#that tells him to tear everything apart .... when his bite is worse than his bark .....

[eshithepetty]

Dog teeth

[ID: Art of Mob from Mob Psycho 100. He's standing beneath huge humanoid jaws, just so that the upper teeth are covering his head, and staring at the camera. Everything is red, the shadows mostly pitch black, save for Mob's irises, which are a bright green and yellow. End ID.]

[noa-ciharu]

🔞 fyozai + "getting you naked was just the first part of my plan for the night

Mini fic under cut since it's nsfw

Error was made in the worst moment. As the result Dazai got a hold of the Book. Considering everything situation could not possibly get any worse - little did Fyodor know how in the wrong he was.

"Such a waste of papers", murmured Dazai dispassionately while skimming through the Book; hard to tell whether disinterested was staged for his eyes or Dazai genuinely did not care. Aside the matter, he had far more imperative tasks at hand. Dazai eased lighter out of pocket; flipped the lid and hovered above the Book - "Shall I burn it, hmm?"

For the first time in eternity Fyodor came to know raw rage. Limbs trembled, blood boiled, mind went blank for a second - for once Fyodor found himself completely lost. "You wouldn't dare", he hissed while sending death glare Dazai's way, painfully knowing that's all bark no bite - power wasn't in his hand.

Oh he would. Fyodor knew excruciating well he would - just to spite him. Engaging in physical confrontation would be a losing game; woefully he had neither a gun nor a knife on his person. As much as it pained admitting hands were tied - he was really left with no option but to bite the bullet and bow; at least until perfect opportunity shows itself.

Dazai cocked head, sported an eerie smile; no, it did not come off as rascal or frisky by any means, blood curdling instead. "Are you challenging me rat?", tone flat, posture one of unvarying dominance; intrigue in gaze spelling out everything words did not.

Oh how tempting it'd be to wise off. Of course he knew better to than to yield to the temptation - Dazai would tear the Book apart right in front of his eyes. Thence all Fyodor could do is glare, holding out for a miracle - not that Dazai would relent anyhow, heaven knows if he were in his shoes he'd do absolutely the same; but that in the end, once sadistic appetite is satiated and Dazai's guard drops he'd be able to snatch the Book.

Seemingly not even he could keep intentions under wraps when this worked up - sly snicker informed he was seen right through. Dazai crossed legs, leaned backwards into the sole chair inside the dungeon and fixated him with those spellbinding eyes - ones that left nothing to chances, nothing to hide. "Strip bare", gruff command, sadistical glimmer in eyes alone made spine tingle.

At first Fyodor didn't even process what he's been demanded to do. Once realization truly settled in he was left perplexed. What? Strip bare? Is he hearing that right? Judging by amused look on Dazai's face yes - seemingly he's after annihilation of all dignity and principles. How fitting, Fyodor had to chukle; hated him more than ever for knowing exactly where and how to strike to make him bleed.

Passivity didn't sit well with Dazai. But he needn't words to remind Fyodor disobedience ain't an option - just had to toy with a lighter and send couple knowing glances his way. Damn you. Glaring daggers Dazai's way Fyodor mentally prepared himself for humiliation that's to come; closed eyes and with a huff began with buttons at collar.

Shirt was unfastened to the bottom ghastly fast. Stalling was out of question, would just provoke Dazai further; thence Fyodor shook shirt off shoulders and went right onto boots. Maybe it's the best he's actually done with this in one go, heaven knows he could feel Dazai's unblinking stare - scorched through skin, left no place for thinking or breathing, just suffocating self-consciousness. Not for his looks, Fyodor couldn't care less if Dazai liked what he was seeing  - but the realization he's to balance between submissiveness and defiance; opt too much for one, scales would uneven and everything would go awry.

It didn't take Fyodor long to take everything off. Once bare to the bone he lifted gaze, unflinchingly met Dazai's, tipped chin and spit with venom he couldn't afford - "Satisfied?"

Corner of Dazai's lips curved up; by all account rebelliousness lit his flame. "I want you wearing nothing but sweat and shame", he purred while uninhibitedly sizing him up, like he's just an object, no longer an equal. Being subjected to such debasement did string, quite a lot in fact, but Fyodor tried his best not to show affect; too bad quivering frame and heaving chest gave him away.

"Getting you naked was just the first part of my plan for the night", Dazai taunted right away, tone still eerily wooden; but there was a ring of diversion attached. "Down on knees"

Begrudgingly Fyodor complied - knelt down on dusty floor, grunted and rolled eyes. But even that wasn't enough for Dazai's sadism, he itched for more. "Spreed your legs", commanded so guttural Fyodor's heart skipped a beat. "I want to see all of you", hummed while staring at him with hunter's fixation; like predator fixates his prey.

Oh damn him to hell and back. Fyodor bent head low, grinded teeth so hard he might as well break them. The longer he mulls this over the harder it'd be to comply; and woefully he was left with no other choice but to yield. Slight blush crept up cheeks, looking anywhere but in Dazai's dim eyes Fyodor spread legs and put himself on display - like this was about physicality to begin with; oh anything but, Dazai just wished to strip him of all dignity and wound ego for a lifetime.

"Good", depth of Dazai's tone alone got Fyodor shivering. Cold basement air, yet for a moment body felt as if on fire - anger upon realizing what power Dazai held over him only got blood to boil more. "But when can do better", added Dazai in octave lower; tone cold as ice however nothing but pure fire in eyes - " Touch yourself"

Naturally Fyodor hesitated. Damn was Dazai in for the blood tonight. No matter how much he tried to not show a reaction eyes widened; breath visibly feel short. Despite himself he gaped right up at Dazai, not iota disbelief masked on features. Fyodor didn't expect Dazai to relent one bit, so sinister smirk didn't come as a surprise - what did however were tiny gasps dying in back of Dazai's throat. Maybe less sharp eye wouldn't have noticed it but to Fyodor's hawk one it was transparent - Dazai genuinely got off on seeing him this weak; powerless on knees indeed wearing nothing but shivers, heat and shame.

Thence nefarious smile didn't ruffle; instead got Fyodor worked up just enough for anger to melt into first stings of arousal. Maybe it's indeed the best he proceeds with this before Dazai figures out he got hard by being degraded and treated as a sex object - surely he'd never let him live that one down. To Fyodor it was no novelty, au fond he relished at rougher treatment and debasement - just his most formidable foe absolutely did not need to know all his dirtiest little secrets.

"Do I need to repeat myself?", enshrouded as a chaff but Fyodor knew better, especially when Dazai's fingers skimmed over the Book. No, he did not; biting down last bit of pride Fyodor locked gaze onto the floor and guided both hands to already stirring groin.

[we-live-we-die-we-live-again]

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[peachyloveswriting]

Actor lashing out at Reader bc his story isn’t going the way he wants to (maybe he beats them up before he realizes what he just did and instead of apologizing he just leaves them alone but not before using his ability to heal them) Sorry if this is too much of a heavy topic

Let me have redemption

Pairing: actor mark x reader

Word count: 1k

Warning: abuse, violence, fear.

Summary: what did you ever do to deserve this violent treatment from mark? His violent outbursts we're never so bad, what made this one so different? Why did he change his mind?

°•°•°•°���°•°•°•°•°•°|

Actor was known for being prone to outbursts, violent outbursts. Anyone who got in his way during those times was done for. You’d been in the center of these episodes more than once. He was frightening. For the most part, he was all bark no bite. There were of course times where he got out of hand but never this bad. Even Though you follow everything he tells you down to the smallest detail, it’s never enough.

The pain ebbed through your left eye. It had long been swollen shut. Every part of you feels as though you might fall apart at any moment. Maybe if you fell apart then he would have stopped by now but he hadn’t.

You flinch away from Mark’s approaching footsteps. Heavy with anger as he stomps towards you. He reached down, grabbing you by the hem of your shirt. Lifting you into the air, Actor grits his teeth. Pain shoots through your back as he slams you against the nearest wall. You grasp at his arm, kicking your feet and squirming in his grasp. You’ll never get free.

“I ask you to follow simple instructions…” His face scrunches up in disgust. “...and you can’t even do that.” he spits, seething in anger.

Drawing his hand back into a fist, he drives it into your jaw. Your head meets the wall behind you. You cry out in pain. He jostles you, making you whimper. The tears sting your eyes, making it hard to see.

“Please, stop.” You beg.

It seems useless, knowing that no matter what there’s no way he could possibly care enough to listen. He’s stubborn. Even worse, he’s ruthless. Like a child, he gets mad when he doesn’t get his way. It’s so hard to cater to his needs when he wants everything to be picture perfect.

Actor stays quiet, making you wonder if he’s contemplating doing something worse. He only stares at you though. Deep frown forms on his face as he looks you over, the realization finally set it. This was his fault. You did everything the way he wanted and played his games. In return, he treated you like shit. It’s his fault everything turned out this way. He knows that. His ego doesn’t allow him to accept it.

With a sigh, he lowers you to the ground slowly,  

You panic. “What are you doing?” You stammer out. He stares at you with a deep sadness in his eyes before standing.

Leaving. That’s what he was doing. It was the best choice for him and everyone around him. Nothing he ever did to you benefited him. But he couldn’t help but feel heavy guilt as he stepped towards the door. The image of you on the ground beaten and bloody is no longer appealing to him. It sickens him. A burning bubble in his stomach.

He can hear your small whimpers as he walks away.

Actor glances back at you, his heart-tugging him back towards you. To leave you in this state would be inhumane. Not that this one good action would fix all his wrongdoings. It wouldn’t even make him feel better. But some part of him hoped that if he did this he would feel better. Sluggish, he turned around and made his way back to you.

As he neared you scrambled. Pressing yourself as far against the wall as you could. Your chest heaves as he nears. The adrenaline begins its way through you. You don’t fight. If you tried to run it would only be worse. You endure.

He kneels in front of you. You lift your arms in defense, clenching your eyes shut, waiting for him to scream and hit you again. But it never happens. Instead, you feel his hand gently grasp your wrist, pulling it away from your face. Squirming, you whimper. Lifting a finger to your mouth, he shushes you. Slowly he moves the hand he shushed you with up to the top of your head. Softly, he presses his hand against your head.

You begin to feel your body un-tense, the pain is suddenly gone where it was settling in before. The pressure behind your eye lifts and you’re able to open your left eye properly again. Confused, your eyebrows knit tightly together. Never once had you seen him do something like this. You knew what he was capable of but for him to use it to fix you, of everything he could have done. It shocks you.

So many questions enter your mind. But the exhaustion is too much.

The drowsiness sets in. It feels as though you suddenly weigh a thousand pounds. It’s hard to lift your limbs. The room around you steadily grows darker. You try to listen but it feels like you're underwater. Actor’s mouth is moving but you hear nothing.

The sleep you slip into feels oddly calm, possibly the calmest you’ve felt since you started this journey. Sadly your rest is interrupted rather abruptly. You look around your mind still in a daze from the rudeness of it all. The questions come rushing back to your mind. You shove them away, they would be no use if you couldn't figure out where you were first.

Groggily you sit up. Sunlight streams in from a window beside you, warming parts of the sheets. The bed around you is massive, possibly the biggest you’ve seen ever. You decide not to dwell on it for too long and glance around the room instead. The walls are rustic wood, the darkness rather dark academic. Similarly, the dressers are a dark oak brown. In front of the bed on the wall adjacent is a dresser with a mirror atop it. In the reflection, you can clearly see your body unharmed. Reveling in the sight you look over to your side to see Actor asleep in a chair beside the bed.

Your breathing hitches at the sight. It's strange. He’s not squirming in his seat. His face is still, no anger evident. It’s like a foreign spectacle. You stare at him, unable to look away. Your emotions are still processing, the anger only builds the longer you sit.

Impulsively you reach for the nearest object, which so happens to be a hardcover book at the bedside. It is hefty in your hands as you reel it back and hurl it towards him with all your might. The book hits him square in the head, landing on the floor with a thud after.

Actor stands from his chair, rage in his eyes only for him to realize it’s you. He freezes. His chest rose and sank before he composed himself.

He seems like a wounded dog as he stares at you, his lips pursed and brows knitted tightly together in concern. He rubs the shot where you hurled the book at him. He borders an offended look.

“Deserved,” He breathes outward. “But while I'm sleeping…” He exclaims.

Scoffing lightly you cross your arms. There’s too much to wonder about for you to hurl anything his way. No matter how much you want to strangle him, your fear stops you.

He straightens out his robe before sitting back in his hair again, using another hand to smooth his hair out. Why is he so calm? You wonder. It’s rage-inducing to see him so carefree about what he did. Not even an apology it seemed. Then, “I’m sorry,” he clasps his hands together. “I did so much to harm you. None of which you deserved. I understand if you feel rage towards me but it would be irrational to act on violent needs.”

Fire burns in your stomach. “You.” You exclaim, pointing from him to yourself, “ telling me, to not act on violent needs…” Your voice trails off as you breathe a scoff at him.

He gestures defensively. “It’s hypocritical. I know.” he mocks irony. looking at the ground, he falls silent. In thought, he seems strained, Biting his lip, sucking in a sharp breath through his teeth.

“I don’t want to fight. If anything I want to mend this broken friendship. I know saying sorry won’t fix anything, but I hope that by having his conversation you may allow me redemption. A chance at starting over.” He says slowly.

It’s almost unbelievable, what you’re hearing. The sincerity in his voice sounds too real for him to be acting. His acting was good but not this good. Sure he was a messed up man, he made mistakes in the past and he’d been wrong for sure. But that didn’t change what he’d done to you. Giving him a taste of his own medicine was definitely something you yearned to do. But in doing so you would become as bad as him. You weren’t willing to stoop that low.

Biting the inside of your cheek lightly, you huff. Maybe giving him a chance as long as you’re there to help might steer him in the right direction, after all, he can only help himself. But he can’t do it without guidance.

“Only if you’re willing to make up for the damage you’ve done.”  If you were in any way going to help him, he had to be ready to face the people he’s hurt. His actions have consequences and you were going to make sure that he dealt with them.

[edie-baby]

we're okay, we're alright | lando norris

summary: When Lando Norris has a panic attack, McLaren's personal assistant, Olivia McKinnon, is there to calm him down. Even if they have to penguin walk.

word count: 2337

warnings: panic attacks

When a seventeen year old Olivia McKinnon first joined the McLaren F1 team as a personal assistant to their drivers, Fernando Alonso and Stoffel Vandoorne were in the cockpits, and she got along well with both of them. Fernando had become a bit of an uncle to the teenager, teaching her Spanish whenever she asked, and ruffling up her hair in the most inconvenient of situations. Stoffel was much like an older brother, he joked around with her, teased her endlessly, and was always quick to worry if anything happened to her - he also threatened to beat up her boyfriend when she found out he was cheating on her, but that’s beside the point.

The day the news broke that two new drivers would be filling the seats of the two men she was incredibly close to, it shocked Oli. She was finally getting used to the specifics of the older men’s orders - how they liked coffee, water, what food they liked in what moods, who they were always happy to answer calls from, and who to consistently avoid. And now she’d be having to learn it for two completely new people.

Carlos Sainz she had seen around the paddock, never spoken to nor been introduced to, however after the first few weekends of seeing her multiple times, they began exchanging smiles in passing. He seemed nice, and Oli figured she might be able to continue her Spanish lessons if they got on well enough.

Lando Norris however, Oli had a complicated relationship with. They had bumped into each other multiple times around the MTC when he was there for meetings or sim work, or during race weekends when he hung around the McLaren garage on account of him being a test and reserve driver. Zak introduced them multiple times, sure that a friendship would blossom between the two youngins quite quickly, however Lando was always quick to leave whenever Oli was near. After wondering if she had offended him, or done something wrong, she began to worry and spoke to Zak about the issue, not wanting to have tension between her and one of the men she would be working for. Zak spoke with Lando a few days later, and found out in quite a memorable conversation, exactly why Lando had such an aversion to the small brunette.

“I’m scared of her.” Lando muttered ashamedly. Zak couldn’t help but bark out a laugh, that the boy who drove fast cars was scared of a five foot two pixie of a girl who had a beaming smile and cute nose.

“How? She’s so small.” Zak chuckled, the image of Lando cowering away from a girl six inches shorter than him was one he wouldn’t forget.

“I don’t know, she’s just so scary. I feel like if she wanted to, she could say five words and I would be ruined. Completely, like she could tear me apart in a sentence. I also think she could probably take me in a fight.” Lando replied, fiddling with the bracelet on his right wrist, a nervous habit he had developed after his Mum gifted it to him. Zak merely laughed in response, a fond smile crossing his face at the young driver. He could see from the beginning the two were made for each other, Lando didn’t know it yet but it seemed he already had a very strong connection with the girl.

“Anyone could take you in a fight, Lando. Just be nice to her and I’m sure she won’t bite. Unless you ask, of course.” Zak teased, thankful for his easy going and close relationship with the eighteen year old. Lando went bright red, covering his cheeks with a nervous laugh, the serious eyes Zak was giving him pushing him to flee the room in the mess of flushed cheeks and embarrassed laughter.

I

“Oli! Have you seen Carlos or Jon?” Charlotte yelled, startling the brunette who was pouring over the weekend’s schedule. Olivia looked up, shaking her head at Charlotte who sighed in frustration.

“According to his schedule, Carlos should be in interviews for the next hour, and Jon should be floating around somewhere. Why? What’s gone on?” Oli questioned, double checking the schedule in front of her.

“I think Lando’s having a panic attack and I don’t know how to calm him down. I figured one of the boys would know.” Charlotte rushed out, causing Oli to stand up from her chair abruptly. She had dealt with many panic attacks during her high school years and knew firsthand how hard it was to ground yourself sometimes.

“Where is he?” Oli demanded, already gathering her belongings on the table while Charlotte pointed wordlessly to the drivers’ rooms. Oli set off, jogging through the McLaren hospitality, making a beeline for the Brit’s room. When she got up there, the door was partially open, and that was enough for Oli to push the door all the way open, then quickly closing it behind her to give Lando some privacy.

“Lando? It’s Olivia, Charlotte’s out looking for Jon and Carlos at the moment. She said you were having a panic attack, and I don’t know if you have them much but I wanted to try some breathing with you? You just have to follow along with what I’m doing, okay sweetheart? Big breath in through your nose, one, two, three, four. Now hold that breath in, two, three, four. And let it out through your mouth, one, two, three, four, five, six. Okay, we’re going to do it again. In, two, three, four. Hold, two, three, four. And out, two, three, four, five, six.” Oli attempted the most well known ‘calm the fuck down’ technique, something that never really worked for her but was often good for others. Lando didn’t seem to be able to hear anything she was saying, barely reacting to her presence when the door opened.

He was curled up in the corner of the small bed, his back against the wall, legs pulled tight up to his chest. His breaths were heavy and uneven, and Oli wondered how long he had been breathing like this as it most definitely wasn’t good for his oxygen consumption.

“Sweetheart, I’m going to try something different. I’m going to talk, and I want you to focus on my voice. You don’t need to listen to what I’m saying if you can’t, but just listen to the noise, alright?” Olivia tried again, slowly making her way to the bed. She sank down onto her knees in front of the bed, trying to come off as non-threatening as possible.

“You know, I really like your shoes. I usually don’t like the look of trainers, I’m more of a sneakers girl myself, but they look really nice. But we’ll have to get you some cool socks, they’ll get hidden by your pants most of the time but it’s always fun to have a bit of a secret. I’m wearing beer socks right now. They’re pretty cute, and no one can tell unless I pull my jeans up.” Oli’s ramblings didn’t seem to be doing much to help Lando either, his breathing and rocking completely undisturbed. Olivia wanted to try one more thing before she began repeating the process of different techniques.

She stood up, leaning slightly against the bed Lando was curled on and reached her hand out slowly. She aimed for his bicep, the skin to skin contact startled something in Lando and he jumped. Oli moved back immediately, scared that she had made everything worse when Lando’s hands landed on her own arms, hauling her pliant body up onto the bed and curling his body around her. His head rested next to her shoulder, his nose lightly brushing the fabric of her team shirt, his arms wrapped tightly around her waist. He was still curled up quite a bit, his knees tucked close to his chest, the bony joints resting against Oli’s hips.

She heard Lando sniffle and turned to look at him immediately, a choked sob left his lips as tears trailed on a warpath down his tanned face. Oli wrapped her arms around Lando, pulling his head to rest on her upper chest, close enough to her heart that he would be able to hear it beating, whilst not completely smothering him in her boobs. Her hands began brushing through Lando’s hair, listening to the heartbreaking sounds of him sobbing so hard he was coughing.

“It’s okay sweetheart. You’re gonna be okay.” Oli whispered, her lips brushing the top of Lando’s forehead. His sobs began slowing, turning into whimpers and sniffles, then finally stopping to the rare sniffle.

“I’m sorry.” Was the first thing from the driver’s lips when he had calmed himself down. He attempted to untangle himself from his assistant, but she only held on tighter. Lando relaxed straight away, her fingers carding through his curls was so soothing that he could have fallen asleep right there.

“Do not apologise. There’s not a single thing to be sorry for, honey. Are you feeling a little better now? Your breathing is much better and your tears have stopped.” Olivia spoke, softly brushing the slowly drying tear tracks with the back of her index finger, the gentleness of her touch causing a lone tear to fall from Lando’s eye, catching on Olivia’s hand. He hadn’t been touched like this in so long, and knowing that she was only doing it because it was her job could have sent him spiralling again, but Oli caught the look swimming in his eyes.

“Hey, hey! Look at me, okay? We’re okay. We’re alright. Do you want to come with me to get you some water? Maybe a cup of tea? And we should get you a hoodie, you’re shivering like crazy, love.” Olivia was so patient with him, allowing him a few moments to process everything she was saying and speaking a little slower than she usually would. She made a move to get up, her arm outstretched reaching for a hoodie hung over the back of the couch that she presumed Lando had ripped off when he first got in the room. Just as her fingers grasped the material, Lando tightened his arms around her, his breath hitching at the lessened contact with the only thing that was holding him together at that point.

“Honey, I need to get your hoodie. You’re freezing and you’ll get sick if you don’t rug up soon. Look, we can shuffle over there together.” Oli held tight to Lando, scooching her body closer to the edge of the uncomfortable bed to reach out for the teen’s hoodie. She got it this time, letting out a breath that she had held in order to stretch her appendage further. She turned back to Lando, his orange and grey hoodie clutched tightly in her hands, his arms still wrapped in a death grip around her waist.

“Can you sit up for me? You’ll feel better once you’re warmer, and you can go right back to holding me once this is on, I promise.” Olivia assured, using her warm hands to coax Lando into a sitting position, his arms still around her, legs coming to rest on either side of her hips as she sat on her knees. His thighs were pressed tightly against hers, trying to keep as many points of contact with her as physically possible, and she would be lying if she said it wasn’t comforting.

Slowly, Oli got one arm off her waist, slipping the orange hoodie onto Lando’s arm, letting him return it to her back once it was pushed up far enough. She did the same with the other arm, pulling it over his head moments after. Once the hood was down off his head, Olivia fixed his hair, small fingers threading through his curls in an attempt to return them to their previous perfection. Lando remained in his spot, eyes trained on a spot on the floor just over Oli’s shoulder.

“How about that water, sweetheart? I don’t care if we have to penguin walk there.” Oli joked, and she saw a flicker of confusion pass over Lando’s face. She figured it would be something to explain in detail at a later date, instead choosing to spin in her spot on the table, still folded up on her knees with Lando’s legs around her.

Olivia slipped off the bed, her own hands covering Lando’s to reassure him that he could keep them around her waist, his body following hers onto his own two feet when she got too far away from him. Oli continued shuffling forward slowly, hands still holding Lando’s while he followed her small steps to the door of the room.

“Are you okay?” Olivia whispered, feeling Lando curl himself around her more, his chin coming to rest over her shoulder, his curls tickling the underside of his jaw. She felt him nod against her and took it as her queue to open the door and begin the slow adventure to the canteen in the hospitality centre. It took them about three times as long as it usually would, and garnered a lot more looks than usual, however a lot of those stares were in awe of the young couple shuffling through the building. The innocence the two possessed while both working in such a cutthroat environment was adorable, the naivety in their unwillingness to let go of each other.

Zak Brown checked his phone when it buzzed, only to be greeted with a video of the company’s youngest employees that he had a certain fatherly protectiveness over. And after seeing them together, much of the McLaren staff were extremely protective of the two youngsters. They were comforted that their young driver had found someone he trusted and could rely on like the two before them.

The connection they made was an unbreakable one, and there was a bright future for McLaren with Lando and Olivia taking on everything side by side.

[doyumacy]

ʀɪᴅᴇ ᴏᴜᴛ - 1

ʏᴜᴛᴀ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ x ᴍᴀʀᴋ ʟᴇᴇ

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ʙᴇᴇɴ ɢᴏɴᴇ ꜰᴏʀ ᴀ ʏᴇᴀʀ, ʙᴜᴛ ᴠᴇʀʏ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ʜᴀꜱ ᴄʜᴀɴɢᴇᴅ. ʏᴏᴜʀ ʜᴀʟꜰ ʙᴏᴛʜᴇʀ’ꜱ ꜱᴛɪʟʟ ᴀ ʟᴇɢᴇɴᴅ ɪɴ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀɢʀᴏᴜɴᴅ ʀᴀᴄᴇꜱ. ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴀᴍᴇ ɢɪʀʟꜱ ʜᴀᴛᴇ ʏᴏᴜ. ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴀᴍᴇ ʙᴏʏ ꜱᴛɪʟʟ ᴍᴀᴋᴇꜱ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛ ʀᴀᴄᴇ, ʙᴜᴛ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴏɴ’ᴛ ʟᴇᴛ ʜɪᴍ ɢᴇᴛ ᴄʟᴏꜱᴇ ᴇɴᴏᴜɢʜ ᴛᴏ ʜᴜʀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ. ɴᴏᴛ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ. ɴᴏᴛ ʟɪᴋᴇ ʙᴇꜰᴏʀᴇ.

ᴍᴀʀᴋ ʟᴇᴇ ʜᴀꜱ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴀʀʀɪᴠᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴛᴏᴡɴ ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴇ’ꜱ ᴏɴʟʏ ꜱᴛᴀʏɪɴɢ ʟᴏɴɢ ᴇɴᴏᴜɢʜ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴇᴛ ᴜᴘ ᴀ ꜰᴇᴡ ꜱᴛʀᴇᴇᴛ ʀᴀᴄᴇꜱ, ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ᴍᴏɴᴇʏ, ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ꜰᴜɴ. ʙᴜᴛ ʜᴇ ᴍɪɢʜᴛ ꜱᴛɪʀ ᴜᴘ ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ᴛʀᴏᴜʙʟᴇ ᴡʜᴇɴ ʙᴇɢɪɴꜱ ʜᴀɴɢɪɴɢ ᴀʀᴏᴜɴᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʜɪꜱ ꜱᴘᴏɴꜱᴏʀ’ᴀ ʜᴀʟꜰ ꜱɪꜱᴛᴇʀ, ᴀɴᴅ ɪᴛ’ꜱ ɴᴏᴛ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ʜᴇʀ ʙʀᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ʜᴇ’ꜱ ᴘɪꜱꜱɪɴɢ ᴏꜰꜰ.

ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: ꜱᴍᴜᴛ, ᴅʀᴀᴍᴀ, ᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴ

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴅʀᴜɢꜱ, ɢᴜɴꜱ, ɢᴜɴꜱʜᴏᴛꜱ, ꜱᴇxᴜᴀʟ ᴊᴏᴋᴇꜱ, ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ ᴛʜʀᴇᴀᴛꜱ,

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 5,3ᴋ

next

three years ago

you slide out from under the car you've been working on when you hear an unfamiliar engine approaching the garage. it must be a customer, you think as you go to the front desk to help them.

the man who enters the office surprises you. he has light brown hair and is wearing black jeans with a white shirt with black flowers. his dark brown eyes sparkle with curiosity as he sees you. a black maserati is parked behind him.

"can i help you?" you ask, freely.

"i have a faulty spark plug and my garage is on the other side of the planet. they told me this was the best place in town."

"and it is. go ahead and go into the store."

"don't mechanics normally keep people waiting in the office?" he asked amused.

"only when the person doesn't know anything about cars. obviously you do, so you have to keep me company while i fix it," you smirk.

"what's your name, suh? -he asks, using the last name on your work shirt.

"y/n. yours?"

"yuta. nakamoto yuta."

"nice to meet you. let's get that car fixed, shall we?"

a few minutes later, the black car is with the hood open in the garage. yuta, on the other hand, is helping you by handing you the necessary tools. you let his fingers brush a little more than strictly necessary when yuta hands you a wrench.

yuta smiles and leans back against the car once you're done. "how much do i owe you?" he asks quietly.

it takes you a second to really register how close you are to each other. you look him in the eye. "how about you take me out to dinner and the debt is settled?" you ask in a sudden flare of audacity.

fortunately, he smiles.

"my thoughts exactly. what time will you be out here?

“six.”

he looks down at that ridiculously nice black gold watch.

"it's only an hour from now. how about i keep you company until then?"

"i'd like that."

"so what were you working on before I showed up?"

"my charger over there. there are some bastards who want to compete with me saying their luxury imports can beat it. tonight they're in for an ugly surprise."

you assume yuta has heard about your garage, knows about your regular clientele. they consider themselves the best store around to the fellow street racers. but to everyone else, it's just a small garage.

"that sounds like something i'd like to see. mind if i stay and watch you kick their asses?"

"it'd be my pleasure," you smile.

as expected, you end up following yuta back to his apartment after winning the race by a solid car length. the endorphins from winning the race flood your senses, and yuta is amazed that he had managed to stumble upon such an amazing girl. someone like him.

sl walking, you find yourself wrapped in warm arms and leaning against a hard chest. you caress the dragon-shaped tattoo on his right shoulder and plant a kiss on it.

a quiet moan tells you she is waking up. his arm tightens around her. he plants a kiss on your forehead.

"Good morning to you too," you say.

yuta rolls you onto his back and rests his torso on top of yours. "good morning."

"You look happy.

"i woke up with a beautiful, bad-ass, street-racing woman in my arms. how could i complain?"

you laugh. "well, i could say the same thing. it's not often i get to wake up next to a hot guy and  that brother would probably beat up if he knew where i spent the night."

he barks out a laugh. "you're most likely right..." he bites his lip. "there's something you need to know."

your smile disappears. "you're not married, are you?"

"no! god, no," he replies instantly. "i just want to know if you want it to be more than a brief fling."

you are silent for a moment as he thought.

"yes, i think so. i mean, we could get to know each other better but yes," you explain.

"then we're on the same page," you nod absently. "do you want to have breakfast before we go on with our talk?"

you can't help but get a little nervous. what does he have to say?

"what do you want for breakfast?"

"uh..." you sit up, holding the black sheet against your chest to cover yourself. "whatever. i'm not particularly picky."

yuta nods and gets out of bed, pulling on a pair of gray sweatpants. he leaves his room and you lie back down on the bed. your cell phone rings somewhere in yuta's room and you grunt getting up to look for it. you find it inside your jeans.

"y/n! where the hell are you?" johnny asks as soon as you answer the phone. “you didn’t come home last night, and jaehyun said there was a guy watching you the entire race.”

“don’t worry about it, brother. that guy was my date last night. i’m at this place right now,” you grin.

“hold on, you had a date?! who? why didn’t you tell me?” johnny bombards you with questions.

you sigh. you saw this coming.

“everything all right?” yuta asks, entering his bedroom.

“my brother,” you say with your mouth. “johnny! easy with the questions. i’ll tell you later, bye!”

“be responsible!” it can be heard from the phone and you hang up.

you exhale dramatically and fall back on the bed.

“trouble, dear?” yuta inquiries.

you raise your head to look at him. “big brothers are tedious,” you announce after a minute.

“i wouldn’t know; i’m the older brother.”

“oh?”

yuta smiles warmly. “i have a younger brother. the idiot used to fight older bullies in the yard, and i was the one who had to finish them off.”

you smirk. “you protected him. my brother’s the same way.”

“let’s eat, okay? i still need to talk about something important,” yuta declares.

you nod and he tosses you slightly one of his shirts. you put it on and grab your panties putting them on.

yuta made sunny side up eggs and french toasts. between bites, yuta begins to speak. “i work for the korean mafia.”

“huh?” you stop eating and stare at him. “you what?”

yuta laughs lightly. “i work for the korean mafia.” he repeats. “i bet you’re wondering what a japanese guy is doing working for the korean mafia.”

“not exactly my first thought but yes,” you shrug. “what do you do?”

“let’s say i’m a middleman between the korean mafia and the yakuza,” he confesses.

you frown. “so you buy goods from them and sell them?”

yuta raises an eyebrow at you. “what are you? a businesswoman?”

you laugh and have a bite of your toast. “i went to business school, but i dropped out this semester.”

“hot,” he plants a kiss on your lips. “so yes, that’s my job. aren’t you scared?”

“of what? you? your job?” you snort. “i’ve seen way worse in the underground. i gotta say i’m surprised because i thought you were a good boy.”

yuta chuckles. “i am good at other things,” he winks at you.

you push the plate aside and sit on his lap. “i can’t recall, do you mind refreshing my memory?”

yuta grins and places his hand on your ass cheeks. “aren’t you too sore?”

“pain is my best friend,” you nip at his lip and he groans.

yuta kisses you and his hand goes to your throat tilting your head to the side and biting your neck harshly. you whimper at the painful yet pleasurable sensation. yuta shushes you and darts his eyes to you. “i thought you enjoyed the pain, baby girl.”

one year ago

you’re standing in front of his gravestone and place the flower bouquet next to it. the only sound is the wind, rustling through a nearby copse of trees. it has been five days since yuta died and the hole in your chest only gets deeper.

it hurts.

you’re broken.

your life without him means nothing. the city without him means nothing. nothing makes sense without him.

“you shouldn’t have died,” you say. “we could have been better.” you mumble, sitting in front of the grave. “it’s weird, today i woke up and i thought i heard your voice. am i going crazy?” you scoff.

you stare at the gravestone and then lower your heard. “i came to say goodbye. i can’t stay here anymore. everywhere i go i see your face. everyone reminds me of you.”

you feel tears streaming down your face. “i’ll never forget you, yuta. i love you so much.” you burst out crying.

after you left town, you were pretty much everywhere: singapore, thailand, indonesia, philippines, malaysia and even japan for a few weeks. racing and making a fame known as the ‘nameless girl’ who would beat everyone.

you left a note to johnny saying you’d be okay and you would return when you feel ready to.

you didn’t stay long in every country and you didn’t make any relations so things didn’t attach to you there. you were lonely but you got used to it. and you didn’t dislike it.

one night, you decided it was time to come back home. yuta would never come back and you felt you moved on.

the train arrives at its last stop and you grab your small suitcase exiting it. you walk and take a taxi to your house, or johnny’s house just to find a party. people and their racing cars everywhere.

of course. it’s friday.

you get into your house and see people everywhere. people dancing, no, grinding on each other’s bodies and blowing some smoke. perhaps weed. you walk through the crowded living room and spot johnny sipping a beer. you don’t know how he's going to react since you didn’t tell anyone you’re back.

you walk to johnny but he’s interrupted by a red haired and kissed him. you roll your eyes, johnny and his bitches.

you change your direction walking to the kitchen and see jaehyun talking to some people. he turns to you and doesn’t seem to notice you, it’s when he turns again and his face brightens up with a smile. “y/n!” he walks to you and tugs you for a hug, lifting you from the ground.

“hi,” you giggle, placing a kiss on his cheek.

jaehyun puts you back on the ground and smiles, "i almost didn't recognize you, you've changed so much."

“i just dyed my hair: i got babylights,” you grin.

“i like them, you look great,” jaehyun nods. “but where have you been?!”

“huh everywhere?” you shrug.

“and you couldn’t call?” he stares at you.

“i know, i’m sorry,” you rest a hand on his shoulder. “we’ll talk later, okay? where’s everyone?”

“johnny is lena, jungwoo is having a blunt with jinsoul in the yard and of course jisung is in his room, he’s not allowed to come downstairs,” jaehyun comments.

you nod and rest your hands on your waist. “i don’t know half of these people. who are they?”

“johnny became kind of a sponsor?” jaehyun frowns and you laugh. “no, it’s true! half of these people are rich kids betting on johnny's people, he met two guys that are literally gods of racing.”

“i’d like to see that,” you add. “what are their names?”

“mark lee and lee donghyuck,” jaehyun hands you a beer. “they’re dickheads but we’ve been getting so much money because of them.”

you scoff. “they’re just lucky. i am back.”

jaehyun whistles, smiling. “that’s the attitude, baby. i can’t wait to see you race again.”

you smirk. “i bet you wanna.”

“ah, johnny’s coming,” jaehyun murmurs.

you turn and see a blond haired johnny walking towards you. you tuck your hands into your jeans pocket and smile nicely. “hi brother.”

“when people started saying my sister was here i didn’t believe it because maybe she left this fucking town a year ago leaving just a note!” johnny exclaims. “and thought ‘why would she return just like that?’”

you sigh. “i’m sorry, johnny. but i’m back and i’m okay. that’s the only thing that should matters.”

johnny rolls his eyes. “are you dumb?”

you frown. “just because you’re my brother i d-

“half-brother,” johnny remarks.

“fuck you, johnny,” you hiss and leave the kitchen

when johnny gets upset he tends to be the classical dickhead and uses the ‘half-brother’ excuse just to hurt you. you think you might deserve it, but why is it so hard for him to understand why you left? why you need to leave?

maybe it’s because he has never loved someone the way you loved yuta. or maybe he’s too selfish to understand it.

of course you also think you didn’t do the right thing by simply disappearing out of the blue, but again, you don’t owe anything to no one.

you go to the bathroom that is next to the stairs and groan when you realise it’s locked. you lean against the wall and sigh. next to you, there are three girls whispering and laughing. you don’t care, until you hear your name.

“did you see y/n? she’s back,” one of them says.

“yeah. i thought she was in jail,” the other mocks.

“in jail? for what?” she laughs.

“apparently she was the one that killed yuta,” she comments. “and ran away, but my boyfriend told me the police caught her.”

the blonde one laughs. “poor thing.”

“and i’d go back to jail for ripping your ugly faces off,” you murmur, still leaning against the wall.

the girls stare at you and they decide to leave. you groan, rolling your eyes. “assholes.”

someone walking down the hallway whistles and smiles at you. “should i be concerned about my well being right now?.”

you look at them and you see a black haired guy, wearing a green jacket with black ripped jeans and black shirt. you scoff. “fuck off, dude.”

“but please don’t rip my face off.,” the guy rests his hand on his chest.

you stare at him and clench your jaw. “bugger off, dude. really, i’m not in the mood to take someone’s shit.”

“sorry,” he nods. “i’m mark by the way,” he passes the bottle of the beer he’s drinking to his free hand and extends his hand.

you look at his hand, hesitant. you shake your head and take it. “y/n.”

he grins, gripping at your hand. “you’re the famous y/n.”

you chuckle. “and you’re not the famous mark lee.”

mark smiles sideways. “so you’ve heard about me.”

“very little,” you shrug. “nothing impressive.”

“ah, they weren’t wrong when they said you’re a bitch,” mark frees your hand.

“did i hurt your feelings?” you pout mockingly.

“you’re gonna need more than that to hurt my feelings, gorgeous,” he winks at you.

you nod. “noted, boy. well, it was nice talking to you.”

“you leaving already?” mark asks.

“yeah. i’m tired and i need a place to sleep,” you say. “i guess i’ll see you around.”

mark nods. “have a good night, y/n.”

(...)

“when did she get back? how come i didn't see her?” donghyuck slides off the plastic armrest of the outdoor sofa he was sitting on.

jeno walks away to get a drink. “who 's back?” he asks.

“y/n suh,” mark replies.

“johnny’s sister?” jeno looks at him.

donghyuck and mark nod.

“what was she in jail for, like, a year?” jeno’s voice drops to a whisper.

“she was in jail?” donghyuck stares at mark.

“no. she just disappeared last fall,” mark explains.

“it was probably jail,” donghyuck adds, “that or she had a baby. i mean, the timing kind of fits for that, don’t you think?”

“and where’s the baby, smartass?” mark glances at him.

“gave it away for adoption,” donghyuck shrugs.

“what are you fuckers talking about,” johnny questions, going outside the house.

“your sibling,” jeno admits, earning an elbow to his side by mark.

johnny laughs and turns to look out over his yard. “which one?”

“y/n.”

“watch it, dude,” jaehyun warns him, joining them outside.. “johnny’s not too forgiving when it comes to his siblings.”

“noted.” jeno nods.

“anyways, i’m here to talk business,” johnny sits in front of them.

“back to the things i like,” mark comments.

johnny grins. “there’s a race next weekend, 15 grand for the winner.”

donghyuck whistles. “i like what i’m hearing already.”

“it’s a bit complicated since it won’t be in an enclosed area as usual. it will be in downtown LA,” johnny adds.

“count me in,” mark says.

“dude, do you know how risky it is?” jeno stares at him.

“i’ve done riskier things and here i am,” mark rolls his eyes. “i’ll be there, johnny.”

“you’re my favourite,” johnny smiles and looks at jeno and donghyuck. “you two are disappointing me.”

“i can live with that but not in jail,” donghyuck smirks.

“pussy,” jaehyun hums.

“sorry mr. in-n-out-from-jail,” donghyuck rolls his eyes.

mark chuckles. “that race it’s already mine. and the cops can suck my dick, they wish they were as fast as me.”

“my canadian boy right here is the shit,” johnny smiles.

(...)

the bright neon lights. the skimpy clothing worn by chasers. the many cars lined up.

it's another night in los angeles, and another night means another race.

mark breathes it in as he leans on his orange acura nsx. not a single scratch in sight on the top of the car. although he's working with a sponsor, he has his own gang known as death angels, because they’re risk takers, or most of them are.. he can hear the countless bickering of his gang, who are also his closest friends. donghyuck, jeno, and earphone yves, lucas, bickering about god knows what now. jeno and lucas are conversing about seeing some new people joining the race.

there's no doubt he probably owns the most showy and expensive car in the entire parking lot. until a brown haired girl, who he knows, motioned him to come over.

you.

"seems like you got a challenger," donghyuck murmurs.

"tsk, anyone can beat her. what's so special about her anyway?" mark says, annoyed.

yves clicks her tongue. "i wouldn't be so sure about it, babe."

you get off from your car, hair tied up, perfectly showing your features. your toned eyes are slightly covered with black eyeliner. wearing tight jeans, black t-shirt and a red leather jacket.

you look like you are meant to be there. not a chaser wanting attention, not a flag girl wanting to show herself off, but. tracer. the crowd don't bother you. you begin to slightly look around, and that's when you see mark. you and mark lock eyes, and with a strut, you walk with a confident walk over mark.

crossing your arms, showing off your figure, you take a breath, and open your mouth. "no shit you're here as well."

mark scoffs. "i'm a car racer, where else was i supposed to be?"

"junior leagues," you shrug and you hear one of his friends laugh.

mark stares at you and grins. "i challenge you to a race. simply, nobody else. that is if you are up for it."

the offer is rather simple.

an easy 10-second style race, just the two of you, nobody else.

you let out a breathy chuckle, nodding your head. "alright then, it's settled." you reply, standing up to his level, and leaning over his ear. "but don't be crying when you loose, sweetheart"

mark scoffs at that. "you're underestimating my ability right now, gorgeous." he says, poking his lips out in a seductive manner.

you laugh and he smiles.

you turn around for just a few seconds, yelling over to him words that are barely audible. “te veré al inicio de la línea,” (i'll see you at the starting lineyou say.

mark’s orange acura nsx is a perfect fit considering the late at night arrival they have been in. it’s his prized possession, obviously. he checks the side of his car, smirking to himself seeing the NOS lined up on the passenger seat. however, your white nissan gtr is a good contrast. no dent is seen on it, and the engines flare when you start it, earning an erupt from the spectators. fifteen thousand dollars are on the game, and you need that money.

you notice the flag-girl as one of the members of death angels. she wears a simple purple and black outfit: purple harem pants and a black bomber jacket, carefully showing her slightest laced bra. she looks good, there’s no denying it. and with that, she points at mark, starting his engines and giving a show for his car. then she points to you, and you’re wearing a smile on your face. your engines starting.

and time seems to stop when you hear words emit from her mouth. “go!”

mark and you immediately go and hit the accelerator at about the same time, so you two are neck and neck. you know your strategy, and mark knows his.

8 seconds left.

knowing this, mark uses his NOS, eating a prideful laugh and his back hitting the seat. but you have different plans. you wear a smug look, and let out a giggle. “the NOS he’s using will take a shorter time than it relatively should.” you think you yourself, and activate yours.

6 seconds left.

you fly back to your seat, seeing the crowd erupt in cheers. mark sees your white nissan catch up to him, and before he knows, you’re way ahead of him.

“shit!” he yells.

2 seconds.

and before he knows, you are at the finish line, turning your car around and creating a donut with it, earning praise from the crowd. marks ends up second, or last in this case. he gets out of the car with a scowl, and you make your way to him, with a smile on your face, and your hair is out of the ponytail you have been wearing.

“the NOS you used, doesn't take up as much time as normal NOS used. it was a bit too early,” you say, giving your hand out to him. he clicks his tongue, now slightly irritated to know the fact you're indeed right. marks gives you the money. “pass by the shop any time you want.”

“why would you want to help me anyways? we’re rivals now,” he cocks an eyebrow.

you sigh, when you are interrupted by the shouts of numerous spectators and blaring sirens.

“cops! cops!”

everything happens so fast. next thing you know, you are in the back of your car, hitting your foot on the accelerator and immediately rushing out of the area, keeping an eye out for cops in your view mirror. luckily, you don’t seem to spot many. but where you don’t look?

right in front of you.

bullets ricochet throughout the alley way, earning a slight flinch from you. you are scared. only a few times bullets have been in front of you. you quickly take out your silver handgun from out of your shirt, shooting at the cop, not enough to kill him, but it’s enough to get him to surrender.

“bullet proof vests don’t cover the legs, idiot,” you mumble, smirking ever so slightly. you turn a sharp left, going back to the place where you call home. a right. then left. another right. straight forward 2 miles, and there you are.

“ＳＵＨ　ＭＥＣＨＡＮＩＣＳ　ＡＮＤ　ＭＡＮＵＦＡＣＴＵＲＩＮＧ” is written in bold letters. you love this place, you and your brother practically grow up there. you make your way inside, after swiftly parking your car into your garage. the shop is somewhat connected to the house from behind, so you make your way out of the garage, locking the door swiftly, and arriving with 2 familiar faces.

“you had no business ruining mark’s race!” johnny stands in front of you. he’s angry.

“forget about that!” jaehyun stares at johnny and then at you. “you just returned like two hours ago and the cops are after you already? can you be more careful?”

“ah, br- sorry, half-brother, jaehyun. i appreciate the concern and all, but i got this covered, you know?” you reply and look at your brother. “and please, if you really cared about mark you would have recommended him a new NOS. his sucks.”

jaehyun presses his lips together. “it’s true. i’ve been telling you about that for weeks.”

johnny rolls his eyes. “it’s not my fault. the kid won’t change them.”

“well, then you should find a new guy because you won’t make much money with him.” you say and you take out your money. “and me? i am back, baby.”

jaehyun smirks. “then i guess beers are on you.”

“you guess right.”

(...)

mark rushes off in his car, having donghyuck joining him. he locks his gun, having his fingers on the trigger for any given moment. mark sighs out a stuttered breath, immediately hitting the accelerator and rushing out of the way. he has another tank full of NOS, that donghyuck simply swaps out, for mark to use at any moment.

“jeno and yves have made it back alright,” donghyuck tells him, while mark drives at an inhumane pace.

mark nods and takes the exit 12, driving to glendale. and after almost 25 minutes, they arrive at their warehouse. he parks his car next to jeno’s and they make their way inside.

“dude! that was fucking awesome!” jeno approaches him. “now i understand why the streets wouldn't shut up about her.”

yves rolls his eyes. “it was just lucky. she’s not that good.”

“then you wouldn't mind racing against her,” donghyuck hums.

“please, she’s nothing to me,” yves smirks.

“she got you mad,” mark walks to the kitchen. “she is something to you.”

“anyway,” jeno locks the door. “who sent those policemen? it’s weird, we have been using the same location for months,” jeno asks.

“someone was there. someone who’s purpose wasn’t to spectate or race, but to infliritrate,” mark sighs, adjusting his belt from his jeans.

“i’m wondering if suh is single,” donghyuck sits, ignoring the talk his friends are having.

“johnny or y/n?” mark mocks him.

“she doesn’t date,” yves sits next to him. “or that’s what i’ve heard.”

“since when you’re a fan of gossip?” jeno frowns.

“you don’t need to gossip, everyone talks about her and her tragic love life,” yves shrugs.

“so she wasn’t in jail?” donghyuck inquiries.

“i already told you she wasn’t in jail, smartass,” mark tosses him a beer.

“then where was she?” jeno sits in front of donghyuck.

yves slides a little on the couch. “you ever heard about nakamoto yuta?”

the three men shake their heads. yves rolls her eyes. “he used to work for the korean mafia and the yakuza doing what? i don’t know, but he was well known before we arrived here.”

“and what happened to him?” jeno asks.

“he messed with the wrong people, and he paid for his mistakes,” yves says. “they got him and killed him.”

“and how is he related to y/n?” mark rubs his chin with his index finger.

“they were together,” yves pulls out a box of cigarettes. “and days after his murder, she went away.”

jeno grimaces. “i would’ve done the same. it’s sad.”

“well, he’s dead and we can’t do shit to help her,” donghyuck stretches out his arms. “she’s hot.”

“dude,” jeno chuckles. “we were just talking about his dead boyfriend and you’re saying she’s hot?”

“donghyuck only uses his lower head,” yves mocks. “why are you even surprised?”

mark laughs and donghyuck rolls his eyes. “i’m gonna race against her again.”

“dude, you want to lose again?” jeno stares at him.

mark frowns. “a little bit of support?”

(...)

a few days later, you are working at your peace in call, the mechanic shop. you work with jungwoo, jaehyun, and johnny. jaehyun is an incredibly talented racer, that’s for sure, he was the one who taught you everything you know. johnny and jaehyun are practically always together.

they have been friends since high school, and he’s close with you as well, despite you going to a different school.

so, there you are currently stocking up the shelves and displays with certain kinds of replacements and NOS, to whoever needs them. you wear leather pants, along with a white turtleneck shirt. your hair is down.

“do you have everything locked? storage room too, jungwoo?” you ask the blond.

“yep! johnny is currently working on the new car by the way. he said the client wanted something old school, and because of this, he got inspiration from somewhere,” he informs.

you raise an eyebrow, handing jungwoo the remaining products form the shelves, and making your way inside the shop. you see a black haired man glancing at the shelves with NOS.

you approach him. “hi, welcome. can i help you?”

the man turns and he smiles at you.

mark lee.

you stop the urge of rolling your eyes. “and we see each other.”

“you told me i could pass by whenever i wanted to,” he shrugs. “

“that was me being nice because i beat you,” you smirk.

mark grins. “then i suppose i should go to the Fascinare’s shop? i heard they’re nicer.”

if you and johnny didn’t hate the Facinare you probably would’ve told him to go, but since they are your competition you couldn't afford losing a customer.

you sigh. “of course we can help you.” you fake a smile.

“that’s what i thought,” mark says. “how many days will it take?”

you take a look at his car. “up to 1 to 3 days.”

he nods. “fantastic. i’ll be looking forward to racing against you again then.”

you scoff, crossing your arms on your chest. “i can give your car all the NOS in this world and yet, you won’t beat me.”

“you were just lucky the other night, gorgeous,” he winks at you.

“maybe if you focus on racing instead of flirting you might beat me,” you grin.

mark chuckles and nods. “right. i’ll leave you my phone so you can give me a call when my baby is ready.”

“my god,” you hum. “be right back.”

you go behind the counter and grab a small notebook and a pen. you hand it to mark and write his number down. “i’ll be looking forward for that call.”

“hopefully it won't be me making it,” you smile falsely.

“alright. see you then,” marks says, exiting the shop. “don’t miss me much, gorgeous.”

you roll your eyes again, and smile lowering your head. 

you then frown and shake your head. 

[babymetaldoll]

Nemesis (Spencer Reid/Reader)

Requested: Can I request a Spencer x reader where they’re dating and she’s always been quiet about her past but then a case comes up in her hometown and her whole past gets uncovered and it’s pretty bad. That’s when they realize why she had been acting like that.

Summary: A case takes the team back to Seattle, (Y/N)’s hometown, only to discover her past was darker than they had ever imagined. 

Pairing: Spencer Reid/Reader 

Warnings: This one is dark. Angst, bloody crime details, Criminal Mind usual content, fluff at the end ‘cos I can’t help it. Also, cursing but that’s just how I roll. 

Word count: 2,7K 

Masterlist

- 

It was obvious there was something wrong with (Y/N). Spencer could see it clearly, though she kept telling him everything was ok. It was easy to read her after working together for five years and dating the last two.

Reid knew he shouldn’t profiler his girlfriend, but he couldn’t help it when he saw the painful expression on her face. She tried to smile when she noticed he was looking at her, but that just made it worse ‘cos now he was sure there was something awfully wrong with her. 

She wasn’t like that when they woke up. She had spent the night over in his apartment, and she looked happy. She made hotcakes for breakfast, and they laughed the whole way to Quantico, talking about the movie they had seen the night before. 

But everything changed the second they received the information of the serial killer they had to catch. 

-

When Garcia presented the case, Spencer noticed how his girlfriend’s face turned white. She didn’t even look at the pictures of the crime scenes. (Y/N) fixed her eyes on her notebook on the table and crossed her arms on her chest. She didn’t speak during the briefing, just bite her lips and the inside of her cheeks the whole time.

- “Today, my dear furry friends, you will be flying to (Y/N) ’s hometown, rainy Seattle, for a case that will give me nightmares for the rest week, so I refuse to look at the screen”

(Y/N) held her breath and stayed as still as possible on her chair. 

- “The unsub is targeting couples in their late thirties. He stabs them to death in their bed, places the bodies as if they were asleep, and forces the kids to lay between them. Then, he locks them in the house until they manage to escape”.

Hotch sighed and looked at the team. Family-related cases always were the hardest for him and J.J. Especially when there were kids involved. 

- “The police department asked for our help because they think it might be related to four unsolved murders that took place in Seattle back in the nineties”-

Garcia finished. Hotch stood up and announced, “wheels up in twenty”, and everybody left the room. Everybody but (Y/N), who couldn’t move. 

- “Hey… are you ok?”- Spencer stood in front of her chair and held her hands. She just nodded and tried her best to smile. 

- “I’m just tired, honey, that’s all. It’s been a long week”. 

- “You can tell me if there’s anything wrong, buttercup, you know that”- she tried to smile and stood up. Spencer cupped her face with both hands and kissed her lips sweetly. 

(Y/N) held her breath for a few seconds, making her best not to cry. When he looked at her, she cut him a small smile, trying to show him everything was ok. 

Of course, it was not. 

Neither Spencer nor anyone in the BAU knew (Y/N) ’s secret. She didn’t want to share it with anyone ‘cos it meant everybody would pity her, and she couldn’t handle that. She couldn’t deal with people looking at her like she was a victim. She hated it when it happened back in her hometown, and she knew she couldn’t handle it if their BAU family looked at her like that.

That case hurt her deeper than she could ever explain, and she wasn’t sure she could keep the secret that was killing her alive for much longer. 

-

During the trip, she barely looked at the files. Spencer sat next to her, trying to comfort her. He knew she wouldn’t tell him what was happening, but he wanted to be by her side. He wanted her to know he was there for her, no matter what. 

(Y/N) knew that, but of all people, he was the last one she wanted to share her secret with. She was too embarrassed and too scared he could run away. She was also too damaged, and she had, somehow, managed to cover her wounds for all those years. 

But now, everything was collapsing, and she knew it could only get worse from there. 

- “Morgan, you and Reid talk with the forensic. We need every detail on the killer’s M.O.”- Hotch said as soon as they landed in Seattle- “(Y/N), you and Prentiss talk with the family of the latest victims. JJ, Rossi, we will speak with the police chief and see the previous investigation files”. 

(Y/N)’ s heart stopped for a second. She held her folder fight and nodded, making her best not to show her whole body started shaking. 

Spencer could read it, (Y/N) was hiding something, and it wasn’t something good. He leaned in and kissed her temple and held her hand tight. 

- “Do you want me to go with you? I can ask Hotch…” 

- “No, honey”- she whispered, shaking her head- “I’m ok”

- “Sure”- she nodded and pecked his lips- “I’ll see you back at the police station, ok?”

-

Prentiss was doing all the talking. (Y/N) could barely breathe in that interview. A thirteen years old little girl sat on a couch, nearly crying, holding her grandmother’s hand tight, as if her life depended on it. 

-” I know this is hard, and you are doing great, Kristy. I need you to close your eyes and tell me, what do you remember of that night”. 

Without even notice, (Y/N) did the same. 

- “Mom and dad stayed up after I went to bed. I heard them talking in the kitchen when I went to the bathroom” 

- “What time was it?”- Prentiss whispered 

- “Eleven… eleven-thirty”

- “And do you remember anything odd? anything that didn’t look right?”- Kristy stayed in silence. You could tell she was doing her best to remember. 

- “The neighbor’s dog was barking“

- “Ok, good”- Prentiss praised- “You are doing great, anything else? A smell, a noise?” 

- “I heard something in the closet in the hall, like… like someone was chuckling, so I got scared and ran back to my room”- Kristy was agitated, and tears started falling down her cheeks. (Y/N) held her hands and looked at her, whispering. 

- “You had heard that chuckle before, hadn’t you?”- and the girl nodded. 

- “But your parents told you you were too old to believe in the boogie man, right?”- (Y/N) continued, fighting her own tears.

- “(Y/N)?”- Prentiss was confused

- “It’s not your fault-” (Y/N) whispered and wrapped her arms around the girl, who now started sobbing- “You have to understand it’s not your fault. He wanted you to be scared”. 

- “(Y/N), what are you talking about?”- Prentiss asked her but still didn’t get any answer. 

- “Kristy, this is important. Do you remember if a stranger had been in your house in the last week?”- but the girl just shook her head- “He may have said his car broke down, or he was lost” 

- “A man came last Wednesday”- the girl whispered, still crying- “He said he needed help with his car… dad borrowed him some tools and helped him change his tire”

(Y/N) nodded and looked at Prentiss. 

- “That’s the guy” 

- “How do you know?”- Emily was confused. Not only because tears kept falling from (Y/N) ’s eyes, but because of her deduction. 

- “Believe me, that’s the guy. I’m gonna call Hotch”. 

- “(Y/N)! Wait!”- Prentiss ran after her friend and followed her back to the SUV- “What the hell happened back there?”

- “What do you mean?”- the young agent tried to act as if nothing had happened. Which was impossible, but still, she gave it a shot. 

- “You knew something about this case! You knew the girl had heard the unsub before, how?”

(Y/N) stayed still and just looked at her friend, took a deep breath, and lied. 

- “We studied this case back in the academy. Some of the kids said they had heard a chuckling the days before the murder”

Prentiss frowned. She had read that case over and over again, and she knew that information wasn’t in any file. But it was apparent (Y/N) didn’t want to talk about it. 

-

Against all odds, (Y/N) managed to go through the day, keeping herself as calm as possible. After talking with Kristy, she and Prentiss reached the police station. Spencer was waiting for her with a hot cup of her favorite coffee. Just what she needed. He held her hand and kissed it as they walked to the rest of the team. 

- “How are you feeling, buttercup?”

- “I’m tired...”- she sighed and looked into his chocolate eyes. They were filled with love for her. The kind of love that made her feel no matter what, everything was going to be ok.  

- “When we are back home, I’ll run you a bubble bath. Would you like that?”

- “I would love that, honey” 

-

They delivered a profile, which confirmed it was the same killer as in the nineties. A white man. Now in his late fifties. His parents had committed suicide when he was thirteen. He was left alone with the corpses for three days until a neighbor contacted the police because of the smell. As he grew up, his trauma led him to kill couples around his parents’ age, with a single kid the same age as he was when he died. 

- “Hey baby girl, I need you to help me find this unsub”- Morgan called Garcia as the whole team gathered around the board. It was late, and they were all tired, but they didn’t want to give the unsub the chance to kill again. 

- “I need you to run me a list of all the prisoners in the area who were released a month ago, that’s when the crimes started”

- “You are gonna have to give me something else, chocolate thunder. Do you have any kind of idea how many people are released weekly from jail?”

- “Ten thousand”- Spencer answered and kept his eyes stuck at the board- “Garcia, he is around fifty, white, and had been in jail approximately thirteen or fourteen years”. 

(Y/N)’ s heart was beating so fast inside her chest she thought anyone could hear it. Her legs were shaking, her eyes were watering up. But she had to keep herself together. She had to, for the team. For herself. For this case. For the victims.

- “Still too many”- Garcia said 

- “Can you see if any of them had a red truck?”- (Y/N) asked, and the whole team turned to her, confused 

- “Why a red truck?”- Hotch asked her, confused 

- “It was a theory we analyzed at the academy”- she lied again. 

- “Bingo! Sam Paterson, 53 years old, was released five weeks ago. I’m sending you his last known address right now”. 

-

- “(Y/N), I just read all the files about this case, including the cases from ’98, and they never mentioned a red truck”- Spencer asked his girlfriend. They were in the SUV, and Morgan was driving. Reid turned to the backseat to look at her, but she kept her eyes in the window. 

- “I don’t know why it wasn’t there. Maybe they dismissed part of the evidence”

Reid was afraid to ask again, so he just nodded and turned to Morgan. 

- “How long until we get there?” 

- "Two minutes. I can’t wait to catch this bastard”. 

-

The unsub was hidden in a barn at the back of his property. He had all the trophies he kept from the crime scenes: a toy from each kid’s bedroom. 

They surrounded him quickly, but he kept pointing a gun against the team. He knew he was fucked, but he wasn’t going to surrender. 

- “You are done, Sam”- Morgan tried to talk to him, but the unsub just looked at the agents around him and laughed. 

- “I was sure you were going to be the one to get me”- he said and looked at (Y/N)- “You haven’t changed a thing”

- “Shut up!”- (Y/N) muttered and bit her lips, trying her best not to cry. She didn’t want to give him the pleasure of seeing her crumble. 

- (”Y/N) James, sorry, (Y/N) (Y/L/N), you use your mother’s last name now”

- “Shut up!”- the gent spit those words holding her gun tight. She could shoot him. She wanted to shoot him. But she wasn’t a monster like him. She had to keep telling herself that over and over again to keep her from pulling the trigger.

The whole team looked at her in shock. James. The James was the last couple the unsub killed in ’98. Their thirteen-year-old daughter was left with their bodies for a whole day locked in the house before she managed to escape.

- “(Y/N)?”- Spencer didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t believe it. 

- “I always knew you were special, (Y/N)”- Sam smiled- “You were the only one who heard me. Too bad mommy and daddy laughed at you when you told them someone was walking around the house at night”

- “You are sick”- it was a miracle that (Y/N) wasn’t crying. The anger that filled her body was too powerful, and it fueled her with revenge. 

- “Maybe I am sick, but I’m also the one who knows you better than anyone”- he made a pause and looked around at the rest of the team- “Oh! They didn’t know! Why didn’t you tell them? Want me to give them the short version of the fact?”

- “You don’t know anything about me!” 

- “That’s where you are wrong. I know a lot about you, (Y/N). I hunted you and your parents for weeks. Remember that little cat that used to play in your backyard? Garfield, that’s how you called him, right?”

- “Shut up!”- (Y/N) was having serious trouble stopping herself from pulling that trigger. She wanted to kill him and avenge her parents. They didn’t deserve to die just because a sick bastard decided to kill them. 

- “I always wanted to ask you, how did you feel when you laid there with them? After I killed your parents, how did you feel? ‘cos when I laid with mine, I just felt such peace… Did you feel peace too? (Y/N)? did you?” 

A single gunshot was the end of Sam. Spencer put his gun down after killing him and looked at his girlfriend. She was shaking. He didn’t say a word. He ran to her and wrapped his arms around her tight, just to hear her burst into tears. Tears she had been holding for years. 

- “I’m here, I’m here with you”- he whispered as he kept kissing her cheeks- “You are safe, I’ve got you, (Y/N)”

- “He… he…”- she tried to speak, but she couldn’t. Spencer held her closer, tighter, and kissed any part of her he could. Her shoulder, her head, her cheek, her hair, her temple. 

- “He’s dead, (Y/N). He is never going to hurt you again”

(Y/N) couldn’t move. She just kneeled on the floor, a few feet away from the corpse of the man that had killed her parents. Spencer held her in his arms and carried her outside. 

- “You are safe”- Reid kept repeating, and she just nodded as he sat her in the back of an ambulance

- “I’m never going to let anyone hurt you, (Y/N). Did you know that?”- Reid ran his thumbs across her cheeks, wiping off the tears that kept falling from her eyes. 

- “I will protect you, forever”

(Y/N) looked at him and quivered her chin again. She knew he meant it, and a small part of her felt relieved he knew everything now. Even the dark part she had managed to hide for years from everybody.

- “I love you so much (Y/N), and I am so proud of you. You overcame a situation that most people would never get over, and you became an amazing woman. The amazing woman I love” 

- “Thank you”- (Y/N) whispered and sobbed- “I just didn’t want to tell anyone so they wouldn’t pity me”- she said and hugged Spencer tight again, hiding her face on his chest

- “No! listen to me. I am proud of you, that’s how I feel about you, ok?”- he looked at her and kissed her cheeks sweetly- “I love you (Y/N)”

- “I love you too, Spencer. Thank you for being here”

- “Always”

[forever-rogue]

Afterglow - Part 11

A/N: Hello! It is finally time for some more Frankie! I hope you all enjoy! As always, feedback and comments are welcome, and if you’d like to be tagged, let me know. xx 💕

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4.7k

Warnings: referenced drug use; sexual innuendos 

AFTERGLOW MASTERLIST

FRANKIE MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-««

Today was the big day. Finally. 

And despite your excitement, you were nervous beyond words. 

You buzzed around the house, your entire body humming with nervous energy as you tried to make sure everything was perfect. Daisy watched you with disdain for a moment before turning back to her new bone and chewing on it. She had just come back from the groomer, topped off with a bow on her collar and everything, and you couldn't deny that sweet face a new bone.

The whole house smelled of the cooking and baking you'd done throughout the afternoon - all Frankie's favorites of course. It had been almost three months since you'd seen him. Three months since you’d held him and kissed him. Three months since you’d looked into those soft brown eyes that were your everything. 

Now he was finally coming home. 

Your Frankie was coming home.

»»————-　♡　————-««

You’d made it a point to speak to him as often as he wanted, making sure not to impose on his needs as he sorted himself out. He needed to do this for himself, and some days that meant not speaking to you. Those days were harder, but you knew in the end it would be worth it. Frankie deserved the best, and you were going to make sure he had it whatever way he needed it. 

But today that was all coming to an end - you knew it would still be hard for him, some days worse than others, but he would be better now. And everything else you could work through with him. Together, once again, just as it had been meant to be.

You’d offered to go and pick him up and drive him home yourself, but he had insisted that he didn’t want you to go out of your way to accommodate him. You would have never minded - you both knew that. But whatever he wanted to do, you would go with it. 

But in your own way of caring, you couldn’t help but want to make everything perfect for his first night back. You’d already made it a point to firmly, but lovingly let him know that he’d be staying at your house for at least his first weekend back. He’d readily agreed, letting something along the lines of I can’t wait to see my girls out, whether or not it was intentional, you weren’t sure. 

As everything was finishing up in the oven and the fresh and homemade apple pie was cooling on the counter, you heard a car pull into your driveway. Almost dropping everything in your hand, you eagerly went to the kitchen open, pulling back the lace curtain as you glanced outside. There was Frankie, climbing out of Santi’s car with a smile on his face as he talked to the other man. Grabbing his bags out from the back, he thanked his best friend for the help before finding your gaze. A smile broke out on your face as you stopped what you were doing and ran out of the kitchen and the door, in a rush to meet him. 

Santi waved at the two of you before slowing backing away, not wanting to intrude on the special moment.

“Francisco!” you bounded over to him, almost knocking him over from the force of your hug as you wrapped your arms around him. Tears, this time not of hurt or pain but of joy, pricked at the back of your eyes as you held him, immediately burying your face into his chest.

“Honey Bee,” he dropped his bags without hesitation returning your tight hug as he rested his head on your shoulder, “I’ve missed you so much.”

“Me too,” you pulled back and looked into his soft brown eyes, watching as they crinkled in the corners with his smile, “my Frankie. You look so good, my love - I love you so much.”

And he did look good - better than you had seen in a long time. Gone was the gauntness of his cheeks and his face had filled out a little. His hair was longer again, back to that mop of curls you had always known and loved, His eyes seemed to be lighter, more alive and bright, and that magical smile truly seemed to reach them. Frankie sported a pair of well fitting jeans, complimented by a red checked flannel that you immediately planned on stealing at the first opportunity. Most importantly, he truly looked...happy. And the way he looked at you was nothing short of love and pure devotion. 

“I love you,” he whispered as he leaned into you, leaving only a small gap between your bodies. You took a moment to breath him in, familiarizing yourself with every part and parcel of him, both of you grinning at each other like fools. Unable to contain yourself, you closed the gap between your bodies and brushed your lips against his. 

It was a slow, sweet thing at first, almost hesitant and reserved as you made sure you weren’t overstepping his boundaries, and that he actually wanted this. He didn’t waste a moment as he eagerly kissed you back, smiling against your lips as his hands found purchase on your waist. Your arms wrapped his neck as you carded a hand through his soft curls. It was a moment of saccharine bliss as you reacquainted yourself with each other, easily getting lost in the other.

You only pulled back and broke apart when you heard an excited small bark from the front door. Daisy had managed to nudge open the door and was on the front porch, watching the two of you in excitement, her tail wagging furiously. You couldn’t but laugh at her as you watched Frankie’s grin grow even larger; any more and you were sure it would break his face in half.

“Alright,” you told her with a small come hither motion, “come on good girl, come and say hi.”

Daisy wasted no time in running over to Frankie, as he bent down to greet her, and was immediately covered in kisses from her. You weren’t sure who was more excited to see who - either way, your heart was fit to bursting with happiness. This really was everything you had excited and so much more. Fishing your phone out of your pocket, you quickly snapped a photo of the two of them, vowing to set it as your lockscreen later.

“Should I be worried that you missed her more than me?” you teased as Frankie stood back up and offered her a few head scratches. He laughed, a warm, wonderful sound that rang crystal clear before putting his arm around your shoulder and placing a gentle kiss to your cheek, “pretty sure she got more kisses than I did.”

“Don’t worry, Bee, I’ve got plenty of them for you later,” he promised with a cheeky wink. Making a small sound of content, you reached for his bags before he could and moved to go back inside, “hey - I can get them!”

“I know,” you grinned as you ran towards the door, “but I want to do this! Let me take care of you - dinner’s almost ready. I made your favorites, my love!”

“You...you did that for me?” he asked softly, trailing after you with Daisy at his side. Offering him a confused look with a raised eyebrow, you gently nodded as if to say well duh, “whatever for?”

“Because I wanted to of course,” you beamed at him, “do I need more reason than that?”

“I suppose not,” he agreed as he closed the door behind him; suddenly he felt right at home. There was something in his gut, his instinct, that told him he was exactly where he was supposed to be. He followed you into the kitchen and grinned when he saw his favorite pie on the counter, “Bee…”

“I know, Francisco,” you whispered softly before reaching over and touching his cheek, “I know.”

And you did. You both knew. Sometimes actions spoke much louder than words ever could.

»»————-　♡　————-««

You were halfway through your pie and ice cream, sitting on the back deck when you found Frankie studying you intently. Hiding your face behind your hands, you tried to swallow the big bite you had just taken, sure he was going to tease you about it. Shaking his head, Frankie took your hand in his and pressed a soft kiss to your knuckles, “you look like you have something to say. And don’t even bother arguing with me - I know that look better than you think.”

“I...as a matter of fact I do have something exciting to share, but I didn’t want to take away from you,” you shrugged lightly, “tonight should be about you!”

“Nonsense,” he insisted with a slight huff, “come on, honey. Tell me what’s on your mind.”

“Okay,” you set down your spoon, feeling your heart flipping nervously as you decided you should share your news with him. If this was going to be a relationship - a real relationship, you were going to be upfront and honest, “ever since you’ve been back, I’ve been thinking about....well, everything. Remember what I wanted to study when I was younger?”

“Zoology,” he stated with a tilt of his head as you nodded, “and…?”

“I...I love my job, I really do, but I’ve been thinking a lot about trying out something new,” you explained as his eyes lit up with excitement, “and well, I think I want to go back to school and give it a try - zoology. See if I actually like it as much as I always thought. It’s just...I’ve learned a lot about myself lately. And one of those things is that for so long I’ve just done what everyone expected of me, and didn’t really ever think about what I wanted. And this is something I want to do, for myself. And if it doesn’t work out, there’s still so much I can do. I-I hope you don’t think that sounds crazy or rash, but...I want to do this.”

“I think it’s brilliant,” he agreed eagerly; it was easy to tell this was something you wanted to do with how your face lit up, “if it’s what you want, you should go for it - this is for you. Not anyone else. You know you’ll always have my support, however I can help.”

“Well, that’s good to know because I kind of already went ahead and applied for the program,” you offered him a sheepish grin as he laughed, “at the state university in the town over. I got in - I’m supposed to start next fall!”

“Of course you did, honey,” he reached for your hand and lightly pulled you in his direction. Easily acquiescing to his request, you sauntered over to him and sat in his lap, letting him pull in you close, “I’m so proud of you. For doing this for yourself and for getting in. You’re going to knock ‘em dead.”

“We’ll see about that,” you shrugged as you put your hands on his shoulders and gave them a light squeeze, “either way, I’ll never know if I don’t try.”

“Exactly,” he pressed a kiss to your lips, the sweetness of the ice cream and pie still lingering on them.

“I’m proud of you too, Frankie,” you whispered, pressing your forehead against his, “I am so, so proud of you. Everything you’ve done - for yourself, and by yourself. You’re so strong, but you know whatever you need, I will always be here for you. I’m not going anywhere, Frankie - I swear it.”

“I…” he paused as he swallowed the lump that had welled up in his throat before offering you a shy nod, “I know I’m nothing special - no one - that you’d want to end up with-”

“Don’t,” you pressed a finger to his lips, gently shushing him, “I love you for you, Francisco Morales. I fell in love with you. Not because of anything else, but because you’re everything to me. I would rather spend our lives doing fuck all and be the black sheep of society as long as we’re happy. A certain job, a title, fancy cars and houses - it doesn’t matter. None of it matters. I don’t give a fuck about anything like that, just you. I want you as you are, Frankie. Not as you whatever you think you ought to be or whatever you want to call it. If you’re happy, I am happy. I just want you, that’s all.”

“Honey,” he looked at you as though you had hung every last star in the glittering night sky, “I don’t know what I ever did to deserve you. You are the best thing to happen to me - I don’t know...I don’t where I'd be without you. And before you try and argue with me, I mean it. You have pulled me out of the darkest place, made me feel hopeful again - worthy. Like I actually deserve to be happy. You never treated me like the others did, you always saw me for who I was. Like I was a person and not some charity case - that I was important. That always got me through everything, even when we were apart. I always thought of you; and then we when I saw you again, completely and totally out of the blue, it was like it was meant to be. Maybe that sounds crazy, or...something. But...I like to think that everything happens for a reason.”

“Of course it does,” you felt like you were about to melt under his soft gaze as his hands explored your face, calloused fingertips tracing gently over your features, “I met them all, you know. When you were gone - Santi, obviously, Benny and Will, and some of your other friends. They’re wonderful, Frankie, and they have nothing but love for you. They told me...you always talked about me...you kept my picture with you? For all those years?”

“Yes,” he confessed as a single tear rolled your cheek. He quickly wiped it away and kissed your forehead, “always.”

“Frankie…” you must have been the luckiest woman in the world, “I have always loved you for you. There are a hundred million reasons for why I love you, but the main one was - and is - the fact that you are you. It’s...Francisco, I want this. I want you. If you’re in, I’m all in too. I mean it - we can take it slow, as slow as we want and need, but I mean it. I want to be yours, and I want you to be mine. But I just...if you don’t want this, then that’s okay too. I just want you to know I love you more than the moon and stars, and I always want to be a part of your life. Even if that’s just as a friend or neighbor or -”

Before you could ramble on much more, Frankie quickly cut you off by pressing his lips against yours. It wasn’t much, or fast, or hungry and needy, but...gentle - loving. Like he was trying to convey every emotion in that one single kiss. If you weren’t sure of his answer before, there was no way it wasn’t clear now. 

“I want this too, Honey Bee,” he whispered against your lips, watching as your eyes softened at him, “I want to be yours - but I...I’m not perfect. I’m still working on so many things to be the best me for myself - and you - but if you give me the chance, I want to try again too. I’m all in too. I always have been and will be.” 

“Of course,” you nodded slowly, “always.”

“I love you.”

“I love you,” you repeated, running a hand through his dark curls, “do you remember the first time you told me you loved me, Frankie? I remember it like it was yesterday -”

“I was so nervous I thought I was going to throw up,” he laughed lightly, “I had it planned for so long and you keep interrupting me and I had to get it out before I lost the nerve!”

“Ahh yes,” you giggled, “through a mouthful of food and it sounded something like ithinkiminlovewithyouhoneybee.” 

»»————-　♡　————-««

20 Years Earlier

“This was a good idea,” you grinned at Frankie as he trailed after you, a picnic basket in one hand and a large blanket in the other. You’d offered to help, but naturally he’d refused. It was a bright, warm spring day, and you both wanted to take advantage of it before it got closer to midterms time, “it’s beautiful out!”

“Yeah,” he offered up a cheeky grin as he caught up and set everything down near the lake’s edge, “my view’s pretty beautiful.”

“Francisco!” you rolled your eyes at your boyfriend, but bounded over to give him a kiss regardless, “you’re so cheesy.”

“Maybe,” he agreed as you unfolded the blanket and set out the items from the picnic basket. He’d taken time that morning to make sure he had all of your favorite things to bring. He’d wanted this to be a special day; he’d finally worked up the courage to tell you that he loved you. When he actually thought about it, he realized he had been for a while; the revelation had hit him like a freight train. 

Once you were finished, you leapt back up to your feet and started to peel off your layers of clothing, starting with your cardigan and immediately his eyes widened in pleasant surprise, “w-what are you doing?”

“Taking off my clothes?” you quirked an eyebrow but continued on anyways, “the water’s perfect and it’s getting warm - let’s go for a swim, Frankie!”

“We d-don’t have bathing suits,” he stammered nervously as he tried not to let his gaze linger for too long on your semi nude form. You’d been intimate with each other on a growing multitude of occasions, but he still felt shy when you so readily shared such sacred moments with him. His cheeks flushed dark pink as you shrugged and stood in only your bra and panties.

“Come on, Frankie,” you insisted, running towards the water, “join me! It’s a perfect day, my love!”

He offered up a skeptical look as you vainly attempted to splash some water at him, giggling at him like a fool as you let the water envelope you. As he watched you float on your back for a moment, he gave in and stripped off his shirt and sweater, swiftly followed by his jeans and shoes. He stood there in his boxers, skin golden and freckled as he smiled at you before slowly making his way over to you. 

Stepping into the cool water, he immediately swam over to you, wasting no time in splashing some water onto your face. Making a small sound of surprise, you righted yourself and attempted to put on a serious face. Frankie just laughed at the sight of your face and you couldn’t help but join in.

He quickly responded by putting his arms around your waist and pulling you towards him and placing a gentle kiss to your lips. 

“It’s cold,” he huffed in jest, as the water rippled around you with the gentle movement of the lake. You stuck out your tongue at him but shrugged gently, running a hand through his already wet curls. Before you could do anything else, he quickly captured your lips in another soft, slow kiss, causing you to melt into his touch, "already warmer."

"You're such a dork, Francisco!"

"Your dork!"

Once you were both worn out from swimming around the lake, you'd gotten out to eat lunch. You were laying on your stomach, trying to savor and not completely inhale the delicious sandwich he had prepared. In between bites you were rambling on about your history class and how much you hated your current assignment, and he listened intently with an amused grin. 

He was still intent on making his big confession, but every time he'd even gotten close, he'd say your name and you looked at him with the sweetest eyes and he'd decide to say something else. He kept trying to hype himself up but the effect you had on him was palpable.

But there you were; it was all so easy and effortless between the two of you. He could have listened to you ramble on your hours and watched in amazement as you carried on. The boy definitely had it bad for you.

"Ithinkiminlovewithyouhoneybee," his eyes widened in surprise as he hadn't actually meant to say it then and there. It had just happened - right as he was taking a bite of his own sandwich. His cheeks flushed a brilliant crimson as you set down your own sandwich and looked at him curiously. You weren't sure what he had said, but in your gut you had a feeling. But you didn't want to get your hopes up either.

Clearing your throat, you slowly sat back up and tilted your head to the side to look at him curiously. His whole body seemed to be vibrating with nervous energy as you stared at him, "Frankie, what was that? I-I didn't catch what you said."

"Umm," he was sheepish suddenly as he faced the ground and played nervously with a few blades of grass. Reaching over, you gave his hand a squeeze, along with a gentle smile, "I...I'm in love with you."

A smile immediately spread across your face as you leaned towards him and reached for his hand. His breath hitched in his throat as he watched your anxious expression and eyes widened, "w-what did you say?"

"I love you," he whispered softly, "I've been trying to to figure out how to tell you for a long time. So...here it is, I guess. I-I hope that doesn't make things awkward."

"You love me?" your heart felt like it was about to beat out of your chest. He nodded as you stammered nervously, "I love you too, Francisco. I love you so much."

"Honey Bee-"

But you didn't even give him a chance to say anything else before you lunged over and straddled his lap, and wrapped your arms around his neck. His surprised expression quickly turned to a look of bliss as you pressed your lips to his. 

It was an easy dance, one you'd both gotten familiar with, as you kissed one another until you were both breathless and flushed. He chased after your kiss swollen lips with his own plush ones, grinned with each peck.

"I love you so much," your declaration was the sweetest thing he'd ever heard, "its always going to be you, Francisco, I just know it."

"Always and forever, Honey Bee," he promised as he laid back on the soft blanket and pulled you on top of him, "only you."

»»————-　♡　————-««

"Always and forever," you kissed his cheeks followed by his nose, and then his lips, "I guess in the end we weren't wrong after all."

"I guess not," he agreed as he gently squeezed your hips, "thank you for everything. You've always given me nothing but love and support. I don't where I'd be without you."

You opened your mouth to speak but was quickly cut off by a small, gentle bark.

"Or you, Miss Daisy," he reached over and petted her, "my girls."

"She has an important question for you," you shot her a wink before turning back to Frankie. Your hands went to his shoulders as you gently squeezed them, "she wants to know if you'll spend the weekend with us."

"Hmm," he reached up and stroked his scruff thoughtfully for a moment as you momentarily wondered if you had pushed him too far. What if it was too much? What if he wasn't ready for that? What if he was nervous? What if - "I'd like that. A lot."

"Yeah?" you asked softly as he laughed lightly before offering you a firm nod, "that's good because I might have some plans for you."

Just as he did when he was younger, Frankie started to blush, a brilliant warm flush coloring his tan skin. Frankie leaned in towards you, brushing his nose against yours as he breathed you in. Little by little,  he became more familiar with you again, your touch, your taste, your everything. In some ways it was like no time had passed and in some ways it was like he was getting to you know all over again. Either way, he was thoroughly relishing in every single moment.

"How can I turn down an offer like that?" there was a wicked little grin on your face as innocently shrugged. The two of you stared at each other from some time, unspoken silence passing between each other. Some things just didn't need to be said.

"You'll stay?"

"Always," he promised as he sat back and pulled you against his chest. You put your head on his shoulder and wrapped your arms around him as best as you could before sighing contentedly. You'd never thought you'd experience this type of happiness again; nothing with Chad had ever come close. Not even the best moments and experiences with him had come close to this. That told you everything you needed to know, "what are you thinking, honey?"

"A lot of things and yet nothing at once," you admitted, "about how with you even the smallest things mean so much. About how if I hadn't seen you at that coffee shop that day my life would have been so different now. Like how everything seemed to happen exactly how it needed to."

"Would you have married him if you hadn't seen me?" 

"I...I don't know," you confessed and he rubbed soothing circles on your back as you listened to the light sound of the insects and animals singing their night time songs, "I don't know if I would have been strong enough to come to the same conclusions I now have. I think by now I might have been married and miserable, probably trying to convince myself I was happy."

"You deserve so much better than him," he promised as he kissed your forehead, "he was never good enough for you."

"I know that now," you agreed with a nod as you studied his eyes which seemed to be able to see into your soul, "I have you, don't I?"

"Who knows if I'm even good enough for you," there was a moment of pause as he stroked your cheek and you huffed in light announce. You knew why he was feeling this way, but you also knew that he was more deserving of you than anyone else, "some days it feels like a dream - to love and be loved by you."

"You always have been and you always will be, Francisco Morales," closing your eyes, you pressed your forehead against his, "please don't ever think you're ever not good enough for me. You are perfect for me - neither one of us is perfect, we're flawed beings - but together you and I are meant to be. I will spend every day of my life showing you that if I need to."

For the first time in a long time, Francisco Morales was able to close his eyes and breathe freely - lightly. He hadn't felt like this in a long time, so happy and loved and full of hope. 

That's how he knew it was always meant to be you.

"What are you thinking about, baby?" you pushed a rogue curl off of his forehead.

"I love you," he promised, "I want this - all of it - with you."

"Then you will have it. I love you more than you will ever know."

»»————-　♡　————-««

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[mymoonagedaydream]

Not sure what kind of AUs you write, but could you possibly do a Mob!Bucky x Soft!reader? And by soft!reader I mean she’s generally very kind, gentle, and cutesy, the “wouldn’t hurt a fly” type, except when defending those she cares for, then it’s like someone flipped a switch and she’s hell on wheels lol

All Bark and No Bite

Summary: When you fell on hard times, comfort came from the very last place you expected

Pairing: Mob!Bucky x Soft!Reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: Language, intimidating behaviour

Author’s Note: I really loved this request :) thanks so much anon

---

Approaching the front door of your apartment, you heard low talking coming from inside. Your dad hadn’t mentioned anything about having guests over, but you were making his favourite spaghetti for dinner, so maybe he’d just invited a friend over to try it.

He loved showing you off to people, and you loved the proud smile he wore whenever he did.

You turned the key and pushed open the door, seeing your father in the front room, sitting beside a youngish man you didn’t recognise. Clean shaven with neatly slicked back hair and a pretty expensive-looking suit, he was absolutely nothing like the friends who were usually brought home for dinner.

As soon as your father saw you he jumped up from the couch, looking a little antsy. ‘Hi sweetie. This is Bucky, a friend from work.’ He walked over to you and gave you a kiss on the cheek, before turning round to look back at his friend. ‘This is my daughter, y/n.’

You gave Bucky a warm smile. ‘Nice to meet you.’

‘You too darlin.’ He had a thick, deep Brooklyn accent that made your stomach tingle.

‘Are you staying for dinner? I’m making spaghetti.’

Bucky sent a nervous look towards your father, who seemed to be attempting a very subtle head shake, hoping you wouldn’t notice. There was definitely something weird going on, you could’ve cut the tension in the room with a knife.

‘That’s alright.’ Bucky eventually replied. ‘I should get going soon.’

There was a slightly uncomfortable silence as you took your coat off and hung it by the front door. Only when you walked through to the kitchen did you hear the deep mumbling start again, far too quietly for you to make out any of the words.

You heard the front door open and close, then you heard your dad quickly shuffle into his bedroom.

---

An hour after the guest had left, dinner was ready, but your father was still locked away. You walked to his bedroom and timidly knocked on the door, inching it open to see him sitting on the edge of his bed, head in his hands.

‘Dad? Is everything alright?’

He looked up, you could immediately tell he’d been crying. He sighed and patted the bed, inviting you to sit by him.

‘I sorry, sweetheart.’ He reached out for your hand and squeezed it. ‘You know we’ve been struggling a bit lately and, well, I owe some money to some bad people.’

‘That man, who was here earlier?’

‘He’s one of them, but he was here to try and help me out. If they found out he could get into a lot of trouble.’

His grip on your hand was tightening, almost to the point of being painful, but if that’s what he needed to do to keep him grounded then you were happy to let him.

‘How bad is it?’

He turned to look at you, tears welling in his eyes. ‘We could lose everything.’

That hit you like a punch in the gut. He looked absolutely devastated. You hadn’t seen him like this for years, not since you lost your mother.

You moved your arms to circle his shoulders, giving him a tight hug.

‘It’s okay dad. We’ll figure it out.’

---

The next day, while your father was out at work, you were woken by aggressive banging on your apartment door. You considered ignoring it, but they didn’t let up, almost thudding the door off of its hinges.

Opening it cautiously, you saw two burly, intimidating guys staring down at you, and Bucky stood slightly behind them looking a little sheepish.

‘Hey there sweet thing.’ The one at the front said, his alcoholic breath washing over your face. ‘Is your daddy home?’

‘No, he’s not.’ Bucky’s face dropped slightly, obviously shocked by your firm tone.

‘Can you tell me where he is sugar?’

‘No.’

Bad breath gave a low, sinister chuckle before stepping forward and lowering his face to level with yours. ‘I really think you should. We don’t want to have to do this the hard way.’

You were probably being stupid and reckless, but no way were you going to be intimidated into compromising your dad’s safety. You leaned in even closer to your unwelcome guest, leaving barely an inch between your forehead and his.

‘If you so much as touch me, I’ll scream this fucking building to the ground.’

It took a second, but he eventually backed up. ‘I like you, kid. I’ll be seeing you. Soon.’

He turned and walked away, the other man you didn’t recognise following him closely. Bucky hesitated for a second, staring at you while his mouth curled into an impressed smile. He grabbed a cigarette from behind his ear and put it between his lips, winking at you before finally following his colleagues down the hallway.

After firmly pushing the door closed and sliding the chain across, you squeezed your eyes shut and let out a few shaky breaths, thankful that you’d come out of that interaction unscathed.

You never told your father what had happened. He had enough to worry about.

---

A few days later, you were working a double shift at the diner, trying to earn as much money as you could to help your dad out. You’d been on your feet for thirteen hours straight but, thankfully, it was pretty late, so the place was almost completely dead.

You were filling up the coffee machine with beans when you heard the bell above the door go. Turning your head, you saw Bucky saunter in, eyes glued to the newspaper in his hands.

He took a seat at the counter. You wiped your hands on your apron and went to stand opposite him.

‘Hi there.’ He seemed to recognise your voice, his head snapped up as soon as you spoke.

‘Hey.’ A wide smile spread across his face. ‘I’ve never seen you in here before.’

‘I don’t usually do the graveyard shift. Just, y’know, trying to earn some extra money.’

His smile dropped slightly after hearing the exhaustion in your voice.

You hadn’t intended to make him feel guilty. If anything, you owed him your gratitude, cause knowing that there was someone else helping your father out made you feel so much better about this shitty situation.

‘Coffee?’ You chirped, trying to lighten the mood a little.

‘Great, thanks.’ You grabbed him a mug and started pouring. ‘I, uh- I’m really sorry about the other day. Doorstep intimidation was really unwarranted, I tried to convince them out of it.’

‘It’s okay, it wasn’t your fault.’

He smirked slightly. ‘You handled it well enough. I was impressed.’

‘Oh I’m definitely all bark and no bite.’ You passed him his coffee and gave him a warm smile. ‘But keep that to yourself.’

Pottering around behind the counter for a while, you felt his gaze on you whenever you passed by him. It was actually quite nice, having this devilishly handsome man show some interest, so you found yourself coming up with as many excuses as possible to walk in front of him.

Ten-or-so minutes after he’d arrived, you had to duck into the kitchen briefly, and when you came out you found yourself pretty disappointed to see that he’d left.

You trudged over to his empty coffee mug, picking it up and double-taking when you saw that it’d been sitting on top of a fifty dollar note.

He must’ve left it by accident, surely? Fifty dollars is a ridiculous tip for a cup of coffee.

You slid it into your apron, figuring you’d give it back next time you saw him. You could even use it as an excuse to get your dad to invite him back to the house, but you hoped you wouldn’t have to resort to that- you hoped that maybe he’d come around by choice.

---

It’d been a week since you’d seen Bucky at the diner, the fifty dollar note was still sitting in your bedside dresser. Your father had been going downhill, getting worse everyday, and the temptation to give the money to him was getting more and more difficult to resist.

Coming back from the grocery store, you climbed the stairs of your apartment building and turned into your hallway, the sight that greeted you making you stop dead.

Bucky was sitting outside your apartment, leaning against the door, looking like he’d just been in a horrific car crash. As soon as he saw you he struggled up onto his feet, the full extent of his injuries becoming apparent as you got closer.

‘I’m really sorry y/n, I didn’t know where else to go.’

‘God Bucky, what happened to you?’

‘They found out what I’ve been doing.’

Your eyes widened in shock. ‘They did all this just because you helped my dad out?’

‘Not exactly.’ He winced as he limped out of the way of your door. ‘I haven’t been playing ball with them for years, I’m tangled up in more shit than I can keep track of.’

It was definitely a stupid idea to let a guy being chased by the mob into your home, you knew that, but you were really struggling not to feel sorry for him. He looked completely broken.

‘My dad’s gonna be out all day.’ His dejected nod at that was the final straw, you knew you had to help him. ‘But I’ll clean you up.’

You gave him a reassuring smile as you let him through the door. He steadily lowered himself onto the couch while you fetched a bowl of warm water and a clean cloth. You didn’t really know what you were doing, but you figured at the very least you could give him a bit of comfort and wipe all the dried blood off his face.

You took your makeshift first aid kit into the front room and sat next to him.

‘Look at me.’ He shifted his face towards you. You wrung out the cloth and gently pressed it to a deep gash above his eyebrow, making him wince. ‘I’m really sorry this happened, you didn’t deserve it.’

He chuckled lightly. ‘You gotta teach me how to do that.’

‘Do what?’

‘Flick between the nicest and the scariest person I’ve ever met.’

You gave him a faintly amused smile. ‘We lost my mom when I was a kid, my dad needed all the kindness he could get.’ Bucky looked a little shocked at your honesty. ‘But he’s also stupid as hell, so he needs defending pretty often.’

‘He’s lucky to have you.’

Your eyes flicked to meet his, sensing a hint of sadness behind his words. ‘Do you have anyone?’

‘If I did, I probably wouldn’t have ended up beat to shit and on the run.’

You sighed and nodded, dropping the cloth back into the bowl and scanning your eyes over his face again. ‘That’s about the best I can do. You’ve stopped bleeding, but you won’t be winning any beauty contests for a while.’

He chuckled and ran his hand over his hair, taking a deep breath.

You were really conflicted about what to do next. Having him here could put both you and your father at risk, but were you really just going to throw him back out on the street? Anything could happen to him out there, you’d never forgive yourself if he would up in an even worse state.

‘Bucky, you’re welcome to stay here as long as you need.’

‘Thanks.’ You could almost see a wave of relief passing over him. ‘I don’t think my place is safe at the moment.’

You reached out for his hand and squeezed it tight, a calm silence falling as your eyes locked together. He slowly moved his free hand up to brush a strand of hair away from your eyes, then letting it come to rest at your jawline, gently cupping the side of your face.

You closed your eyes and settled further into his hand, almost feeling yourself melting under his soft touch. Between working and looking after your father, you’d never really had the chance to get close to anyone like this, so these sensations were pretty new to you.

You felt his body shift slightly, and a second later felt his lips press against yours. It was unexpected, shocking you a little at first, but it didn’t take long before you relaxed completely and returned the kiss. It felt like there was electricity flowing through your body, making all your hairs stand up and your stomach do flips.

Getting a little carried away, you lifted your hands up to hold his face to, completely forgetting his extensive bruising. He winced slightly and pulled away.

‘Oh god, sorry I forgot.’

‘S’alright.’ He flashed you a wide smile. ‘I knew you had some bite in you.’

---

[yandere-daydreams]

Kinktober - Day Eight

Prompt: Overstimulation + Sharing

Pairings: Kageyama/Reader & Hinata/Reader (Haikyuu!!)

TW: Non-Con, Fem!Reader, Abusive Relationships, Dehumanization, Stockholm Syndrome, Questionable Implications, and Mentions of Blood.

You hated it when Kageyama lost.

You were sure he hated it, too. You’d never been to one of his matches, never seen him play anything more serious or more public than a practice session with a group that new about the complexities of your relationship, but it wasn’t hard to tell when a competitive game hadn’t gone his way. It wasn’t hard to tell when he came through the door, a scowl already pulling at his lips, or when he barked down your attempts to greet him. His anger - his real anger, more tangible than any jealous fit he’d ever throw - was apparent every time his hips slammed against yours, every time his hand wrapped around your neck, in every missed score he ranted about and every bruise left on your thighs and every awful, disgusting, vile name he whispered against your shoulder as you cried and apologized and begged him to go a little slower. It was unbearable, it was exhausting, but… he hadn’t lost today. You weren’t sure he’d even played.

And Kageyama wasn’t the one touching you, right now.

It couldn’t be. Kageyama never pulled your hair, like this, he never yanked and jerked until your scalp burnt and you thought you neck might snap the next time he decided you weren’t arching your back far enough. He never sunk his teeth into your neck, refusing to pull away until your blood was dripping down your shoulder and staining the sheets below, and he never treated you with such little care, throwing you around and tearing at your clothes and humping your cunt like it was the last time he’d ever be able to, like it was the only time he’d ever get to.

There was no grace to it, no rhythm or strategy or goal in mind, just the discovery of something that made you writhe and moan and the exploitation of it, the abuse of it. Slick was dripping down your thighs, your drool pooling underneath you as your buried your face in the nearest pillow, limiting your ability to breath in favor of smothering your ragged, uneven screams into whines and whimpers that were barely audible under the smack of skin against skin, under the breathless groans and grunts of whoever was treating your body like a life-sized fleshlight. You could only be thankful he’d gotten tired of playing with your clit, already licked and prodded to the point of numbness, of adding to the bite-marks and bruises splattered across your chest. You were almost glad you’d been forced onto your knees so quickly. You doubted you’d be able to meet his eyes without feeling sicker than you already did.

Where was your boyfriend? Where was your possessive, protective boyfriend, who dragged you out of any party he hadn’t given you permission to go to, who bared his teeth whenever you admitted to leaving his apartment, who refused to let you meet his friends because there was a chance they might put their hands on you? Your boyfriend, who once threatened to break your nose because you had the nerve to look at another--

“I never said you could take all fucking day, Hinata.”

Oh, right.

He never left.

The man’s-- Hinata’s pace stuttered, his frantic thrusts slowing as his concentration faltered. You forced yourself to turn your head to the side, to twist around just enough to see Kageyama standing in the doorway, your heart dropping into your stomach as you took in his passivity, his stiff posture, his unhappy but unaggressive demeanor. His gaze drifted towards you for a fraction of a second, but just as quickly, he was back to focusing on Hinata, to glaring with just enough ferocity to make it seem like he wasn’t pouting. “It’s been hours,” He complained, his grip tightening around the edge of the bedroom door. “Just cum already. It’s not that fucking hard.”

You could hear Hinata scoff, slumping against your back as he lazily started up again, his cock scraping against your oversensitive walls and driving a pained, throaty sound from your lips, something between a plea for help and the cry of a dying animal. The only sign of sympathy was a fleeting kiss to the back of your neck, too brief to be genuine and too indulgent to be anything but sadistic. 

“He’s so impatient, right?” Despite everything, his voice was still even, unaffected as you struggled not to sob beneath him. If he wanted a response, he didn’t bother waiting for one, only addressing Kageyama, as he went on. “I’m taking my time. I don’t remember ever hearing you say I couldn’t, and (Y/n)’s so soft.” An arm found its way around your waist, pulling you closer until you could feel his heaving chest, until he was free to nuzzle into you and peck at your cheek like you wanted this, like you weren’t being held down by one of your boyfriend’s pro-athlete friends. Like every nerve in your body wasn’t on fire, and like it wasn’t getting worse with every passing second. “I’m not gonna waste this just because you’re too selfish to share.”

There was a heavy sigh, a few footsteps, and for a moment, you thought might finally be over. It could’ve been a mistake. Kageyama could still rip Hinata off of you, and lock the bedroom door, and he could still cradle you as you sobbed your eyes out. It was the kind of irrational, unjustified hope you could only have in Kageyama, that you’d only have in someone who’d failed to live up to your minimalistic expectations too many times for you to count. You could feel the fog in your mind clear, little by little, as the mattress dipped. Kageyama’s hand was so warm as it cupped your cheek, so soothing, and you couldn’t help but melt into his calloused palm. For a moment, you managed to get your hopes up at the chance that he might do something, even if he only forced himself to comfort you.

Then, he smiled, and all those hopes came crashing down, farther than you would’ve thought they’d be able to.

“This is only going to be a one-time thing, I promise. You’d know I’d never let him touch you if I didn’t have to.” The words were kind on their own, the kind of appeal to logic Kageyama had always been fond of, but you could feel your body go limp, your hearing grow fuzzy, your vision start to cloud over all over again as Hinata growled something incoherent against your skin and tried his hardest to pound into your cervix rather than your pussy. He must’ve been getting close, by now, he had to be, but somehow, the thought couldn’t soothe you, not when Kageyama was still grinning, still lifting your head, still unbuttoning his pants and working at his waistline until his cock was in his hand, already hard and ready to fuck something. You doubted he cared what it was. You doubted he’d care if you refused.

You were beginning to doubt he cared about you at all, if you were being honest.

“Just open your mouth. I’ll take your mind off of it.”

[2af-afterdark]

Because You Are Mine

Rating: Explicit Archive Warning: Rape/Non-Con, Graphic Depictions Of Violence Category: GN/M Fandom: Shall We Date?: Obey Me! Relationship: Mammon/Main Character Characters: Mammon, Main Character Additional Tags: GN!MC (you/your), Possessive Behavior, Abuse, Sexual Abuse, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Physical Abuse, Unhealthy Relationships, Non-Consensual Blow Jobs, Smut, Threats of Violence, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat Summary: Sometimes you do just the wrong thing to upset your very possessive lover. Word Count: 929

Tears prick at the corner of your eyes as he forces your mouth open around him and shoves his full length inside. Even as he has to pry your lips apart, you are careful not to scrap your teeth against him. The last time you did that he was sure to remind you that he could and would pull out each tooth that he felt so it wouldn't be an issue again, even if it meant knocking out every single one of them. The tip hits the back of your throat and you feel yourself wanting to gag already. Your stomach is still full from dinner and you have to fight to keep everything down. You are sure that even if you did lose it, Mammon wouldn't care and may even use it as an excuse to do worse to you. Right now he was angry with you and there was little that could stop him from punishing you as he saw fit.

"Ya know they all look at ya," Mammon says as he pulls the base of his shaft slowly out of your mouth, only to ram it back in suddenly, "Do ya like that? Do ya want them to look at ya and think about ya when they jerk off? Is that why ya keep acting like that?" You want to tell him that you didn't do anything other than be nice to them like they were to you, but you knew that would only result in something worse. Instead, you focus on yourself and making sure you can breathe even as he fucks your throat so violently you swear you can feel it bruising, "If that's all ya want, I can do that for ya."

He would gladly lock you in his room and use you whenever you asked him to. You didn't need to go showing yourself off to any other demon to get exactly what you wanted. Plus, if he did that he could cover your body in all the hickies, bites, and bruises he wanted. No one but him would ever see you again, so he wouldn't need to leave your skin unblemished so you could walk around outside. The very thought of leaving you a mess because he could and no one else ever being allowed to see what he had done had his cock twitching in your mouth, dripping pre-cum onto your tongue.

"Hey," he grins wide at the thought, "ya wanna see how much I love ya, right? That's why ya keep taunting me in front of the others, right?" That was the only reason he could think of for why you kept showing off in front of his brothers. There was no other reason for you to be so alluring in front of other people, especially his family, "Ya don't need to do that. I'll show ya anytime ya want. All ya gotta do is ask."

That wasn't it. You loved Mammon, you really did. You never wanted him to doubt that about you, but he was bad at sharing. Every little ounce of kindness you showed anyone else, any stray word of praise, any casual touch... he always assumed it was you trying to flirt with someone else. Nothing you said would ever change his mind. You were his. You belonged to him. That's what you promised him when you and he started dating. He was your first man and he wouldn't allow you to stray and find another. At the time, you hadn't really thought about what it meant to belong to the avatar of greed.

"I'm gonna mess up yer pretty mouth." Warning you is the only kindness he offers before he grabs the back of your head and forces you to swallow the entirety of his cock. He spasms in your mouth and thick ropes of cum begin to run down your throat. You look up at him, waiting for him to remove himself so you can finally explain yourself. He doesn't move. In fact, he barks another order at you, "Swallow."

When you don't do as he orders immediately, you feel him start to pull out before violently thrusting back into you. He scoffs, "Fine. I'll just fuck it all down for ya. Aren't ya happy? The Great Mammon is always so good to ya, even when yer trying to upset me." Much like he promised, he continues to fuck your throat, forcing you to swallow around him to make space in your mouth just to keep from gagging.

Once you finally manage to get everything down, he removes himself from your mouth. Even so, he doesn't look any happier than he did earlier and how you've managed to make him hard all over again. He lets out a little "Tsk" before ordering you to bend over. You don't argue, knowing that anything you say would just make it worse. You love him so much, and if this was the only way he could understand that... You would do whatever made him feel better. Even if that meant becoming nothing more than an object for him to possess and take out his frustrations on.

You were sure that, by tomorrow morning, he would understand again. He would whisper sweet nothings in your ears and shower you in kisses and show you off in a way that demonstrated how glad he was to have you. But, for now, you would take whatever he gave you. Whatever it took, no matter how much it hurt. After all, it was your fault that he felt this way...

[cicada-bones]

The Warrior and the Wildfire

Chapter 7: Forged

Hi! so. yeah. I'm really sorry. I had a very hard feburary and then a surprisingly difficult march. but i promise you - this isn't going to be abandoned, just taking longer than usual unfortunately. Please let me know what you think!

word count: 3418

Masterlist / Ao3 / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

A male, all in black, felt his muscles relax as the lights slowly flickered out of the warehouse across the way. As if someone was walking through the apartment, room by room, blowing out candles. The male looked until nothing more was visible through the darkened window, and a small sigh passed his lips.

A cold wind blew towards him, carrying his death-kissed scent back to the glass castle instead of towards the apartment before him and the Fae hidden within. Lorcan knew that Whitethorn and Galathynius were in the bedroom, but there was another – a male – hidden up on the roof.

The ancient warrior scoffed. It had been even easier than he thought it would be. Without magic, they were all completely helpless. Weak.

All he’d had to do was leave a false trail from the docks through the city and into the busy market square, then turn back to the harbor and wait. Wait for Whitethorn to appear, and guide him straight to the princess.

By that very night, he’d done just that.

Lorcan had to be careful to keep out of sight, to keep the wind at his back and his scent out of Rowan’s path, but before long, his quarry was in sight. That fire-breathing-bitch-queen, arrogant as ever. She was with two others; one, the male who was currently guarding the roof, the other, a human female, with a scent like figs and mint. Soon, the female peeled off from the group, her path headed towards that monstrosity of a castle.

While Lorcan didn’t follow her, he made sure to memorize that unusual scent to keep tabs on her later. Then he followed them back to this warehouse hidden deep in the slums, and the apartment hidden within.

It had all been so easy, so simple. He’d been the one who trained Whitethorn, after all. Lorcan knew how the male worked. He just hadn’t expected him to be this vulnerable without his magic. The idiot hadn’t even bothered to fortify the warehouse when they arrived.

Probably too distracted by the princess’ lips. Or her legs.

It hadn’t slipped Lorcan’s notice that when the lights had gone out, they were both in the same room. A room that contained only one bed.

Disgust rippled through him, disgust and fury. All Lorcan wanted was to slide off his perch, rush into the warehouse, and root the two birds out of their nest. But he had to wait, wait until he could catch them off guard, until there wasn’t a sentry to warn them of his approach.

For even now, without magic, Lorcan couldn’t be completely sure that he could overpower Whitethorn. The easiest way, the only reliable way, would be to separate them. To capture the princess and hold her hostage, ensuring that Whitethorn would stand down. While he negotiated for the keys.

In the meantime, Lorcan could scout out the city, discover its weaknesses and patterns and hidden pathways. So he could plan his attack.

So as the whispers in the bedroom quieted, and even the memory of candlelight had vanished, the warrior slid off the roof and onto the street below. Letting himself be consumed by the night and trying his best not to think of just how completely and utterly alone he was.

Without a nation, without a queen.

All he had left was his purpose, and he would follow it through to the bitter end.

···

Rowan awoke to an empty bed, Aelin’s scent swirling all around him, fresh and clean as the daylight streaming through the window beside him. He could hear her shuffling about the kitchen, filling a kettle with water and lighting the stove.

Rowan turned and stretched, his muscles pulling and tightening in all the right places. It had been wonderful to finally sleep in a real bed, with space lie down properly, instead of curled into that rutting wooden box.

His body and mind felt settled, comfortable, and it wasn’t just because he was finally well-rested. For the first time in over a month, Rowan had slept without a single nightmare.

There were no screams on his lips, no haunting images behind his lids, sweat on his limbs, bile in his throat. Nothing.

Rowan almost felt tears bud in the corners of his eyes, the relief was so intense. He wouldn’t ever let Aelin get away from him again. So long as she wanted him, so long as she needed him, he would be there.

Rowan listened as another set of feet entered the kitchen. There was a moment of silence as the two demi-Fae regarded each other, a moment where Rowan prepared to intercede if necessary. But then he heard Aedion say, softly, “There are mushrooms somewhere.”

“Good,” Aelin said, only the slightest edge to her voice, “Then you can clean and cut them. And you get to chop the onion.”

“Is that punishment for last night?”

A sound like cracking eggs, then, “If that’s what you think is an acceptable punishment, sure.”

Aedion’s voice seemed somewhat cheerier. “And is making breakfast at this ungodly hour your self-imposed punishment?”

“I’m making breakfast because I’m sick of you burning it and making the whole house smell.”

Aedion laughed quietly, then shuffled forwards, the sounds of a knife on a cutting board starting from the other side of the wall.

“You stayed on the roof the whole time you were out, didn’t you?” Rowan could hear the smile in Aelin’s voice, and he felt his lips twitch in response.

Pots clattered, and butter began to sizzle. “You kicked me out of the apartment, but not the warehouse, so I figured I might as well make myself useful and take watch.”

Rowan found himself nodding with approval. The male had crossed the line, but at least he had made himself somewhat useful. But remembering what he had said to Aelin last night…it was enough to make his hackles rise.

Rowan forced himself back to calm as Aelin said, “We both have atrocious tempers. You know I didn’t mean what I said, about the loyalty thing. Or about the half-human thing. You know none of that matters to me.”

It was definitely the best apology he was going to get. And far more than he deserved.

A short hesitation, then, “Aelin, I’m ashamed of what I said to you.”

“Well, that makes two of us, so let’s leave it at that.” There was a moment when all Rowan could hear was the scrape of a metal whisk in a glass bowl, then, “I - I understand, Aedion, I really do, about the blood oath. I knew what it meant to you. I made a mistake not telling you. I don’t normally admit to that kind of thing, but…I should have told you. And I’m sorry.”

Another tension-filled silence. Aedion was holding a knife…

Rowan kept himself very still, until finally, “That oath meant everything to me. Ren and I used to be at each other’s throats because of it when we were children. His father hated me because I was the one favored to take it.”

A pause was filled with more sizzling from the pan, now with what Rowan was pretty sure were fresh green onions. “There’s nothing that says you can’t take the oath, you know, Maeve has several blood-sworn members in her court.” Aelin said. “You can take it, and so can Ren – only if you want to, but…I won’t be upset if you don’t want to.”

“In Terrasen, there was only one.”

“Things change. New traditions for a new court. You can swear it right now if you wish.”

Against his will, Rowan felt his teeth grit together. This pause felt even longer than the others.

“Not now. Not until I see you crowned. Not until we can be in front of a crowd, in front of the world.”

Rowan couldn’t help but feel a bit relieved. He couldn’t begrudge Aedion the blood-oath, but still. He wanted Aelin to himself, for just a little bit longer.

Aelin dumped the mushrooms in the pan. “You’re even more dramatic than I am.”

Aedion snorted. “Hurry up with the eggs. I’m going to die of starvation.”

“Make the bacon, or you don’t get to eat any.”

Then the two cousins started to laugh, and this time, Rowan really couldn’t help the smile that sprang to his face. Their laugh was one of such old friendship, Rowan knew that he was no one to get between them. Knew that these petty disagreements were nothing to the depth of their relationship. The last two children of Terrasen’s throne. The two survivors.

Rowan breathed, then turned to rise from Aelin’s queenly mattress to see about some breakfast.

···

An hour later, they were all fed and watered and were now standing in a wide clearing among the stacks of crates, the late morning sunlight slanting through the windows near the high ceiling of the warehouse.

After breakfast, Rowan had finally gotten around to fortifying the apartment. Aelin had already done a pretty good job with it, heavy locks on all the windows, two types of barrier at each entrance, a carefully disguised exit down the back stairs hidden behind the kitchen, and a first floor that, for all intents and purposes, appeared to be that of a completely abandoned warehouse. There was no indication at all of what lay above.

From the inside anyways. There were six windows on the first floor, all half-width, and four more in the apartment above. Rowan was itching to scout the vantage points from the surrounding buildings, to check what could be seen from the outside.

But after spending half an hour carefully going over every lock and seal, Aelin had dragged him down to this clearing hidden in the center of the warehouse. And Rowan couldn’t deny that he was intrigued to see how Aelin had held up her training this past month, and to find out whether the northern wolf’s bark was worse than his bite.

Rowan and Aelin started with stretches, and after a few minutes she threw him a sparring stick and they started their routine warm up from those misty mornings in Wendlyn’s mountains, falling back into a pattern as warm and familiar as waking up in a bed suffused in her scent.

Sparring with Aelin was glorious. Even with the time spent holed up on the ocean, her movements were fluid and luscious and deadly. She flew between poses, the sparring stick a deadly extension of her arm.

Watching her move, their eyes locked together – it made him want to knock that sparring stick aside, shove her into a wall and peel off that tight black suit –

Rowan breathed deep, his eyes flickering shut for second. And the momentary distraction allowed Aelin to get behind his guard and rap him on the chest hard, her eyes glinting.

Rowan growled at her.

Aelin had always been a formidable swordsman – even during that time after he’d collected her from Varese, when she was drunk and dirty and so, so broken. However, she was now stuck in her human form.

So after a few minutes of easy sparring, Rowan executed a series of cuts and slashes that pushed her back into a defensive position, then when she was distracted finding her feet, Rowan knocked the stick out of her hands.

Aelin smiled wickedly at him, her eyes promising revenge as she turned to collect her sparring stick. Before she could unleash any of it on him, Rowan turned back towards her cousin, and after assessing his balance, strength and agility, began instructing him in a few complex maneuvers.

The male was tired, and clearly distracted by all that had been unveiled over the past few hours. And he was also in pain. He hid his grimaces as best he could, but every time a movement stretched his left side, his teeth would grit. And no matter how careful he was trying to be, his movements off his left side were slow and strained.

Rowan hid his exasperation best he could, even if he knew that Aelin had noticed the exact same details from across the clearing, and was not pleased with her cousin’s pigheadedness.

After half an hour with Aedion, Aelin stalked over from where she had been exercising and said, “I think that’s enough for today.”

Aedion stiffened, ready to make a rebuttal. Rowan held in his growl, his eyes flicking between the two cousins.

A moment passed in silence, then Aedion’s eyes narrowed, then turned back to Rowan. “I heard a story,” the young wolf drawled, “that you killed an enemy warlord using a table.”

Aelin spoke before he could, “Please,” she scoffed, “Who the hell told you that?”

“Quinn – your uncle’s Captain of the Guard. He was an admirer of Prince Rowan’s. He knew all the stories.”

Aelin’s eyes slid to meet Rowan’s, and he smirked at her, bracing the sparring stick on the floor. Her lips twitched, her eyes twinkling with surprise. “You can’t be serious,” she said. “What – you squashed him to death like a pressed grape?”

Rowan choked. “No, I didn’t squash him like a grape.” He shot her a smile. “I ripped the leg off the table and impaled him with it.”

“Clean through the chest and into the stone wall,” Aedion said.

“Well,” said Aelin, snorting, “I’ll give you points for resourcefulness, at least.”

Aedion rolled his neck. “Let’s get back to it.”

Aelin’s lips pursed, and she shot Rowan a look that said, Don’t you dare kill my cousin. Call it off.

However, Aedion wasn’t so slow-witted to miss the look that passed between them. The general’s jaw tightened even as his fingers tensed around the sparring stick. “I’m fine.”

“A week ago,” Aelin said, “you had one foot in the Afterworld. Your wound is still healing. We’re done for today, and you’re not coming out.”

“I know my limits, and I say I’m fine.” The demi-Fae’s words were tight, terse. Rowan found his lips spreading into a slow, sly grin. Aedion met his eyes, his brow tightening.

If he wanted to play, Rowan would play. The cub needed to be taught a lesson.

Aelin groaned, but kept her distance. Rowan found that he was grateful – if she intervened this time, it would take even longer for this to be resolved, and then who knows when it would finally be settled.

Rowan had nearly a full second’s warning before Aedion attacked, a simple feint to the right and swing low. Rowan dodged efficiently, deflecting and positioning to the offensive. Off-balance, Aedion swung his stick upwards on instinct, deflecting Rowan’s blow. Rowan let the young wolf hit the next blow, his lips tugging upwards almost against his will. This would be even easier than he had expected.

Rowan made to sweep Aedion’s legs out, but the wolf twisted out of the way just in time, stamping hard enough on Rowan’s stick to snap it in two and simultaneously making to swing his stick right into Rowan’s face.

Rowan ducked, grabbing the two halves of the stick in his fists and going low, swinging at the general’s legs. Aedion didn’t see the move coming, and had no time to react before he was flat on his back, gasping for breath and tears winking in the corners of his eyes as pain arced through the partially-healed wound in his side.

Rowan was already in place, one half of the stick pressed into the male’s throat, the other in his abdomen, a snarl echoing in his throat.

Aedion was just blinking beneath him, astounded. Rowan made sure his words were quiet enough that Aelin, with her human ears, couldn’t hear him. “Your queen gave you an order to stop – for your own good. Because she needs you healthy, and because it pains her to see you injured. Do not ignore her command next time.”

The muscles in Aedion’s jaw flickered, eyes blank.

Rowan’s eyes narrowed, fury licking at his bones. He pushed the sticks in a little bit harder. “And,” he added, “if you ever speak to her again the way you did last night, I’ll rip out your tongue and shove it down your throat. Understand?”

The general’s jaw seemed to relax slightly, the anger fading from his eyes. His words were hardly more than a breath, “Understood, Prince.”

Rowan stood and backed away, then whirled around as a bright, “Hello!” sounded from the doors to the warehouse.

A beautiful woman with piercing green eyes and flowing black hair was striding into the warehouse, her steps controlled and powerful, but not in the way of the warrior. More in the way of the wildcat.

This must be Lysandra.

Rowan relaxed slightly. Lysandra shut the rolling door behind her, boxes and bags in her arms. She moved like a cat too – soft and silent on the cobbles. No wonder Aelin was using her to spy on Arobynn for them.

She took two steps into the warehouse, then stopped in her tracks, her eyes meeting Rowan’s. Before they could do any more than look at each other, Aelin had stepped around him and was grabbing bags from Lysandra’s arms and steering her into to the apartment above.

Within half a minute they were both gone, the door behind them shutting with a soft click. Rowan turned back to Aedion, who was easing himself up from his sprawled position on the ground.

“Is that Lysandra?” Rowan asked.

“Not too bad on the eyes, is she?” The wolf’s eyes flashed.

Rowan snorted. “Why is she here?”

Aedion began prodding his side, checking to see if the stitches were still intact. “She probably has information about Arobynn.”

Rowan held in a grimace, shutting out the name of that bastard assassin to keep it from distracting him too much. “Yet she doesn’t want you to hear it?”

“I think she finds everyone but Aelin boring,” Aedion said, an edge in his voice. “Biggest disappointment of my life.”

But Rowan didn’t care about this arrogant male and his conquests. For the first time in a long time, she had found someone. Not a warrior, not a cousin. Someone she could keep for herself. He smiled, just a bit. “I’m glad she found a female friend.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Aedion’s brow furrow, wondering at the change. Rowan let the softness fall from his face, turning his gaze back to the prince. “Aelin’s court will be a new one, different from any other in the world, where the Old Ways are honored again. You’re going to learn them. And I’m going to teach you.”

This was why he was here, he reminded himself. To form the foundation of her court. To make sure it would be strong.

“I know the Old Ways.” Aedion scoffed.

“You’re going to learn them again.”

The general pulled himself off the ground, his shoulders set back as his expression steeled. “I’m the general of the Bane, and a prince of both Ashryver and Galathynius houses. I’m not some untrained foot soldier.”

Rowan gave a sharp nod, a concession. This was a prince – he could not forget. “My cadre, as Aelin likes to call them, was a lethal unit because we stuck together and abided by the same code. Maeve might be a sadist, but she ensured that we all understood and followed it. Aelin would never force us into anything, and our code will be different – better – than Maeve’s. You and I are going to form the backbone of this court. We will shape and decide our own code.”

“What? Obedience and blind loyalty?” Aedion wasn’t taking the olive branch, but Rowan wouldn’t let the sharpness in his tone get to him, not when he was so close.

He felt the weight of his words as he said, “To protect and serve.”

“Aelin?”

Rowan met Aedion’s eyes, and the wolf’s did not quaver. “Aelin. And each other. And Terrasen.”

Aedion held his gaze for another moment before looking away, but Rowan knew that the young demi-Fae understood. That Aedion knew that what they were daring was something that no one had dared for a very long time. If ever. And that their success would require more than just strength or bravery or strategy.

That this precious, fleeting thing could be stronger than iron, than rock, than the very mountains thrust up from the depths of the earth.

But only if they forged it together.

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[enigma-im]

Tenth day of Christmas...

Trope: Soulmate

Relationship: Alien x Human

Word count: 5,282

A lazy Saturday night. No responsibilities, nowhere to be, just me, and my tv. I quickly change into my pajamas, ready to plop myself on the couch for the rest of the day. Grabbing my phone on the way out of my room I swipe through messages, ignoring a great portion of them in favor of total isolation. Just me and my shows tonight.

A chill runs over my neck before I hit my shin against something hard. Arching forward I cradle my leg with a restrained curse barely sitting on the tip of my tongue. I look down at the sudden coffee table before me, it's bright white design polar opposite to my dark aesthetic in my home. I glance around the room, running cold at the unfamiliar environment. Everything is bright and illuminated, the furniture the only dark thing in here besides the baseboards lining the walls. I gawk in utter confusion.

"Who are you," someone barks, rolling into a growl. I snap my attention to some…thing standing just behind me. I twist towards them quickly, taking a few steps back as I take them in. Tall is my first thought, followed closely by bright. The creature is an alluring shade of blue, a mix of dark and light around its face. The top of its head is skin like hair that looks slicked back. It's almost like dreadlocks in their thickness. Average looking human eyes but a long mouth with thin lips. If it wasn't for the human-like stature I'd assume this was some sort of monster. The clothes are a slightly comforting touch. All around it's a rather disgusting looking man…alien…monster…thing.

He takes a threatening step towards me, shouting again," Who are you? How did you get into my home?" I choke on an answer, still confused and lost. Jerking my head here and there I take in the room, still just as weirded out. Where am I? who is this thing? I curl into myself, panting heavily as I panic. The thing takes another step, catching my attention again.

"Answer me, human," he spits the words," How did you get here?" I flounder for an answer, gawking like a fish as I try to talk.

"I-I-I," I try to speak," don't know." He recoils at the answer, before looking stricken. His lips peel back into a snarl, showing off sharp intimidating teeth. I nearly whimper at the sight, feeling like prey at this moment. He charges at me.

"Out, out, out," he shouts. I take frantic steps back till my back hits a wall. He corners me easily, grabbing at my shoulders. I shut my eyes, clenching up for the oncoming attack.

I'm greeted with silence.

I peek open my eyes to see my familiar bedroom. Uncertain, I curl my hands against my chest and look around the room. I see my bed, my vanity, the slightly ajar door to my bathroom. There is no sight of the alien man. I quickly bolt to my closet, grabbing my bat before checking the apartment. I walk to every room, ready to take on the horrid monster.

I clock out of work, heading to my car. Hooking up my phone I jam out to some tunes while I sort my work attire out. Setting my name tag in the cup holder and tossing the apron to the passenger seat. Before I can press the brakes I see a light bright enough for me to force my eyes closed. I feel my seat sink, a weightless feeling taking me for a moment. I open my eyes.

Coming up empty I manage to circle back to my room, confused and hurt. I rub at my chest, trying to ease this great discomfort. Setting the bat by the door I curl up in bed, forgoing my lazy Saturday night.

It's weeks after the incident and I'm left feeling like it was all a dream. There were no odd moments after that one, surely it was some strange mishap of imagination. I actually begin to forget it as the month comes to an end, though a strange emptiness stirs in my stomach. The feeling is worse at night, leaving me to cuddle with my pillows to ease it minorly.

I look into the barely familiar room, clenching onto the armrest to a chair. Terrified I look all around, spotting the strange man in a small kitchenette. We make eye contact, both of us startled. He recovers faster than I.

"You! What are you doing back in my house," he shouts, storming over. I sink further into the seat, nails biting into the wooden rests.

"I don't kn-," I try to explain.

"I don't want you here, how are you coming back," he barks, angrier than our first meeting. I try to explain again but he shouts over me. His words are harsh, accusing me of things I didn't do. As I attempt to speak over him he just gets louder till I feel near tears with all the stress.

"Stop coming here, I don't want you," he grabs at my hand," how did you manage to get in here in the first place? Humans do not possess the wit to get here on their own, so tell! Answer me! How did you get here?" I tug on my arm, trying to get out of his grip.

"I don't know," I scream," I don't know, so please stop yelling at me." I feel ridiculous as I'm near tears but I feel the situation calls for it on some level. I didn't mean to be here, it's not my fault.

The man stumbles at my shout, letting me go as he takes a step back. I curl into myself, wrapping my arms around my body, and tuck my feet up on the chair. He watches me, angry but lost. I glare up at him, fighting back the stinging in my eyes. My chest feels sore.

"I don't know where I am and I just want to go home," I plead, gritting my teeth. He furrows his brow, sneering as he reaches out and touches my arm. Before I can attempt to fight back I'm back in my car.

Looking around the dark parking lot I fall lax once I realize my position. I whimper as an ache squeezes at my chest. Leaning forward and banging my head on the steering wheel I take a deep breath, then a few more.

There is sadly a next time.

Can't write that one off as a dream.

I wait for the next few days anxiously. Trying to convince myself of 'two is a coincidence, three's a pattern' does little to soothe me. I could only hope that those two incidents were flukes. My nerves try to get the best of me but I know better. I get angry every time I think back, mad at how some harsh words could get me near tears. No man, alien or otherwise, is allowed to get such an upper hand on me. I promise myself indifference the next time I see that jerk.

I'm taken from my shower, to my misfortune. Covered only in a towel I stand in the bright living room, flustered and angry. The alien stands before me, arms crossed as he gives me a once over. As his gaze meets mine he quirks his brow. I tighten the towel around myself, glaring all the while.

"Caught you at a bad time I see," he says nearly bored. I huff, walking around the chair to hide my lower self. As I twist around I catch him tilting his head to follow me with his eyes. I snap my fingers at him, catching his attention. "send me back," I demand. He recoils in disgust at my command.

"No, I'm not some servant to make a request from. Also, I need to talk with you," he answers. I scoff, twisting away. Talk with me? Does this conversation involve more yelling and blame? I'm wet, cold, and flustered. I've been tense all week waiting for this exact moment to happen and I rather not spend another second here.

"No," I grumble.

"Excuse me," he bites back. I turn towards him, sneering.

"No, I don't want to talk with you. Send me back and keep it that way," I growl, a tad proud at the sudden backbone I've grown. He scoffs, shifting weight to his other leg.

"Do you believe that I intend for you to keep coming back," he asks the rhetorical question," because trust me, I don't want you around as much as you don't want to be around."

"Oh really? Haven't noticed," I tease," you have been so friendly up until now."

He rolls his eyes," sarcasm, such a low form of wit." I bite my tongue from throwing a remark back.

"Doesn't matter, send me back," I demand.

"Not until we talk," he shoots back. I tense in pure frustration. I'm near-naked and confused, I don't need this right now. Twisting away from him I fold my arms over my chest. He can talk if he wants but I don't have to answer.

The alien sighs," if I give you something to wear then will you talk with me?" I check on him from the corner of my eye. He looks as tired as I feel at that moment. Reluctantly I nod.

He exits the room, coming back shortly with a long shirt. Handing it to me he turns around, leaving me to put the shirt on and tying the towel around my waist. I sit in the chair as he sits on the couch. The silence is almost as bad as the yelling. I clear my throat, trying to bait him into speaking first. He sighs.

"Well I think the best way to start is with an introduction," he shrugs," I'm Egil, a Birger."

"Hello Egil," I wave awkwardly, dropping my arm quickly," I'm Kari, a human. I think you knew that part though."

"yea," he scratches at his neck," I wanna make a deal with you, Kari. We are in a bit of a bind that makes this little teleporting thing common. You see, we are important to one another according to a much higher power. I never chose this, let you know that now, and I'd prefer it if this little…situation… wasn't permeant." I squint at him, confused.

"What?"

He sighs, rubbing at his face," my people have a very interesting power that most of the galaxy favors. With that power comes a 'blessing' that brings another being to us when the time is right. Now I thought this someone would be a, well, another Birger. That's clearly not right so I just have to make do. So I'm asking for you to bear with this little inconvenience for a little longer until it runs its course and we can go our separate ways."

I process his words, rolling them around in my head. A special someone? Am I the special someone? What does he mean by 'run its course'? I think of a proper way to articulate my words to get across how utterly lost I am in this conversation. I look between his beautiful lavender eyes.

"What?"

He drops his head in his hands, rubbing at his eyes harshly before he snaps," you are my mate and if we wait a bit then you will stop being sent to me. So I ask can we just be civil until this stops?"

I taste the words on my tongue," Soulmate?"

He rests his chin on his hand," sure, soulmates. That's not the point, do you agree to be civil until this all blows over?" my brain flips flops. I take a moment to actually let the words settle before I speak. I cross my legs, resting my elbow on my knees and leaning forward.

"So you have soulmates and you think I'm them-,"

"You are," he interrupts.

"- so you want to ignore it because of why exactly?"

"Because it won't work, obviously," he answers casually.

I quirk a brow," because I'm human or because you can see the future?"

He snorts, recoiling in mirth," do you want to be my mate?"

"No, of course not. I'm just asking because I know like thousands of people who would be jumping for joy in this situation and I'm trying to see if you don't see me as an option because your racist," I tease, baiting him a bit. He deadpans, not amused in the slightest.

"Deal or not, Kari," he asks.

"Yea, sure, whatever," I wave him off," are we done now? I'm catching a chill."

The few long conversations we have had were surprisingly pleasant. When he isn't being a grump he can be downright enjoyable to be around. I can almost see how we could work together but I trash that idea when he starts getting snappy again.

He scoffs," yea, sure." standing he reaches over and touches my shoulder, sending me back home.

The next month is filled with annoying moments of being sent away. At first, it was mainly when I was at home, which was better than later when I was sent from work. In those moments Egil is kind enough to promptly send me back. In my more relaxed moments, he pulls me into a conversation, though he sounds bored with it most of the time. I look on the bright side of these meetings, learning what I can about him and aliens.

I try to go on with my life as normal, going out with friends and shopping when I can. I've been blessed to not be taken away in front of everyone. Almost like the teleporting has some know-how on good times and bad times. Though the shower one will never be forgiven.

Lounging against Egil's couch I listen to him explain how his planet's seasons work. It was started with me complaining about the cold in my apartment. He seems to be in a better mood today, talking animatedly about his favorite season. I admire him, finding the twinkle in his eye charming.

"You know when you aren't being a grouch you are nice to be around," I say casually as he takes a short pause in his rant. He stumbles on his next words, turning to me confused.

"What? You think I'm a grouch," he asks.

I shrug, laying against the couch," you get in your feelings a lot and it tends to spoil a meeting."

"In my feelings? I don't follow."

I watch him fidget a bit," you seem to sulk into yourself and I can't get you out of it no matter how much baiting I do. I prefer it when you are speaking animated like right now. You seem to enjoy talking about science and the inner workings of your planet. It's nice." he flusters at the compliment. His cheeks turn a strange dusty purple. I smile to myself at the sight.

"Well, science is entertaining but many people don't care to listen to it often. I can't blame them, I can see how hearing someone ramble for hours about biology and the workings of plants during different temperatures. It's just so cool how the weather can drastically change how a tree will present itself. I mean it just knows the correct way to arrange itself to get the most it can from the sun and I ju-," he glances over at me, sighing," sorry, I'm rambling."

I wave him off," no, go on. I have nothing to do tonight and spending it alone in my apartment doesn't sound too exciting."

He chuckles," glad to hear I'm more entertaining than an empty living space."

Friday night I dress to the nines, truly trying my best. I'm not really optimistic about this becoming more than one date but a girl can try a little. I meet the guy at a set location, agreeing to walk together to dinner. When I see him I'm in awe at his look and my luck. I might owe my friend an apology and a thank you.

I shrug, gesturing for him to continue his rant. My chest feels a bit full when I hear him speak, which is far better than the empty feeling I gain when I'm sent home.

My friend kindly notices my melancholy as of late and sets me up on a cringey blind date. I couldn't help the depressed state I've been in lately. When she offered such a plan I was extremely reluctant. A blind date is for the sad and lonely, or socially impaired. I guess I would fall into one of the categories. I agree after a bit of encouragement.

We talk on the way to the restaurant, the conversation bright and exciting. The empty feeling I've felt lately is bearable in this man's presence. We get our seats and continue talking all through dinner. I'm tempted to invite him up to my apartment. Couldn't hurt to see where this will go.

I excuse myself to the bathroom before we leave. As I open the door I see the bright room I've gotten used to. My shoulders drop as I walk further inside looking for Egil.

"Egil," I call. I hear a creak behind me, twisting around I see Egil staring intently at my dress. Relieved, I step over to him," hey, I was in the middle of something important. Can you send me back?" he takes a moment to actually look up at me, quirking a brow.

"You look…fancy," he says his words carefully.

"Yea, I'm on a date. So can you send me back please," I ask again. His eyes trail down to my dress again, his head tilting as he appraises me. As my words sink in he snaps his attention back to me.

"A date," he frowns," with who?"

"A friend of a friend. I don't have time to talk, he is waiting outside right now. So please," I reach for him. My hand falls on his wrist, tugging him forward. He follows, looking a mix of frustrated and confused.

"Where are you two going," he asks instead of grabbing my shoulders. I huff.

"My place, now please," I shake his hand. He swats me away.

"Why you two going to your place," he asks like an upset father.

"Egil, I'm not going to spell it out for you. Now, please," I reach for him again. He grips my wrists, a tad too hard. His gritting teeth are the last thing I see before I'm back at the bathroom. I walk in feeling sick to my stomach. Passing the mirror I look at myself for a second.

It's a long while before I get sent back to him and it's a rather strange time. I head to bed that night, snuggling up in my sheets.

Why was he so angry?

I don't meet up with my date again after that night. After the meeting with Egil, I feel a little mixed up. He is always a grump, that's normal, but this time was more than mild annoyance. Was he angry with me? That idea picks at me. Why would he be angry?

I wake shortly later to some loud thud. Groaning I twist on my bed, running into a wall I wasn't prepared for. Confused, I look at the couch I'm strewn across. I sit up looking around the dimly lit white room.

"Egil," I call out tired. I get no answer. Getting up off the couch I step around towards the kitchenette spotting Egil sitting on the floor lounging against the cabinets. "Egil," I catch his attention. He bobs his head up, smacking it lightly against the wood behind him.

"Oh, great, it's you," he pulls a drink up to his lips," how was your date." he spits the words. I take in the scene before me, Egil sitting disorganized on the floor with an unknown bottle in hand. He sways a bit, looking distraught.

"Are you drunk," I ask.

He chuckles," of course. What else is there to do at a time like this?"

"Sleep, if I had to suggest something," I joke, more nervous than amused right now. He snorts a loud laugh.

"Funny," he points at me, waving his drink around," one of the traits that bruise me so easily. Like a fruit falling out of a tree and hitting the ground too hard." I quirk a brow. Alright, he is drunk.

"Poetic, I think it's time for you to get some sleep," I crouch before him," you think you can make it to your bed after you send me back?" he sneers, rolling his head against the cabinets.

"Always with that damn demand," he takes another swig," I don't want to do that anymore." I huff. I guess I'm relaxing here tonight. Reaching forward I grab his arm to tug him up.

"Alright, time for bed, Egil," I help him stand. He stumbles as he gets to his feet, bumping into me. I steady him, holding his waist. He takes the moment to swing his arm around me, nearly making me fall as he drops on me.

"What was that outfit your wore the last time," he mumbles near my face, the stank of his alcohol burning my nose.

"My dress," I ask as we make the trek to his bedroom.

"Yea, the dress," he grins, giggling like an idiot," I liked it."

"Thank you, my mother got it for me," I answer as we reach his door. I swing it open, tugging him in. He bumps and nudges me till he falls onto his bed. I take the relief to catch my breath, he is a rather heavy and sloppy drunk. Couldn't hold at least some of his own weight?

He turns onto his back, kicking off his footwear with a dopey grin on his face. Sliding up the bed he looks to me, gesturing me over. In my experience with drunks, this I what we call a bad idea. I take a step closer, still a good enough distance to get out of reach. He gestures me closer. I don't budge, he sneers. Snatching my wrist he tugs me closer, using his other hand to cup the back of my neck. My face is uncomfortably close to his.

"You have the prettiest eyes," he pets at the back of my neck," like weeping gems in the deepest caves of Turmore. Which is fitting because your beauty is so grand it nearly makes me weep in pure joy." I glare at him utterly confused. I gulp hard.

"Are you always like this when drunk," I nearly squeaked. He shrugs, dropping my wrist to pet at my face.

"You bring out the weird in me," he scrunches his nose.

"Ok," I grab his hands and push them away," you need to sleep, I'll be on the couch." I try to take a step back but he pulls me back.

"No," he whines, pulling harder. I fight against him, trying hard not to fall on the bed. With a well-timed tug, I'm pulled against his chest and twisted onto my back. Leaning on his forearm and stretching the other on the opposite side of my head he glares down at me. His stare is hard and focused unlike before. I look between his eyes, waiting with bated breath for his next move.

Egil lowers himself till his lips are near my ear," I want to tell you something."

"y-yea," I try to turn to him but my cheek bumps his. His answer is to kiss my cheek. My heart flutters in my heart like a loose door in a storm. I'm stuck between uncomfortable and uncontrollably excited.

"I don't like our deal anymore," he bumps his head against mine," I feel more and more idiotic for suggesting it."

"why," I shift back to look at him. His eyes are barely open, either from the drink or something else. It doesn't look erotic but he keeps acting this way. He shifts so he can grab my hip, petting me with his thumb.

"I was stupid," he falls to his side, resting his head on his pillow," I was scared of you. Now I'm terrified of you."

"What," I ask offended. I try to crawl out from under him but he circles his hands around my thighs and rests his head on my chest.

"You like our conversations and you're really funny. I don't want to stop seeing you," he rubs his face against my shirt," please don't stop seeing me." his grip a bit harder, trying his hardest to not let me have an inch to get out. I pet at his head, trying to placate him.

"It's alright," I coo," I'm not leaving, I'm right here."

He grunts," for how long?"

"let's just live in the now, Egil. Let me up and try to get some sleep, I'll be here in the morning," I try to push him off. He clenches harder, looking up with his chin pressed against my sternum.

"You can sleep here," he suggests.

"No, that's not appropriate," I scold. He snickers, leaning up and pressing a kiss to my neck.

"Neither is pushing your mate away but I already did that," he makes me shutter as he licks my skin. I take a deep breath, very caught off guard with his attentions.

"How about we talk about this in the morning," I offer," just go to sleep." he grunts, pressing his face in the crook of my neck. I can't bother to try and push him away, somehow enjoying the weight of him on me. I pet at his head, trying to lull him to sleep.

"Good night, love," he brushes his nose against my jaw.

His eyes flutter open, closing as he grins. He stretches, tugging me close, and bumping his head against mine. It's after a moment that he stiffens, pushing me away as he sits up. Laying on the opposite side of the bed I watch his startled expression. He looks from himself to me then the bed. His features strain into a frown.

I sigh," Good night, babe."

I wake the next morning to soft snoring rumbling near my ears. Taking a deep breath I peek my eyes open, looking at Egil lounging on me. His arm is thrown over my chest, hugging me close to him as he sleeps. I take the quiet moment to admire him, look at his lax features. The urge to pet his face is strong. I give into it for a moment, feeling his soft skin on his cheek.

"Don't get grumpy," I yelp. He relaxes partially, more confused than anything.

"Why are you in my bed," he asks.

I chuckle half-heartedly," I've heard a similar question when we first met."

"Kari," he says sternly," please explain."

I fluster, grabbing the blanket to cover most of myself," I don't wanna."

"Why?"

"Because you might get mad or embarrassed," I answer. That doesn't seem to help as he scoots farther away.

"Kari, I'm asking nicely, what happened?"

I nibble my cheek as I debate answering. Surely sober him wouldn't have the same ideas at drunk him. Does he honestly want me to stick around? Will he want to hear about how he kissed and licked my body before falling asleep half on top of me?

Will he still think my eyes are pretty?

"You got drunk. That's it," I answer quickly," I put you into bed and you didn't want me to sleep on the couch because you are so kind. So you let me use your bed and here we are."

His brow furrows," Is that all?"

I hide under the blanket some more," No."

"Kari," he scolds," what did I say?" I debate lying, saving his feelings-and mine- from this recap. Nibbling on my cheek I try to gain some courage.

Peaking over the blanket I ask," do you really regret making that deal with me?"

Egil stiffens, grabbing a fist full of blankets in a harsh grip. I wince at his discomfort. I bet if he regrets anything right now it's saying that last night. He takes a moment for himself, looking towards the room before meeting my eyes. He sighs, dropping his chin towards his chest.

"Yes, more than anything," he grumbles. I nearly pop up from under the blanket like a whack-a-mole.

"Really," I ask," I mean, why?"

He winces, shrugging as he thinks of an answer. "I don't know. A lot of reasons. I just think not having you around anymore would be…a great loss. Having you as a friend has been great and I don't want that to end."

"You want to keep me around as a friend," I ask, feeling a stab at my heart for such a lacking suggestion. Does he only see us as friends? I don't want to be brazens and assume that we can be much more but…it couldn't hurt.

He sighs," No, I don't think I could muster the strength to keep things platonic with you. Especially after seeing you in that dress."

I grin," better than the towel?" he peaks at me, giving a teasing smile. It feels easy to talk with him like that, the tension already ebbing away.

Feeling brave I shift the blanket off myself and crawl over towards him, stopping as our legs touch. I hesitate to touch him, using stubborn courage to grab at his hands.

"Egil," I start," I don't know a lot about all this and you suck completely at trying to explain it. Yet, I can feel something here and it's beginning to grow. I really want to know now, before it's too late, if you honestly want to give this a try. Ever since the night with the dress I haven't been able to get that angry scowl out of my mind. I don't want to ever see you angry. Grumpy is fine but angry, I can't handle it. It made me realize that I want to make you happy and being here with you is the one way I know for sure that I can make that happen. So, do you want to try?"

Egil squeezes my hand, watching me in harden focus. I wait for his answer, craving his answer. The battle is clear on his face as he tries to think of something, anything, to say. In the end, he just grabs my face and tugs me into a kiss.

It's surprising at first, to feel his thin, long mouth against mine. Yet, his sweet taste draws me in as I cup his face. He tells me all I need to know in just a simple action. Though he is a man of many words, this moment didn't demand such talent. I part from him to rest my head against his.

"I want a date night with you," I smile, feeling silly demanding such a thing.

"What's a date night," he asks.

"Dinner, movies, cuddling and kissing on the couch," I answer. He nods, thinking about it.

"Will you wear that dress again," he perks up. I press a sweet kiss to his mouth.

"If you want," I smirk.

"Then it's a date, hopefully, I'll get to see you in the towel next time," he flirts. I scoff, playfully hitting his chest. He laughs, tugging me into a hug and another kiss. I pet at his cheek, smiling like a dork.

"Maybe if you play your cards right, I'll be in less than a towel."

He growls in excitement.

[eliemo]

Kiss Me (Before I Set the World on Fire)

Summary: Virgil should have told Roman why it bothered him so much. He would have understood. He should have known staying silent would just lead to something far worse.

Taglist: @the-blue-recluse @bisexualdisaster106 @self-taught-mess (let me know if you want to be added)

“Oh my god, what now?”

Virgil forced himself not to flinch at the exasperation in Roman’s tone, instead crossing his arms and forcing himself to match the Prince's glare.

“What? I literally didn’t say anything.”

“Exactly!” Roman stood, reaching over to pause the recording. “You’re just sitting here sulking! Come on, Charlie Frown, why are you so against this video?”

Virgil sighed, running a hand over his face, wishing they could just drop the whole thing and disappear under the covers of Roman’s bed, letting everything but the two of them fade away for the rest of the day.

But apparently, Roman had gotten it into his head that he and Virgil needed to film some sort of “couples video” for Thomas’s channel and had spent the last week begging Logan to talk Thomas into it.

It wasn’t that Virgil was completely against the idea. It was hard to be completely against anything when he was doing it with Roman. It was just...they’d only been dating a little over a month, both still fighting to work around their own fears and insecurities to make things work, and Virgil wasn’t sure how he felt about putting their new dynamic out in the open for the whole world to see.

That, and the fact that today was just a bad day. It wasn’t anything unusual- just one of those days where Virgil’s anxiety wouldn’t leave him alone, exhausted brain running on overdrive. Paranoia and racing thoughts had kept him up most of the night, but he’d been careful not to mention anything in an attempt to not ruin Roman’s good mood.

Seemed he’d managed to do that anyway.

“Because I just...don't know how I feel about it,” he said. “I mean, come on. Is anyone actually gonna care that we’re together?”

“Of course they will!”

“But...why can’t we just casually mention it in passing?” Virgil asked. “Why do we have to make a video about it at all? Does it have to be this big of a deal?”

Truthfully, Virgil had to constantly keep himself from telling every single person in the entire world how happy he was, how incredible it was that he and Roman had gotten together. A part of him, the part not ruled by crippling fear, wanted the entire world to see how perfect they were together, wanted to shout it from the rooftops and make an entire series declaring his undying love.

But the reality of the situation was that they weren’t perfect.

Roman was, of course. He was...he was Roman. He was the Prince, he was Thomas’s creativity, elegant and beautiful and kind.

And Virgil was...Virgil. He was anxiety and doubt, dark, gloomy, and scared, and all he did was drag everyone back.

He and Roman weren’t perfect, happy as they were together, simply because Virgil was there. Nothing was perfect when he was involved. He just...he tainted it.

Somehow though, Roman overlooked that. Roman loved him, and they made it work.

But not everyone else was going to see it that way. Not everyone was going to turn away from his flaws. People would see him and Roman together, see how much better Roman deserved, and they wouldn’t be afraid to say something.

And Roman...Roman did deserve better. And if enough people pointed out how awful Virgil was, made convincing enough arguments for why Prince should leave...maybe he’d decide they were right.

“It wasn’t a big deal until you made it one,” Roman shot back, and cold panic began to curl in Virgil’s gut at the bite in his tone. “Jeez, what’s your deal?”

Virgil knew full well that if he told Roman the real reason he was uneasy about the idea, if he’d asked for just a few days to unwind and rest and hopefully avoid the panic attack he could already feel building up, he would back off immediately and offer any help he could.

But Virgil still wasn’t great at asking for help.

“Because it’s a stupid idea!” God, why couldn’t he just control himself? “Sorry I don’t want to sit here for ten minutes listening to you- you- brag and shit!”

Roman barked a laugh, the sound humorless. “Brag? Right, that’s what I’ll do. Brag about my boyfriend who refuses to let anyone do anything fun.”

“Fun? How is this fun? It’s just gonna be you talking about yourself and how much more romantic you are, or whatever. No one cares, Princey. It’s just gonna turn out dumb and awkward.”

Something far too close to real hurt flashed in Roman’s eyes, the argument taking on a dangerous edge, but it was quickly squandered by something darker.  

“I don’t just talk about myself.”

Virgil scoffed, hating himself more and more every minute. “Yeah, sure.”

“Well, what am I supposed to talk about?” Roman demanded, too loud, too close to genuine anger. “You? All you do is sulk and mope around and make me miserable!”

Virgil winced at the harsh words, falling silent and watching warily as Roman paced. He knew Roman could have a temper sometimes, knew his rants were mostly just for the sake of dramatics.

But...well, he did have every right to be truly upset this time.

“I mean seriously!” The prince continued. “Forgive me for actually being excited about an idea! I just wanted to make a video about being in love, but I should have realized you would just ruin it!”

The words were met with heavy silence, Virgil’s throat suddenly too tight to form a reply, Roman’s anger sitting heavy on his chest.

The Prince sighed, running a hand through his hair, but he didn’t look any less unhappy. “I shouldn’t...ignore that. I shouldn’t have said that.”

He wondered if Roman meant Virgil ruining things, or that he was in love with him. He couldn’t bring himself to ask.

Roman quickly answered his question. “Yeah, this...this isn’t gonna work, is it?”

The panic building up was suddenly replaced with sickening, ice cold fear.

Roman...Roman didn’t mean…?

“I don’t know why I thought this could be a good idea,” the Prince said. “Not when you can’t stop arguing with me for two seconds.”

Oh, god. Oh god, he was. “Wait, Ro--”

“What?” Roman snapped, turning on him all at once, gaze intense and expectant. “What, Virgil? What is it?”

Virgil flinched, frantically trying to think of a response, for any way to repair the damage he’d done today.

But...but if Roman didn’t think the two of them could work, if he’d realized how much better he deserved...wouldn’t he just get more upset if Virgil selfishly tried to get him to stay?

He wanted them to work. More than anything. For a while, he’d really thought they could.

But if Roman ended it now, if he left Virgil alone (After all, Virgil deserved to be alone, didn’t he?) it would break him. Virgil didn’t know what he was supposed to do.

He opened his mouth to say as much, not sure how to stop himself, wanting to beg and plead Roman to forgive him, to give him one more chance.

But the panic and nausea were making it impossible to force any words out, that dark, awful voice in his head screaming that he didn’t deserve to ask Roman to stay.

And Roman apparently took that as an answer, shoulders dropping as he scoffed. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. You’re not even gonna bother.”

“Roman...that’s not…”

“No, it’s fine!” The words were cold and biting. “Seriously, all good! See? You got your way. Again. It’s done. It’s over. That’s what you wanted, right?”

Over. Over, it was...god no, no no Roman was going to leave. He couldn’t lose him. He couldn’t.

“Roman, I- I didn’t want—“

“Whatever, Virgil.” Roman scooped up the camera before stalking over to the door and holding it open. “If you don’t mind? I’d like to be alone so I can continue bragging about myself. I’m sure you’re ecstatic to get away from all that.”

“Roman...Ro, please, I didn’t mean—“

“Get out, Virgil.”

Virgil felt numb. Slowly, unable to look up and see Roman’s face twisted in hatred, he pushed himself away from the table they’d stationed themselves at, and stepped away, everything achingly silent except for Prince’s heavy breathing.

Virgil didn’t even bother walking to the door, not even sure he could stay upright that long. He just sunk out, and as the floor disappeared under him, he wondered if he would ever be welcomed back in Roman’s room.

His own bedroom was frigid, dark, and empty, and Virgil almost felt like he was being sent to a prison cell with how gloomy it looked.

It suited him, he supposed. Dark and brooding and...and alone.

Had...had he and Roman just…

“This isn’t going to work, isn’t it?”

They hadn’t fought like that in months. It had stopped some time before they’d gotten together, but today it was like all their progress had been undone.

Virgil had done that. Virgil had single handedly ruined the best thing that ever happened to him. All because he couldn’t keep his stupid mouth shut.

Roman finally realized Virgil had never changed. That Virgil would only bring him down, make him miserable.

And so he’d left him.

“I don’t know why I thought this could be a good idea!”

Virgil couldn’t move from where he stood in the middle of his room, everything far away and cold. He felt himself sink to the floor, felt the first few tears slip down his face before he began to sob.

Everything was falling apart. The world was crashing down around him, his own crying, loud, obnoxious, pathetic wails that bounced across his walls piercing to his own ears, bile rising up in his throat.

Roman was right. Virgil ruined everything. No wonder he made Creativity so miserable.

Virgil decided he’d actually rather leap out a window than join the others for dinner that night. He wasn’t even sure he could if he wanted to.

He hadn’t moved from the floor for what had to be a couple of hours at least, shaking and sobbing and viciously tearing his nails through the carpet.

By the time he’d cried himself out, he’d been far too exhausted to even consider moving, curled up on his side staring blankly at the light from the bottom of the door.

Patton had knocked some time later, cheerfully informing the anxious side that dinner was ready. It was only after a few moments of silence, when Patton’s voice grew worried and his knocking turned almost frantic, that Virgil forced himself to speak and claim he wasn’t hungry.

“You feeling ok?” Patton had asked, gentle and caring as ever. “Do you want me to bring you something? I can send Roman to--”

“No, Patton.” He hadn’t meant to snap, his disgust with himself only growing to an unbearable ache, but even just the Prince’s name threatened to bring a fresh wave of sobs to the surface. “I- I’m fine, Pat.”

Patton had mercifully left him alone after that, not prying after the wobble in his voice but promising to leave a plate in the fridge for whenever he wanted.

Virgil wondered how Roman was doing. If he even missed him at all. It was doubtful, he’d made a decision but...what they’d had was good. It had been. At least while it lasted.

They’d only been together a little over a month, but Virgil honestly wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do without Roman now.

He loved him. He loved him so much. He hadn’t really been able to convince himself he could deserve happiness like this until Roman proved otherwise, literally scooping him off his feet and showing him just how wrong he was.

And he’d let him think that maybe...maybe he was helping Roman too. Maybe slowly, they could both bring out the best in each other.

And Virgil had managed to undo all of that in one day. All because he couldn’t suck it up and keep his stupid mouth shut for one minute.

Eventually, when the sky darkened and the mindscape was quiet, Virgil dragged himself off the floor, changed into sweats, pulled his hood over his head, and crawled into bed.

It felt cold and empty without Roman’s arms around him.

Virgil buried himself in the blankets, hugging his pillow close to his chest, not bothering to try and stop his crying. He deserved to be miserable, didn’t he? He’d certainly put everyone else through enough misery for a lifetime.

He wondered if Roman would even talk to him after tonight, or if the Prince would just shut Virgil’s existence out completely.

Maybe things would go back to how they used to be, the two of them practically enemies, Roman treating Anxiety like the villain he’d always known he was.

In the end, Virgil supposed it didn’t really matter how he was treated now. He’d lose Roman either way.

He’d felt heartbreak through Thomas, of course, more than once. But this...this was so much different. So much worse.

It was heavy, a weight sitting on his chest, restraining him, keeping him pinned down until he couldn’t breathe. And it hurt. It hurt worse than anything he’d ever known.

Coupled with the panic that hadn’t gone away, Virgil was left a crying, trembling mess in his bed.

He stayed like that until what had to be nearly one in the morning, unable to fall asleep, the hours passing by in meaningless blurs, breath catching when he heard the doorknob turn.

Virgil went very still, careful to keep his ragged breathing quiet and shallow, hoping that whoever it was would just hurry up and go away.

He didn’t have the energy to explain to Patton or Logan what had happened. He didn’t think he knew how to say it aloud.

“I know you’re awake, Virgil.”

That was Roman’s voice, the Prince standing in the dark entryway, and Virgil felt blinding panic reach up and seize his heart.

“Come on,” Roman said, and while he didn’t sound as angry as he had that afternoon, he certainly didn’t sound happy. “Are you going to keep pouting or can we talk?”

Virgil didn’t answer, didn’t move from where he lay with his face against the pillow, but he listened as Roman sighed and slowly made his way over to the bed.

What more could Roman possibly have to say?

Virgil kept his eyes shut, refusing to cause Roman any guilt by breaking down in front of him. He felt the mattress dip as the Prince lowered himself on the edge of the bed.

“Look--”

“I’m sorry,” Virgil said before Roman could finish. “I...I’m sorry. For ruining it.”

It was followed by a string of heavy silence that stretched on an unbearably long time, and Virgil could practically feel Roman’s eyes on him.

“Don’t be,” Roman said eventually. “And you didn’t. I didn’t mean to...it was gonna end that way eventually, right?”

Virgil froze, remembering the yelling, the awful fight he’d caused that had pushed Roman to his breaking point.

Roman had just...expected that?

“It...it was?”

“I mean, probably,” Roman said, with an air of nonchalance that hurt worse than any amount of shouting could. “And it’s not a big deal that it didn’t work. It was just...a silly idea. Totally impulsive on my part.”

Virgil huffed a laugh, the sound dangerously close to turning into a sob.

“Yeah,”  he said, because that was true at least. He loved Roman more than anything, but he still couldn’t comprehend what could have possessed Roman to show an interest in him. “It...it wasn’t silly to me.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Roman scoffed, and Virgil winced. Prince must have noticed, because he quickly continued. “Look, I’m...I’m sorry I yelled. I think we both got a little worked up.”

It was Virgil’s fault. He’d ruined it. He deserved to be alone.

“Ok.”

“Seriously, Virge. It’s not a big deal. Can’t we just...move on?”

He hated this. He hated this. Acting like they could just go back to being acquaintances, like nothing had ever happened between them, like breaking Virgil’s heart didn’t even matter.

He didn’t answer, digging his nails into his palms in a vain attempt at forcing back rising tears, praying that Roman would hurry up and leave him alone.

There was a hand on his shoulder, the touch achingly familiar, and Virgil jerked away with a panicked gasp.

“Don’t.”

“Virge—”

“Roman, please.” He struggled to sit up, the hurt only worsening at the confused exasperation he’d heard in Roman’s voice. “I can’t do that, I can’t...I don’t know how to just pretend...fuck, Roman I don’t know what to do without you!”

God, he was pathetic. Roman had finally opened his eyes and decided he deserved better, and here Virgil was, useless as always, unable to let go.

“I don’t want you to leave,” he choked out, vision blurred by new tears, the guilt and disgust suffocating. “Please, Ro, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry f- for- for fucking up, I’m sorry just- just please give me another chance I can- I’ll--”

He cut off with a broken sob as Roman’s hands were suddenly on his face, cupping both his cheeks and forcing him to look the Prince in the eyes.

“What are you talking about?” He was frantically searching Virgil’s watering eyes, horrified realization dawning. “Did you think I meant...Virgil have you been laying here all night thinking I broke up with you?”

Virgil’s breathing was quickly turning to ragged gasps as he desperately tried to muffle his crying, face burning in frustrated shame when the tears just continued to fall. There was absolutely no way for him to hold back another sob when Roman began wiping them away with his thumbs, looking strangely pained.

“Y-you s-said...you said i-it wouldn’t- w-wouldn’t work, y-you...you said--”

“Oh, darling no.”

Roman’s arms were suddenly wrapped around him, pulling him close, and Virgil didn’t think twice before falling against his chest, clutching desperately at the Prince’s shirt and wailing.

It all came spilling out again at the feeling of Roman’s arms around him, holding him like he’d protect the anxious side with his life. It was everything Virgil had grown accustomed to these last weeks. Everything he didn’t want to lose.

“It’s alright,” Roman said softly, holding Virgil tight as he cried. “I’m so sorry, my love. I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere. I’m so sorry, Virgil, I’m so sorry. It was just an argument, darling, don’t cry, please don’t cry.”

“Y-you- you said you knew,” Virgil sobbed, anguished cries muffled against Roman’s chest. “You knew it w-would end, you- you s-said it was over I-I thought--”

“Oh no, darling I wasn’t talking about us. I was talking about the video, Virgil. I was angry about the stupid video. It was just a fight, V. I’m so sorry for saying those things.”

Roman kept talking, rocking them both gently where they sat on Virgil’s bed, rubbing circles along the anxious side’s back. He would tighten his protective hold each time Virgil’s cries would grow loud again, devastated bawling that wouldn’t stop even with Roman’s reassurances.

But eventually the sobbing faded, leaving Virgil hiccuping and gasping for air, panic and sorrow fading and making way for utter exhaustion and hopeful relief as Roman’s words set in.

“I...I don’t want to be in here,” he said, as soon as he found his voice. “Can we--?”

“Of course.”

Roman was immediately sinking out, Virgil still held carefully in his arms, the two of them reappearing in the middle of Prince’s unmade bed in seconds. It seemed like neither of them had been able to sleep.

Roman guided them both backwards until they were laying down, still chest to chest, one hand reaching back to pull the covers up and over them. Virgil let out one more trembling breath, taking a moment to lay against Prince’s now tear soaked shirt, squeezing his eyes shut and breathing in Roman’s scent, taking in his arms around him, his steady breathing in his ear.  

“So,” Virgil said after a moment, quiet and hesitant. “Just to, um, clarify. You’re not...you aren’t breaking up with me?”

Roman pulled back from where he’d had his nose pressed against Virgil’s hair, just enough so he could crane his neck to get a better look at the other side, eyes wide and filled with his own, unshed tears.

“No,” he insisted, almost desperate. “No, darling never. I never want to leave you, Virgil. I promise. You’re stuck with me.”

Virgil huffed, glancing up to give Roman a timid smile. “I’m not gonna hold you to that promise. I get it. I’m...a lot. Clearly.”

Roman leaned forward to press a kiss into Virgil’s hair. “You’re a lot of things like perfect, and beautiful, and magnificent--!”

“Oh my god.” Virgil’s cheeks were on fire, despite it just being the two of them in the dimly lit room, and he quickly buried his face back into the Prince’s shirt.

“And,” Roman continued, a bit softer. “I’m very sorry for raising my voice at you. I didn’t even realize, I...I overreacted. And I’m sorry.”

“I’m pretty sure I yelled first, Princey,” Virgil said. “I was an ass. And I didn’t mean it, either. The video...wasn't stupid. It was just...I was stressed and I freaked out. Bad day, I guess.”

Roman moved one hand to start running his fingers through Virgil’s hair, nails lightly scratching at his scalp, and Virgil’s eyelids fluttered at the blissful feeling. “What’s bothering you, Love?”

Dammit. Roman really knew how to break down his defenses.

“I- I guess the idea of making...us public is...it just stresses me out sometimes. I’ve known you wanted to for a while and I’ve been stupidly anxious about it. I should have told you.”

Roman was silent a moment, never stilling the movement of his fingers, and Virgil could practically hear the gears turning in his head.

“You...you know I’d never force you to do that video, right? Whether you needed more time, or you never wanted to do it at all, I wouldn’t have been upset with you.”

Roman was always unbelievably patient with him. He had a temper sometimes, they both did, but he was more than willing to take things as slow as Virgil needed. Anything to make him comfortable.

With Roman, Virgil had never felt more safe in his life. Feeling pressured hadn’t been the issue at all.

“I know you wouldn’t,” he said gently. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Can I...ask why it upsets you so much?”

“I just…” And really, what else was there to say but the blatant truth? “I just still can’t believe that I’m with you. That you like me. Out of anyone.”

The hand in his hair slowed, just for a moment, and he could almost picture Princey’s puzzled expression. “I’m...not following.”

“You deserve the world, Roman,” Virgil said. “And I want to give that to you because...because I- I love you. And I just get it into my head that if people find out we’re together...they’ll see how much better you deserve. Because you should have everything and you...you got me. And I know you’re ok with that, but I just worry that if enough people tell you to leave you’ll realize you--”

He was abruptly cut off by Roman’s lips over his own, the Prince suddenly on top of him with one hand still behind Virgil’s head, the other tilting his chin upwards.

Obviously they’d kissed countless times before, but to Virgil each time felt like the first all over again. He didn’t think he would ever get used to this feeling, fiery warmth that spread through his body, the way he practically came undone when Roman brushed his lips, everything perfectly at peace when they fit together.

Roman pulled away, cheeks flushed as he looked down at Virgil’s equally red face, their noses almost touching.

“I love you.”

It was said suddenly, with so much force and desperation, and Virgil blinked, momentarily caught completely off guard. “I- thank you? I love you too, but--”

He stopped when Roman was suddenly pressing a kiss to his forehead, pulling away a few seconds later with another hushed “I love you.”

“Roman--”

Roman kept going like that, pressing meaningful, gentle kisses to almost every inch of Virgil’s face, cradling his jaw like something delicate. With each kiss Prince would whisper another soft, “I love you,” just loud enough for Virgil to hear.

When he was done he didn’t go far, warm hands still delicately framing Virgil’s face, looking down at him with what could only be described as awe.

“God, I love you,” Roman said again, and Virgil was almost positive his face was the color of the Prince's sash by now. “Virgil, I’m happier than I’ve ever been when I’m with you. You know that, right?”

“I...I guess, but--”

Roman pressed another quick kiss to his lips, and he clearly wasn’t expecting a back and forth discussion seeing as Virgil was far too flustered to form coherent answers.

“I’m supposed to be the sappy one, you know,” Roman said when he pulled away with a smirk, the smile quickly dropping into something more serious. “You are my world, darling. I do have everything. Because I have you. I wouldn’t give this up for anything, and a stupid comment from a jealous idiot who has no idea how beautiful you are won’t ever change that. Do you understand?”

For a moment, Virgil couldn’t bring himself to speak, the words getting jumbled and caught up in his tightening throat. Roman’s voice was swirling around his head, forcing the dark anxious thoughts to finally retreat, replaced only with overwhelming love and lighthearted giddiness.

It was a wonder Virgil had any tears left to cry, but suddenly his vision was blurring and Roman’s eyes widened in alarm.

“Shit, I’m sorry, I just...I- I thought--”

It was Virgil’s turn to cut Roman off with a kiss, this one a bit more sloppy and desperate as he grabbed Roman’s collar and dragged him back down, but he savored the feeling all the same.

When it was over, Roman was watching him with wide eyes, brimming with hope and worry, and Virgil found himself smiling.

“You dork,” he muttered, and Roman instantly relaxed. “I’m not...good at this like you are but...me too. All of that. You...you’re perfect, Roman. I don’t know what I did right to deserve you.”

“You think I don’t wonder how I got lucky enough for you to love me?” Roman asked, smiling when Virgil carefully reached up to wipe away the Prince’s own tears. “I’m not letting go of this, Stormcloud. Unless...unless you ever change your mind.”

Virgil moved to wrap his arms around Roman, guiding him back down until he was laid against his chest, the Prince’s head rested comfortably on his shoulder, the weight warm and grounding.

“Not a chance, Princey,” he said, closing his eyes for a moment just to listen to Roman’s breathing. “We can film the video.”

He felt Roman freeze, just for a second. “I- really?”

“Yeah.” Somehow, the idea wasn’t quite as terrifying as it had been before. “Just...maybe in a few days, if that’s ok.”

“Of course!” Roman exclaimed, and Virgil could hear the excitement in his voice. “We can do it whenever you’re ready.”

“Maybe we could...plan it out a bit more tomorrow. Work on a more concrete script.”

“Good idea,” Roman agreed. Reaching over to take Virgil’s hand. “I suppose I got a little carried away in my excitement. I shouldn’t have dragged you into a video like that...I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

“And I’m sorry for being an asshole about it,” Virgil said. “I should have just talked to you. I’m still not...great at telling people when somethings bothering me.”

“Your comfort is my top priority. Always. Never be afraid to tell me these things, Virgil. How else am I supposed to protect you?”

Virgil scoffed, this time light and good natured, and Roman chuckled along with him. “Protecting you is my job, Ro. But...but I will. I promise.”

“I know it’s not easy,” Roman said. “And it’s not your fault, I’m not angry. All I ask is that you try. I’m always going to be here.”

Roman had said that before, of course, he knew where Virgil’s fears and insecurities stemmed from.

But now, the two of them wrapped in each other's arms, it was the first time Virgil had ever been able to believe the words without hesitation, the doubts completely silent.

He listened to Roman’s breaths slow and even out, felt him relax completely against Virgil’s chest, the anxious side still wide awake despite his exhaustion.

“I love you too, by the way,” he whispered when he was fairly certain Roman had fallen asleep. “So, so much. I wish I was better at saying it.”

Roman said nothing, but Virgil felt him squeeze his hand and run his thumb along his knuckles, a silent communication somehow letting Virgil know that it was ok, that they were both learning.

Virgil smiled and closed his eyes, completely at ease in the Prince’s hold. And he realized, just before he succumbed to sleep, that a small part of him was actually looking forward to that video.

Honestly, how could he not if it meant he would see Roman smile at him?

[viking-raider]

The Belle and the Bane - Chapter I

Summary: Your simple life is disrupted, when the Bane raises the taxes of Mintwillow, yet again. Forcing your father to do something desperate to save you both.

Pairing: Henry Cavill/You

Word Count: 5,667

Rating: G - Fantasy!AU, Bane!Henry, Language, Loneliness

Inspiration: This is my oddball take on the Beauty and the Beast.

Author’s Note: Thanks to @wondersofdreaming​ for helping me out with this! Tell me what you think!

You woke early the next morning, figuring your patient hadn't gotten any worse or died, since you weren't woken up in the dead of night to rush out to her hut. The birds were singing outside your window, the rising sun pushing back the darkness of the night and the fog from the village, filling every corner of it with beautiful light. You hummed happily as you got dressed and went downstairs for breakfast, you could hear the steady and rhythmic clang of your father's hammer pounding and working some piece of metal into impossible shapes.

“Morning, dove!” He called out.

His forge was an open lean-to attached to one side of the house, a doorway giving him access to both. He always left the door open, it had become a habit between him and your mother, so they could talk to each other over the clang of his work and the quiet of hers, keeping them connected throughout their day, since they were almost always in close proximity. It also worked out, when you were younger and your mother had to run off and tend to someone. He would either sit you on the hearth rug with some of your toys, going back to his work and keeping an eye on you through the door, or he would set you down on a workbench in his area, so you could watch, and be safely out of his way. You always loved when he did that, you loved watching him shape things, making whatever his customers ordered.

“Morning, Papa!” You called back with a smile.

In more than one way, you had put on your mother's shoes, both of you would talk through the open forge door as you went about your day, making herbal packets and other things you needed, while he worked at his anvil.

“What's on the fire today?” You asked, getting the stove going and started breakfast.

“One of the boys in the village is proposing to his gal, so he's asked me to make her a ring.” Your father replied, bending over his work.

Apart from being a blacksmith, your father also dabbled in metalsmithing, since the village metalsmith had moved away almost a year ago, to hard hit to live in Mintwillow any longer.

“Jeremiah or Marcus?” You asked, frowning at the cooking food as it sizzled in the pan, the village was too small and gossip moved faster than the wind.

“Travis and Daisy.” Your father replied, changing tools.

“What?” You snapped, surprised. “I thought they broke up a month ago?”

“Love!” He laughed, shaking his head.

“Hormones!” You huffed back, chuckling.

“That too!”

“Come, eat!” You said, plating up breakfast and setting it down on the breakfast table, then taking a seat yourself.

“Smells amazing, as always.” He smiled at you, taking a seat beside you and took up his fork and knife.

“Thanks.” You smiled back at him, digging into your own plate.

A little while later, you were sitting at your table, making a parcel of herbs for one of your regular patients with a chronic illness, when you heard the clang of your father's hammer go quiet. You paused for a moment, worried that he'd pushed himself too hard and had one of his dizzy spells again. But, a second later, you heard his voice out the front window, he was in the front yard of the house, speaking to someone else. Getting up, you looked out the window and saw your father talking to a tall male, both looked stiff and angry, the strange man's face was nearly purple, he was so angry. Concerned, you went out and stood on the porch, crossing your arms over your chest and listened to them argue.

“You can't do this!” You father barked, hand clenched around the heavy hammer he was still holding. “Your master has already raised the taxes on my goods, two months ago! I'm barely breaking even with that. If he raises it again, I won't make anything!”

“Mr. Cavill can do whatever he wants with the goods his company supplies you. I was just sent here by his butler to tell you the information.” The man gruffed back, scowling at your father. “So, you can either give him everything in your possession to pay his taxes, or you can find someone else to supply you your trade goods.” He started coldly, then turned on his heels and marched away.

Your father's shoulders tensed up before thrusting his hammer into the dirt and storming away, only to come back a moment later to retrieve his hammer, then returned to his forge. You frowned after the now gone man, before walking around the house to your father's forge, finding him sitting down on a small stool beside his raging forge, hammer between his feet and his face in his hands.

It was a rare sight, to see him so dejected and beaten down.

“So, the Bane raised the taxes again?” You asked, softly.

“Nearly double since the last time.” He replied, not looking up or taking his hands from his face. “I don't know how I'll make this work.” He mumbled to himself. “I can't raise my prices, it's almost more than the villagers can afford now, with him taxing them as well.” He sighed, scrubbing his calloused hands over his tired and sunken face. “We'll either end up destitute or end up like Sheamus, the metalsmith, and move away.”

“You promised mum you'd never move away from her grave.” You said quietly, biting your lip, and feeling a hot knot in your stomach.

“I know I did, girl. I know I did.” He sighed again, sitting up and letting you see his pained expression, the glitter of unshed tears in his eyes. “I don't know what else to do.” He said softly and stood. “I'm a bit tired, Dove. I think I'll take myself a long nap.” He slowly moved into the house.

“Do you want me to make you a cup of your tea first?” You asked, following after him, concerned and worried.

“Maybe later.” He sighed, going into his room and quietly closing the room.

You stood there, at a loss from the situation, you were even more helpless in the situation. You couldn't make your patients pay anymore than your father could his customers. Sighing, you went back to your herbs, needing something to distract your mind from the grim situation. Glancing out the window, and even though you couldn't see it from this side of the house, you cursed the Bane and his evil presence in your life, in the lives of Mintwillow.

A little while later, your father came out of his room, carrying his jacket in one hand and a sealed letter in the other. You turned in your chair to face him, frowning and shaking your head at him. It was quite rare that your father went out anywhere, anything that needed to be done elsewhere, usually fell to you, while any of your father's business came to him.

“Where are you going?” You asked him as he made for the door.

“Out.” He replied, in a rather short tone. “I need to take this letter out.”

“Surely, I can do that.” You told him, shaking your head and getting out of your chair, hand held out for the letter.

“No, I'll take it out.” He shook his head back at you. “Hopefully, the walk will clear up some of my melancholy.” He told you, then went out the door.

You watched him go, troubled and worried he would do something dangerous to himself, with the state he was in.

“Sir?”

“What is it, Damien?” His master snapped from behind his massive desk, cluttered with papers of all kinds.

“You have a letter, sir.” Damien replied, unbothered by his master's perpetual sour mood.

“Put it with the other, Damien.” He huffed, rolling his eyes at the report in his hand.

“It's been labeled urgent, Sir.” Damien answered, stepping up to his desk and holding it out to him.

Rolling his eyes again, his master took the letter from his hand and opened it, skimming through it once, before actually reading it; his brows slowly lifting as he did. “This man can't possibly be serious!” He barked, reading the letter again to be sure he wasn't misreading it. “Fucking Christ, he is!” He huffed, holding the letter out to Damien.

“Who does he think I am?”

Damien read through the letter. “Perhaps, it's all he has, Sir.” He replied, finishing the letter.

“Perhaps!” He roared, huffing. “But, that isn't the type of collateral or possession I can do anything with! I'm not in the business of trafficking! Tell him no! Either useful possessions or he can go elsewhere.”

The butler frowned at the letter, his brain brewing. “Of course, Sir.” He bowed and showed himself out of his master's office, returning to the man standing in the enormous foyer. “Call back here in a week's time.” He told him, his shoulders square as he surveyed the downtrodden man.

“Thank you, sir. Thank you.” The man rambling, bowing over and over again. “Thank you.”

Damien opened the door for him, the man still thanking him as he went out the door. The butler knew his master was going to be furious that he'd taken it upon himself to reverse his choice to reject the man's offer, but hoped that, perhaps, it would brighten his master's life and the dark and oppressive castle. If it didn't, both he and the man's offer would likely be tossed out the door, if not off the nearby cliffs.

Your father came back two hours later, he looked both relieved and increasingly more troubled. He wouldn't talk to you about where he had gone or what the letter was about.

“What's done has been done. It can't be undone now, no matter how much I wish it wasn't to be.” Was all he would say to you.

Then, returned to his room.

“Dove.” Your father called up to your room.

You groaned and rolled towards the window, it was barely light out, and it was odd that your father was waking you up. Figuring you had a sudden patient, you got out of bed and quickly dressed, rushing down the stairs.

“What is it?” You asked, eyes looking around for your possible patient.

But, your father looked you over. “Why don't you go change.” he said, biting his lip. “Put your best dress on and fix your hair.”

“Why?” You frowned at him, not understanding.

“Please, Dove.” He begged you, softly.

A deep suspicion filled you, but you slowly turned and went back upstairs, doing as your father bid. He smiled at you as you came back down, but there was a poorly guarded sadness in his brown eyes. You tried asking him more questions as you followed him outside, but he was silent, his lips clamped into a thin line that went with the growing sadness in his eyes; it worried you to no end. You both trudged through the village, your father giving fellow villagers a short nod as they greeted each other as you passed them by. After a ten minute walk, your father took a sharp turn, heading out of the village and up the nearby road, the steep drop off of the cliffs to one side and a thin lining of willow trees that divided the town from the road and cliffs on the other side.

You both kept walking, you trailing slightly behind your father, your heart pounding and stomach twisting in hot and sharp knots of nausea, until you couldn't take it anymore, and you grabbed the back of his elbow, pulling him to a stop; which took an effort on your part, even though your father was weakened from the illness, he still had the thick and muscular body of a lifelong blacksmith.

“Papa, tell me what's going on?” You begged him, looking up at him with pleading eyes. “Where are we going? And, why?” You demanded, a hard lump forming in your throat as you saw just how sad and broken he really was.

“Please.”

“I promised your mother,” He paused, the emotion of mentioning your mother and the situation sticking in his throat. “I promised your mother, that I would take care of you. No matter what I had to do to make it so.” He told you, lifting his hand to your cheek, his fingers cold from the blustery winds whipping off the choppy ocean.

“What's that supposed to mean?” You frowned at him, gripping the sleeves of his coat.

“You'll find out soon enough.” He replied, pressed a kiss to your forehead. “No need worrying about it, just yet.” He added, turning away from you and continued on.

“But, I'm worrying about it now.” You replied to his back, the sound of your voice getting lost in the roar of the waves.

Sighing, you started following your father again, even more worried and concerned over what was going on. Did he arrange a marriage for you and was too worried about telling you about it, so he was just taking you to the parish church to spring it on you. Or was he planning something else entirely. You weren't sure which one worried you more, but your anxiety boosted, when your father took another turn and started up a steep road through a massive thicket of trees. You had lived in the area all of your life, so you knew what lived in this direction, and you weren't at all happy with it.

“The Bane!”

You barked at your father's back. “Why are we going to see the Bane!? What does that selfish and greedy bastard have to do with your promise to Mum?!” You demanded, stopping in the middle of the road, and refusing to go any further until he answered your questions.

His shoulders slumping, your father rubbed his face with both hands and turned around to face you. “He's agreed to see you.”

“For what?!” You growled, hands clenching.

“We'll find out when we get there.” He replied, chewing his bottom lip to bits. “So, come along, we don't want to be late.”

“I don't care if we're late!” You hissed at him. “He does nothing but hole himself up in that giant castle with all his riches, while we starve down in the village! He can wait on us for a change.” You argued, but still angrily followed. “I can't believe you're entertaining any of this! Of all the choices you could have made to keep your promise. You could have just married me off to someone in the village.”

“All the boys in the village are either betrothed or already married.” Your father sighed, shaking his head, and feeling his heart fall deeper into his boots.

He had considered that.

You were fuming by the time you both reached the Bane's door. Your father rang the doorbell, waiting for the butler to answer, and after a couple of minutes, the door opened with a loud creak. Damien lifted a brow at your father in silent acknowledgment, then looked over at you, his eyes scanning you, head to toe. It wasn't until he settled on your face that some kind of emotion showed from him, and he looked rather pleased at the sight of you, which only made you even more anxious and annoyed at the whole situation.

“This is my daughter.” Your father said, giving Damien your name and tried smiling at you proudly, but the smile itself didn't happen as well as the pride he did have in you.

“She's exceptionally beautiful.” Damien commented back. “I am sure my Master would love to have her company.” He added, with a nod of his head, like he was sure of it.

“Oh, I don't think so.” You shook your head and started to walk away.

“Come now, Dove.” Your father said, stopping you and bringing you back to the door. “He didn't mean it that way.” He told you, giving the butler a dark look.

“Of course not.” Damien replied, with a polite bow of his head. “Pardon, my unintended meaning, Ms.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Pardon given.” You said, softly, pressing your sweaty and shaking hands to your sides.

Nodding his head at you again, Damien stepped aside and motioned you inside. “I'll show you up to your room, I've made it ready for you.”

“Wait, what about my clothes?” You asked, looking at your father, confused. “This is all I have with me.”

“Worry not, Ms.” Damien told you, easily. “Clothing will be provided for you.” He assured some of your anxiety away.

“You'll be fine, Dove.” Your father smiled, giving you a strong hug. “Come and visit, when you can.” He told you, cupping your face in his hands. “And do mind your manners, for your mother and I.” He added, giving you a stern look.

“I'll try, but no promises.” You replied, rolling your eyes, hugely unhappy with him leaving you here with the Bane.

Sighing, you stepped inside the castle, shivering as the door closed with a slam and the cold air of the castle wrapped around you. You looked around the dim foyer, only a few lights were burning, just enough to see where you were going without bumping into any of the covered, but expensive, furnishings. Damien led you up the huge spiral staircase, going up several floors until he led you down the hall and to a room that was nearly the size of your father's house in the village. There was a fire already burning in the room, the heavy curtains were tied by from the three windows and the double French doors, that open out onto a private balcony. The gigantic four poster bed had its curtains pulled back and tied to its posts as well; the blankets were pulled down and the pillows fluffed. There were three other doorways as well.

It was like nothing you had ever seen before.

“If you give me your size,” Damien said, dropping a few more logs into your fireplace. “I will have a wardrobe put together for you.” He told you, offering you a friendly smile.

“Of course.” You replied, peeking out the windows. “Where's the Bane?” You asked, turning to him.

“Mr. Cavill,” He answered, with a soft sigh, he had always hated that people referred to his master as 'The Bane'.

If only they knew him, as I do. He thought for a moment.

“Is in his private chambers.” He explained to you. “I'm sure you'll be meeting him some time soon.” He added. “For now, I'll go down and fetch you some lunch.”

You gave Damien your size before he left you alone in the room. Biting your lip, you went to the double doors and stepped out onto the balcony, you were on the side of the house that faced away from the village, only seeing the two or three huts at the far end, everything else was trees, cliffs and ocean, which was so much louder, now that you were so close to the cliff's edge. It had been less than an hour, and you were already homesick, unable to stop the tears that dripped down your cheeks, but quickly wiped them away as Damien knocked on your door and came in, carrying a delicious smelling tray of food for your lunch, setting it on a table by one of the windows, then poured you a steaming cup of tea.

“Thank you.” You smiled at him, taking up the tea. “So, why doesn't the B--” You cleared your throat. “Mr. Cavill, come out of this place?” You asked him, sitting down. “No one's seen him in years. Some don't even believe he's still alive.”

“Oh, he is very much still alive.” Damien laughed, shaking his head with amusement. “And more than well. But, Mr. Cavill prefers a calm and quiet life, here in the castle. The world out there holds nothing for him.” He explained to you.

“Other than taxing people out of food, homes and livelihoods.” You snorted, with a roll of your eyes. “and sometimes, their lives themselves.” You added, your eyes darkening as you recalled all the bodies of the Villagers being washed away by the waves crashing against the cliff sides.

“When the mood befouls him, he does do some rather rash and cruel things.” Damien replied, his face darkening. “But, he's really not as awful as the villagers make him out to be.” He defended his master.

“If you say so.” You retorted, taking another sip of your tea.

“I do.” He answered, lifting a brow at you. “I've known him since he was born. So, between the two of us, I believe I am the better judge of his character.” He told you, with a sharp edge in his voice.

A bell sounded somewhere in the vastness of the castle, cutting off your and Damien's conversation.

“If you need anything, just pull the rope. I'll bring you your dinner when it is ready.” He said, pointing to the rope, then rushed out of the room and to his master's room, elsewhere.

You listened to the echo of his shoes fade away the further he got from your room, and sighed, before finishing your lunch. Once your food was gone, you stood and opened one of the three other doors, finding it was a large bathroom, then moved to the next and found it was a huge, and empty, walk-in closet. The third door, to your surprise, led into a massive library, the shelves lined with dusty and cobwebbed books, the reading sofas had white sheets draped over them. It had a huge bay window, the two side panels of the filthy window were stained glass, the Cavill family emblem and coat of arms were in the center of them, throwing reds, blues and greens onto the big rug.

Stepping into the room, you touched the spines of the books lining the tall and deep shelves, leaving fingerprints in the dust as you did; reading their names. The air in the library was musty from being closed up for so long, but still held one of your favorite scents, the smell of books. You loved how books smelled. No one book smelled the same, like their one of a kind stories between their sheltering covers gave them a unique scent all of their own. The scent of their adventures, heartbreaks, triumphs and laughs, like how people had their own special scent. A couple of the books were in languages you didn't understand, some were so thick and heavy, you had to hold them with both hands.

But, many of them you hadn't read, or even heard of.

You pulled another book off the shelf, whose title interested you, flipping open the stiff cover, the spine crackling as you did. Flipping to the first page, you started reading from it, slowly pacing the room as you did and getting lost inside of it, forgetting for several hours, that you were no longer in your own home, until your ears realized how quiet it was, there was no clang from your father's hammer meeting the anvil. It all came rushing back to you, as you looked up, blinking your dust irritated eyes as you glanced around the room, and a massive lump formed in your throat and chest. You took a shuddering breath, tears brimming in your eyes as you tried to hold back your steep loneliness and the growing weight of being homesick.

“It hasn't been a day, and I already feel like I'm dying.” You choked out loud to yourself. “How can he stand living here, with only a butler.”

“Chess.” Damien's voice retorted, startling you so badly, the book fell out of your hands with a thud. “My apologies.” He said, clearing his throat. “I've brought you your dinner.” He told you, motioning back into your room.

“Thank you.” You said, your voice no more than a squeak around the lump still there. “But,” You cleared your throat. “I'm not hungry, just now.” You told him, bending down to pick up the book.

“Of course.” He nodded, sympathetically. “It'll be there, when you do. Is there anything I can do for you?” He asked, blinking at you.

“No, thank you.” You shook your head, biting hard into your cheek to keep your emotions at bay.

Nodding again, Damien bowed to you and disappeared again. Sighing, you tried picking back up at your place in the book, but couldn't get past the first sentence, so you pulled a ribbon from your hair and used it to mark your place in the book and carried it back into your room. Setting it on one of the bed's nightstands, you rounded the bed to the tray of food on your table, your lunch tray cleared away. It smelled even more fabulous than your lunch had, but you just refilled your teacup and went into the bathroom, setting it on the sink counter and turned towards the large, claw-foot soaking tub. You plugged the drain and spun open the hot tap, humming as it came out, instantly steaming, not having to warm up buckets of water by the hearth was amazing.

“That's a nice perk.” You said, slipping out of your clothing.

Taking up your teacup, you stepped into the full and hot tub of water, with a deep and satisfied moan. You stayed in the tub, washing yourself with the expensive soap and washcloth, sipping your tea, until the water was almost ice cold, then finally got out again. Drying off, you found a silk bathrobe hanging on the back of the bathroom door and pulled it on, before padding back into your room and sitting down at the table, nibbling at your dinner. With a little bit of something on your stomach, you turned out the lights, tossed several more logs on the fire, so it would burn through the night, and crawled into bed.

Picking up your book, you read it by the flickering light of the fire, until your eyes grew heavy and you fell asleep.

You woke several hours later, in a sweaty panic, your heart thundering in your chest, like the waves battering the cliff side outside your window. It took you several long minutes to calm down and remember where you were and why. Resting back on your pillows and headboard, you closed your eyes and focused on the roar of the waves, trying to relax yourself enough to fall back to sleep, but had no luck. So, getting out of bed, you slipped on your shift and robe, before tiptoeing up to the door, pressing your ear to the cool wood to listen for any movement in the hallway. Hearing nothing, you cracked open your door and stepped out into the hall, it was dark, for obvious reasons, but you didn't let it deter you as you moved down to the stairs. The whole castle, other than your room, seemed to be as cold as a grave, it felt like one as well.

You stopped on one of the floors, and snooped around it, before turning back towards the stairs, not noticing a door behind you open and a body stepping out into the hall. A shadow followed quietly behind you, as you moved down the stairs again, to the main floor, peaking around the foyer and the open door of a study, only then, sensing the presence behind you.

“Who are you?” The shadow asked in a deep voice.

A shiver racing down your back, knowing it wasn't the soft voice of Damien, that had asked. You froze in place, realizing that the Bane was behind you, who else could it be? Surely, a would-be thief wouldn't ask who you were, giving away their own presence in the house, where you could likely scream, waking the house and get him caught in his act.

“I asked you a question.” His deep voice growled, making you gulp.

Your shoulders stiffened as you managed to mumble out your name, too afraid to turn around to face him.

“What are you doing here?” He asked, sounding no less aggravated at your presence.

You blinked several times, brow creasing with your confusion, you were about to answer him, when a rush of steps came into the room and Damien appeared behind his master, holding a light in his hand.

“Sir.” He blurted out, out of breath and panting.

“Who is this girl, Damien?” Cavill asked, turning towards his startled butler. “Why is she here?” He demanded, jaw clenched.

“She's uh..” Damien licked his lips and glanced at you as you turned around. “She's that girl, sir.” He gulped, thickly.

“This..” Cavill started to say, pointing a finger at you as he turned back to look at you, both of your eyes locking together.

Your mouth almost dropped open seeing his face.

No one had actually seen the Bane in years, especially in the village, they weren't good enough for the rich likes of his family and their station in the world. You had pictured a,—well you never really pictured him as anything. But, so many people described him as an evil and twisted bastard, who was probably uglier than the devil himself. However, the Bane was anything, but ugly. He was incredibly, and surprisingly, handsome. He couldn't be more than thirty-five, from light that Damien held, that danced in his dark curls and lit up his cerulean blue eyes, throwing lines on his face, that made the frown he was wearing, look more like a smile; which also made him look even more handsome and dashing, in his night clothes.

Damien looked between the two of you with a lifted brow, watching the both of you stare at each other, taking in and sizing the other up, before Cavill cleared his throat.

“This is the girl?” Cavill finally said, his eyes not leaving yours. “From the letter?” He frowned, finally looking away from you, and back to Damien.

“It is, sir.” He nodded at his master, a teeny ping of hope appearing in his stomach.

“Well.” Cavill cleared his throat and ran a hand through his hair, seemingly flustered.

Perhaps, he isn't as horrid as everyone thinks. You thought, staring and blinking at him.

But, you had thought too soon, it seems.

“Then, why the hell is she wandering around the castle in the middle of the night!” He growled, angrily at Damien.

“I couldn't sleep.” You squeaked, startled.

His head snapped to you, like he was going to yell at you too, but his lip only twitched before he looked back at Damien. “I don't want her wandering around at night.” He hissed at the butler.

“Deal with her and send her back to the room, you surely, have made up for her.” He barked, rubbing at his temples.

“Of course, sir.” Damien nodded, looking highly concerned for his master. “I'll do that right away, sir. Can I get you anything, while I'm at it?” He asked, biting his lip.

“No.” Cavill huffed, then looked at you, his eyes had darkened to a stormy blue, but his tense shoulders relaxed the teeniest bit. “Good night.” He half whispered, half growled at you, before storming off, back to his own bedroom.

“Come, let's get you some warm milk.” Damien said, smiling at you, gently. “It might help.” He said, turning and heading towards the kitchen.

“I'm sorry, if I've gotten you into any trouble.” You told him, watching as he warmed the milk. “I didn't mean too, or to disturb anyone either. I just couldn't sleep.”

“Oh, it's all right.” He waved it off and shook his head. “You just surprised him, is all. I hadn't found the opportunity to tell him you were here. I meant to tell him during breakfast, tomorrow. But..” He chuckled, shaking his head, very amused by the whole situation.

“I surprised him?” You chuckled back, grinning at the thought you could startling someone the size of the Bane, he was easily over six foot, his body thick with well defined muscles, that you could see, even under his night clothes.

“Seems a bit far fetched.”

“It's not hard.” Damien told you, pouring the warmed milk into a glass for you. “Henry is honestly a very tender soul, under all that muscle and growling. But, life hasn't been easy for him, after losing everyone in his family to that illness several years back. Being thrust suddenly into the man of the house and the head of the family business, and so many other things, has taken its toll on him.” He explained as he escorted you back up to your room.

“Give him a chance.” He said, stopping at your door. “You two will warm up to each other in no time, and you'll see who he really is, deep down.”

“Well, you are the best judge of that, aren't you?” You replied, quoting him from earlier.

Damien laughed, looking down at his socked feet. “That I am. Good night, Ms.” He bid you with a bow of his head.

“Good night, Damien.”

[slashyrogue]

I chose the mutual pining square for this @hannibalbingo “Happy Birthday Hannibal” story. 

******

There was one day a year that Hannibal did not interact with Will. 

At all. 

January 20th. Also known as Hannibal’s birthday.

It had taken Will years to figure out why that was and even after he didn’t push. He wasn’t owed an explanation, he knew, and yet every night before the twentieth he’d stretch the day just a bit longer. 

He missed Hannibal when he was gone, even if often he still lingered in quiet areas of the house on some of his birthdays. 

Will told himself that it was no big deal, that he could handle a few days a year alone, and yet every January 20th he lingered outside the rooms Hannibal locked himself up in hoping that maybe this year would be different. His pining was ridiculous, he knew that, and the worse it grew made Will realize just why he cared so much. 

He was in love with Hannibal Lecter. 

The close friendship they’d renewed over the years had been everything to him, and living a life of murder and extravagance together had only made Will realize just how much he cared about keeping Hannibal beside him.

And now his own feelings might make things worse. 

Bedelia’s assertion that Hannibal was in love with him was something Will had long ago realized was just another manipulation. She had to have known even then that Will’s feelings were more than friendship. Her hope had been to get Will to admit something even he hadn’t really allowed himself until now.

 Which was why that January 20th Will decided not to stick around. 

He put Cephie in the car, turned off his phone, and took off for a long drive.

Hannibal wouldn’t miss him, he knew, and if he got home after dark he wouldn’t have to stand around pining in the hallways for long. 

Cephie loved car rides, he knew, and as they just drove along the road he relaxed. 

“Happy BIrthday, Hannibal,” he whispered, hating himself for it. 

The ride lasted till long after dark, and though he tried all day he still had moments where he thought of calling but decided against it. Hannibal had issues with this day, and didn’t need him to make them worse. Will didn’t turn his phone on again until he pulled up to the house. 

To his surprise Hannibal’s car was out of the garage. 

He parked and looked at his phone. 

FIFTY MISSED PHONE CALLS

TEN VOICE MAILS

FORTY TWO TEXT MESSAGES

All from Hannibal. 

Will froze and put the phone to his ear. 

“Will, I see you aren’t home. If you’re headed to the store please buy some leeks. Thank you.” 

He swallowed back fear and went to one of the later messages. 

It was quiet for what felt like ages until he heard Hannibal speak. 

“You could have at the very least said goodbye.” 

Will got out of the car and ran into the house. 

He found Hannibal lying on the floor in the kitchen with an open bottle of wine at his side. There was a single cupcake sitting beside him with a candle in it. 

“Will.” 

Will let out a long breath and blinked back tears. “I’m sorry. I just...I couldn’t do it again this year.” 

Hannibal smiled at him, his eyes red, and nodded as a tear fell down his cheek. “You came home.” 

Cephie barked and went for Hannibal who lifted the cupcake up from her reach. 

“Cephie, no! Lay down.” 

She whined and laid her head down on Hannibal’s lap. He pet her, smiling sadly. “What a wonderful gift.” 

Will knelt down but didn’t come closer. “You never come out on your birthday.” 

Hannibal kept on petting the dog. “I needed to use the restroom and found the house devoid of noise. It was...oddly frightening, and I soon discovered you and the dog were gone. I thought you’d left for the store but as the hours passed I began to suspect...” 

Will moved closer and touched his hand. “I wouldn’t! I...no. I...” 

“I apologize if my need to be alone today has...hurt you. This is not a day of celebration for me, and never has been. Not for a very long time.” 

He let out a breath. “Why?” 

Hannibal entwined his fingers with Will’s. 

“They came for us on my birthday. I was eleven. My parents tried to shield Mischa and I but...they were unable. After she was taken as well I no longer felt a need to celebrate.” 

Will squeezed his hand. “Hannibal....” 

“In my upset I decided to make cupcakes. I’m unsure why as I do not enjoy them, you do,” he whispered, his voice thick as he held the cupcake out to Will, “Would you like this one?” 

He wrapped his fingers around Hannibal’s where he held the cupcake. 

“Yeah,” he whispered, smiling as he let go of him to reach up into the nearest drawer, “Though I want you to do something for me first.” 

“I don’t enjoy cupcakes, Will. As it is my birthday you would think to give me some...” 

Will pulled a long stick lighter out of the drawer and Hannibal blinked as Will lit the candle on top of the cupcake. “Make a wish.” 

“Will...” 

“Please?” Will asked, his voice shaking, “For me?” 

Hannibal closed his eyes and blew out the flame. He blinked them open again just as Will squeezed his other hand. “What did you wish for?” 

“A long held hope that will never be.” 

“Maybe it’s not....” 

Hannibal handed him the cupcake and Will took out the candle before taking a bite. He sighed at the taste. 

“It’s a wish I’ve had for many years and long given up on ever happening. But as this is my first birthday wish in a very long time I thought perhaps I would share it with the powers that be.” 

Will moved in closer, licking his lips. “Tell me.” 

“Will...” 

He squeezed Hannibal’s hand. “You freaked out when I was gone for a few hours, Hannibal, and now that I’m here you’re...just tell me.” 

Hannibal squeezed and looked down at their joined hands. “This is enough.” 

“Hannibal, c’mon. It’s not...” 

He lifted his head. “I will tell you if you can tell me something, Will.” 

“Ok.” 

“Why did it bother you to not see me one day a year enough that you needed to leave the house?” 

Will looked away. “Maybe I was lonely.” 

“Perhaps.” 

“Or...maybe I just...don’t like it when you’re gone.” 

“If I were ever to leave and not return for hours what would you do?” 

He met Hannibal’s gaze again. “I’d go after you.” 

“And if you couldn’t find me? What then?” 

“I’d keep looking.” 

Hannibal smiled. “And then?” 

“I’d turn myself in so you would...know where to find me.” 

He brought Will’s hand to his lips. “I think perhaps...we’ve wasted some time.” 

Will swallowed. “I...” 

“Tell me, Will....what would you wish for?” 

“You,” Will whispered, his voice so quiet he was sure Hannibal wouldn’t hear, “I’d wish for you.” 

Hannibal pulled him in for a kiss that took Will’s breath away, the cupcake smushing into his knee as he climbed on Hannibal’s lap. He groaned as Hannibal’s tongue touched his, slowly tasting, and knew the sweet taste of the cupcake would forever make him remember this moment. 

Cephie barked and they ignored her, hungry for more, until she started to pull at Will’s pantleg making him laugh. He pulled back, laughing into Hannibal’s neck. 

“What is making you so amused?” 

“The dog! She...!” 

“Encephalitis, stop! Go to your room!” 

She froze, ears down, and trotted off. Hannibal held Will tighter, kissing his neck. 

“This has been the best birthday gift I could ever be given.” 

“Me too.” 

Hannibal smiled against his neck. “It is not your birthday.” 

“Might as well be,” Will mumbled, reaching up the back of his shirt, “I’ve waited for this just as long as you have.” 

Hannibal kissed him again, smiling. “Oh?” 

“Mmmm hmmm.” 

“Then perhaps...we had better finish this gift...elsewhere. We wouldn’t want to waste it.” 

Will grinned. “Sounds good to me.”

Hannibal kissed him again, sighing as Will dug nails into his neck, and when they pulled apart they both were breathless. 

“Hannibal,” Will whispered, touching his cheek, “You...you know I love you, right?” 

He watched a tear fall down Hannibal’s face. “I take back my words earlier. This is the best gift I could ever be given.” 

Will smiled. “Yeah?” 

“Yes,” he whispered, kissing Will again, “I...live and breathe for you, Will. Everyday. There is nothing in me that doesn’t worship and love you.” 

Will pressed his forehead against Hannibal’s. “You just had to one up me, huh?” 

“Of course.” 

He kissed him again. “I guess I better one up you some other way.” 

Hannibal licked his lips. “Happy Birthday to me.” 

Will whistled, “Happy Birthday,” the whole time they walked toward Hannibal’s bedroom, and when they were inside kicked it shut behind them. 

They didn’t come out till morning. 

And they did it again the following year. 

Hannibal never spent another birthday alone.

A new tradition, that they’d continue for many years to come.