a funny face whenever I’m deep in thought.”

“Yes, you do!” Jaehyun wrapped his arms around your waist and tugged you closer. “Like this.” He furrowed his brows and pursed his lips.

“I do not!” You thrashed against him and he caged you in with his legs. “Jae! Let go of me!”

“No,” Jaehyun tucked his face in the crook of your shoulder. “I’m sleepy, and you’re cosy.”

You flushed. How could he still make you flustered after so many years? At least your heart didn’t pump out of your chest like it used to, but you still felt the faint pounding in your ribcage whenever he was around. You always tried to smother your feelings towards Jaehyun; you didn’t want to demolish a perfectly good friendship. But it never truly disappeared. It always lingered at the back of your heart, resurfacing whenever he smiled at you or laughed.

“Jaehyun! We can’t stay in like last year!” you complained. “I want to see the fireworks!”

Jaehyun whined, snuggling closer. “But doesn’t cuddling with me sound so nice right now? I just took a shower, I smell nice, and it’s cold out but warm in here. What else could you possibly want?”

“To see the fireworks.”

Jaehyun pulled away from your shoulder to scrunch his nose at you. With his left hand, he nestled your chin between the dip of his thumb and first finger and squished your cheeks together, your lips puckering. “God, you’re so persistent.”

“I told you over the phone how much I wanted to see them,” you pointed out. Jaehyun released his hold of your waist and rolled away onto his back, hands clasped on top of his stomach. “If you wanted to stay inside and cuddle, you could’ve spent New Year’s with your booty call.” You gnawed on your bottom lip, staring up as your fan spun. You couldn’t help but be jealous of Jaehyun’s ‘endeavours’. You had no right to – he was only your friend – yet you naïvely clung to the idea of him having feelings for you. You brushed the thought away.

“What? And miss hanging out with you?” Jaehyun scoffed, shifting to prop himself up with his right elbow. “I wouldn’t miss hanging out with you for some girl I met in a bar. And you know it was only a fling.”

You restrained the urge to turn and face him, instead opting to stand to your feet. The cold wooden tiles felt unfamiliar beneath your soles. “I know, Jae. You don’t have to justify yourself. You can sleep with whoever you like . . . I don’t care.” Lies. You were spouting nonsense, but Jaehyun needn’t know that.

“You don’t?”

Why is he pushing this? “Well, it’s only fair since you don’t bother with who I sleep with. Because, you know, personal space; boundaries.” You offered a half-hearted smile. Jaehyun returned it with much less enthusiasm. “So come on! Go get dressed. I’d rather spend New Year’s eating good food and staring at amazing fireworks than talk about our bland sex lives.”

“Hey! Who said mine is bland?”

“Oh my God, shut up, Jaehyun!” You ran your hands down your face. “And by the time I’m done, you better be off your ass and ready.”

As you trudged into the bathroom, you heard Jaehyun call after you. “You’re starting to sound like an old lady again!”

You couldn’t believe you had feelings for that dumb-ass.

***

“See, this is exactly the reason why staying indoors for New Year’s and cuddling is the superior option. At least then we wouldn’t havie to bear the stench of vomit and sweat.”

“It isn’t that bad, Jae. You’re just being overdramatic.” You dragged an unwilling Jaehyun, making your way through the dense crowd. “And I’m not eating cup ramen like last year, so having street food is an improvement in my books.”

“Then we could’ve just ordered something!” protested Jaehyun. “We could’ve had warm food . . . and warm cuddles.”

“And the fireworks?”

“We could’ve seen a livestream! I heard Haechan’s going with Jaemin and Jeno, we could’ve asked them to broadcast it for us.”

“But it’ll look so much better in person, Jae.” Your footsteps slowed to a halt in front of the rows of vendors and haphazardly arranged tables. “And we’re already here anyway, to go back now would be a waste.”

Jaehyun grumbled beside you, crossing his arms and pouting. You shook your head and manoeuvred the two of you to a tteokbokki stall, mustering the sweetest smile possible and ordering your fill. From the corner of your eye, you caught Jaehyun’s tongue darting out to lick his bottom lip.

“See, Jae. Doesn’t this look so much better than last year’s overcooked ramen?”

“Excuse me, you’re the only one to blame for that. You were handling the stove, not me. I make excellent ramen, okay?”

You nudged him with your elbow, childishly making a ‘Meh, meh, meh’ sound. The vendor gave you an odd look as she passed you your tteokbokki and you smiled sheepishly. Jaehyun snorted.

“Serves you right,” said Jaehyun as you strode towards the riverbank which was teeming with both the elderly and teenagers.

“Shut up and walk faster. I didn’t come all this way to listen to you nag and not see those damn fireworks.”

“Okay, auntie.”

You raised your fist and made what you hoped was a menacing face. Evidently, it wasn’t – Jaehyun was laughing. In spite of your best efforts, your heartbeat began accelerating as you stared at the man before you. A warm glow overtook your cheeks.

The rough bump of someone’s shoulder against yours made you stumble. You realised with a start that the crowd had begun their mad dash to the open area – the one with the best view. You blindly reached for Jaehyun’s hand, tugging him with urgency. You were behind schedule; you thought you had had enough time to make it without being caught in the crowd, but you and Jaehyun’s bickering had been a factor you failed to consider – which was dumb of you because you two always squabbled.

You picked up your pace, mumbling low “sorry”s along the way.

“Hey, slow down! I’m going to spill my tteokbokki,” warned Jaehyun.

You gripped his hand tighter and shot a pleading look. “Please, Jae. I really want to get a good view of those fireworks.”

Jaehyun smiled softly, his eyes crinkling around the edges. “Okay, you cutie.”

With every pound of your feet against the pavement, the sound of people buzzing with unadulterated excitement grew clearer and clearer. You tugged your bottom lip between your teeth. You were going to make it. You had to.

And you did.

The area was brimming with life. Festive lights were strung across lampposts, people were wearing light-up hats. Everywhere you turned all you could see were hundreds of faces alight with joy, anticipation.

And the sky, my God the sky. Unlike previously, it was clear, with no buildings obstructing your sight. The wide expanse of pitch black darkness was littered with stars and, maybe it was just your giddiness, but you swore the moon shone brighter than it usually did.

“Wow, it’s so pretty,” you breathed.

“It really is.”

You turned to look at Jaehyun who was staring right back at you. You flushed. “Why are you looking at me like that?” you asked.

“I’m just thinking.”

All around you, people began counting down the seconds to New Year’s. With each number, you felt your gut stir.

“Ten.”

“What are you thinking about?”

“Nine.”

“I – It’s nothing.”

“Eight.”

“You’re lying, Jae.”

“Seven.”

“Maybe I am.”

“Six.”

“Ah, just tell me.”

“Five.”

“I told you, it’s nothing.”

“Four.”

You huffed. “Fine.”

You began counting with the crowd, but you could still see Jaehyun staring intensely at you from the corner of your eye. You clenched your jaw anxiously.

“Three.”

Jaehyun inhaled shakily, and he ran a hand through his hair. What is up with him?

“Two.”

“Fuck it.” Jaehyun reached over, taking your hand which wasn’t holding onto the tteokbokki cup in his. Your eyes met and you creased your brows. “A new year is about to start, and I can’t go another year hiding this from you.”

“One.”

“I love you.”

The fireworks went off immediately, bursting with colour, blooming into bright, luminescent flowers against the ink black sky. The crowd’s cheers were deafening, yet the sound of your heart ringing in your ears was somehow louder.

Jaehyun held your gaze. “God, I’ve loved you for so long. Every time I look at you, it’s like I’m glowing. I love being around you. I love you. I love your eyes, your smile, your laugh, your stupid thinking face – everything about you makes me melt. I’ve wanted to tell you for years, yet I’ve never had the courage to. I’ve wanted you to be mine for the longest time, and – and I know this is a shitty confession—”

You swallowed the lump in your throat and grinned. “Shut up, you dumb-ass.”

“I love you too, Jae.”

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