#the snakes eyes turn blue when rags is in control or needs to see out of their eyes

[pixie-inkk]

Well, here are the designs for my AU!!!🐍

Made in commission by my lovely friend @yulyeong-k 💜

She did my girls justice!!!

[pilothusband]

fly me to the moon

Rating: M-ish (a lil spicy at the end)

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader

Warnings: Swearing, boner mention, a douchebag, a little hint at food shaming

Word count: 2.5k

Description: You go on a date with a complete asshole. He takes you on a helicopter tour, not expecting the pilot to be the one to sweep you off your feet.

Author’s note: Probably should have edited this more but meh. This was completely self-indulgent. Unbeta’d. Let me know what you think!

gif by @pedroispunk

Why did I agree to go out with this jackass in the first place?

Your eyes were starting to feel sore with the amount of times you had rolled them throughout your date. He hadn’t noticed the exasperated movement of your eyes, too swept up in talking about the summer he spent in Ibiza with his former fraternity brothers, his medium rare, overpriced ribeye untouched.

So far, everything had felt off. The way he pulled up outside of your apartment and honked his horn to signal his arrival, the anchor cufflinks in his freshly pressed suit, paired with a pair of leather boat shoes and a salmon-pink button down. You loved a man in pink, but the rest of the outfit just felt like it didn’t fit together. Was he going to a wedding or going to party on a yacht? You had glanced down at your own outfit, a simple black dress that stopped mid-calf and hung loose, just barely hinting at your curves.

God, you hoped he wasn’t going to take you on a boat.

You had only agreed to this date in the first place because Liam, an investment banker who worked in your office building in the suite below yours, had asked you nearly every day for a month in a row. He was persistent, kind of like a mosquito, but you figured you were being too picky and needed to expand your horizons a bit. Maybe you would learn more about him and actually have a good time.

Not so much.

You couldn’t help but notice the way his brows knit together when you had ordered the fettuccine alfredo. The restaurant’s menu was pretty limited, and you didn’t recognize most of the items. This place was just too fancy for your comfort. You had wanted to call the waiter back to the table and change your order to a cheeseburger, just to embarrass him further.

As Liam droned on about how his father had taught him how to manage his finances, you let your mind wander to last weekend. You had gone out with your friends, Benny and Will, a pair of brothers who were each other’s polar opposites, yet they had a bond that was stronger than any other siblings you had ever met.

You were already well acquainted with their other friends, Santiago and Frankie, affectionately known as Pope and Catfish. Pope had a magnetic personality– he commanded the room without meaning to, sometimes to the detriment of others around him, who were trying to get a word in edgewise. 

Frankie was complicated. He was quiet, a little rough around the edges, and a little gruff, but so soft at the same time. His eyes gave way to a deeply settled kind of hurt. They had drawn you in almost right away. It only took one glance at his smile, brilliant and boyish, with a hint of a dimple gracing his cheek, before you were hooked.

You had only known him for a few months now and only saw him when the guys got together, but you couldn’t deny the desire that clutched at your stomach whenever his deep brown eyes met yours.

You heard your date call your name, snapping you out of your daydream.

“You ready for part two of the best date ever?” Liam asked. His smirk was all wrong. It wasn’t soft or playful. It was polished and practiced. He reminded you too much of Patrick Bateman.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” you said, pasting a smile onto your face, inwardly wincing at how fake it was. You could not wait to go home and put on your sweatpants.

Shit. Holy shit.

He was taking you on a helicopter tour. The same company that Catfish worked for. Your stomach was in knots, threatening an unwelcome return of the alfredo you had for lunch.

Maybe he’s not working today, maybe we’ll get a different pil–

Of course you had no such luck. The guide ushered you both over towards the launching pad, where Frankie stood, wearing a tan flight suit. His hair was tousled, likely from being up in the air for most of the day and he had a pair of aviators on. He looked delectable.

His eyebrows shot up in recognition. He cocked his head to the side, glancing at your date, then back at you, a grimace set on his face.

Frankie schooled his expression and walked up and gave you a side hug, his hand squeezing your shoulder gently.

“Good to see you,” he said, giving you a small grin.

“You two know each other?” Liam asked, his eyes shifting between the two of you.

“Oh, yes, Liam– this is Frankie. He’s one of my friends.” 

Friends.

“Nice to meet you, Liam,” Frankie said, shaking his hand politely.

Liam gave Frankie one of his wide, practiced grins. “Likewise.”

You could have sworn you saw Liam wince a little during the handshake, but you chalked it up to pre-flight jitters. Liam slung an arm around your shoulder possessively and chuckled.

“Excited to show this pretty lady some pretty sights.” His fingers curled into your shoulder, a little too hard, and he jostled you a little, trying to come off as a cute gesture. It had you feeling like a rag doll. 

The smile you gave him must have been pretty forced, because Frankie coughed, interrupting the moment.

“All right, folks. Ready to get going?” 

You nodded, feeling a fluttering in your belly. Despite not wanting to be stuck in a helicopter with Liam, you were excited to finally see Frankie in action.

Frankie handed you both a pair of headsets and instructed you to buckle up. Before climbing in himself, he checked Liam’s belt, tightening it a little and then came over to your side, adjusting your belt as well. You risked a peek at him out of the corner of your eye, noticing the way his Adam's apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed. 

“All set,” he murmured, giving you a soft smile.

Before you knew it, Frankie was in the pilot’s seat and the helicopter roared to life. The blades were whirring above your heads, making your hair whip around your face. You tucked the sides of your dress under your legs, silently cursing Liam for not warning you of this afternoon’s non-dress appropriate activity.

The swoop you felt in your stomach was unlike anything you had felt before, more intense than a commercial flight. You tried not to fidget, knowing you were in good hands with Frankie piloting, but fuck, were you already high up, and only climbing higher by the second.

You briefly wondered how high up you were now, how high up Frankie had ever flown. You planned on asking him once you were all safely back on the ground.

A large gust of wind made its way into the helicopter, forcing a shiver down your spine, goosebumps rising on your woefully unprotected arms.

“You cold, sweetie?” Liam asked. “I would give you my jacket but I need it to stay warm. You should have planned better, gorgeous.”

You instantly clenched your teeth, wishing murder was legal at this very moment.

“Well, Liam, I would have brought a jacket if you had told me we were coming here,” you said, voice dripping with a sarcastic, syrupy sweet tone.

“I have a jacket in the compartment in front of you,” Frankie said, glancing over quickly. “Go ahead and put it on.”

You obliged, opening the compartment and bundling up in the oversized jacket, instantly feeling better once the corduroy material covered your arms. You wrapped it around your torso and took a deep breath, hiding your grin in the sherpa collar. It smelled like him.

“Thank you, ‘Fish,” you said softly. He didn’t respond, but you saw his dimple appear out of the corner of your eye.

“All good back there?” You heard Frankie’s voice in your ears. You looked over to him, only catching a glimpse of his hands and the side of his face, partially obscured by his headset and his baseball cap.

“Doing fan-tas-tic, Frank,” Liam whooped. You couldn’t help but wince at how loud his voice was, and how he intentionally pronounced Frankie’s name incorrectly.

“Great,” Frankie sounded unamused.

You huffed, annoyed at your date’s bad manners and looked out the window. Terrible date aside, you had to admit the bay from above was absolutely gorgeous. You looked down at the ocean, so expansive and eternally blue. Your eyes skimmed over to where water met land, at the soft sand on the beach, turning into a thick forest.

“Frankie, it’s beautiful,” you gasped.

You looked over at him briefly, seeing a hint of a smile on his face.

Liam was momentarily forgotten, until his hand snaked its way onto your thigh, giving it a little squeeze. Instinctually, you moved your leg at the unwanted contact. Liam looked over at you, an ugly scowl marring his face.

“Careful with the turns in this thing,” he said, addressing Frankie. “Our girl here ate about 15 pounds of pasta before this.”

You felt a hot wave of embarrassment wash over you, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes. They streaked down into your hairline from the force of the wind around you. You had already realized Liam was a bit of a douche, but you hadn’t thought him to be cruel.

“The only thing we have to worry about bringing this thing down is that big head of yours,” Frankie quipped back.

Biting back a laugh, you looked out the window so Liam wouldn’t see your reaction.

You could tell Liam wanted to argue back, but he stayed quiet, since the man he wanted to lash out at was responsible for keeping you all alive at the moment.

The rest of the ride was pretty quiet, other than the persistent chopping of the helicopter blades. The views were beautiful, but you found your eyes wandering back over to Frankie every few minutes. The tanned skin of his hands as he deftly worked at the throttle. Every time he pulled on a control you saw the veins in his forearms strain with the movement. You wondered what else those hands could do.

Before you knew it, the bird touched down and you unbuckled your seatbelt, removing the tight headset from your ears. You had a slight headache and you could tell getting down was going to be a struggle.

Frankie seemed to have no issue, jumping out of his seat with grace and walking over to your side to help you down. Your legs were shaking, so you stumbled as your feet hit the ground, grabbing onto his broad shoulders for dear life.

“I– oof, sorry,” you laughed nervously, rubbing your nose. You had bumped into his chest nearly smashing your face into his sternum. Frankie bit his lip and chuckled in response, squeezing your waist. You felt dizzy with his arms caging you in like this. It gave you an overwhelming desire to wrap yourself around him, to feel him pressed against you.

“It’s okay, I got you.” His voice rumbled in your ear, absolutely sending your senses on a tailspin. His strong, quiet voice was doing something magical to your already weak knees.

You stepped away before you fell over, remembering your date after a moment. He was about ten feet away, arms crossed, his face pinched in an angry expression.

“I don’t think this is working out,” he said as you walked over to him.

“I couldn’t agree more,” you said, giving him a sickly sweet grin. “I’ll find another ride home.”

Liam scoffed and made his way back into the tour center to grab his belongings. You instantly felt a weight lift off your shoulders. Thank God he left.

“So, why did you go out with that asshole, anyways?” Frankie asked, a bewildered expression on his face.

You sighed, feeling embarrassed.

“I honestly don’t know. He wouldn’t leave me alone so I decided to give him a shot.”

“I can’t say I blame him for being persistent, but seriously, fuck that guy.”

You huffed a laugh. 

“Seriously, when he made that comment about what you ate for lunch I wanted to throw him right out of the helicopter.”

You bit your lip and sniffed, feeling the embarrassment wash over you at the memory.

“I’m sorry you had to hear that,” your voice was small and you rubbed at your arms nervously.

Frankie had a hard, angry look on his face. It made you feel a little giddy, that he was so angry on your behalf.

“He should have never talked to you that way. He’s lucky you agreed to go out with his sorry ass.”

“You’re right. And God, I can’t believe he took me here, of all places,” you laughed. This really was surreal.

“Feels kind of like fate, huh?” He said, giving you a boyish grin.

“How so?”

“Well,” he stepped towards you, arms sliding up the material of his jacket. “I’ve always wanted to see you in this jacket.” His gaze made its way down your figure. His eyes were dark as he swallowed heavily.

“And I’ve always wanted to go on a date with you, though not while you’re on one with another man.” The smile he gave you was shy, searching, as if he wasn’t sure how you’d react.

“Well, I won’t be making that mistake again,” you replied, stepping closer. 

Your tongue came out to wet your lips and Frankie watched with rapture. 

“I’d like to kiss you now, if that’s okay.” His mouth was an inch from yours, and his large, calloused hands cradled your face gently.

“Please, Frankie,” you sighed.

His lips were soft, despite the bruising urgency in his actions. Your hands immediately tangled into his hair, knocking the cap off his head. You melted against him and licked his bottom lip, asking for permission. He immediately complied, licking into your mouth. Your tongues found a delicious rhythm, tangling together. You moaned into his mouth, spurring him on further. His hips pressed into yours. You could feel how hard he was, even through his flight suit.

“Fuck, baby” he rasped, pulling away. His chest was heaving, breath ragged from your kiss. “The things I want to do to you.”

You slanted your hips back into his, pressing into his erection. “Then do them.”

Frankie bit his lip and groaned, pressing his forehead to yours.

“You’re absolutely perfect for me, you know that?” 

You grinned, leaning forward to capture his lips again.

“I want to do this right, though,” he said. “I’m going to take you out on a better date. Show you how first dates should go. And then I’m going to take you home and show you how much I’ve wanted you for months.”

You felt as if your heart had stopped momentarily.

“That sounds perfect to me,” you said, kissing him again.

Taglist: @tenderclio @softdin @darnitdraco @freeshavocadoooo​ @recklessworry @wyn-dixie​ @manalg14​ @codenamewife @comphersjost​ @princessxkenobi​

[stuckybarton]

Sucker For Pain i

SUMMARY: You were new to the team, but what everyone didn't know was you weren't so new to the God of Mischief. CHARACTERS: Loki Laufeyson x Ex!Reader [Ex to Lovers again?] WARNINGS: Profanities. Suggestive Themes. Slight Angst and horrible self-image. Grammar Mistakes. English not being my first language. [Not Beta’d tho] WORDS: 2,956 CHAPTERS: [1/3] A/N; Life happened and yeah, didn’t have much time to write. Not my best work for this mini-series, but I’m fighting through for this. Hope you guys enjoy~

PART TWO | PART THREE

MASTERLIST || Join the Taglist

"Agent Y/N Y/L/N." You introduced yourself the first moment you were escorted into the compound by Director Nick Fury. Multiple sets of faces both new and old had come to greet you. For a moment you wouldn't even believe that this is was the new life you would find yourself to be a part of from now on.

Years in the job for SHIELD before disappearing off the grid to get as much information about HYDRA, everyone had thought you had betrayed them and you had accepted that they would think so lowly of you after all the near-deaths you had to endure on the job. Even with the mission becoming more of a death wish, you had accepted the role Nick had given you all those years ago and now you were rewarded, immensely. A spot on the Avengers as part of the Earth's Mightiest Heroes.

The familiar face of Nat was the first to greet you with a hug. A fiercely tight one, it had been so long since you've seen a friend. Then your eyes fell towards the rest of the team; Bucky Barnes, who you had a few close encounters with during your time with HYDRA. You had witness everything they had done to him and stood on trail to clean his name. Steve Rogers, who, with Sharon Carter, had assisted in guarding Steve while SHIELD was still under HYDRA's control. But among the familiar faces, one stood out the most.

Loki Laufeyson.

To many, the man was a snake, a God that had once brought death and destruction in New York. But to you, he was different, this was the man that you had spent your lonely nights with while under the guise of a traitor. It had once just been a physically thing between the two of you, neither wanting to know about each other's lives. You knew he was a God, a man that had wronged the world, but he had never known about you, the woman that had painted yourself as a traitor for the better of the world. The one that had been called every name on the book for the sake of making sure you did your part right.

Then it got serious between the two of you. Admission of love was told between both of your lips. But it was dangerous for you two to be together especially when you were already told by Fury that you can come back to the surface. You didn't know what side he was on, and you did not have the heart to make him choose if the time would come.

So you two parted. A month ago. The pain still throbbing you like an unattended bullet hole right through your heart. It was still so painful to look at him and not remember him crumbling on his knees begging you to stay. The first sob that escaped his lips and forever haunted your dreams. A never-ending loop in the back of your head as your demons screamed at you for breaking an already broken man.

"I for one am happy you're finally here. Another woman to add to an already Man's Man world in the compound." Nat teased glancing towards the other individuals that had come to know the new face. "With introductions out of the way, you've got a lot of explaining to do for the past few years."

You could only smile at your friend. You did have so much to explain to her, things had been murky between you and Clint, but after everything, Nat had refused to believe you would betray them, betray her, and it was finally a relief to be able to return back home, seeing the people that mean the most to you.

"Tell me about it." You muttered allowing Nat to quickly pull your away from the crowd, but it missed your eyes how he was still looking. Ice blue eyes a contract to the burning gaze he had towards you.

Forget about him. Forget about him. You were here for a new opportunity. No him. Never him.

For the next few weeks, everyone had grown to accept you in your new role as part of the Avengers. You kept up with Steve, Bucky, and Sam during their runs. Sam more than happy to finally have someone that had the same pace as him, but only for you to laugh and out run him just to get a reaction out of the high flier. Tony and Bruce had also found a kinship in you, having provided them enough information about HYDRA's experiments and location made most of their missions easier. Then there was Nat and Clint, your confidant in this new life. Every single moment that was not dedicated to a mission was spent with them; may it be movie night or a simple get together outside the compound, often times bringing Wanda and Vision along just to mess with you and call you a 5th wheel of the group.

But among number of members on the team, everyone had noticed you constantly avoided one Thor Odinson and one Loki Laufeyson. The only real time you would even dare talk to either of the brothers would be during training--other than that, you tried your best to avoid them, Loki most especially. Every single moment that would force the two of you to be in the same room, Loki had a glare while you tried your best to avoid his gaze.

Everyone noticed, everyone didn't seem to worry too much. It comes with having a former-villain part of the team. They thought you would eventually get used to the God's presence just as much as they did.

"You ever gonna tell me what's going on between you and Loki?" Nat inquired avoiding your punch.

What you hated the most about sparring with Nat was her capability of multitasking. Talking and snooping about someone else's business while also kicking their ass in the process--this was the predicament you were in right in this very moment.

"Nothing is going on." You muttered landing back first on the mat after being thrown like a rag doll by Nat. Eyes looking at the ceiling, you wondered if it was a good idea to actually come clean to her about her past with the God of Mischief. "I know what he's done to New York and I think you can't blame me for taking precaution when it comes to him."

Nat now comes hovering on top of you, the narrowed eyes and gentle smirk was all you needed to know--she knew it was bullshit. But when she had stopped pushing you for more information, it was enough for you to just change the subject.

"They found Dominic?" You inquired. One of the first big missions that everyone was focusing on was one of the leading Scientist for HYDRA. With the exposure of HYDRA to the world, some of them had moved away and found themselves in much shadier company, much to everyone's radar now spiking.

Dominic Wagner was, in part, partially responsible for the Winter Soldier program in the modern era. One of the pioneers in moving the project into a much younger sets of test subjects. You lost contact with the man as soon as your got back into the surface, but it had also meant a target was on your back when they found out you were a double agent.

"He's in Russia. Wasting away all the funding for the program with parties" Nat points out. "Still a better way to spend the money that abducting kids everywhere."

You nodded, memories of files upon files for the prospects still haunted you to this day.

"When are you taking him out?" You inquired. In your time with the SHIELD, the red in both of your ledger had made you two a hot commodity if the situation present itself as shoot to kill. Neither of you would hesitate. You knew you would now, after everything, but if it means one less bad people in this earth, you would swallow your new morals.

"Fury wants him alive." She pointed out finally standing back up to her own two feet, leaving you on your back, staring at the ceiling in deep thought. "I know as much as you do, we want him dead for everything he has done, but we need him alive so we can get the others."

You nodded, this was one of the few things you had to get used to as part of the team. Death was best solution in SHIELD--at least in your team, not here. As long as you were part of Steve's team, you would need to choose whether or not killing would be the best option. Hope that you weren't so blessed to be given in your time under.

"I get a first shot when we don''t have any use of him anymore." You muttered finally standing back up with Nat's help. Steps faltering at the sight of the God of Mischief, training with the likes of Peter Parker, Sam Wilson, and Bucky Barnes. A weird mix up, but wasn't hard to understand why.

"Why don't you shoot your shots with him for now." Nat teased, finally making you break from staring at the plain black shirt and green sweatshort-clad Loki Laufeyson. "If we try to ignore the death count during his attack, he is sort-of your type in men." Nat wiggled her brows. quick to avoid you as you attempted to swat her in the ass, eyes now turned away from God and his training partners.

"By type, you mean psychotic with possible Daddy-issue? Then you might just be right." You snort.

"I'm offended you think of me as such, Darling"

Jerking your head to the owner of the voice, how the hell did he sneak up behind you without you noticing. You glanced at Nat in panic and like the traitor that she was, made a terrible excuse of being needed in Bruce's lab. Now being left in the man's presence, you could all but remember the last time you had been this close to the man.

Heartbreaks.

Words that you didn't mean.

Words that he didn't mean.

It still hurt you, and you were sure it hurts him just as much, if not more now, finally realizing why there had been a need for a breakup between the two of them all those weeks ago.

"Here I thought I would have someone to trust. You mortals continue to disappoint me." He hissed.

Your eyes glanced at the other training trio, noticing all three of them were in their own little world to even noticed what was going on between the two of them.

"Tell me, Darling..." He whispered, head leaning towards the shell of your ears. The familiar shiver run through your skin as just his voice. Memories of the very things his silver tongue had whispered had you flustered and breathless, more than from your earlier training with Nat. "Was it satisfying to play with a God?"

Before you could even mutter a word, his constantly gentle hand now covered your jaw, emitting a squeak from your lips and stopping you from saying a word. He was never this forceful, nor did he do anything that would hurt you. Was this the true nature of the man you had finally thought you have been the best part of you. To have loved a man that everyone was right to stay away from?

"Or is it shame finally coming to you, to be ever involved with someone like me?"

You tried to pry his hand away from you, but he was too strong--stronger than you could ever think of being.

"Or is this you taking your opportunity to move from one bed to another? Who will it be this time, Y/N? My oaf of a brother or will it be Soldier out of time? Who will you whore this time?"

And you finally snapped. With a resounding slap, all three individuals had heard your attack on the man and Loki finally releasing his hold on your jaws. A chuckle escaped his lips and only brought the first line of tears to fall from your eyes. You never wanted to believe him to be a monster, but here he was, proving her wrong.

"I am in doubt of the foundation of our relationship for the past years, Y/N. I am the God of Mischief and Lies and the only mortal I had ever truly opened to had done this to me. Lied to me for such a long time, lied about the entirety of our relationship."

"You will never understand."

"Oh no," he chuckled darkly, eyes glaring straight into your own. "I understand well enough to know, you would never love someone like me and I deserve every lie and heartache I am enduring because of everything I have ever done in my past."

Before you could defend yourself and the genuinity of your relationship with the God, he had made his excuse. Leaving you to ponder of the true damage of your breakup with Loki, and the aftermath it had now held for the both of you. He was right, you had lied, and either way, their relationship will fall apart because of those lies.

He was the God of Mischief and Lies.

Yet, he did not expect for this biggest lie to break him the most. The separation had been painful, he had always hoped for a better life with you. Then a month passed since your breakup, he sees you, it hits him like a sharp knife to the chest all over again. He experience the pain of a stab to the chest, but it would never compare to the pain of seeing you in this very compound with the truth of your life that you refused to ever open to him.

This was karma coming to haunt him it seems.

It had been well over a week now since the first time he had actually confronted you about everything. It wasn't how he planned for things to go through. He never wanted to hurt you, but he was a monster after all. A monster that his own father had told his people to avoid. A bedtime story to scare mischievous kids into submission.

He had always thought after everything he had to endure, had to do, had to escape, he could finally live a peaceful life. A life to finally start anew. A life where he could finally change for the best. A mortal woman had made him make those ideas come into reality, you had always became the reason why he would never have his redemption in life.

A bitter idea with no possible resolution.

How could he have ever believed that anyone would ever love someone like him? After everything he had ever done, he was never allowed to be loved. You had proved that somehow.

'Mr. Laufeyson, you are needed for a meeting with the team'

Breaking from his little bubble. He sighed finally returning back to reality, into the little comforts the library could give him. The week had been gruelling for him, three individual witnessed the altercation between himself and you. It had spread like wildfire, but thanking the Gods that no one was able to listen to the conversation.

He had to endure most of the questioning. In everyone's eyes, he was, after all, still under everyone's constant scrutiny. A man that no one could trust. But he refused to say a single word knowing you did the same thing. It was better to keep your mouth shut instead of letting people know exactly what had happened. Somehow that brought a smile on his face. He might not share a future with you, but might as well make the most out of making your life a living hell, as much you did it to him.

Shutting the book he was barely even reading, he placed the book back into the shelf before walking his way towards the meeting room.

He could easily teleport, but he preferred to enjoy his moments of peace without his oaf of a brother breathing down his neck or Stark constantly testing his patience with his quips. It also gave him a moment to school his features, he knew well enough about the mission to know you would also be in attendance. Be more invested in this mission than anyone else.

It was a few things he was relearning about you now that you were out in the open as everyone claims you to be. You were a free spirited being that could meld with anyone you were in the area with. He had watched you throw relentless jabs at Tony during your first few days that had the man surprisingly raise a white flag. But the most dangerous thing he had to learn was the familial relationship you had with one Natasha Romanoff and Clint Burton, two people that he kept his distance with the most.

"Professor Snape has finally graced us with his presence."

Loki has learned since joining the team to choose his battle when it comes to Tony. This was one of those moment. Finding a vacant chair besides his brother, he had taken his seat. A big mistake on his part as he finds from across the table, you sat. In between a glaring Romanoff and Barton.

Wearing a smirk, just to get on the two super spies' nerve, he turned his attention right back into the meeting. He begins formulating a few little schemes to not only get on the two's nerved, but most especially yours.

[worstloki]

Concept: Because of going through Ebony Maw's torture repeatedly, Loki has cracks on his skin, all of them spiralling out of where Maw dug his needles in. His body is pretty much covered in cracks, from his cheeks down to his legs. He covers them all with a glamour.

“Brother, you’re becoming predictable.”

Thor crouches down next to Loki who is twitching on the ground, held in place, immobile, by the obedience disk he had attached to the back of his shoulder, just in case the need to manage him had arose. And, it has.

“I trust you, you betray me, round and round—” Thor’s smile drops, and he watches in horror as the blood vessels visible across only half of Loki’s face start to fade from a heated purple into blue, snaking over its entirety, like sharp folds of marquina marble.

Loki’s eyes widen slightly, and his mouth opens in an attempt to speak, though he doesn’t manage any sound except a quickly cut-off choke. He continues convulsing, and Thor averts his gaze over to Loki’s hands, palms partially gloved, only to find the same shades of blue bleeding through, like cracks in his skin; glistening cracks with a silvery outline that doesn’t manage to conceal what those exact blues mean to Loki. Or what they mean to Thor.

Those, as much as Thor wills to think it so, despite the colour, are not the natural markings of Jotun. He has fought Jotnar, and for all he’d been told of Loki being a frost giant he had been under the impression that even small for one, he at least looked as they did.  

The fissures run, outlines in silvery blue, to the tips of his fingers, Thor notes, and they are denser and coalesce through the centres of the palms and the areas directly under the cheekbones, from whence they spiral out.

They also slip under his sleeves and neckline, and Thor refuses to assume anything further than he can see; he refuses to imagine the rest of his brother’s skin divided in a mosaic of pales and blues, a harried patchwork of scars messily painted on, to imagine it a signifier of suffering passed, but also as a reminder infused into his very being. That Loki had been— that he is broken. Thor refuses.

But he has lived a millennia and a half through battles —albeit most on smaller scales than inter-realm warfare— but he immediately knows.

He can recognize torture. 

And he can recognize magic.

And Thor refuses to think what combination of physical and psychological stress could do this to Loki of all people. Loki. The Loki he’d known his whole life to be the most stable, persevering and reserved person in mind. The same who would joke and run his mouth and cause mischief but also the brother he trusted to always be at his side. The Loki he’d pitch to be an unbreakable companion, both in mind and heart, whose mastery of seiðr and knives, however unconventional, were indicative of his strength, his control, his pride. 

And now Thor doesn’t even know why or for how long Loki has concealed this fractured form from him— he doesn’t know if Loki would have ever told him freely. Or if this too would’ve been another family secret carefully constructed to keep him in the dark, to mark him as untrustworthy to know. Another silent battle, locked away.

“You’ll always be a liar, Loki,” Thor concludes, disappointed, knowing what he has said to be true, for who else but a coward would hide something like this? Something Thor may have at a time been able to have helped with, but now has no information nor empathy to spare, not for him.

Thor stands, turning his back to the alarm in Loki’s eyes, the slight shake of his head as if trying to refute the truth Thor can see with his own eyes.

He’s too hurt and angry at another of Loki’s deceptions to care about anything right now. He wants to go to Asgard and salvage what he can of the people he knows, who he trusts wouldn’t conceal themselves behind falsities, especially those of being alright when so much is wrong. 

Thor holds down on the remote in his hand, releasing the obedience disk’s hold on Loki, so that he may recast whatever illusion he no doubt wants to shield himself with, and he walks away, towards the ship.

Thor regrets not waiting till he was further away to relieve him of the pain when Loki’s ragged breathing breaks into voice behind him, and what he’d seen of Loki’s hands flash through his mind’s eye: cracks across his slender fingers and soft palms, cobalt streaks spreading around his wrist, which no doubt grow stronger rather than fainter further up the arm, likely another focal point for the corruption marks at the shoulder, the largest swirls emerging through the base of his sternum pierced through to covet both his back and chest in slivered crevices giving the illusion of shattered glass, another centrepoint a hairs-width above his hips on each side, rifts of blue emerging from the space between the lower thigh and knee in both directions, cracks curling around his feet from the roof of the ankle like vines. And, of course, the jagged cuts of blue he’d seen across his face. 

At the same time he also sees his brother as he’s known him for centuries, whatever he’d show of his entire body always unmarked, the same facial structure, the same bony wrists and hair and softness— but now he doubts how much of that, if any of it, was real. 

Thor closes his eyes hard to hold back the welling tears, as if anything Loki says can be a half-decent attempt to justify— as if any reason could ever be worth forgiveness for dismissively concealing something like this, which has impacted all of him enough for his own magic to taint his body in such a way of defense, to have pieced together whatever parts of him it could, and decide to hold him together so desperately under the distress he so evidently faced alone.

Loki speaks, barely loud enough to make it to Thor’s ears over the sound of the dimming alarms as he walks, almost as if Loki’s words are first and foremost for himself, as if he is the one who needs the comfort of them, and Thor a mere spectator.

“My skin was already a lie; I just added a few words of my own to it.”

Thor’s heart shutters and he feels his resolve crumbling. He ignores the pain in his chest and keeps walking away. 

[talkfastromance4]

Shock & Delight--luke hemmings

a/n: hello! I’ve been obsessed with Bridgerton and I just finished the show last night and this popped into my head!

word count: 2.2k (little short but it’s steamy)

warnings: smut, slight praise kink, unprotected sex and a twist😏

Masterlist

Enjoy! feedback is always welcomed :)

• • • •

You’re humming to your favorite song that played at the party downstairs as you stroll through the corridor, your long dress making whispers against the carpet. It was a wonderful party with lots of drinking, dancing, and wandering eyes to a certain Prince with golden hair and eyes as blue as the sky.

You reach your room and open the door to be welcomed by an array of flickering candles placed about the space. They were on your dresser, on your nightstands, on your vanity; anywhere there was a flat surface was a candle and it cast the room in a fantastical glow.

Standing next to the bed was the Prince himself, the top half of his buttons popped open to reveal the planes of his chest. In his hand was a single white rose, perfectly bloomed and you blushed at the secret romance of it all.

“Hello, my lady,” Luke greets, his voice soft and gentle. He takes careful steps towards you at the doorway which you quickly shut and lock. You breathe in deeply through your nose, your heart beating loud like thunder in your ears.

“My Lord,” you reply then gasp as you turn around to see how close he’s standing. So close in fact that you could count his eyelashes and smell the sweet subtle aroma the rose is giving off. “You know this isn’t allowed. You should be down at the party.”

“As should you,” he smirks then points the rose closer to your face. “I found this outside your door with a note from some…military man.”

Your eyes widen slightly, your mind envisioning stacks of letters with a love sworn for you in each one and sealed with a kiss. You can picture the words of love scrawled perfectly on parchment with sonnets filling in the empty spaces.

“Is that so?” you quirk an eyebrow and become very interested in plucking the fingers of your long white gloves off your hand. “And what did the note say?”

“Something about how you outshone every woman downstairs and the stars up in the heavens combined,” his eyes are trained on you, but his slender fingers caress the petals of the flower.

“What a romantic,” you smile slipping the glove slowly from your arm. Luke’s eyes flicker to the movement, his throat working at the smoothness of your skin. “You know it’s against the law to read someone else’s letter and to break into their room, my Lord.” You start pulling the other glove off when Luke takes over.

His fingers are cool on your skin as he drags the soft fabric down your arm that is now lifted onto his shoulder. When the glove is removed, Luke skims his lips over your wrist.

“Even if the letter was written by yours truly?” he murmurs, goosebumps rising on your skin as he presses his lips to your wrist.

“I…I hadn’t read it yet, so, yes…it’s against the law,” you sigh at his gentle caress of a kiss. Then, remembering yourself, you remove your arm and yourself from his body. The short distance from him to your vanity helped clear your head slightly from his advancements. “This is also a fire hazard.”

“I would never let anything harm you,” Luke hums and the song you love starts to play again.

The violins tickle your ears as you feel Luke’s body press against yours, a warmth spreads all over your body from his proximity. You both inhale deeply when he ducks his head to your exposed back above the dress, his breath sends shivers down your spine.

“A rose would never smell as sweet as you do,” he exhales letting the tip of his nose glide across your skin. “You’re honeysuckle.”

You try to control your breathing when he starts to unbutton the back of your dress. All of your senses have escalated. You’re aware of every centimeter of yours he touches; you can feel the warmth from every candle. When the buttons are all undone, you shift your shoulders, so the dress falls with a soft whoosh at your feet and you’re left in a very thin silk chemise that stops at your thigh.

Luke exhales on your neck causing you to shiver again and you feel his smile on the curve that connects your neck and shoulder.

“Do you even realize how beautiful you are?” he takes your wrist to spin you around and pushes you against the vanity. His eyes rake over your body and the way your nipples poke through the see-through chemise. “Every man was jealous when we danced, you know.”

“I highly doubt that,” your voice trembles as you watch him slip his finger beneath the thin silk strap.

He makes it fall low on your shoulder then does the same to the other strap so the slip is only being supported by your breasts.

“Do you?” he quirks an eyebrow before finally sucking a kiss to your neck. Your head tilts back on its own accord as his lips kiss lower and lower, his fingers pull down the fabric exposing your breast to the air and his lips. “Do you doubt me?”

“I—”

You gasp in a breath as his mouth latches to your breast, his tongue swirling over your nipple. He takes it delicately between his teeth, pulling on it and sucking at the same time. Your head is spinning and the space between your thighs starts to burn.

Luke sucks and flicks your breast the best of his ability before moving to the other one. He palms at your breast, humming on the soft flesh. It’s as if he’s enjoying himself as much as you are. With a pop, he removes his mouth, pointer finger and thumbs tweaking your nipples as he stands straight to stare at you.

“You didn’t answer me. Do you doubt me?”

“No,” you barely whisper.

After a moment’s stare, Luke’s lips are on yours and his hands bunch up the chemise as he pulls you to him. You’re standing on his toes, his fingers kneading your bum while his tongue rolls over yours in such a pleasurable way. Needing more, wanting more of him you can’t help but moan and roll your hips against his.

Luke pulls you from the vanity and you dance your way to your bed where Luke falls. Your fingers pull at his hair as he unbuttons his shirt, lips still moving together in such a manner it makes the heat between your legs even stronger.

You pull your arms out of the small straps, Luke’s hands do the rest to pull the chemise off you and you’re quick to climb onto his lap. Your chest presses against his, your core rubbing over his hardened trousers.

“Lift,” he murmurs around your lips. You rise up onto your knees as he yanks his pants down as far as he can. Your hands meet as you both grasp at his dick, your eyes lock and the kissing pauses.

As if of one mind, you lower yourself, both of your hands guiding his dick between your folds. You hum and bite your lip at the feel of him teasing inside your hole. You work together, breaths mingling, inserting himself inside you. With each inch you let out a soft moan as he fills you and you flutter around him.

“Almost, almost…there you are,” he exhales as he’s finally sheathed all the way. You tug on his lower lip with your teeth then roll your head from side to side enjoying the stretch.

You start to rock on top of him and bring your hand from between the two of you behind his neck so you have more leverage to use your waist and legs to ride him.

“Look at me,” he commands softly.

You open your eyes and seeing him already staring at you jumpstarts your motions. You’re rocking and rolling on him at a faster pace, your clit being clipped by his shaft as you rise and fall on top of him. You gain momentum, mouth opening as the familiar pull in your lower tummy flutters and your toes start to curl. Luke’s breathing becomes heavy with yours as he gives you full control, his arms snaking around your waist.

“I can feel you…you’re almost there,” he murmurs then kisses you just as you moan. Your eyes fall closed and then the kissing stops. “I want you to look at me when you cum.”

You move even faster, his hands aiding your movements as he presses on your lower back. Your mouth opens in a silent moan, the pull in your tummy becomes stronger as you keep hitting that perfect spot. You’re almost there, a few more rocks, you’re slick with arousal and he’s slipping in and out of you so easily.

“Here it is.”

“Oh! YES! Yes, yes, yes, yes,” you moan as your orgasm hits you like a tidal wave. You slam onto him one last time and circle your hips to keep your orgasm going, your arms are stick straight behind his neck as your pleasure goes everywhere.

Luke gives you soft pecks on the corner of your open mouth as you come down.

“My turn,” he mutters then lifts you off him. You whimper at the loss of being filled by him and you fall next to him on the bed.

You move sluggishly on your back as he pulls of his pants then situates himself between your legs. He slides inside you effortlessly, your neck arching in ecstasy. Luke’s hips snap against yours; he tucks one leg onto his waist, his fingers dancing along your thigh.

He’s grunting and you’re moaning as he quickens his speed, your bodies move sloppily together eager to chase a high. You drag his face down to yours so you can kiss him, you pry his mouth open with your tongue then suck on his tongue with your lips. Luke groans so loudly you feel it in his tummy that’s pressed against yours and you swear you see stars.

Your movements become more ragged, the rhythm is staggered as he feels his release coming and then you’re moaning when yours arrives. Your head tilts back and you’re smiling at the light feeling you have in your body as Luke continues to drivee himself in and out of you until he’s filling you up. He practically growls against your neck, his fingers squeezing your thigh, your chemise is bunched at your waist.

Your ears are ringing slightly, and you laugh at the leftover ecstasy, your body spasming slightly as he pulsates the last of his own orgasm inside of you. What a feeling.

When you’ve come down, Luke kisses your breasts then gives you a long tender kiss. You hold his cheek in your hand wanting to keep him there longer and chase after his lips when he starts to break away.

“Not yet,” you titter tugging on his lower lip with his teeth. He chuckles and continues his pull away from you.

“I’m getting a towel.”

Your legs fall slack against the bed, your core still throbbing in after shock of the treatment it just received and you’re giggling at the memory of it all. You’re giddy and electric, staring up at the ceiling then at the candles surrounding you. You’re still laughing when Luke returns.

“What’s so funny?”

“This was perfect,” you turn your face back to him and smile. His curls are mussed, there’s a slight sheen to his chest and his eyes dance with the candles.

“I’m glad,” he smiles and presses the towel between your legs to clean you up. You jolt at the touch and he murmurs a ‘sorry.’ He folds the towel underneath you to catch what he’s missed, and he lays next to you on the bed. “I didn’t realize this was still on.”

He touches the bunched-up chemise that is more in the shape of a belt on your waist. Splotches are already forming on your breasts from his mouth.

“You were otherwise occupied,” you giggle curling your body into his. You kiss his chest repeatedly and his arm wraps around you.

“You’re very giggly,” Luke chuckles in your hair. “Are you sure it was okay? Is this a nervous tick of yours?”

“No, no, you played out my Bridgerton fantasy amazingly,” you hum then pull back to look at him. His fingers tickle up your back, over your shoulder then onto your neck. His thumb rubs your jaw, a soft smile still displayed on his lips.

“I’m glad. I liked having you call me Lord.”

“Yeah? I liked how you acted jealous about a military man,” you smirk kissing his chin. “Thank you for not thinking I was crazy.”

“I’m up for roleplay, lovie, you know that. Remember that time we pretended to pick each other up at the club?”

“That was fun,” you grin deviously. “What would you like to roleplay next?”

“We can keep doing this one,” he ducks his head to give you a mind-numbing kiss.

“What’s the story?” you sigh as his lips move lower and he sucks on the lobe of your ear.

“It starts off in the library…with my face between your thighs…”

You let out another giggle picturing the scene from the show and enjoy Luke’s lips as he kisses you all over. Your body is buzzing and warm and full of love.

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[moregaythanyourealized]

The Mayor

Part 3

“We start this evenings broadcast with shocking news from town hall. This morning at roughly 8:30 our dear Mayor was killed by none other than Doc Ock. Luckily for us though he is behind bars thanks to the efforts of Y/n L/n, who is now being sworn into office.” The camera showed the procedure and Y/n in a new outfit. A blue dress that fir her quite well. Otto couldn’t stand it. He had only been in prison for a few hours and he already hated his life more than before. He was drugged up and his machine felt much heavier than it used to, he had next to no control of his body. His only way to see the world was through a small grainy TV that was posted in the corner of his cell.

His cell was incomprehensibly unfitting for a man such as himself. An old bed that left a crick in his neck. A toilet which he thankfully hadn’t needed to use yet. And a small table in the corner with the even smaller TV. The walls of his cell were unbreakable. Some material he didn’t know the name of surrounded the outside of it. He could chip at the concrete but the outside wouldn’t budge. Somehow he was sure you had funded the building of this cell. Just to spite him. The TV showed you suddenly and his attention was drawn back,

“It was terrifying to be in the clutches of such a lunatic. I did what anyone would do, if only I could’ve done more to save our dear Mr Thomas. May he rest in peace.” What a load of shit, he thought. You had fooled the people just like you had fooled him,

“What will happen to Doc Ock?” Y/n brushed her hair out of her face and looked directly into the camera,

“After I visit him tomorrow, he’ll be getting what he deserves. I demand justice for the death of Mayor Thomas.” People clapped in the background and Otto shut off the TV trying to get some sleep. He dreamed of you and this morning. He dreamed of how he wished it went.

The rain pouring down over the both of you as he held you close. You’d look up at him and pull him in close kissing him softly and thanking him for saving the city. For saving you. His hands would wrap around your waist and he’d carry you back to your apartment and you two would dry off and have a romantic dinner together. Sharing your plans for the future of New York....

He awoke with a start. Some guard yelling at him to get up. Groaning he lifted himself from the bed and walked sluggishly towards the door. A series of clicks and other strange noises come from the other side of the wall before the door swung open. Being handcuffed yet again he was led to a glass enclosure. This is miserable, he thought. They’re treating me like an animal. He was sealed inside the glass and felt cool air conditioning by his feet. A large vent blowing freezing air and making the space breathable. It woke him up a bit. The effects of whatever they injected slowly wearing off. One of his claws knocked on the glass, no damage. He couldn’t just break out either, there were guards all over the entire prison. When the door opened again he scowled. You looked tiny compared to the metal door and waltzed in as if you were an old friend. You wore a long pale pink coat and black gloves finished off with a black ascot. You looked unbearably cute but knew what you really were,

“What do you want L/n?”

“I listen to the people, and they demanded I see you to know you’re reasoning for killing a public figure.” Slamming his fist against the glass he stared you down,

“I did it because you told me to, you crazy bitch.” You nodded in agreement pulling off your gloves gingerly and setting them in your pocket,

“And I did it because you made it easy, if you had been smarter I might’ve avoided you and picked someone else to help me.” His appendages moved like protective snakes behind him.

“Did you come here just to mock me?” You got closer to the glass tilting your head to see his expression he looked distant. It made you a little sad,

“I don’t want you to rot here in prison. Because despite all that I’ve said...” You cleared your throat,

“The greatest thrill and joy I’ve had so far was the short time I worked alongside you.” He met your eyes and did nothing for awhile. Then he just sighed and turned away from you,

“I can’t deal with this right now.” You frowned and stepped back,

“Fine. I understand you don’t exactly like or trust me. But if there’s anything I can do...just let me know.” God! You really were confusing. One minutes you’re kissing, then you have him thrown in jail and now you’re asking about doing him favors? What are you trying to do to this poor mans head?

“Tell the guards to give me some time before they take me back to my cell.”

—————POV CHANGE—————

He hears the door close and looks around before using one of his metal arms to pry the top off the air vent. He wasn’t going to fit through it but he could tear up the floor around it to make him fit. And that’s exactly what he did. While you told the guards to give him time and to treat him better than other prisoners the doctor was wondering through the giant vents. His brain felt sharp and alert again. So did his tentacles, a flicker of red warned him to stop but he wouldn’t, not when he’s gotten this far. Finally he found a vent to a control room. He burst through the ceiling and killed both the guards. He sat at the computer and began typing. Y/n was going to regret this. With a few clicks and the push of a button all cell doors, outside doors, and gates were unlocked. He’ll had been released and so had New York’s greatest super villains. The city would be chaos and with the record for shortest office time ever, Y/n would be kicked out and replaced. Maybe the new shmuck in charge would know how to handle the city. Leaving the room he flew down the halls. His tentacles taking him to the personal belongings room. Searching the drawers he found what he was looking for. Grabbing his jacket and glasses he exited the building (cue epic music). Walking over crowds of anyone from petty thefts to fellow evil doers he stepped into the freshly fallen snow. It was around noon, by nightfall this place would be a wreck. He saw your car leave the parking lot. His tentacles took over, the flashing red now bright and constant. One grabbed the car while another ripped the door off. He heard your screaming from inside and did nothing to hide the joy spreading across his face. Your face paled when you saw who had wrecked your car and you pushed yourself as far away as you could. He got closer to the car and looked in the gaping hole on the side. You were shaking against the door on the opposite side. A limb reached in and wrapped around her neck. She closed her eyes expecting the worst. But the machine only untied her ascot from her neck and tied it around her mouth. She tried to scream again but it was muffled by the gag. Then ripping leather from the interior of the car it was tied tightly around her wrists and ankles. Pulling her into the cold air she shook her head,

“I think it’s time Brooklyn sees the type of leader you really are. Let’s have some fun.” His voice was different now. Dark and clever. The wreckage of downtown broke your heart. Historical buildings destroyed or burned down. Hundreds of not thousands of criminals on the streets. Between the speed you were going at and the ice in your eyes they all looked like blurs. The wind stopped whipping at your face, you couldn’t see what was behind you but you could tell where you were. The bank, of course. It was hard to process everything. Eventually you stopped trying and just laid across his shoulder. Setting you down he demanded the bank teller open all the safes,

“If you don’t, I’ll break every bone in her body. One by one. When I’m done she’ll be so deformed her own mother won’t recognize her.” The teller scrambled with the keys and began unlocking everything. He laughed and began bagging what looked the most valuable,

“I hope you know this is very much your fault.” He smiled at you. The sinking in your stomach only went deeper. When he finished he picked you up once more like a rag doll and exited the building. Crushing the ceiling on the way out,

“Where shall we go? The city is ours.” He said nothing but got a devious glint in his eyes before taking you back through downtown. He stopped in front of your apartment. How did he know where you lived? When you entered the building it was like a ghost town. No employees or lobby boys. Only the distant sounds of chaos and the ding of the elevator as you ride it up to the top floor. Thankfully he didn’t know which exact apartment belonged to you. He set you down and you pointed to a door near the end of the hall. He didn’t bother to pick you back up or untie your feet so you could walk. He just dragged you behind him along the carpet while he talked about the design of the building. He stopped in front of your door. His human hands found their way to your waist. You tried to wiggle away from him but he reached down. You sighed when you realized he was only getting the keycard from your pocket.

You apartment was cold. He set you on the couch and began trying to light a fire in your fireplace,

“You have a lovely place, sure know how to use the tax payers money huh?” He let his jacket fall to the floor, revealing his bare chest. He must’ve been cold outside without a shirt on. He was out of sight and into your kitchen. He came back with a bottle of wine and a large glass. He left your hands tied but undid the restraints around your ankles and mouth. Taking a deep breath in you went to yell at him. Before you could you were pulled into his lap. Switching the TV on he shushed you and ran a hand down your back making you shiver,

“Is it the end times? Citizens of New York are wondering what is happening? Mere hours after Mayor L/n is elected the city falls into destruction. On her trip to visit Doc Ock it’s believed he escaped and freed the other prisoners. Riots, fires, building destroyed and collapsed in what’s possibly New York’s worst day yet.” The camera switched to different people getting interviewed,

“It’s terrible! I’m afraid to leave my home!”

“I knew we shouldn’t have elected a woman.”

“I heard she was working with the Doctor the entire time!” Tears burned at the corners of your eyes. You couldn’t reach the remote, and if you tried to get up he’d just pull you right back down. Guilt was the main emotion, but you felt some resentment as well. These people knew nothing! You were tricked... kinda, not really. But you never intended for this mess to happen. Karma had finally caught up with you. The people on the news kept taking and talking. You couldn’t take it anymore,

“Turn it off! Please!” Otto shrugged and changed the channel to a hockey game,

“Is all the pressure getting to you, Mayor?” His hand was resting on your thigh while the other held his wine glass. You wanted desperately to shower and go to bed. To wake up in a different dimension where nothing ever happened. The room became unbearably hot. You weren’t sure wether it was the fireplace or the guilt (or maybe something else),

“Could you untie my hands please? I’d like to get out of my coat.” You got off his lap and stuck your hands out for him to untie,

“Last time I trusted you, you and me thrown in jail. I’m not making that mistake again.”

“I’m not asking you to trust me, I’m asking you to untie my hands.” He stood up and began slowly uniting them. He watched you intensely as you took your coat off. Turning away from his gaze you walked into your bathroom and looked at yourself in the mirror. You were a strong powerful leader who was going to get out of this mess....somehow.

[voiceswithoutlips]

Fallen - Chapter One

— pairing: OT7 x Reader (F) — genre: Fantasy AU, Vampire AU, Soulmate AU, Fluff, Eventual Smut, ANGST , Poly!BTS — word count: 2.8k — Rating: M — warnings: minor character death, slight gore — beta: Thank you so much @taegularities​ and @unoriginal-username15432​ for all you feedback <3

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— chapter summary:  

The people you killed, they haunted your dreams. They would say to you, “What you do always comes back to you, there is no escape from this miserable life.” It was true, there was no escape. In your world there was only darkness, sorrow, fear, hate and death, always death.

— A/N: It is I, your idiotic author. Welcome to my blog <3

Ch. 2

The sound of rain was like a roaring beast. It was almost midnight and the roads were lonely. You stood there in an alley facing a madman, uh, mad-vampire. His eyes were glowing red; he was wearing a dirty grey cloak on his rag like cloth. His brown hair had gotten messy when he’d run away from you but there he was, still as a dead body, waiting for you to attack. There were thick walls on both sides of the alley and behind him was a dead end. He was trapped.

“Lockham, why don’t you come back with me? That way I won’t have to kill you,” you suggested to the psycho killer vampire who stood a mere ten feet away from you. There was no way for him to run so maybe he would attack. You weighed your options - fight? That would’ve been nice; at least your body would’ve gotten some exercise.

He laughed. “You think you can win? Destiny is waiting for you Hunter,” he said in an impressive voice. Another one of those ‘destiny’ believers. Apparently the Goddess had a plan for us all, not that you had much faith in it. Gods don't care about who kills whom or who eats what, they’re more concerned about their own entertainment. You’d never put much faith in any higher power, God or not, nobody gave a shit.

“You’ve killed people Lockham, you’ve been a very naughty vampire and now it’s time for your punishment,”you said as a teacher would say to a naughty kid. He took a step back.

“Who are you to punish me?” he mocked, showing you his blood covered teeth. He was just having a meal when you found him and then you two had a nice chase. You were glad that he ran, you wanted to stretch out your legs anyway.

“Exactly, I’m no one,” you said and took a step forward; he took a step back simultaneously and vanished. What? Vanished? How? You walked forward to investigate and sighed. How careless of you. There was a hole, he fell into the sewer. He must have used cloaking so that it would look like he vanished. The only thing he forgot was to close the hole. You shook your head,  you hated wet places! You jumped down and landed lightly on your feet, without making a sound, perfect.

You were getting bored of chasing him, it was almost dawn and you needed your beauty sleep. You took a deep breath and pulled out your silver dagger. It was your favorite weapon. Silver was deadly to vampires. It was very pretty with a finely carved snake on the handle with emeralds where the eyes should be; a gift from someone you had known a long time ago.  You closed your eyes and let your mind wander through the tunnels. Just like your immunity to silver, your telepathy was stronger than centuries old vampires and you could perform magic. You were a half-witch after all.

You found him running through the tunnels. As soon as your mind touched him, he froze. You were inside his mind now. Reading someone’s mind was nothing like watching a movie or reading a book. It was like waking up from a dream, you don’t remember what you saw or heard but the thing that you remember is the feeling, the essence of the dream. Every being has a certain essence, unique to them. Like walls that you can’t see or touch, but you know they’re there. You could clearly see the tunnel before you, but it was like a distant memory, you were no longer there.

You were in a room, an old room with cobwebs and dust. It smelled of something rotten, like a thousand dead rats. There were worn out clothes hanging from the ceiling - correction, there was no ceiling, just clothes hanging midair and swaying with the wind, except there was no wind. At one corner sat two rusty iron chairs. The window with broken glass showed a full moon. 

There was an old cupboard on the wall with the yellow wallpaper. It was white as if someone had carved it from bone. There were noises coming from the cupboard, screeching, screaming, the cry of a baby, the soothing voice of a mother, someone’s last words. A shudder ran through your body. I will never ever do this again, you promised yourself. 

You heard a creak from behind and you swiftly turned back. There he was, sitting in a corner, the little boy. He held a tattered grey cloak in his hands. His body was folded at impossible angles. He was white as a sheet, there was no blood in his body. He was thin with brittle bones. Dull brown eyes in a sunken face held unimaginable terror. 

He looked up at you. “I’m tired, I want to sleep,” he whispered and quickly stole a glance at the cupboard.

“Then why don’t you sleep?” you whispered back, clearly not wanting to wake anything in there. Yeah, getting into someone’s mind was a nice thing, you could get full control over them... but there was a catch. If something went wrong in that mind or if you failed to escape in time, then you’d be trapped there forever, or die. You were pretty sure that you didn’t want to be trapped in this mind, not here.

“They don’t let me sleep, they keep me awake so that I could bring more and more food for them,” he replied, pointing a finger at the cupboard. Slowly, you understood what he was saying. ‘One without a soul feeds on other’s souls,’ the thought crossed your mind, not a good one.

“What if you don’t bring them food?” You already knew the answer but you asked anyway, maybe just to confirm it.

“I’ll go mad,” he whispered back with horrified eyes.

“Come to me, I’ll help you sleep.” The words left your lips, the real ones which were still attached to your face. Lockham turned back and slowly walked towards you. You could hear his heavy footsteps in the tunnel.  At last he took the last turn and there he stood right in front of you. His eyes were blank. It was like there was no soul in his body, no life. You had him entirely under your control. If you told him to do ballet, he would dance like a professional, but you weren't a sadist. Life had already tortured him enough. 

“Come forward,” you said softly, the sooner it ended the better. He walked forward and your silver dagger slashed through his throat, severing his spine, killing him in a second. Blood splashed and soaked his body. It was a merciful death, you had seen worse. There are worse things than death in this world. Death was just an easy escape.

You stood there for a moment, looking at him, wishing that the outcome would’ve been different. Were you feeling sorry for him? No, you were feeling sorry for yourself. You were a fifty year old vampire and in all your years as a hunter you’d killed hundreds of criminals, but you had never been able to save one. 

People knew and people talked. Some said that you were cursed; you were the representative of death, the spawn of darkness. As a result, the council only gave you high profile cases, criminals that were too far gone to be saved. It was always death. The people you killed, they haunted your dreams. They would say to you, “What you do always comes back to you, there is no escape from this miserable life.” It was true, there was no escape. In your world there was only darkness, sorrow, fear, hate and death, always death.

You pulled out your cell phone and called the police. They would take care of the body. You bent down to leave a tracker near it, so they would find it easily. Lockham’s eyes were wide open, and you closed them. “At least one of us is at peace,” you whispered. 

“You’re home!!” little Lilly exclaimed happily as you walked through the door. Your  family was sitting in the dining room, having supper. You were the firstborn, the eldest of your father’s children. Your father was the Duke of Serafino, the City of Snake; one of the two warrior cities in the Vampire Kingdom. He was a nice man with brown eyes and hair, fair complexion, nicely built but a little short. 

Your stepmother was a beauty; she had blue eyes, fair complexion, sharp features and hair spun like gold. Her children took after her, all cream and gold. They all hated you, except for the little one, Lilly.

“Yay, I’m home,” you said sarcastically. It was hard not to be nice to the little girl who looked at you with wonder in her eyes; she was so full of life. To no one’s wonder you had blood on your clothes and your darling step mother eyed it with a look in her eyes that said filthy. For you, it was like an invitation. You were planning to have supper in your room just like any other day, but you sat down at the end of the table. Your father was seated at his normal seat which belonged to the head of the family. The chair right across from him was the place for his wife, but that was your mother’s place and now it belonged to you. 

Your mother had died in childbirth, you had her amber eyes and olive skin. Her name was Katina. People told you that she’d been a beauty; you had some of her pictures and sometimes you would feel her close beside you. It was a weird feeling, but not bad, not at all. You weren't a person who put her feelings on display, heck you hadn’t even cried in like twenty years! The only permanent feeling you had left was emptiness. You felt numb, like a shell, nothing inside, no love, no hope, not even sorrow after all these years. It felt like you were dead and it was true, your heart was dead.

“I would like some blood sausages Charles and don’t forget the wine,” you said cheerfully to the butler. He was a nice guy, always talked politely. You suspected that he was in love with the cook, Ms. Glen; it would be nice to have some love in this house which felt like living in a coffin.

“How was your day, Y/N?” Lilly asked, her cheerful eyes trained on you. You wondered for how long this child would be allowed to keep her innocence? When you’d been her age ...you shied away from that thought. Thoughts bring back memories and your memories were like old corpses, one would never want to dig them. Instead you took a bite of your sausage - man, they were delicious.

“It was almost nice, Bunny. I played who-can-catch-me with a friend and I won!!” Bunny was the nickname you had given her because she was never still. Everyone paused for a moment; it was really weird and funny at the same moment. You loved how all the eyes drifted to you and back to Lilly. She was beaming because you had won the game. You gave her a small smile.

“Oh that’s wonderful!! Where is your friend now?” Curious little kid, everyone paused again, including you this time.

“You see, we were playing on a bet. He lost the bet so he had to …go to another city.” You were very good at lying, but her beaming eyes and pure innocence made it hard. It was impossible to lie to that child.

“When would he come back?” she asked, and you sighed. Your plate was half empty and the looks everyone were giving you just killed the hunger inside. You stood up with the wine glass in my hand.

“Chew your food, Bunny,” you replied and left the room.

Your room was a mixture of blue and gold. The wallpapers were straight lines of different shades of blue. The furniture was of mahogany wood with fine carvings. The round rug was golden on the edge and blue in the middle, it looked like a pool of water. All the linen was blue and gold as well. Your bed was round and big with golden bedposts and curtains. You had a balcony of your own with a little fountain with a sculpture of a mother and her child. You had spent a lot of time taking care of the blue roses in your garden. 

The front wall was covered with your music collection. You found peace in music, it was the only time when you could just forget everything and float. You quickly changed and crawled under the sheets, picking up the remote from the side table and pressing the play button. It was Mozart’s duo. What an amazing symphony! It helped you drift back to your happy memories.

Unlike your half brothers and sisters, you were raised in Tiria. It was a small town on the edge of Serafino. You were raised by the Countess of Tiria, a very kind woman. She had grace, beauty, and wealth but no children. She showered you with love and pretty gifts. You had excellent teachers for your education. You learned everything from crochet to fencing. 

The manor there was old and beautiful. It had a beautiful garden and a whole forest around it. You would often go into the forest, just to explore it. Those were the happiest days of your life. Until your tenth birthday - the day the Countess died.

Just like the symphony, your thoughts turned darker. You’d been happy that day; the maids had told you that you were going to have a big birthday party. The Earl had been there for two weeks now. Your innocent mind had thought that he was there for your birthday. That morning you were out in the gardens, picking up some red roses for the Countess, it was something you did every day. You would just run into her room to put them on her side table, she loved that. You held the bunch of roses in your tiny hands, running through the house to her room. You were wearing a very pretty white dress with laces and pink ribbons. Your bare feet softly met the stone floor as you ran to her room and pushed the door, happily calling to her.

The Countess was there, lying on the floor in a pool of blood. There were bruises on her body and a sword, stabbed right through her heart. The handle of the sword was in the hands of the Earl. He twisted the blade with a cruel smile in his eyes. Then you screamed. The flowers falling from your hands, red roses into red blood - they were the same color. Your pretty white dress was now red. You backed away still screaming, leaving little red footprints on the floor. The maids came running to you and held you tight as you screamed and screamed. You don’t remember for how long you were screaming or what happened later.

You drifted off to sleep. 

It was a beautiful forest. The trees were so thick that sunlight barely touched the ground and everything was covered in moss. You were standing there in front of a giant wolf. It wasn’t a werewolf, it smelled like a  regular  one but just giant, like a direwolf. It was growling at you, baring his teeth. You had no weapons with you, you double checked. You looked around for an escape, you could kill him with your teeth but they weren’t as sharp as they’d used to be. You looked at your nails, they were fragile. Heck! You were human!!

“Y/N, wake up!!” the wolf suddenly spoke in a girly voice. It didn’t make sense, really.

“Are you a girl?” you asked the wolf who was ready to kill you. Talking to an animal, guess you had finally lost your sanity.

“Y/N!!” Someone was shaking you, trying to wake you up without much success. Then you realized you were sleeping under a bunch of blankets and pillows. It was three in the morning; you could tell by the smell of the air. You peeked at the person who had dared to disturbed you. It was Lily.

“What is it, Bunny?” you asked sleepily. It was good she had practice understanding you while you sleep talked, if it was anyone else, they would’ve thought you were talking gibberish.

“I had a bad dream,” she said with a puppy face. You knew what she wanted; she wanted to sleep with you. 

“Me too,” you replied and ran your tongue over your teeth, yup, still vampire. “Come here you,” you said, grabbing her and stuffing her under the pile of blankets and pillows. You loved a warm cozy place to sleep. You held her like a teddy bear and dozed off again. She was so soft in your arms and she held tight onto you. Protecting someone was a good feeling. You went back to sleep as if  you had never woken up.

NEXT

[lluvguts]

stargazing // byler

pairing: will byers / mike wheeler & eleven / max mayfield

genre/warnings: mainly fluff! some soft angst

word count: 2502

summary:  Where the party goes laser tagging for Will's 16th birthday and something happens that Mike will never forget aka that first kiss no one asked for.

n/a: post season 3 spoilers!! you’ve been warned!

March 22nd, 1987

6:37 pm

“Lucas, I don’t even care if it’s Will’s birthday, so help me if you crash this car I’m making Eleven open the gate and feed you to the Demodogs,” Dustin yelled from the front seat of the Henderson’s van with the rest of the group piled in the back.

“El can’t do that anymore, genius.” Max had her hands clasped in Eleven’s lap.

“I have my license, Dustin. Stop freaking out,” Lucas groaned but still reduced his speed by a few miles.

“Lie-sense?” Eleven looked to Max.

“Can we please stop arguing?” Mike hollered over the shouting from the back of the van, as well as Max’s arm stretching across the console to crank the volume louder on the radio.

The party had decided to celebrate Will Byer’s sixteenth birthday in the most acceptable way possible: laser tag. The boys had outgrown Dungeons & Dragons—for the most part—but that didn’t stop them from pooling their money and planning on spending the night shooting each other with lasers and eating junk food like children; if anything it brought back the nostalgia of their middle school antics. The girls, on the other hand, didn’t care for the game as much—although Eleven had a difficult time wrapping her head around the entire idea of laser tagging—and they only went for the sake of Will and to spend time together.

The van slowly turned into the parking lot of the laser tag center and the chatter subsided.

“Is this what you wanted for your birthday?” Mike turned to Will. The other boy gave a shy smile and nodded. No matter how many weeks since they’d announced their relationship to the party and their parents—even realizing it themselves—Will’s affectionate gestures made Mike’s heart beat a little faster, and his eyes linger on the boy’s face a little longer. He wasn’t used to it yet, he’d never been in a real relationship. And his smile is driving me mad.

Will took Mike’s hand and pulled him out of the last row of seats. As he jumped down from the van Mike’s eyes flickered to his shorts. Only briefly. Were they always that..short? His heart leapt from his chest and he looked away, embarrassed, only to find their intertwined fingers. Will caught Mike’s flustered expression.

“What?” he laughed and held up their hands, “Do you want me to stop?”

“No!” Mike said, his face reddening. “Uh, I mean, you don’t have to. Sorry, it’s just all so new-“

“Hey! Birthday boy! Get over here! You too, stupid,” Max called, pointing to the Polaroid camera in her hands while the rest of the group huddled around the front entrance for the photo.

Will smiled up at the dark haired boy and lead them over to the others. Max held the camera out in front of her as the rest of the group filed behind her, grinning. Will snaked his hand over Mike’s shoulders and Eleven draped her arms around Max from behind.

“Cheese!”

“Mike, stop looking at Will, look at the camera,” Lucas snapped.

They all laughed as the light flashed.

“I took a few, so you all get a copy.” Max let the film develop for a few seconds and handed them each a photo. Mike took one and before he slid it into his pocket he showed it to Will, both staring at their cheeky grins. He already knew where he’d keep the photo—on the bulletin board in his bedroom, amongst ticket stubs, poems and sketches Will had done, and photos of the group when they were younger; right next to the many polaroids he’d snapped of Will. A collage of his hazel eyes. His beautiful, bright eyes.

“Cute, Mikey,” Will whispered. Was he talking about the picture? Or him?

Will briefly touched Mike’s shoulder then caught up with the rest of them, leaving him to stare at the smiles on the film, hiding his blush.

7:02 pm

“Boys against girls!”  

“How is that fair?” Eleven hissed, “It’s just the two of us.”

“We can join a group that’s already in there,” Will added.

“You’re all such a headache. Let’s just split it into two groups. Me, Mike and Dustin on the red team. Will, Lucas and Eleven on blue. Deal?” Max counted off on her fingers.

Mike looked around the area as the others went with their teams and pulled on the correct vests and guns.

“Need some help?” Max asked and went to her girlfriend’s side, she was holding the gear in her arms with a startled expression like she was handling a bomb. She giggled as Max guided the heavy vest over her head and adjusted it to her small waist. Eleven watched it all in wonder, then looked up at her face.

“Pretty,” She said to Max and leaned in for a hug, their pink cheeks pressed close.

“See Will? It’s that simple,” Dustin whispered loudly and then chuckled while he watched the girls. Will punched Dustin in the arm and his eyes quickly met Mike’s from across the neon lit waiting room.

Will was about to say something to him, not in words. In his stare. But the booming voice from the overhead speaker filled the room.

“Game begins in five,” The announcer said.

“Alright. I’m going to go with my team. You remember the rules?” Max had her hands on Eleven’s shoulders, staring into her eyes.

Mike tried to make Will look again, but he was talking to Dustin as they headed into a different room. What was he going to say? What was so simple?

Eleven pointed to Max’s glowing chest, “Shoot the red vests. Hide. Be quiet.”

“See? You’ll do great,” Max hugged her one last time and went over to the door, “But, I am going to win.”

“We’ll see about that, Mad Max.” Lucas shouted and patted their shoulders companionably.

A buzzer sounded as the main doors opened; Mike’s team rushed inside to station themselves around the maze. The arena was pitch black save for the neon lights across the carpeted floor and a constellation of yellow artificial stars on the ceiling. He knew that Will’s team was somewhere on the opposite side, lurking in the shadows. Waiting to stake the perfect moment to strike. The visual made Mike’s heart race and he was drowning in worry.

He could only think of Will. It’s gonna be just like that time at the arcade. Just like Halloween. He’s gonna be walking and everything’s fine until someone jumps out and it triggers a memory in his mind. What if he can’t control it, and the figure in front of him suddenly turns into a Demogorgon? Or the Mind Flayer in his head?

Mike crept around the curved bend in the maze and quietly ducked into a dark alcove to think. A shout suddenly echoed and floated up into the air, the resonant cry drifting to Mike’s ears. To anyone else the sound only meant that someone had gotten caught off guard and a laser to the chest.

What if that’s Will? Is he okay?  

Mike sat up slowly, hoping to find Will and make sure he was safe; he turned his head around the edge of the alcove and in the sound of slamming plastic someone crashed into him. He staggered back, registering the face.

“Oh. Will, thank God. I was going to see-“

Before he could get out the last of his sentence Will took the barrel of his laser gun and pinned Mike back against the alcove wall.

He couldn’t speak.

Mike only watched Will draw his lips up to his mouth, frozen in surprise. Will squeezed the trigger as their lips parted at the same time, as though they’d wanted this from the start. He kissed Will back and shuddered when he felt a brush of those teeth along the front of his flushed lips; Mike dropped his gun and grabbed at his face, embracing the startling sensation when Will pressed himself closer, trapping him. Oh God, don’t move. Don’t pull away, Mike pleaded.  

The trigger went off and Mike’s vest buzzed and filled the space with flashing red light—but Will didn’t let go. He just rooted him in place by the tip of the gun, its weight carrying all throughout the plastic front of his vest and into his pounding heart.

Will sighed into his open mouth, making Mike shudder involuntarily before he moved his body away. The air was filled with the sound of their shaky breathing.

“That’s what I wanted for my birthday,” Mike’s heart sped up at his gruff, breathy voice.

Mike reached for him again, “W-Wait-“

“Shhh,” Will whispered and placed his hand on Mike’s face, smirking, “You’re dead, Wheeler.”

He rushed out of the alcove with a smile plastered on his face before Mike could run after him. The vest shook once more, signaling his loss, before the color faded and died. Mike slid down onto the floor and brought his fingers to his hot cheeks. His lips started to burn as the last few minutes replayed in his head, making his breathing turn ragged again and his stomach twist back into messy, feverish knots.

Mike felt the pulse roar in his ears, still staring at the empty space where Will was only moments before. Where he’d just kissed him.

What just happened?

8:49 pm

“Our team,” Eleven started, staring hopelessly out the car window into the night, “Lost.”

“Yep,” Dustin sighed, “That’s what happens when you’re up against the best.”

Mike ignored their arguing and stared out the back window at the stars. They covered the dark sky, too many to count, thousands of glittering and radiant sparks—they reminded him of Will’s eyes. So full of amber light and happiness, no matter the circumstance.

“Hey.” Mike flinched when there was a tap on his shoulder. Any touch from him and Mike turned into a live wire, his lungs forgot how to work and his heart thrashed wildly inside his aching chest. He longed to let Will’s touch linger, to sustain the burning, fluttering sensation.

“Yeah?” He whispered, taking the time to even his breathing before he looked at Will.

His eyes flickered between Mike’s, searching his face. “Was that alright?”

“Was what alright?”

“Back in the arena..you know..”

Mike’s cheeks burned tomato red as he remembered the softness of his lips and quickly murmured, “Oh, yeah. That was really nice Will, I just-“

“What?” He leaned in, as if getting closer would help to understand. Mike’s body tensed at the hurt beginning to show on Will’s face.

“It..kinda caught me off guard.”

Will paused. “Do you want me to ask you next time? If it’s okay?”

Mike nodded.

Will smiled at their bodies, intentionally placed as far apart as possible. “Can I hold your hand?”

He nodded again and Will slipped his hand into Mike’s, letting his fingers trail absently along the front of his knuckles.

“Mike, this is your stop,” Lucas said from the driver’s seat. Will held his hand tighter.

“Could I come too?” Will asked him quietly, “My mom wouldn’t mind.”

“Of course,” Mike hid his red face as he climbed over the back seat to the car door.

“Aight. Happy birthday, Will,” Dustin said and waved at the two.

He gave Dustin a shy smile. “Thanks, guys. It was really fun.”

“Don’t do anything stupid!” Max shouted out the window as the van sped away.

They stared at each other for a moment, in the quiet of the night, standing in front of the Wheeler’s unlit driveway. Until the front door swung open and Nancy was calling from the porch.

“Guess we better go in then,” Mike whispered, caught up in Will’s gaze.

He looked away, grinning. “Yeah.”

9:02 pm

“There’s so many photos here,” Will inspected the cork board on Mike’s wall. When they’d went inside Mike opened the window above his bed to let the peaceful night sounds in, and allow the stars outside to watch.

“Wait a minute,” Will touched a piece of paper tacked on the board, “I drew this.”

“I love your art, Will. How could I not hang it up?” Mike smiled up at him, so full of affection. He’s adorable when he’s flustered. Will muttered something under his breath and his face turned pink.

“Oh, right!” Mike got off his bed and joined his side. He handed over the Polaroid photo from his pocket, “You can pick the spot to put it up if you want.”

Will studied the picture, as if seeing it for the first time. He was close, close enough that Mike could see every detail of his face, see the curve of his lips that had fit so perfectly in his own.

“You’re so cute.” He pointed to Mike in the photo, then tore a piece of tape to hang the Polaroid next to a small drawing. A pencil sketch of Mike, with a caption at the bottom in Will’s handwriting: my Paladin.

“Y-you’re uh, pretty cute too,” Mike stammered. When Will finished hanging the picture he turned around and followed him to the bed, his head tipping up so their eyes met. The air suddenly felt very warm as they sat chest to chest—silent except for the crickets outside—until Will spoke softly.

“Mikey, can I ask something?” His hazel eyes never left his face.

Mike didn’t realize he’d been holding his breath.

“Anything.”

Will was leaning back on his hands, and decidedly scooted closer. “Can you..hold me please?”

His eyes widened. Will’s request was so gentle that it made Mike’s heart burn for him. The desire to have him in his arms. “Of course I will.”

Mike took his hands and wrapped them around his neck, leaning them back on the comforter, drawing him closer than they’d ever been before. Will nestled his cheek to Mike’s chest as he faced the stars out the open window, his legs eased down to rest snug by his sides.

“Is this okay?” Will asked, tilting his head up so he could nestle into Mike’s neck. His soft brown hair brushed Mike’s skin and sent goosebumps racing up his arms. He closed his eyes and rubbed Will’s back in comforting circles.

“It’s perfect,” He said.

Will yawned. “This was such a great birthday.”

“Yeah?”

“Duh, I had my first kiss.” Will murmured, his fingers under Mike’s neck started to play with his dark curls.

“Tired?” Mike asked, his hands never leaving his back.

“Only a little,” He replied with a drowsy smile against his chest.

He laughed and put a hand gingerly on Will’s face to move a strand of hair. In the minutes that followed he let Will fall asleep while he studied the stars outside, listened to the heartbeat of the boy on top of him, the drawing on the cork-board. The title scrawled beneath.

“My Cleric,” Mike whispered to the stars.

[lucefrs]

          tl;dr: luce thinks about how she should have never ended up at georgetown in the first place, and the domino effect it had on her life. after flunking out of gallagher, she savours the summer. her and scott break up sometime after new years. a quick onslaught of success makes her feel wary, unsure how to not take up space she doesn’t deserve after doing it so many times before. she performs her own song in the lower east side.

                                                                      insp for the song she plays at the end. 

BEFORE.

luce is a bright child but lacks in the area of self discipline and application. she would benefit from paying closer attention during class discussion.

she knew from a very young age that she was not smart. at least not by the metric that institutions measure by. the unlucky curse that has kept her in the stream of academia is this: luce frear is smart enough. to graduate secondary school because it’s a key that unlocks america’s golden arches. to pursue higher education when she gets the encroaching feeling that she’s going to be found out that she doesn’t actually have any family friend's as guarantors. at the time, she doesn’t know how impossible georgetown is. but finding herself in the company of a man who will pay for her to do well, with a tutor that makes the s.a.t’s boil down to a formula of memorization and deduction is a genius move. those three hours are brutal, she struggles but she struggles through it, proud that only a handful of questions were left unanswered. it’s only after she's sat for it that she realizes how impossible georgetown is with it’s fourteen percent acceptance rate.

she uses his mailing address to apply, so it’s him that greets her with a sealed envelope that makes her stomach turn as soon as she opens the door. out of the corner of her eye she sees a bottle of champagne sitting in a bucket of ice. she knows what the letter will say: her sat score’s a valiant effort, enough to get her into any state school, but by no means exceptional. bracing herself for his disappointment she pushes the folded paper towards him so she can pretend his disappointment’s directed at the words on the page and not at her. but the skin at the corner of his eyes pinches and there’s no crease between his brows and she knows something is very wrong. or very right. she’s not sure, at the time it’s all very muddled, thinking about how much she likes that there's no place for his smile to hide, and how that's going to be one of her favourite parts of getting old. his smile that runs right to the tip of his nose, bumps against her cheek when he kisses her. he’s kissing her. he’s happy. because of her. she’s made him happy. that's good. she's happy too. then he’s by the kitchen counter, shaking off the champagne from his hand that’s flows over the lip of the bottle and she’s saying things like, ‘   my sat scores were no where near the average,    ’ and he counters that she shouldn’t disregard the importance of supplemental essays and she makes fun of how he talks because she always does. a girl’s got nothing but a gut to trust, and every glass of champagne’s a fuck you to it. luce never pukes from having too much to drink. she pukes in his shower. luce is not smart, but she’s smart enough not to question how she got into georgetown university.

‘   god, you’re so smart luce. we could call it the boyfriend guesses my lip gloss challenge.   ’ she only hears the first part, boasting a smile that makes the apples of her cheeks swell, all rosy like. at the time gallagher had felt like a enticing romp, bound by infatuation, the glint of the dew that hung at the end of the school’s weeping willows sparkling so bright that her heart-shaped sunglasses couldn’t subdue it. luce has never waited for anything, but her first few months at gallagher felt like a gift the universe had hand-picked, oblivious of her christmas list doodled with music notes and brand names of dresses that cost seven hundred dollars, it felt like finding treasure. smart’s an understatement, genius is more apt. she lets this sentiment lead, when the offer to stay comes soaring towards at her like paper plane that falls right into the palm of her hands. it makes logical sense to stay. scott’s here.

she’ll adapt. but gallagher starts to feel worlds away, and as much as she digs her heels into the gravel, gravity starts to slip from her grasp. but how could she can complain? in outer space, anywhere she looks there’s an endless landscape of stars, bright and twinkling, beckoning her towards the nearly planet. but it makes her want to cry when she sees the blue-green dot recede into the distance.

PRESENT-ISH.

luce has her final exam tomorrow and she’s going to crush it. she’s so excited she can’t sleep. there’s no way she could fail it, unless she slept through it but that won’t happen because she has five alarms set and a scott for safe measure. she’s so excited her heart’s sprinting from her sternum to her stomach and it would be classified as nausea if she didn’t know it was just plain excitement. she winces at the brightness from her phone as she checks the time. 3:36. if she falls asleep in the next four minutes she’ll have a solid four hours, but as soon as she closes her eyes her heart runs like it’s just heard the start of the piston, and the percentage she needs to get in order to pass the class rings aloud and reverberates against her brain. forty six percent. she doesn’t even need to pass the exam in order to pass the class — she’s going to be a gallagher girl. whether she likes it or not. in the dark, her hand finds the nob of his bedside drawer, carefully sliding it open, her fingers tinkering inside to feel for whatever weed scott has, gifted joints or a prized gram for winning a dumb luck game. he always has something, even after he passes some of it on to seb. she doesn’t go far, slips out of his grasp and onto the lantern lit cobbled pavements, follows it strictly like she’s on a board in a game of snakes and ladders, stopping every time she takes a drag. she eventually falls against a bench like an abandoned rag-doll, limbs splayed every which way and falls asleep until she's woken up by the rev of a motorcycle engine set as her alarm. luce goes through the pre-test motions with due diligence, takes a shower and eats a proper meal, as though there's someone waiting to accuse her of self-sabotage. she picks up her tote that's packed from the night before and gives the test her all. it's not her fault that her focus wavered in five minute blocks, or that nerves make her feel as though there's an ongoing tussle in her tummy. she treats the residual high as something she couldn't possibly have controlled, it should've left her system by now. and she’s a hero for persevering through it. she tried her best. and in spite of it all, she still fails. thank god.

SUMMER.

she doesn’t want the summer to end. it does anyways.  

INTERLUDE

she's not the type to tuck herself into the booth, but harper’s gone to the bathroom and luce has a gnarly blister on the back of her heel, and her head’s been swimming in cheap liquor all night with no reprieve. she can’t get her head above water for more than a minute before falling back under. her gaze catches a couple in the corner, slow dancing to david guetta and her lips curl into a wry smile, his lips cushioned against his neck, murmuring something she’ll never know, and then they’re laughing — maybe about the fact that they’re slow dancing to memories, or because they’re in love, everything’s funnier when you’re in love. a tiny giggle, lost to the boom of the speakers escapes her, because she’s so in love too.

i miss you.   missing ur 🍆 spare nudes? 🙏🏼 ft? x

she holds down the backspace key and puts her phone away.

                                                         ***

‘   i don't know how to miss you in the right way,   ’ she says after a bout of silence, it makes her stomach lurch, like stepping off a ledge and finding the ground lower than expected. there’s no chance to blink back the tears, and she’s so in shock from what she’s just said that she makes no motion to cover her face from him, staring down the barrel of the webcam, like she’s on the brink of death. she’d give up the forty years of her life to get to the part where she can look back on this fondly, of a great love that once was. her child-like whimpers have her grappling for breath. ‘   it hurts.   ’ she manages to sputter out, and she knows it’s hurting him too. eventually, luce will blink away the last of her tears, because she needs this picture to really believe it.

SOMETIME, SOME DAY.

she's not so much herself as she is everyone else. there are pieces of her in the crescendo of what billboard deems the song of the summer. she’s etched in the familiarity of the bass in the last song played before last call — the resonant thrum of waking up blacked out on the front lawn of an ex best friend. the producer that the lead singer can't function without. the origin story of a grammy nominated album which started on the fire escape, exiled by roaches, a guitar slung like a rifle entering the wild wild west of cicadas and greeted by an empty ashtray save for a half abandoned spliff. a story deified for late night talk shows with parrot hosts and their fake squawks. it’s all made up names in CD booklets that no one looks at anyways. it doesn’t make her an enigma, she has a wikipedia page. record labels take her out for lunch, and she goes because she likes people, even the kind who gawk at her pretty face, drooling at the dollar signs in her doe brown eyes and blonde hair. of course, they love her, a girl who orders salad but doesn’t skip dessert — a reluctance toward fame but endlessly optimistic about the future of the music industry, splits the bill and turns a handshake into a hug when they express their keen interest in working with her. there’s a twinkling note of laughter when she pulls away and says, ‘    you’ve never even heard me sing. i’m not good enough.   ’ and she realizes with a twitch of bitterness that she doesn’t have to be, and things working out feels more like a curse when it isn’t deserved.

she talks but can't write unless it's in time signatures and treble clefs and if she does manage to write in a language comprised of letters ( which has only ever happened once ) she can't sing - unless it’s for boys she likes. so she poaches a voice, scrolling through the repertoire of people who have held her heart in their hands. her song is the last song of his set and it sounds like this. they smile through every note, she laughs at his falsetto in the last chorus. she plays her heart out with a vigour that leaves her palms moist, expecting that when the song ends there’ll be a silence broached by the slow clap of j.k simmons. luce lives in a movie and can feel the montage scene catch up to her. she can feel the lingering memory that never existed : a swollen belly and walls painted pink, a toddler that makes their white picket fenced garden a stomping ground, a cinematic pan across a fairy-lit paris, and night walks. when she looks over, she’ll see him, but she’s going to change the ending. her pinky hovers above the last key she played, letting the sound ring out into silence, before they’re met with fervent applause and whistles. this is the moment. luce looks into the crowd. she looks into the crowd and none of the faces are him because why would they be ? she hadn’t told anyone. the only person who knew was herself. it was hers. this moment is hers and she cradles it close, because she’s never had something of her own before. not really. but she likes the way it feels. the man who once held her heart in his hand kisses the top of her head and praises her with a plunging bow. she looks into the sea of strangers who watch her and she watches them back. this is the moment. hers alone. and she’s never felt less lonely.

[huntergatherercreator]

Take Me Back

Pairing: Tom Holland x reader

Warnings: Smut, mention of cheating and alcohol abuse, break-up angst

Note: Have I really just written something not mob!tom related? I’m as shocked as you are. This is my first time posting something that contains sexual content on this level, it’s kinda nerve wracking so any feedback would be appreciated! Also, let me know if I’ve missed any warnings I should have added.

-------

2,032 words

The bar wasn’t your usual scene. You preferred local, intimate places not clubs like this. Despite being underground the mirrored ceiling made it feel twice as open. You looked out over the dance floor from the mezzanine at the entrance door searching for your friends. Rhythmic lighting spilled over the space. It was almost filled to capacity with bodies dancing to bass so loud it reverberated through the soles of your new shoes.

An exaggerated wave from the middle of the bar caught your attention and you smiled as your friend signalled you over. Gripping the handrail of the metal steps you took a breath before descending. You still weren’t completely comfortable with the outfit you’d been talked into wearing but judging by the looks you were getting as you cut across the floor it wasn’t as bad as you’d initially feared.

“Damn, Y/N! You look incredible!” Your friend gushed pulling you in beside her at the bar. Signalling to the bartender she had them pour out two shots. Turning to you with a devilish grin she offered you a lime wedge.

“No way. I just got here,” you refused. As much as you enjoyed drinking the past three months had been filled with nights spent at the bottom of a bottle. You were slowly getting back control. Reigning yourself in after the worst breakup you’d ever experienced but it was a slow process.

A lot of your recovery had to do with the guy you’d met a few weeks ago. Tonight was the first night he’d meet your best friend, the one whose opinion could make or break the possible relationship.

With a sulky pout she downed her own. “So, when will this mystery man of yours get here?”

“He should be here soon.” Your friend leaned her back against the bar, eyes scanning the room.

“Hmm...is it him?” she mused pointing to a guy with too much hair product. “No,” she shook her head, “it’s got to be him.” You followed her finger and snorted a laugh as you watched a guy dancing awkwardly in the corner.  

“Stop it. You’ll know him when you see him,” you promised. Turning back to the bar to order a beer you heard her gasp even over the loud music. In the mirrors lining the glass shelves you could see him approaching and couldn’t stop a smile. Your friend not so subtly nudged you.

“Is this real? Is he coming over? My god, he’s gorgeous” she babbled. You took a long sip of your beer and decided to let her work it out on her own.

“He looks like he works out so much. Those jeans, that t-shirt...” You could practically hear her drooling before she quickly spun to face you. “Shit, he’s actually coming over, what do we..”

“Hey, Y/N.” Settling your beer on a napkin you watched your friends eyes widen, mouth agape. With a laugh you finally faced him. His smile faltered as he took you in, a faint blush creeping up his face.

“You look amazing.” Leaning into you his hand rested on your hip as he kissed your cheek.

Just as your friend had said, Adam was gorgeous. Standing a good foot above you with tousled blonde hair and classic baby blues he wasn’t your normal type, which is exactly why you’d gone for him. After the last failed relationship it was clear what you were attracted to and what you needed were two different things. Adam was your clean slate. Your fresh start.

It was different with him. There hadn’t been an instant attraction but the more you got to know him the more relaxed you felt. Sure there was still no flutter when he kissed you, no spark, but given enough time you were sure that would grow.

You introduced your friend who was still having a hard time closing her mouth all the way, then using Adam’s height to your advantage you got him to find a free table at the edge of the room. Sliding into the booth between them you settled in for the interrogation. He didn’t seem phased. He linked his warm fingers with yours and answered as honestly as possible. Watching him you couldn’t help but smile as he devoutly tried to stop his gaze from wandering to the low cut of your dress and the way his cheek flushed when he failed.

Beer finished you excused yourself to grab a new round for the table. The queue at the bar was steadily getting busier as the night went on. You tried to work your way further down to a quieter spot, keeping your head down and gently elbowing your way through the groups. A gap opened up and you rushed to move into the space only to collide with someone. Your foot slipped on a spilled drink and a strong hand caught your waist to steady you. Cheeks heating from embarrassment you internally cursed your shoes. Gathering some courage you glanced up to thank your saviour and the words died in your throat.

Soft chestnut eyes stared down at you intently. You’re heart hammered under their gaze, sweat starting to make your hands clammy. You’d thought you’d never see him again. You’d hoped you wouldn’t. But here he was, looking immaculate in an all black suit and even better than you remembered. The heat of his hand against your waist seemed to sear through your dress and you tried to step back out of his reach but he only pulled you closer.

“Y/N.” The room seemed to still, the music dimming. All you could hear was his voice. The rough edge it held when he said your name had your body reacting as if the last few months hadn’t happened. You clenched your fists hating how with one word he could get under your skin again after all this time.

“Let me go.” You barely managed to whisper out the words but you knew he’d heard. He downed what was left in his glass and brushed against you as he placed it on the bar. The scent of him wrapped around you triggering memories that you’d tried to suppress.

Leaning in his lips brushed your ear as he spoke. “We need to talk.” Irritation flared. Who did he think he was? It had been months and now he wanted to talk? Steeling yourself you shoved his hand away.

“I have nothing to say to you, Tom.”

“Then listen.” You made the mistake of meeting his eyes and the intensity radiating from them dried up your protest.

“The guy you’re with is no good.” You jerked back away from him and he had the gall to look surprised.

Anger snaking through you, you felt your lip curl. “He’s none of your business. I’m none of your business.” Elbowing past him you fought the crowd blindly. You had to get away from him.

Reaching the back wall you slipped into a side hallway marked private. The music dimmed to a muted thump and you let out a ragged breath. As your adrenaline started to dip you started shaking. Wrapping your arms around yourself you tried to calm down.

“Y/N.” You cursed as you sensed him approach but refused to turn. Seeing him, seeing how little he’d changed and knowing how readily you still reacted to him was too much.

“Leave me alone.”

“Y/N, you shouldn’t be with him.” He’d stopped behind you, his breath ruffling your hair as he spoke.

You couldn’t hold back a bitter laugh. “You’re just saying that because you can’t stand to see me with someone else.” The beat of silence that followed had a chill creeping over your skin. Don’t look at him, don’t do it. Your fingers tightened into fists as you fought against yourself. God you wanted to turn around. You wanted to run your fingers through his soft curls, you wanted to breathe in the indescribable scent that was Tom as he held you and...

Hands skimming over your waist he closed the gap. His chest against your back you shivered at the warmth he radiated. You held back a soft moan as his lips ghosted over your throat.

“He’s not right for you,” he breathed. Your mind conjured an image of Adam and the realisation of what you were doing doused you like ice water. You spun out of Tom’s grip, palm pressed against the wall to steady yourself.

“You walked away from me, remember?” Your voice shook with effort as you tried to fight back tears. Tom grimaced, eyes lowering. Your heart ached at his expression but anger chased it off. “You don’t get to act the martyr, Tom, and you certainly don’t get to have a say in my love life.”

Gaze flashing up to you his shoulders set, jaw working for a long second before he spoke.

“Do you?”

“Do I what?” you snapped.  

“Do you love him?” Taken aback your mouth fell open. When you didn’t answer he took a step forward. He searched your face, gaze dipping to your lips hungrily. Your stomach dipped traitorously as heat pooled through you.

“Tom,” you warned, voice barely a whisper. He was too far gone to listen.

Hands cupping your face his lips brushed against yours, feather light and testing your reaction. Your body lit up at his touch. Nerve endings that had been dormant firing to life. Despite everything your body craved his touch, needed him on a deeper level than you understood.

Fingers drifting to caressed your neck, he pushed you back against the wall. You gasped at the cold, arching against Tom’s chest to escape it and he mistook your movements as encouragement. Gripping your hip to pull you even closer he deepened the kiss. You could feel his excitement as he pressed against you and it broke your last reserve of control.

Lips parting you relinquished to him. Tongue flicking out to claim your mouth the familiar taste of sweet whisky brushed over your taste buds. His fingers drifted from your neck. Following the low V of your dress he traced the channel between your breasts before slipping them under the fabric. He let out a low groan as he realised you weren’t wearing a bra. Teeth nipping at your bottom lip his fingers massaged you, thumb circling your nipple drawing out whimpers.

Your hands wound into his hair, tugging at the curls. Lifting a leg to wrap around his waist you gasped as he rutted his hips against you. The soft fabric covering his erection brushed against you teasingly. Hiking your other leg around his waist he held you firmly against the wall, fingers digging into your ass. He dipped his head to kiss your neck, biting and suckling at the sensitive spot above your collar bone until you could barely think. Your underwear was ruined.

Slipping a hand between your bodies you traced the outline of his bulge slowly, intent on dragging it out like you’d imagined on long nights without him. When he bucked against your hand with a needy moan you knew you’d never be able to keep it up.

“Y/N?” The distant voice broke you from your trance. You tried to break away from Tom but he held you tight.

“Tell me you don’t want this and I’ll let you go back to him.” The ragged edge to his voice had you shivering.

“Tom,” you pleaded, heart breaking all over again as he watched you with tormented eyes.

“I made a mistake. I should never have let you go.” His lips ghosted over yours. “Tell me you’ll take me back,” he begged.

The sound of Adam calling for you started to grow louder but here in Tom’s arms the guilt and regret you should be feeling was kept at bay. All you wanted was him. Even if it was only temporary, even if it was only for tonight.

“I want you, Tom.” He relaxed, relief flooding his expression before he caught you in another heady kiss.

“Let’s get out of here.” The grin you’d missed so much lit his face as he gently put you down and guided you towards the emergency exit.

[starman-john-tracy]

for @asteria-star for her birthdayyyyyyyyyyy <3 <3 <3

“Piss off Scott.” And he would, he really would under the force of that glare, only Star’s teeth are gritted hard enough that it looks like she might crack something, and she’s bent double with her fingers pressed hard against the gross, squelchy patch of red that’s spreading alarmingly quickly over the side of her t-shirt.

So instead of pissing off Scott approaches - looking like he’s trying to keep a snake from biting him; palms up and outward in a show of being unarmed, defenseless.

It doesn't work on her. She could throw Scott Tracy further than she trusts him.

“Keep away from me.” Star warns, low and dangerous, her expression cold. "I’m dealing with it, Tracy, it's none of your concern.” The last thing any of them expected from their trip to NYC was for Star to come back from a groceries errand with what looks like a horrible stab wound instead of the tea, Crocky Crunch cereal and fresh fruit she'd gone for.

She’s pretty sure that she hasn't been followed back here, though. She’d been careful - done several loops around the block, trying to blend into the shadows, to be certain that nothing could be traced back to the Tracy's - because while turning up at the hotel bruised, battered and bleeding wasn't exactly ideal, Star hadn’t really had much of a choice in the matter. She has nowhere else to go, after all. She’d hoped to sneak past both of the Tracy's rooms to her own without alerting them to the situation, but Scott, having chosen exactly the wrong moment to head for the bar downstairs, had scuppered that.

Stupid Scott, she thinks, scowling even as blood continues to seep steadily into the fibres of her shirt. Stupid Scott and his terrible timing.

John's been giving lectures here in NYC and Scott had kindly offered to be their pilot - as, outside of an emergency, neither spacefarer can be cleared to be in control of any vehicle, let alone a plane like the Tracy Two, for 48 hours after touchdown.

“But-” Scott opens his mouth to start to protest, but Star is already strategically shuffling away from him, toward the safety of her hotel room - paid for with Tracy money, she notes, as a sign of trust that she'll keep herself out of trouble or else the GDF will want her back in a cell. 

The only problem with that is that trouble tends to find her.

With blood-slippery fingers, Star swipes the room card shakily through the scanner on her door and shoves her way through it, kicking it shut behind her before Scott can catch up and get his foot in. There’s a hammering of fists on wood on the other side but Star resolutely ignores it, stumbling instead into the small, adjoining bathroom only for her knees to give out and she’s pitched, face first, onto the floor.

Star opens her eyes, hazy and unamused, to find her cheek pressed against cold tile, her fingers curled and bloodied in front of her face. Star bites back a groan, slapping both palms down and heaving herself to more of a sitting position; slouched and awful, before curling around the ragged, awful slash across her waist.

Oh fuck does it hurt.

She’s just peeling up the bloodied mess of her t-shirt when, of course, there’s a soft, quiet rap of knuckles against the bathroom door, and Star almost rolls her eyes because she knows exactly who Scott’s sicced on her.

“You can come in, John.” There’s an edge of what almost might be misery to her tone. This is what she gets for the GDF insisting that if she’s going to be on Earth, their hotel rooms have to be conjoined by the bathroom. So John can keep an eye on her, or the other way round, Star’s not sure at this point.

“What happened?” Tall, ginger and worried asks, ever so gently, already crouching at her side, and Star’s torn between the temptation to burst into tears, or to hit him for making her feel that way. There’s a chunky, green first aid kit in his hand (definitely IR standard, not the hotel’s), so he must have been warned. She watches him languidly, as he sets it down and clicks it open.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” She insists, fully aware that it’s not going to be long before she does anyway. John just hums, non-committal and light, pulling a pair of blue plastic gloves on over his fingers with a snap, snap.

“Star.” John’s watching her, quiet and earnest. 

She does her best to crack a weak smile in his direction, but it must fall flat because he looks nothing but soft and serious in return. There’s a creeping fire spreading from her side and wrapping around her ribs, pooling in her lungs and she’s torn between reaching for him, clinging tight and crying and the way her skin itches with the ingrained need to run away.

She stays where she is, frozen and trembling on the cold tiles of a bathroom that's not her own. It’s probably lucky that tile is one of the easier things to clean blood up from.

She would know.

“Hey.” John’s crouching to match her hazy eyeline, fingers hovering close, but not touching. “Think it’d be ok for me to have a look?” He treats her as far more startled bunny in headlights than snake coiled to strike and Star wants to cry; ‘don't you know what I’m capable of! Don’t you know that I could hurt you! Put you and all of your precious brothers in danger just by being near you!’ But she doesn’t, because John’s smart. John already knows all that and he’s here for her anyway.

Her face is an uncomfortably ashy grey and John would rather deal with the horrific amount of blood smeared on her side and fingers and floor before they need to look into transfusion options.

She just nods, stiff and uncomfortable and in pain. Her teeth ache.

“Take your shirt off,” he instructs. If it was anyone else, she’d have made some kind of joke about them having to buy her a drink first, but this is John and he’s about as into that sort of thing as one of the plant’s he’s cultivating up in space would be, so she just sighs and lets him help her peel the sticky, clinging fabric from the wound and up over her head.

Her waist is a weeping wash of red and John pulls a face to show that he’s less than impressed. The long knife wound is clean across and doesn’t look too deep, but it’s raw and juicy with new blood and the skin around it already has a dark wash of purple bruising. John goes a little bit grey-pale at the sight of it - a fresh reminder that they’ve both been on the planet less than 24 hours.

“You ok?” She brings a wobbly hand up to catch on his elbow, just below where he’s rolled his sweater up to his elbows so that she doesn’t get bloody fingerprints on Grandma Tracy’s rough cableknit.

“I’m not the one with the nasty, jagged slice across my stomach.” John points out, dryly, and it’s not like she can deny that. He slides a steadying hand around her back and Star has to resist the urge to hold her breath as he inspects the injury.

She just wants to curl up in bed with a blanket over her head and not exist for a few hours. She wants to go home and that’s an odd feeling to clash with the presence of the careful ginger man who’s rapidly become the definition of the word.

“You didn’t get me strawberries then,” John comments, lightly, as he works. The spaceman’s sweet tooth is practically non-existent until it comes to fruit. She knows his weakness. “This might sting a bit.” He says, though both of them are well aware it’s an understatement.

“Next t-time.” There’s a bit of a wheeze as John swipes a sterile wipe over her stomach, busy cleaning up the wound. She’s got one hand clamped tightly onto his shoulder now, white-knuckled, not quite sure how it had ended up there when she’d been so careful about not getting his sweater bloodied. She hopes he’s not going to have bruises on that pale skin of his in the morning.

She closes her eyes and tips her head back, trying to get better control over her shaky breathing. 

“I’m going to start closing this.” He advises, carefully judging her grimace as he presses the wound closed with his fingers, squelchy and horrible, but ready for him to begin applying steri strips from the first aid kit. It’s a tricky job with her curled over like she is, and when every breath she takes pulls at the skin, so John places a firm but careful hand on her shoulder and pushes her back flat against the tile wall so that he can see what he’s doing.

To his credit, he is, at least, quick about it.

"If I suggest that you should probably get this checked by a hospital,” John adds, gently probing at his fix-up-job of the angry, swollen wound, before he puts a triage bandage over it. “are you gonna try to run for it?"

He'd rather have a second opinion on if this needs more than steri strips to hold it closed, and though he could holo-call Virgil, he'd rather not risk her wrath. She doesn’t dignify the idea with an answer though, instead, angling her cheek away from him and breathing hard through her nose to try and get a handle on the pain.

"I'll compromise," He says, with the tone of a man who knows he'll get what he wants either way, "take some morphine and a full spectrum antibiotic and… uh-ha-ha," he holds up a hand to keep her from interrupting him with protests, "There could have been anything on that, uh… knife?” It looks like a knife wound. “Take both of these and I'll not drag you to A&E by your floppy bangs."

Like he could. Star would almost be amused by the attempted bribery if not for the agony her side is in. Each breath tastes like fire now, and the round circles John presses into her palm are a couple of miniature blessings.

"And I don't have to explain myself to Scott." She's not going to anyway, but it feels like an important thing to add to the bargain before she knocks the drugs back.

"No ones gonna make you talk to Scott." John reaffirms, "but you know he's just worried. He's a big brother, it's what he does best. I imagine he'll have called Virgil to freak out about it though.”

Great. Another worrywart with questions. Just what she needs.

Virgil isn’t so bad though, there’s something calming about the family’s gentle giant, and she’s watched him patch John up more than enough times to trust he knows what he’s doing. Unlike Scott, Virgil’s knows when not to stick his nose into something.

“John…” There’s something else worrying her, nagging at her, something far worse than a stab wound because it could cost her her place aboard Thunderbird Five. “You’re not going to... report this to the GDF, uh, are you?” She’s not supposed to go off on her own, for one, and scrapping with some old familiar faces isn’t going to earn her any gold stars on the behave and we’ll let you stay with John chart.

It was a weird mix of punishment and witness protection and a favor from John’s Aunt Val that put her up there in the first place, and while at first, she’d have done almost anything to be anywhere but, Thunderbird Five… well, John’s grown on her.

“I think the bigger problem will be convincing Scott that it’s none of his business.” John points out lightly, “Dare I ask what happened?” Her face is losing color by the second. It seems important to keep her talking. Can’t be unconscious if you’re talking.

“People don’t like to go down without a fight.’ Star offers him the widest grin she can manage, revealing that one of her front teeth is a little chipped. “Gangs with long-standing grudges especially.”

John shakes his head, slow and disparaging.

“Right. Of course. Think you can stand?” When she nods slowly in confirmation, John gently leavers her upright, waiting patiently the few seconds it takes for her to blink the phosphenes from her vision as the blood drains away from her head. Both her hands find his shoulders again, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

“It’s lucky it wasn’t too deep.” John sighs, probably more to himself than anyone. She tilts her head back down to find him looking at the covered patch on her side. “Those bruises do look bad though, it really would be better if someone could check you for internal injury.” He glances at her face from beneath a sweep of golden-ginger lashes, waiting for an answer. When she doesn’t offer him one, he sighs. “I could call Virgil and make him run a scan and-”

“Tomorrow, John.” Her head falls, heavy, onto his shoulder with a bit of a thunk. “I just wanna go to bed.” The last bit comes out as not much more than a whisper.

“Right then, come on.” John slides a supportive arm around her back, careful not to let his fingers brush skin. “Bed it is.”

Star swivels around so she can wrap her arms around his waist and press her face into his shoulder, trying to get as close to the warmth as possible. With John here, she doesn't really want to go back to where she's sleeping. Alone everything seems so… dangerous. The hotel filters in the sounds of the streets, people she doesn’t know in the corridors, threats from every angle. It creeps her out a little, and so she clings to John a little tighter. She starts mumbling again, trying to tell him she'll happily sleep on the floor if it means she doesn't have to be alone.

“Star…? Star.” He sighs, supporting more of her slight weight, shaking his head fondly. “Fine, ok, I’ll stay with you. You’re as bad as Alan, wanting to sleep on the floor. What am I going to do with you?” He laughs, and she feels it verberate through his chest. “Come on, you’re not alone.”

He pulls at her shoulder, half spinning her in an almost dance-like move as he lets her knees crumple and Star finds herself sitting on the plush hotel bed. Very gently, John tugs up the comforter and drapes it over her shoulders, like a blanket-cape.

He vanishes, briefly, to go find her a new, clean t-shirt and a pair of sleep sweats and looks entirely unsurprised when he comes back with one of his own, faded t-shirts in hand, pilfered by her long ago.

"I did wonder where this had gone." He points out, softly amused, as he helps manoeuvre it over her head. "You could at least leave me an IOU so I know what you've… borrowed." It's a kinder word than stolen but John's well aware of the chances of him getting things back once they've made their way into Star’s wardrobe.

Just as well his Father was a billionaire, really. John hardly minds a few things going missing here and there when they're going to a girl who has so very little in the way of her own possessions and no money to her name. He's caught her liberating his bank cards more than once, and it had only prompted a conversation about asking first before he sighs and hands the plastic over.

Privately, John thinks that had she not have wanted to be caught, she wouldn't have been. 

“Sleep.” He advises softly, well away of just how heavy her lids look as he helps her onto her back and makes sure the covers are tucked securely around her. “I’ll be right here, ok?” John waves a book at her, though she has no memory of him picking it up, and the last thing she sees before sleep takes her, is him smiling softly, reaching out to move a lock of stray hair from off her cheek. 

[kurtstinypurse]

27 with klaine, I’m begging

#27 - Kisses exchanged while one person sits on the other’s lap.

I’ve actually had two anons request this one, so I’m making this a part 2 of my last prompt, with coworkers!klaine - per popular demand ;-)

read the first part here

-

Blaine can’t remember how they got here.

The vague logistics are obvious - he knows they left the bar together, remembers the cab ride from the way Kurt’s palm felt like a searing brand where it rested heavy on Blaine’s upper thigh, but the rest of it has blurred together, entirely unimportant.

It’s all pointless when it’s led him to Kurt’s apartment, on Kurt’s couch, on Kurt’s lap, kissing him.

More than kissing him, actually: fingers of one hand knotted in Kurt’s slightly sweat-dampened hair, other hand rucking up Kurt’s sweater and searching out his skin, soft and smooth and irresistible, alternating sucking Kurt’s bottom lip into his mouth and then his top one, rocking his hips down slowly, infuriatingly slowly, somehow holding himself back enough to allow the heat to build instead of rushing through it.

And he feels Kurt underneath him, too, the way Kurt’s fingers shakily unbuttoned Blaine’s cardigan moments ago and shoved it off his shoulders without so much as breaking their kiss, the way he now has his hands on Blaine’s ass, encouraging him along to ride the undulating waves of the friction they’re creating together, already so much but nowhere near enough.

They’ve barely spoken since they kissed - in fact, it had been an unspoken agreement to leave and to share a cab and for Blaine to come up to Kurt’s apartment, and it’s odd, really, how certain of all of it Blaine had been.

How certain of all of it he still is.

But he’s certain, too, that he needs more, and he’s pretty sure Kurt does, too, from the way he throws his head back against the couch cushions with a shaky breath of a moan when Blaine begins to mouth across Kurt’s jawline and down his neck, taking his time sucking slow, purposeful kisses everywhere he can reach, on every bit of skin that’s exposed. 

If he were completely sober, Blaine would be reveling in the fact that he’s even being allowed to do this, that he’s learned the softness of Kurt’s lips and the salty-sweet taste of his skin, that he’s beginning to learn the way Kurt sounds when he moans and the feeling of Kurt’s cock hard and pressed against his own, even through their pants.

But he’s not sober - he’s not entirely wasted, plenty coherent enough to know what he’s doing and that he wants this and that Kurt wants it, too, but he’s drunk enough to be able to put the wonder and amazement and every other thought out of his mind and focus on this, on figuring out how to make Kurt feel good and actually making it happen.

The rest will come later.

So Blaine pulls back enough to look at Kurt, lifting slightly up on his knees on either side of Kurt’s lap and pressing Kurt further into the back of the couch, leaning their foreheads together, their breathing coming hot and ragged between them - and Kurt looks incredible like this, cheeks flushed from booze and heat and desire, eyes dark and lust-blown with only a ring of dark blue left visible around his pupils, mouth kissed red and swollen and god, what Blaine wouldn’t do to see those lips wrapped around-

“Blaine,” Kurt breathes out in a stuttered exhale, his hands sliding up to rest on Blaine’s bare chest, up under his undershirt, and Blaine realizes he’s just been staring, realizes he’s gone still, realizes that Kurt is nearly trembling underneath him, and Blaine needs to-

He needs to do something.

In as fluid of a motion as he can manage, Blaine pushes himself up off of the couch and up off of Kurt, instead sliding down onto the floor in front of him, gently pressing at both of Kurt’s knees to encourage his legs to part - and he can’t help but feel a tiny thrill at the way they fall open so readily, at the way he can hear the hitch of Kurt’s breath and possibly even a soft whimper, too.

There’s no way to describe how it makes Blaine feel other than powerful, like he’s in control of giving this to Kurt, of taking him apart in hopes of putting him back together, and Kurt is letting him do it, trusting him to.

The powerful feeling persists through his uncoordinated efforts to unlace Kurt’s boots and pull them off, then the sloppy awkwardness of their joint maneuver in getting Kurt’s pants off, too, and then-

And then Kurt’s fingers are twisting in Blaine’s curls, pulling him closer as he leans in to ghost his mouth along the outline of Kurt’s cock straining in his underwear, sucking briefly at the head of it, reveling in the taste as well as the moan that it elicits, low from Kurt’s throat.

Again, if Blaine were sober, he’d want to take his time - draw it out, strip Kurt naked and kiss and savor every part of him, and as much as he still wants that, hopes he’ll have another chance to do it, maybe, someday, he’s far too impatient, the anticipation of months of possibly-mutual stolen glances built up for far too long.

There’s no hope of waiting another second.

And so Blaine reaches to hook his thumb under Kurt’s waistband and tug his underwear long enough to free his cock, to wrap his hand around the length of it, then wasting no time taking it into his mouth.

The weight of Kurt on his tongue, the feeling of his lips stretching around him is incredible, turning Blaine on beyond belief as he sinks as far down as he can manage, and he can’t help but moan at the combination of all of it, nearly overwhelming his senses.

It’s been a long time since he’s done this, not just been intimate with someone but ached so desperately to give. He’s a thousand times more focused on Kurt’s release than his own, and though he’s achingly hard and feels himself straining against the fly of his pants, it doesn’t matter - all that matters is the way Kurt reacts when Blaine swirls his tongue around the head of his cock, the way Kurt moans when Blaine takes him in deeper, the way Kurt begins to tremble underneath him, fingers digging more insistently into Blaine’s curls. 

But by the time Kurt is shifting restlessly and panting and moaning underneath Blaine’s hands and his mouth, Blaine is becoming more desperate, too - he reaches down to unbutton and unzip his pants, shoving them down past his hips far enough to slip his hand under his briefs and jerk himself off, too, not caring that it’s his own touch because it’s still connected, still in rhythm with what he’s giving Kurt, still on the path to the pleasure and the heat and the release that they’re searching for together.

“Blaine, I’m- Stop, I-”

Kurt sounds completely and utterly undone, and when Blaine pulls off to look up at him, he looks it, too - debauched and lost in the feeling of all of it, and Blaine did that, Blaine made him this way.

And Blaine needs to pull him through it.

He makes the split decision to push up off of the floor and climb back onto Kurt’s lap, one hand pressed into the couch cushion beside Kurt’s head, knees once again straddling his lap, taking another moment to look at him, to breathe him in and look and memorize just in case, before he leans their foreheads together and reaches down to grasp Kurt’s cock in his hand again, intent on bringing him over the edge.

Even untouched, Blaine is too wound up to properly kiss Kurt while he does it, instead staying impossibly close as their breaths mix hot and heady between them, as he pays attention to Kurt’s soft noises and whimpers to know when he has the right grip, the right touch, as he feels Kurt’s hips bucking up underneath him with an intensity that proves he’s right there at it, close, almost.

When he feels Kurt’s hand snake between their bodies to find Blaine’s cock, too, wrapping around it with surprisingly sure, steady fingers, Blaine is done for, too.

It takes only a handful of strokes for him to come, spilling hot over Kurt’s fist as his orgasm sparks through him like a firework, bright and bold and in pure technicolor, leaving him shaking and breathless and collapsing against Kurt’s body, just in time for him to feel Kurt come, too, and Blaine is close enough to feel it ripple through Kurt’s body, only letting go of Kurt’s cock to clutch him nearer, pressing as close as he can possibly get.

“Oh my god,” Kurt laughs shakily once they’ve begun to come down from it, and Blaine hums in agreement, pressing slower, gentler kisses to Kurt’s jaw, as if it can soothe him, help him, ease him back out of it.

“Was that okay?” he asks quietly, feeling like he should, as he musters all of his energy to lift up enough to look at Kurt, feeling weak and boneless but just needing to check, needing to be sure.

“So okay,” Kurt breathes, rocking up enough to capture Blaine’s lips in a kiss, softer and sweeter than any they’d shared before, making Blaine’s toes curl at the tenderness of it and of the weight it holds - a silent affirmation that this isn’t it, that they can be more, that this is just the beginning.

And Blaine allows himself to sink into it, reveling in the feeling instead of being afraid by it, instead of questioning it, only pulling away when it’s turned into a press of their smiles more than anything else.

Of course, there’s one more thing.

“Did you- Did you really already know who I was?” The question comes out sounding tentative, but Blaine is suddenly desperate to know, slightly afraid of the answer, unsure of what it means either way. 

Kurt smiles slowly, lazily, shifting to lay down on the couch and tugging Blaine down along with him, pulling him close.

“Blaine Anderson,” he murmurs, and Blaine has never loved his name more, has never heard it quite like this, like the beginnings of the melody of a soft, sweet song that only Kurt knows how to sing. “I did a project with Tina, back a couple months ago. She talks about you a lot.”

He can’t help but laugh at that, a breathless, genuine giggle bubbling up and out of his chest, and he tucks his face into Kurt’s neck just because he can - just because he can.

“I didn’t know yours until I overheard it tonight,” Blaine admits softly, feeling silly and oblivious for it, for not having known, for not having thought to ask Tina long ago. “But I... I’ve been seeing you around the building for months now, and I just... There’s something about you.”

Kurt lets out a soft, happy hum, trailing his fingers up and down Blaine’s back, tracing small, weaving patterns along the path.

“Something good, I hope.”

Lifting his head up, Blaine feels no hesitation in pressing his lips to Kurt’s in a slow, languid kiss, whispering the words into it when he speaks.

“Better than I ever could have expected.”

[emilia3546]

Home Part 2 - Nessian NSFW

Cassian grinned as Nesta wriggled slightly, snuggling into his chest even more, mumbling his name in her sleep, the starlight illuminating the clearing around them, he leaned back against the boulder, staring up at the stars, watching every constellation shining with a different light, their light breaking through the dark of the night. Nesta shuffled in his arms again, and sat up, rubbing her eyes,

"Was I asleep?"

"I didn't want to wake you," He kissed the top of her head, and she blinked the sleep away, her own gaze shooting skywards, to the stars above them,

"I've never seen them so bright." She whispered,

"There's no other light here, nothing for them to compete with." Nesta nodded, still unable to tear her gaze away, and leaned back, resting her head on Cassian's shoulder,

"They're beautiful."

"You see that there?" Cassian pointed towards a collection of stars, "That's Enalius, and next to him, that's his mate." Nesta followed his gaze, the stars almost moving as she found where he was looking,

"I can't see it." He guided her chin to the right place,

"That's his wing, and there, that's his sword belt." She smiled, and he showed her Enalius' mate beside him, "Her name was Reyne, most Illyrians don't actually know about her, she's hardly mentioned in the histories, but she should have been." Nesta twisted to face him, the stars still shining in her eyes as he held her, "She was a genius, Enalius may have been the warrior, but she was the tactician, the one who made the calls, she led the first Illyrians in peace, and made plans in war, Enalius led the armies, but they worked as one unit. Although, most histories that do mention her agree that she was probably her mate's equal in combat, but preferred the planning aspect of warfare. She was instrumental in the creation of Illyria, the first war-camps, uniting the camp-lords to fight together."

"Why do most histories ignore her, then?"

"She was female. You know some of the camp lords archaic views," Nesta rolled her eyes and nodded, "Many say that I'm Enalius' heir, if that's true, then you are most certainly Reyne's. In every way." She blinked in surprise, 

"Her heir? But I'm not, y'know,"

"Illyrian? It's your heart that counts, who you are. You are an Illyrian at heart, you don't need wings to prove that." Nesta huffed,

"An Illyrian without wings, then?"

"Yes."

"So, a person?" Cassian rolled his eyes, 

"You know what I meant."

"Yes, yes I do." She shifted, turning to fully face him, straddling his lap as her hands slid up, sliding into his hair as she kissed him, opening at the first brush of his tongue. He gripped her waist, and pulled her close, and she moaned into his mouth, sinking into him, until neither could tell where one ended and the other began. They were of one heart, one soul, one body. She pulled away, gasping for breath, her blue-gray eyes shining in the starlight, he chuckled as she pulled at his leathers, cursing when she couldn't get them off, "Cass," she whined, yelping as he stood, clinging on for dear life when he quickly spun round in a circle. She gasped when her back met a tree behind them, wrapping her legs around Cassian's waist as he shrugged his leathers off, leaving only his pants and pulled hers over her head, freezing when he saw her undergarments,

"Nes," his voice was low, her name almost a growl on his lips,

"What can I say, I was hopeful." He laughed, the sound reverberating around the clearing,

"You're a menace." He left one hand on her waist, holding her still against the tree, the other snaking up her side, sliding into her hair. He pulled her head to the side, baring her neck to him, waiting for a little nod before kissing along her jaw, working down her neck, biting down gently on her collarbone, satisfaction rushing through him at her whimpers, sucking marks into her flesh, her hands tightening on his back, pulling him even closer. He pulled away for a moment, his nose brushing against the column of her throat, the same place that so long ago had sent her reeling back, but now she moaned his name, trying to pull him back.

She moaned again as he slipped a finger under the band of her panties, but no lower, and she whined in frustration, brushing her own fingers along his wings, tipping her head back, desperately inviting him in. He paused momentarily, gripping her chin and kissing her again, slowly sliding her panties down, unclipping her bra at the back, removing both delicately, painstakingly slowly, and Nesta hissed in frustration,

"Cassian!"

Mhhm, what, sweetheart?" He hummed, still toying with her, both hands brushing up and down her sides, flaring his wings back so that she couldn't reach them any more. She glared at him, fire in her gaze, slowly burning through his self-control. "What, Nesta? Tell me what you want."

"Fuck me." He chuckled and untangled her legs from around his waist, dropping to his knees and throwing her legs over his shoulders. Nesta groaned at the first flick of his tongue, his name a prayer on her lips, she cried out again and again as he slipped a finger inside her, one hand holding her hips still against the tree. She tried to grind against his hand, his tongue, but he wouldn't let her, pinning her to the tree just as easily as he pinned her on the edge, still refusing to allow her to fall over. "Please," she whispered, "Cass, please," 

"Please what?" He paused for a moment, leaving Nesta trembling with want,

"Get on with it, you ass!"

"That's not very nice, I thought you wanted to come?"

"I do, please, please, Cass, I need-" She screamed as he slipped a second finger inside her and curled them both, sending her flying over the edge, panting for breath as he pulled away, standing up. She reached out for him, holding his shoulders as he kicked his pants off,

"Ready?" She nodded, throwing her head back, a shield of glowing red stopping her from hitting it on the tree as he slowly pushed into her, "Fuck, Nes, you're soaked." He muttered, giving her a chance to adjust before pulling almost all the way out and thrusting back in one go. Nesta held on tight to him as he moved, both moaning each other's names as the mating bond started to glow between them, ready whenever they were to accept it. 

Cassian cupped the back of Nesta's head, kissing her as he thrust into her again, and she moaned when she tasted herself on his lips, his own capturing the sounds she made, moaning himself when she tugged on his hair, pulling him into her, craving just as much contact as he was. He slammed into her again and again, and she just managed to keep up, clinging on to him as he thrust again and again, hitting her spot every time, dragging moans and whimpers from deep within her. Cassian groaned as he walls clenched around him and Nesta cried out as he spilled inside her, following him moments later, her legs shaking uncontrollably as she came. 

She was still shaking as Cassian carried her back to the boulder she had sat on earlier, setting her down gently, and brushing a hand along her jaw,

"Okay, sweetheart?" She nodded, kissing his palm as he cupped her cheek and sat beside her. She grinned as she climbed back into his lap, kissing along his neck, reaching behind him to find his wings, grinning when she felt a hardness pressing into her ass, "You really are a menace," he chuckled, guiding her hips forwards as she slid down onto him, rolling her hips slowly, carefully, with Cassian guiding her movements as he kissed her again, her hands on his shoulders steadying herself as he pushed her closer to the edge again.

Once she had gotten into a rhythm, Cassian thrust upwards, making Nesta lose her balance slightly, relying on him to hold her up as she gasped, her breath now coming in ragged gasps, she cried out his name the moment his lips met her neck again, biting her lip as he whispered,

"Don't come. Not yet. Together." She nodded, desperately holding off until he squeezed her hips and she shattered around him, both their cries echoing around the clearing. She collapsed against his chest sighing when he wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight against him as he nudged her off. 

"Cass,"

"It's okay, I've got you," He whispered, slipping a hand into her hair, gently massaging her scalp as he rubbed her back, waiting for her breathing to slow back down to normal, she mumbled something and snuggled into him, burying her face in his neck and closing her eyes, his scent grounding her. 

 Nesta woke to Cassian's voice a couple of hours later,

"C'mon, we've got to get back," she blinked, burying her face in his chest as he unfurled his wings, the cold air finally getting through. She frowned, and yelped as he stood up, carrying her with him, and helped her slip her leathers back on, scooping her back into his arms once he had done the same and shooting into the sky, chuckling as she yelped in surprise, clinging on tight.

"Go slower this time." She begged, only breathing once he had slowed down again, loosening her grip as he carried her back to the camp,

"Let's go home."

"I am home." She whispered, resting her head against his shoulder, matching her breathing to his as they flew through the darkness.

[mythicamagic]

Sesskag week Day 5: Horror

Summery: Kagome resurrects Sesshoumaru using Tenseiga. He swears to repay the debt by any means necessary.

AN: Written for Sesskag Week Day 5 - Horror. I decided to write this with more the feeling of horror after experiencing something traumatic rather than for the genre of horror, so this is more angsty and hurt/comfort with fluff at the end. Enjoy!

Warning: Some gore so rated M

4,000 words

(all prompts posted on Ao3, fanfic.net and Dokuga)

Fall of the Mighty

Gulping hard and sucking fast breaths into her lungs, Kagome ignored the ache in her fingers and fired another arrow.

Sweat rolled down her temples, hair damp with humidity. She dashed to the side and narrowly avoided being cleaved in two by a boar demon, reacting off sheer adrenaline rather than skill.

She'd paid the Western Lands a visit with the intention of delivering some happy news. Sesshoumaru had been busy fending off small invasions for weeks, but Jaken had reported that there'd recently been a lull in activity. She'd thought it safe to visit.

Rin had progressed well with her studies at the village. Kagome thought he'd want to know that the petite teen now expertly rode horses without falling off and could render foes unconscious with the right herbal concoction.

I thought he'd want to know, to cheer him up...

Because he did so love to hear news of his ward's progress.

Getting caught up in the crossfire of one of the West's latest battles had not been part of the plan. Kagome glimpsed Sesshoumaru every now and then, gliding above the fighting soldiers in his true form. She wasn't sure if he'd noticed her presence.

Wincing upon seeing him collide with an enemy, her eyes widened. Wrestling in the grey overcast sky with a snake-like youkai, spittle and blood lashed out. Ravenous growls clapped above the battle like bursts of thunder. Rows of sharp teeth lunged and tore into flesh, ripping through sinew and snapping bone.

Kagome cried out, feeling a pain in her side. Shooting another demon between the eyes, she pressed a hand to the wound they'd lashed into her hip.

Despite the injury, she became distracted again, watching as the two giants twisted and scrapped, soon colliding atop a hill. Racing towards them, she panted hard, willing her body not to give in to exhaustion.

By the time the dirt had settled from the collision, their forms had changed. Inhuman, beautiful men drew swords and slashed at one another in a deadly dance. Bakusaiga couldn't seem to consume the grey-haired snake youkai, perhaps indicative of Sesshoumaru's power running dry.

Kagome focused on fending off approaching soldiers, firing again and again. She happened to turn when a blazing snarl ripped through her ears and in a blur of motion the unthinkable happened.

Swords met and parried, before both demons struck unexpectedly. Sesshoumaru's sword impaled the enemy through his chest- just as the snake's blade cleaved through a pale neck.

Kagome's eyes flew wide. Horror slammed into her chest.

Long silver hair was sent flying into the air. It happened too fast and yet agonisingly slow at the same time, like a punch being slammed into her gut only for Kagome to register the hit seconds later.

Hitting the ground with a sickening thud, the head of the Killing Perfection rolled twice before lying still.

Horrible keening, wailing noises filled the air. Kagome's lungs and mouth hurt, and she belatedly realised the agonised screaming was coming from her. Hurrying forward blindly, she tripped and scrambled over bloodied earth. The snake demon gave a wheezing cough, sinking to both knees. He then fell onto his side, eyes glassy.

Kagome approached the two collapsed corpses, trembling. With a whimper, she tried not to look at Sesshoumaru's bloodied, decapitated neck, unable to accept what she was seeing. Scrambling shaking fingers at his hip, she ripped Tenseiga out of its scabbard. Coughing and pressing a hand to her mouth, blue eyes squeezed shut.

Everything felt like too much. A buzzing noise filled her ears, heart thudding dizzyingly fast.

She forced herself to swallow and crack stinging eyes open, gauging the distance from his body to the silver-haired head about 20 meters away.

"Oh come on," she croaked. Setting Tenseiga down, the contents of her stomach churned. Stumbling over to it with legs like jelly, Kagome stared down at his upturned, handsome face. Half-open, golden eyes stared at her with hazed pupils.

Coughing and moving back to retch, the war-torn landscape became blurry as hot tears rolled down her cheeks as she emptied the contents of her stomach. Her nose and mouth strung with fire, breathing ragged. Swallowing thickly and wiping her mouth, Kagome made a noise of distress before madly lurching down. Numb, shaking fingers slid from a regal jaw to touch striped magenta cheeks, lifting his head from the ground. She didn't know how to explain the horrific weight, whether it felt heavier or lighter than expected.

Kagome could barely see a thing through her thick, unrelenting tears. Sobbing, stumbling and quickly placing the head down before his body like he were a doll to fix, she panted.

Leaning to grab Tenseiga, Kagome's stomach lurched again. Controlling it, she grit chattering teeth and straightened.

Holding the sword over Sesshoumaru's corpse, the miko waited.

Nothing.

Blue eyes widened. Kagome began to tremble violently with terror.

"No. No, no, no- please! Please, this is for Sesshoumaru!" she burst. "You were made from his father's fang, right?! I know I'm not a demon but so help me you WILL save him!" a snarl tore at her bile-laced throat.

Forcing reiki onto her fingers, Kagome allowed the holy power to spill out onto the hilt. Pink energy then skittered onto the blade, causing a noise of distress until Tenseiga glowed blue. Panting and not verbalising her victory, Kagome continued to whisper pleas and prayers even as she noticed small ghostly imps. They crawled over Sesshoumaru's body, readying chains around limp striped wrists.

With a cry, Kagome slashed the blade down madly. They shrieked upon being severed in two, fading away.

The ensuing silence sounded too loud. Tenseiga glowed and rattled in her hand, bathing her slick skin blue. Sesshoumaru's head now lay attached to his body, but he did not stir.

"S-Sesshoumaru?"

Crouching, and then weakening, Kagome's knees hit the ground heavily. Reaching out, fingers wobbled and touched soft, light bangs, bumping into his smooth, stern brow. She didn't realise she was still crying until tears began to land on his upturned, pale face. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to stop them.

"Why are you crying, miko?"

The air froze in her lungs, Kagome's head whipping up. Sesshoumaru gazed at her, golden eyes bright and very much alive. Confusion marred his expression, attention drifting to Tenseiga still gripped in her hand. His eyes then flew wide with understanding, tensing.

Making a strangled noise, Kagome ducked down and clutched at broken armour, burying her face in his shoulder and sobbing loudly like a child. Sesshoumaru remained frozen beneath her, and when she did not stop, he slowly curled an arm around the wailing miko.

---

Kagome had returned to the village severely shaken. Her friends had noticed and inquired, so she'd explained almost everything to them about getting caught up with a battle; neglecting to mention what had happened to Sesshoumaru.

She silently vowed never to tell another soul.

It didn't make it easy to deal with since the fighting itself wasn't what had upset her. Because of this oversight, her friends figured she'd be over it in a few days. As if confirming this, Kagome carried on as normal, burying the ugly blemish of memory and covering it with pleasantness. She started smiling again and even laughed when Shippo made his jokes or pulled pranks.

Something she did not anticipate was Sesshoumaru's unexpected arrival about a week since that awful, traumatic day. She'd figured he'd be busy with battle clean up for a while and would need to deal with war and politics, but he strode into the village languidly, in no hurry.

Kagome turned and busied herself with hanging some clothes up to dry outside Kaede's hut. Expecting him to ignore her and make a beeline for Rin's hut, she stiffened upon hearing boots deliberately drag on the earth behind her.

"Miko," his voice sounded crisp and clear.

Shippo squeaked from where he sat nearby, nibbling on a lollipop and observing them keenly.

Glancing over one shoulder and finding his proximity closer than necessary, Kagome forced a smile. "H-hi, Sesshoumaru. What can I do for you?"

Holding her gaze with rapt attention, Sesshoumaru's jaw ticked. "You have done enough," he uttered. "It is time this one returned the favour. I have come to repay you for your actions on the battlefield. Your assistance was…instrumental in our success."

"Wow, really, Kagome?" Shippo pipped up. "You downplayed it so much, what happened?"

"N-nothing!" Kagome laughed nervously, grabbing Sesshoumaru's sleeve and tugging. She shot him a warning look, gesturing to follow. "Uh, wanna help me gather herbs?"

Sesshoumaru's expression turned flat, however, he nodded and followed her away from Shippo's prying eyes. Stopping under the shade of the trees, Kagome faced the demon lord. "Look, you don't need to repay me. I didn't…do anything to make you feel indebted to me. Let's just forget it ever happened."

Burning, flashing eyes snapped to her face. "This one does not intend to ever forget, nor can I ignore a life debt. Proclaim what you want and it shall be yours."

Kagome groaned, running a hand through her hair. "I don't want anything!"

Noticing his unblinking, direct stare and pensive silence, she could tell he wasn't about to take 'no' for an answer.

"Geeze you demons always have to drag me into your weird rituals or traditions, huh?" Kagome grumbled. "Fine…" thinking for a moment, she hummed. "Kaede needs moss from a certain type of tree and some other herbs collecting. Help me get those and we'll count that as the repayment."

Expecting him to refuse, judging by the flinty look of disapproval he shot her way, Sesshoumaru surprised her with a regal incline of his head. "Very well."

---

They'd spent several hours doing what she assumed he thought of as 'peasants work.' However, Sesshoumaru hadn't complained once. In fact, he worked diligently, considering he looked like he'd never done a hard days work in his life and had impeccable, flawless claws.

Kagome covertly surveyed her own blunt, slightly chipped nails. Setting down a full basket of herbs, she wiped the sweat from her forehead. After passing over their hard work to Kaede, the former Shikon Miko wandered back to Sesshoumaru. Noticing him inspecting green-stained fingers with distaste, she smiled.

"You're off the hook now. Thanks for your help though, it was definitely sufficient payment, buddy-"

"No."

"W-what?"

Sesshoumaru dragged cool, icy attention away from green digits. "Do you presume to think that collecting moss equals the life of this Sesshoumaru?"

"Of course not, but-"

"Then more will be done to repay the life debt."

Kagome groaned, spreading her arms wide. "Like what?" At his stony, unrelenting expression, she sighed. "I guess...Sango mentioned something about babysitting."

She assumed he was about ready to throw in the towel, but Sesshoumaru set his shoulders and raised his chin. "Hn."

---

Kagome had never seen Sesshoumaru be used as a jungle gym before. If someone had told her she'd be witnessing three children climbing over the Killing Perfection's furs, clambering his back and swinging from imposing shoulder armour, she'd have called them a liar.

Miroku and Sango's children evidently adored him.

"Who knew he'd be so good with kids," Sango muttered to her behind her hand.

Kagome smiled, remembering his silent protective steak when it had come to Rin and Kohaku. "It's not that much of a surprise, is it?" she giggled, watching him catch Mitsu mid-fall without even acknowledging it.

As she observed him and cared for the children in Sango and Miroku's eventual absence, her stomach began to twist, tears pricking her eyes.

Ducking out of the hut and having to take a breather, Kagome forced the image of limp silver hair and glassy eyes back into its box. For some reason, witnessing him so attentive and alive in a domestic setting was messing with her emotions.

The sunset streaked the skies with vibrant red plumes by the time they were finally relieved of their duties. Walking through the village with her taciturn companion, she noticed the demon hadn't left. Glancing at him, Kagome shook her head.

"No way. That's it. This is getting ridiculous, Sesshoumaru. I'm a simple gal, I don't need much. Your help has been more than enough to repay the debt, I promise."

The Daiyoukai did not budge. Kagome stomped her foot, huffing.

"I'm done for the day! I can't keep making up tasks for you to do!"

Sesshoumaru looked thoughtful for a moment, as though registering that she may indeed have a point. "I should like to offer you something needed, rather than complete a simple task that you do not care about."

Frowning, she folded her arms and started to walk towards her hut. "Sure, sounds nice. I do need a new cutting board."

Heavy youki slid like water over her back. She felt his gaze with a visceral thrum of awareness, skin pricking in response. Kagome adjusted her priestess robes and pressed down the answering whisper of her powers.

"This Sesshoumaru extends an offer, miko."

Kagome stopped, shivering. "What is it?"

"You will look at me."

Gritting her teeth and whirling to face him, the embers of fire immediately died in her eyes at his intense, watchful expression. "I will mate you, should you wish it," he said succinctly.

Everything in her stopped and spun, backtracking to try and understand his train of thought, until her very being came at a standstill. A secret, buried flicker of emotion wormed its way into her heart.

"Why?" she breathed. "Why would you…do that?"

Sesshoumaru observed her, heavy attention dragging away to glance at the far off tops of the trees. "Upon completion, your lifespan would increase to match mine. An extra 2,000 years of life is something humans have coveted for years. Therefore mating would be a worthy repayment."

Kagome listened in silence, shifting slightly under the Daiyoukai's level, studying gaze. He continued with languid immediacy, new hesitance leaking into his words that hadn't been there before.

"It has also been suggested that the actions carried out that day by your hand may have been guided by...feelings. Personal attachment, different to simple friendship."

"But I-I-" curling shaking hands into fists, Kagome felt her heart constrict. "I'd...hate for you to extend that offer to me just because of a stupid life debt."

"If you do not harbour feelings for this one then why did you save me?"

Kagome took a breath, glancing away. Tears stung her eyes, the words tumbling out of her mouth unbidden. "I never said that I didn't," she confessed quietly. God, I never wanted to have to tell him like this.

Now the quiet, gentle crush she'd harboured for him felt exposed, like a cocoon being pried open too early. She felt vulnerable yet soldiered on. "But that had nothing to do with it. I saved you because you're my friend, first and foremost. Besides I couldn't...I couldn't just leave you there. Do nothing."

The demon's expression had morphed into something else now, however, she couldn't decipher what it was, tired from constantly tensing, relaxing, laughing and revolving around him all day. He took a step closer but Kagome backed up.

"Don't ever try to marry me out of some sense of duty again, Sesshoumaru."

"Miko-"

"No, please," her voice wobbled. "Leave me alone for a while," she mumbled, turning on her heel and hurrying away.

---

She felt a little childish, arms wrapped around drawn-up knees and sitting at the base of the Goshinboku. Even if she couldn't confide in Inuyasha about the memories of the battle, the sacred tree that felt like a part of their bond remained a pillar of support. Something sturdy that she could ground herself with.

Groaning, Kagome buried her face in her arms. I can't believe I confessed like that. What a mess.

Sensing a presence draw near and the familiar brush of cold, pressing youki, she lifted her head, spying black boots. Sighing, Kagome dragged her gaze up- only to be surprised when Sesshoumaru stooped to her level in a smooth crouch.

Heat flamed pale cheeks into a vibrant red, back pressing against the unrelenting bark. She realised a little belatedly that his armour had been removed. "What are you doing? I told you to leave me alone for a wh-"

"I find it difficult to believe you could care for me," he stated bluntly, face expressionless. Only his eyes gave him away, unable to appear casual.

Her breath caught in her throat, butterflies kicking up a storm within the confines of her stomach. Kagome glanced away. "What makes you say that?"

"You have been unable to look at this one for some time."

Her body stiffened, fingers tightening in her clothes. Ah, she'd been caught. It was true, the whole day she'd had to glance away from him every so often. Looking at him for long periods of time uninterrupted hurt. "I-I can't…"

"Why?"

"B-because," her tone became thin, fingers clutching hard at her legs until her knuckles bled white. "Every time I see your face I just remember it- h-how it looked in death. I can see the red line around your neck where he beheaded you-" Kagome choked on a sob, shuddering. "When I look at your eyes, they're not bright and full of life. They're vacant and glassy. Your mouth is grey, skin pale, and there's so much blood, I can smell it-"

"Enough."

Sesshoumaru's face loomed suddenly close, her chin caught and turned- forcing her to stare into his very real, very bright burning eyes. "That is enough," he said in a softer tone. "I am alive, miko. You made certain of this. Feel."

Taking her hand, the demon pressed her palm against his chest, heedless of the danger. She could easily let out a burst of reiki and wound such a vulnerable part of him, but the Daiyoukai, a peerless predator, left himself open to hurt.

Kagome's breathing hitched, feeling the thud of his heartbeat. It thundered strong and quick beneath her touch. "I'm sorry," she said in a hushed tone. "It must be harder for you- you're the one that died, not me."

"Hn, but I do not remember dying. Only waking to the sounds of crying."

His thumb dragged over her fingers, and Kagome swallowed. "I-I think I know what you can do for me," she murmured.

Making a non-commital noise, he tilted his head questioningly.

"Come here."

Sesshoumaru stared, watching as she shifted her legs down and gestured to her lap. He blinked with vague confusion. Kagome huffed and blushed, touching the side of his head gingerly.

"Lay your head on my lap...please."

The demon lord seemed impressed by her nerve, arching a brow. She remained quietly hopeful until he shifted and indulged her. Leaning down, Sesshoumaru rested his head onto her thighs, the grass warm and cushioning his back.

Warmth flooded Kagome's cheeks, gazing down at him. However, her attention shifted to his neck, and those terrible, piercing memories came flooding back. She could see the severed flesh, Sesshoumaru's body, feel the weight of his head-

Clawed fingers seized her hand, forcing frozen fingers against the warm skin of his throat.

"I am alive," he uttered.

Kagome exhaled, feeling him drag her palm over his neck. She then touched him of her own accord, brushing a free-hand into silky silver tresses.

Sesshoumaru exhaled a warm puff of air, and she felt him swallow beneath her finger-tips.

With each caress and explorative drag of her hand over the handsome plains of the Daiyoukai's face, she no longer remembered that awful day. Instead, her mind re-wired itself, committing the sweep of his nose, the arch of his brow, the high cheekbones, his hard jaw- to memory.

Snowy lashes slid shut and the demon tipped his face slightly into her palm. When soft lips pressed against the heated skin of her wrist, Kagome jolted.

"Y-you're um...letting me take a lot of liberties with you."

"Indeed."

Smiling slightly, she stroked a rich fall of hair away from an elfin ear. "Thank you," she said quietly, reluctantly forcing herself to stop touching him. Greedy fingers curled into her palms. "I feel...a lot better now. I'd say the life debt is paid off now."

Sesshoumaru's honeyed gaze cracked open. "It seems so," he rumbled, unmoving.

Reeling, the miko tried to pluck casual conversation out of thin air, floundering, wondering what to say, before a clawed hand reached- tangling in black hair and tugging.

Kagome squeaked, her neck craning down to follow Sesshoumaru's silent demand. Feeling a soft pressure against her lips, the miko's blood heated. She quietly gasped against his mouth, and he drank in her startled breath, claws lightly scraping her scalp.

Gaining control of herself, she slowly relaxed. Dark lashes fluttered shut, and she returned the kiss, hands carefully framing his face.

"I did not intend to insult you earlier, miko," breathy words escaped into the hairsbreadth of space between them when they parted. "Merely, this one has watched and waited. Before the battle, I did not think such...sentiments would be welcome."

"Why would you ever think that?" she said in a hushed tone, stroking a magenta stripe.

He made a lazy, pleasant noise that sang right down into her toes. "Inuyasha," he muttered, and she immediately understood.

Kagome smiled and gently pressed another kiss to his lips. "We've both moved on. I thought that much would be obvious."

"Hn. Jaken certainly thought so. It was he who suggested that you possessed feelings for me based on what happened on the battlefield. I did not initially agree...but then I became foolish."

"So instead of confessing like me, you repackaged your feelings into an offer of marriage entirely to do with duty," Kagome snorted, tapping his nose. "You know you're surprisingly dense when it comes to romance."

Sesshoumaru frowned and huffed, jaw clenching in a way that bespoke of his agreement. "I am not usually," he rumbled with mild defensiveness. "It seems you have this effect on me, ridiculous miko."

Quietly giggling, Kagome cradled him closer. "Ditto," she hummed. "You know I don't think I'm quite over the whole 'dead Sesshoumaru' thing after all. We'd better keep touching. It's the only surefire way of staving off the horror."

Amused golden eyes flicked upwards in a haughty version of an exasperated eye roll, humming in acceptance to her suggestion. With a tug she easily followed, Sesshoumaru guided her smiling mouth back down to his.

Their sweet and teasing airs did nothing to dispel the lingering memories, however, and it would take many nights awakening in a cold sweat to truly handle them. Still, with each nightmare, the Killing Perfection remained a newfound constant at her side.

When she cried, he would lick her tears away, and the miko would curl into his rich furs, lost to contentment anew within the safety of his arms.

End

[flutteringphalanges]

             Night of the Living Dead (And Then Some)

Summary: It’s 1897 and the world as we know it has become overrun by zombies. An unlikely pair, a former nun by the name of Agatha Van Helsing, and a bloodthirsty vampire, Count Dracula, have formed an alliance in the hopes of surviving this debacle. Can the two learn to coexist or will they end up as just another mindless cog in life’s maniacal wheel?

Ship: Dragatha

Rating: M

Chapters: 1/2

Read on FFN and AO3

A/N:  An odd two part one shot that came to my mind. I wanted to do something Halloween-ish. I guess in a way this is a parody because it is Dracula and there are also zombies?! Anyway, hope you like hope it turned out! -Jen

                                                    Part One

Surprisingly, he hadn’t taken notice of the damn thing until her arrow nearly took him out. Dracula watched as the undead beast faltered briefly before falling still on the ground. Right in the center of the forehead. She was getting good. Perhaps too good. Nostrils flaring slightly, he rounded about to face her.

“That could’ve easily hit me.” He attempted to argue as Agatha strode forward to pluck her prized arrow from the corpse. “What if I had moved just a bit? That weapon of yours could’ve struck my heart.” 

“And then I would have one less problem on my hands.” She replied simply, not so much as giving him the benefit of a look. “I knew what I was doing. If it hadn’t been for me, it would’ve gotten you and Lord knows what would happen if you were to get bit. There aren’t exactly many vampires about that we’ve seen cases of.”

“Must you bring God into this?” Dracula sighed, running a hand through his hair. “What do you want me to say, Agatha? Thank you?”

“That would be rather nice.” She sighed, cleaning off the grimy arrow. “But I have a feeling that I’m not going to get such a response from you. You are, as one might claim, a bit pig-head.”

“Pig headed?!” The vampire let out a humorless laugh. “Pig headed?! Why how your insults have grown since our first encounter, Agatha. If anyone is pig headed, it’s you for insisting we go to Brasov--which, I’ll inform you, was very overrun!” 

“Everywhere is overrun, Dracula.” The former nun sighed, finally turning to look at the man. “Romania, Holland...it’s like a cesspit of flesh eating monsters that, well…” She paused for a moment. “Make you seem like a mere mosquito.” 

The vampire’s eyes narrowed as the woman tossed her bow over her shoulder. Sometimes a small part of him felt the urge to end her right there. It would be so easy. But the bigger part refrained from that. Perhaps if he could read her mind at this very moment, she too felt the same way. Bickering was always better than dead. It was a good reminder to them both. 

“Come on.” Agatha’s voice pulled him from his thoughts. “It’ll be daylight soon and the last thing I need is for you to burn into a crisp.”

“If I’m not mistaken, I could’ve sworn you said  you’d have one less problem without me.” Dracula countered with a smirk. 

“The idea is becoming more tempting.” The woman replied with a huff. “Now come on, there is no telling what awaits us.” She gave a nod with her head. “This way then.” 

The memory was still very vivid in his mind as he was sure it was in Agatha’s. The night he slaughtered every nun in St. Mary’s Convent but her. How the woman gave up her freedom, her life without a second thought in order to save meek, little Mina Murray. He’d had plans for Agatha. Devilish desires involving her blood. And in a way, perhaps she thought that somehow she could take advantage of him. Oh how the fates change when Death knocks at your door. A new side of unrest that he hadn’t seen in his several centuries of life. 

“I don’t know about you, but I am quite parched.” Dracula said, breaking the long silence. “I haven’t had a human since...well...does tasting you count?” “You’ve survived years without drinking, I’m sure you can continue on just fine.” Agatha said, rolling her eyes. “I’ve been drinking river water and consuming squirrels and you don’t see me complaining. You don’t have to worry about dysentery.” 

“I suppose having you become ill and me carrying for you would put a damper on our little excursion.” He smiled when he saw the glare on Agatha’s face. “What do you suppose would happen if I were bit? If I were to become “undead” undead? Would it reverse the process? Would I be human again? Or would I be a raging animal the likes of which this world has never seen?”

“I’d prefer not to think about either of us getting bit.” The former nun expressed. “We’ve seen what happens. How they turn. It isn’t pleasant.” There was a brief pause before she added. “...If I were to be bitten, I would highly appreciate if you would kill--”

Dracula stopped in his tracks and turned to face his partner. “Your death--at least in the way you are proposing it, isn’t at the top of my list.” No, losing her in that matter was not certain. “You will remain alive, Agatha...at least until I deem it otherwise.” 

“Your version of being undead is only slightly less repulsive.” Agatha exclaimed, shaking her head. “Now hurry along, we’re losing nighttime.” 

“Always so eager and demanding.” The vampire tutted with a smirk. “I have yet to decide exactly how I feel about that with you.” 

The former nun merely rolled her eyes once more, a small smile gracing her features. “My complexity is one of my more charming qualities.” Her gaze flashed up to the full moon. “Perhaps there will come a day where you decide. Or not.” Agatha’s attention turned to the vampire, a look of amusement crossing her face. “And maybe, if you are lucky, I’ll look forward to your answer.” 

“Perhaps.” The Count agreed. “Until then, it seems we are left to put up with each other.” 

A low growl came from within the bushes nearby. Agatha and Dracula turned to see a creature stumbling out from the brush. His skin, just like his clothing, dangled in rags as he hobbled over to the two. Without so much as a second thought, the vampire produced his treasure saber and brought it swiftly through the zombie’s head. Even after centuries of going untouched. Years of battle it’d been in. The Count’s weapon of choice was rather practical--even if it wasn’t as secretly impressive as Agatha’s bow.

“A clean hit.” The former nun noted. “You’re improving.”

Dracula let out a laugh. “As if you know anything about true combat.”

“I was raised by Abraham Van Helsing.” She countered, folding her arms. “And I know you well enough to know that my grandfather was quite skilled.”

“He was no warlord.” Dracula commented, cocking one of his brows. “Now, while I’d love to have a friendly duel with you, I’d rather not run into any more of our acquaintance’s friends. As you were saying, we are losing time. Best keep moving.” 

And Agatha was not one to argue with that. 

                                                       XXX

Cold. Dark. Musky. The dilapidated hunting shed they’d come across at least didn’t stream a single beam of light in. Agatha didn’t know why she agreed to this. Her clothes being used as a means to cover the floor. Protect her from splinters. As Dracula’s pale, naked body moved against her’s, the only warmth she felt was from his cape underneath her bottom. Fucking the vampire was hot in the word sense, but icy from his touch.

“Just a nibble…” He purred into her ear, teeth lightly grazing her earlobe. “It won’t hurt.”

“I said...no to biting…” Agatha panted, her back arching as the pad to one of his thumbs ran across her hard nipple. “Rules.” “Rules are for sheep and conformists.” Dracula growled, his hand sliding down to just barely rest on her groin. He smiled as she stiffened knowing she was throbbing deep inside. Aching for him. “Last time I checked you were far from that, Agatha.” 

“If you can’t control yourself, then I am more than happy to stop.” She offered, earning her a dark glare. She knew he was already hard. Cock pressed against her inner thigh. This wasn’t the first time they’d had this debate during sex and it wouldn’t be the last. “I’m not your bottle of wine, Count Dracula. No biting or no sex.” 

“You are a temptress.” He grumbled, his mouth set in a look of displeasure. “A tease.”

“I am merely the apple on the tree in The Garden of Eden and you are both Eve and the snake. You are your worst enemy.” She chuckled at her own analogy knowing well enough that her comparison to religion was not looked kindly upon by the vampire. “Isn’t my touch enough?”

She let her fingers travel down to where his cock rested against her. Dracula had been the first and only man she’d ever been with. Every sexual experience had been with him. And despite what she at first thought it’d be like, she loved it. Craved it. Especially when she whittled him down to his last nerve. Agatha gingerly touched his head, feeling the droplets weep from their prison. Over four centuries old and with just a few decades herself, she could still make him squirm. 

“With you, nothing is ever enough.” He said through a breathy whisper. “Never. Never. Ever.” And without a warning, he pushed a finger deep inside Agatha causing her to yelp with surprise. So wet. Two could play at that game. “There is a vein that runs down the length of your inner thigh that is particularly delightful.” Dracula explained, kissing the former nun hard. “It would be nice for the both of us.” 

“You’re a pig.” Agatha gasped as the vampire touched her sensitive spot. There were stars and her vision blurred. Dracula seemed to realize this too and probed the area thoughtfully. She struggled to speak. “Stop it!” Don’t stop. Keep going. Faster. “I...I could...scream…”

“Worried about the undead in a time like this?” Dracula snorted. “My dearest Agatha, I believe you could shout as loudly as you desired and no one would hear. And I quite like that idea.” He could feel her hand grip tighter around his cock as if in response. It took everything in him to hold it together. “If you won’t give me your blood, at least let me hear you cry out my name. You owe me that much.” 

Agatha gazed up at him with fury, but lustful blue eyes. He was winning this one. She hated when that happened. Though they were still shrouded in darkness, the former nun could still make out the glint of his smile as her hand released him and he positioned himself at her entrance. She bit down hard on her lower lip. Not because she anticipated the pain. No. She anticipated the pleasure and what was to come. 

Dracula was rather unpredictable when it came to his part in sex. He could be soft, almost caring and considerate. Loving. Or he could fuck so hard that Agatha’s head was left spinning and she had bruises the next day. And if she were to be quite frank, she didn’t have a favorite. The vampire was always so good. So damn fantastic that with every thrust Agatha felt herself shaking deep from within her very core. Part of her wondered if there was a possibility she could become pregnant. It hadn’t happened yet, and they’d had quite a lot of sex. Still, it was always on the forefront of her mind when his seed spilled inside her. 

“Say my name.”

The commanding voice pulled her from her thoughts and Agatha was dragged from the whimsical land of euphoria and to the wooden, shed floor. Dracula leaned over her, his lips curved into a smile. The former nun reached out and wound an arm around his neck to steady herself. She knew that he had her. He always did. But it helped. 

“Say mine first.” 

The words escaped out as a moan which did not help Agatha’s case. She was growing close to her climax, and Dracula could tell. His thrusts began to quicken, deepen as she buried her face into the crook of his neck. Then without thinking, she bit down on the vampire’s skin. That immediately stopped the man in his tracks. 

“Did you just...bite me?” He asked breathlessly, grinning widely. “Oh, Agatha…”

There were no marks. Of course there wouldn’t be. But she was so caught up in the moment. Suddenly, it dawned on her as they lay there still in the throes of passion. A silly little thought that made her smile too. 

“You.” She gasped out. “You said my name.”

“What?” Dracula interjected. “But I...that doesn’t count…”

“Still said it…” Agatha smirked, chest rising and following. “I win.” 

“Oh, we will see about that.” The vampire chuckled darkly. “I’m just getting started.” 

                                                   XXX

Though he’d said her name, Agatha had finished first. Twice even before Dracula met his limit. They fell back on their makeshift bed of clothing that they’d be putting on later. Her head resting on his chest, the woman watched the door quietly. Though she felt sleepy as the adrenaline rush began to fade, a part of her wanted to stay awake. But she knew how important it was to remain diligent. Especially at night. 

“Romania has fallen to whatever caused this plague.” Dracula said softly. “And we don’t know where else it has stretched. Perhaps there's a chance it’s only here.”

“And Holland.” Agatha reminded solemnly. “We’ve been roaming around aimlessly. Seen less and less humans.” She was silent for a moment before she craned her head up to meet his stare. “I do realize how it affects you.”

His fingers ran down the base of her skull and followed the path of her spine. She closed her eyes as he stroked her back. It was soothing, though the conversation at hand was not. If humans were going to become like an endangered species, then what of Dracula? After everything she was taught. Everything she’d seen. Agatha knew deep down her feelings for the vampire weren’t right. But even deeper down she didn’t care. Not in the least bit. 

“I have a proposition.” Dracula said after a moment’s thought. “And I have thought about this quite a bit. Much longer than this disease has been going on and much, much longer than my meeting you.” 

Agatha sat up from where she lay. “What might that be?”

“England.” Dracula said simply, sitting up as well. “Where we’d go in England, it’d be more advanced than the villages we’ve gone to. Perhaps the virus isn’t there or even better, they have a cure. It is better than nothing.” 

“England.” Agatha repeated as if she heard him right. “But we don’t even have a ship. That’s at least a few weeks' sail from the coast to the bay. How do you expect us to get there?” The expression on his face said it all. “...Is there no other way?” Not telling him no. Not forbidding him. It was as if in desperation she was accepting of the terms. “Is it the only way to be done?”

“Blood is lives, Agatha.” Dracula said, expression still. “Information. If we want to get across then I’m going to need the blood of someone who understands sailing among other things. Someone healthy--or at least not riddled with disease.” He touched her hand, surprised she didn’t pull away. “I’ll take only what I need.” The Count promised. 

“And what if there are no survivors at the port?” The former nun whispered. “What if they’ve all turned?”

“Then we keep going.” The vampire sighed, leaning back. “You should get some rest. It’ll be a long journey to the port if memory serves correct. I’ll take watch.”

“You took the first watch last time.” Agatha countered, sitting up straighter. “And if you know where we are going, then you should be the one with the clear mind.” Dracula opened his mouth to interject, but she continued. “I’ll be fine. Trust me. I’ll wake you up in a few hours. Besides, I am considerably more accurate with killing the creatures than you are with that ridiculous saber. You needn’t be so close with a bow.”

“Ah, you say that now but wait until those flimsy things split in two and your string breaks. Then you’ll be wishing you were brandishing reliable steel.” Dracula chortled. “Honestly, of all the weapons to choose from…”

“Go to sleep you warmonger.” Agatha snorted, resting a hand on his head as he lowered himself down. “There will be other times to debate weapons. Get some rest.” 

“Wake me if anything happens.” The vampire said with sudden alertness. “I am not playing, Agatha. At any immediate threat of danger, you must wake me up. Even if the sun has yet to set.” 

“You have my word.” The woman promised as the Count’s body relaxed. “Sleep.”

                                                    XXX

Agatha didn’t wake Dracula up after a few hours. Instead, when she was sure the sun was setting just enough as to not be so bright, she covered the vampire’s body as not to expose it and slipped outside. She inhaled deeply, enjoying what little light was left. She missed the day--though she kept that knowledge from Dracula. It was harder at night. Finding food. Water. But the few times she could escape. Sneak out without him worrying--those were good times. 

Thunk!

The partridge didn’t even see the arrow before it pierced straight through its body. It was an instant kill, one Agatha wished for every living thing she killed--maybe, if she thought hard about it, she’d feel the same about the undead. Picking up the decent sized fowl, she couldn’t help but admire it. After a good plucking and cooking, this would last her a few days. Especially if she could come across some salt and preserve it. Now that would be true luck. 

As Agatha walked over to what had perhaps once been a sort of fire pit, she took a seat down in the ground. Yank off handfuls of feathers, her mind kept wandering back to Dracula. His own need for food. Something he hadn’t been as fortunate to get. And maybe he deserved it. After all of the evil he caused, maybe this was fate’s punishment. But Agatha’s judgement, though questionable, began to consider something that maybe was pushing the bounds of her sanity even more.

Abandoning the bird for the time being, she made her way back into their temporary housing. Dracula was still fast asleep--he was odd like that, how deeply or not his slumbering was. Retrieving one of the jars she used for water, she returned outside. There truly was no means to prepare her hand for what she planned. Nothing to clean it with--she was out of water. But taking her arrow, the blood from the bird now smeared down her pant’s leg, she sliced her palm wide open and held it over the jar. 

It burned. Ached. Maybe she’d gone too far. Too deep. And as her blood flowed, she half expected Dracula to be roused from his sleep and attack her simply because he was in such dire need of the crimson fluid. But instead, everything was still silent. She bit her lip, her eyes pricked with tears as the bleeding thankfully began to stop on its own. A good sign that maybe she had injured herself too horribly. Careful not to spill a drop, she tore off a piece of her sleeve and bound her cut hand.

If there was to be a good deed done, this would certainly qualify for Agatha. That was, at least for today. 

                                                     XXX

“Well out of all outcomes, I certainly didn’t expect this!”

Agatha’s nostrils flared as Dracula, though his eyes burned that frightening shade of black with hunger, did not take the jar immediately from her. Instead, he stared at her hand looking equally as upset. When he reached out to take it, she yanked it back almost tempted to spill the blood all over the floor. 

“Well out of all the outcomes, Agatha, I can’t say I expected you to slice your hand open for me!” He tried to grab for it again, this time managing to catch her wrist. “Let me see it. Did you even try to clean it?” 

“Why can’t you just drink the blood?” Agatha sighed as he studied the wound. “I was trying to be nice. You talk about being oh so thirsty all of the time and craving me during sex. Well, this is what you want, yes? A true taste of me?”

“Not when it involves you injuring yourself!” The Count let out a dramatic huff. “You’re lucky this isn’t too terribly deep. As I recall, you need both hands for your weapon. We’ll have to watch it and make sure it doesn’t get infected.” The vampire shook his head. “And you went behind my back and took my sleep shift.” 

“I was enjoying the daylight!” Agatha hissed, now getting annoyed. “And I caught myself something to eat! I didn’t have to rely on someone else! Not to mention be appreciative of it!” She slid the jar over, watching Dracula’s Adam's apple bob as he swallowed the liquid whishing within. 

Then, without another word, Dracula lifted up the cup and gulped down the contents in less than a second. When he set it down, his eyes fixed on Agatha and a chill ran down her spine. Cold. Hungry. Lack of recognition. She could hear the vampire’s breathing becoming heavier as he moved closer. Was this it then? Had she given him a wine tasting that led to the draining of the whole bottle. 

“D...Dracula?”

Her voice was soft, shaking as she scooted backwards. She looked around the room for any sort of weapon in arm’s reach. Conveniently, his saber was on the opposite wall to her and the bow and arrows were out of sight. Agatha swallowed and tried to remain calm. If this was truly the end, she’d rather it’d be by his doing than that of one of those creatures. Instinctively her eyes closed as he loomed over her, the former nun waiting for his attack when a pair of arms pulled her in. 

“I’m sorry.” His voice was gruff, breathing more labored than intense. “I’m okay…” 

Agatha looked up only to come face to face with Dracula. She could see her own blood smeared across his lips, smelled it's strange rusty scent. How that was appetizing to the vampire, she did not know. 

“I thought…” She began, quite unsure what to say. “After you drank my blood, I thought that you would…” 

“Given our current circumstances, my ability to remain in control might be a little rustier than I thought.” He gave her a small smirk. “I suppose it was a good thing that I didn’t bite you during sex. Could’ve led to a less than pleasurable end.” He was silent for a moment. “Thank you. For your blood. You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know.” Agatha said simply. “I wanted to.”

“And I must say, you are quite gifted with your weapon abilities.” The vampire said with a small smile. “Abraham, though we had our...differences...trained you well. Though, I have to admit you were pretty talented with that Pattern 1853 Enfield of his. Where did it come across a rifle-musket like that? Couldn’t have been easy, especially due to the legality of it.”

“I think we should make a new rule now that you’ve consumed by blood.” Agatha said, folding her arms over her chest. “You don’t bring up any details you’ve received from my blood--unless, of course, I offer them up in conversation.”

“Pity.” Dracula said, letting out a fake, long sigh. “I have so many.” 

“You should have thought about that beforehand.” The former nun exclaimed. “Questions that go unanswered can be such a bother.”

“Like an ex nun wielding a gun better than the average soldier.” The vampire replied, with a small, lopsided grin. 

“Careful.” Agatha warned. “I might’ve not had practice in a few years, but I am rather sure that if I were to pick up a said rifle of my choice, my aim would be fairly decent.” She exhaled, running a hand through her hair. “You should finish dressing. The sun has set enough for us to leave.”

Though she knew that their decision was the right one, part of Agatha didn’t want to leave the shack. Despite how messy and unkempt it was, it had proven to be safe. But staying anywhere too long, they had learned, didn’t always end up so. The former nun exhaled and glanced towards the rotting door and tried to push past what horrors awaited them. 

                                                     XXX

“La naiba!” Dracula cursed in his native tongue as he peered over the hill. “Trebuie să glumești…” 

“Maybe speak in English?” Agatha said from his side. “Ik spreek een klein beetje Nederland.” She hoped that her attempt at light humor would cause him to smile, but the serious expression did not leave his face. “What is it?” 

“A horde.” He hissed under his breath. “By the main entrance into the shipyard.” 

“Can you tell how many?” She replied, straining her eyes. Agatha could see movement from down below, but not much else. “...Do you think there is anyone even alive?” 

“At least ten.” Dracula answered, trying to hide the defeat in his tone. “And I don’t know. Not with a group like that lurking about. And who knows how many are separated from the main herd? We could try to kill them and then look around.” He turned to meet Agatha’s stare. “I am far as one can be from a man of prayer and I know you are unique in your beliefs, but we could really use one of your mystique rituals...without a cross would be appreciated.” His attempt at a failed joke. 

“We’ve come all this way.” Agatha said, moving to grab her bow. “We might as well try.” A small grin flickered across her features. “I should’ve taken the gun from my grandfather. My brother never learned to shoot anyway.” 

Together, as quietly as they could, Dracula and Agatha slid down the hill. As they moved towards the horde, other zombies began to amble out from abandoned buildings. Their moves were quick, swift in killing the creatures before they could alert the others. When they drew nearer, the vampire grabbed the former nun by the forearm and pulled her in close. 

“Fall back a little and find higher ground. That way you can aim better. I’ll be fine down here.” She didn’t seem so keen on the idea as he placed a kiss on her lips. “Go. Now.” 

Agatha’s footfalls were soft against the dirt ground. When she stopped in her tracks, she glanced around at the sight before her. How could anyone be left alive after this? It was then she saw a pile of rubble against a collapsed building. Perfect. But just as Agatha approached her access point, she was caught off guard by a zombie. The creature made a grab for her and knocked her flat on her back. The former nun struggled, gritting her teeth as she shoved it off. With a powerful smack, she struck it with an arrow through the head. The thing fell limp and the woman scrambled to her feet. 

Heart still pounding, Agatha shook her head and looked towards the direction of the horde. Dracula hadn’t seen what had just occurred and for that she was thankful. Refocusing on the house, she made her way to the debris and scrambled up. It was then she realized that while the vampire had a point about her having a higher shooting range, making him out in the midst of the ravage was too risky. He wouldn’t be happy about it, but he damn well needed her if he didn’t want to end up...something other than his usual “undead”. 

“Agatha!” Dracula snapped in surprise as a zombie’s head collided with his shoe. “What the hell are you doing?!” “Saving you!” The woman declared, aiming her bow towards one of the creatures. “Clearly you need it.” 

“I told you to go up somewhere high!” He insisted, lobbing off another head. “For once can you listen to me?!”

“You forget I don’t have night vision!” Agatha hissed, hitting a zombie straight between the eyes. “I don’t know why you worry so much about me. I--”

She didn’t realize the thing was behind her until it sunk its rotten teeth deep into her forearm. Agatha cried out in a mixture of shock and horror as blood spurted from the wound. Almost instantly the creature’s head lay at her feet, the horde now completely destroyed. A look of horror was etched across Dracula’s face. One she had never seen before. The former nun grabbed her injury tightly, her heart banging so hard that her chest ache.

Christ, she’d really screwed up.

I hope you enjoyed part one (of two)! I know it is a different kind of story! Dracula was saying in Romanian: “Dammit” and “You must be kidding” while Agatha said in Dutch: “I speak a little bit of the Netherlands (or Dutch).” Anyway, feedback is greatly loved and appreciated! Motivation helps so much! Until the next part! Stay safe and healthy! -Jen

[gaiyofanfiction]

Twisted Karnival - Chapter 7

Stray Kids x Reader

Horror/Thriller/Drama

Twisted Circus!AU

A/N: Hey guys. Sorry it’s been so long since we posted. It’s been crazy in our lives. But here’s the next chapter, I hope you like it. ~Liz

Warnings: Yandere-ish themes. Mentions of seduction, blood, cuts, soul stealing and kidnapping. Possibly more in the future. We also write for 0t9, so Woojin is going to be in this series.

Disclaimer: This story is pure fiction and in no way represents the idols of Stray kids or JYP.

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[Before Reading, check out the Masterlist and profile boards for each member HERE.]

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The blue hue from the circle begins to slowly fade as blood continues to trickle from your wounds. The air fell quiet as Chan stepped forward, standing only an inch away from your frozen body. The men all looked upon you, remaining in their respective places. 

“My little puppet, are you okay?” 

Chan’s voice rings through your ears like a beautiful melody as you slowly raise your head up to face your new Master. A twisted grin spreads across your face and psychotic laughter falls past your lips. 

“Yes, Master Chan. I am perfectly fine.” Your head slowly began to tilt as Chan’s smirk grew wide. The men standing around you began to laugh as they watched your body fall under its new command. 

“Well look at that, she’s finally seeing things our way.”  Woojin smirked, slowly stepping forward from his position. 

Hyunjin and Jisung stared darkly over your newly formed body as evil grins grew across their lips. “She’s even hotter when she’s under our control… damn, I could get used to being called Master.” Jisung snickered. Hyunjin nods slowly. A loud, psychotic chuckle escaping his lips. 

Chan turned towards the two of them with a low, guttered growl. “The main one she will be calling Master is me, got it? You may all have an attachment to her, but do not forget that it only adheres to your abilities. Nothing more. Nothing less.”

You sat perfectly positioned on the ground before your new owners, wrists and ankles still bound back. Jeongin skips to you, a grin on his face and his eyes twinkling. He holds his hand against your cheek, tracing his fingers over your features.

"She is beautiful! Felix really picked the best soul to take."

Felix laughs proudly. "Of course I did. I told you she was perfect." He purrs, his eyes drifting over you. 

"I call using my little doll first!" Hyunjin steps forward, his eyes roaming your body and a cackle escaping his lips. He lifts up his hands and pulls his attached puppet string, jerking you away from Jeongin and towards him.

Minho growls. "I think I'd like to use my pet first, Hyunjin." Minho pulls on his string and guides you to him away from the psychotic high-wire act.

"I don't think so. This little beauty and I already shared a kiss." Jisung hisses and pulls you to him. "I think I'm entitled to first dibs." He licks his lips, his eyes flashing pink.

"If anyone deserves to use our little plaything first, it's me. The one who chose her." Felix tugs on his string, jerking you to him.

"ENOUGH!" Chan declares in a deep, demonic voice. It rumbles the entire tent, showing the power the boy holds. "As king of the demons and the head of this tribe, I'll be the one to decide who uses our new girl first." Chan lifts both his hands in the air, his string glowing. He moves his fingers so your body moves towards him. Once you reach him, he turns you around and pulls your back into his chest. His arms snake around your body and he leans down, his lips brushing over your ear. "Now, let us find our pretty pet a twisted little outfit, shall we?"

Chan slowly looks about the others, eyes all leering towards the new you. Chan smirks darkly and takes another moment to brush his lips against the cup of your ear. The heavy feeling of jealousy from the 8 surrounding boys makes him chuckle. He slowly leans up, brushing the soft locks to the side of your neck, eyes locking on Felix. 

“Felix. I’ve decided that since you are the reason we now have this…" Chan growls seductively against your neck. "...beautiful new addition to our twisted family, you will be the one to prepare her for our next event. I grow tired of seeing these tattered up clothes. She needs something more appropriate, as I said.” He brushes your locks once more, your head voluntarily rolling to the side. “Maybe something…” Before Chan could finish, Felix’s lips began to curl. 

“Oh, trust me. I have the perfect outfit for her.” Felix bit his lip slightly as he laughs. Jisung’s eyes growing wide and a softened growl escapes. Chan gently wraps his fingers around your neck, rolling your head in a circular motion testing his new control over you. 

“Alright then. If you think you have something that will impress me, I will leave you to it. I demand to see it when you’re done. She will not be seen by any other unless I approve so. Is that understood?” The men stood silently as their leader spoke, quickly nodding their heads in agreement while they continued to watch Chan take full control over you. Jisung’s lips trembled as his thirst for you continued to grow, wishing his hands were the ones touching your neck. Chan smirked softly, slowly releasing his hold on you. You took a shaky breath, quickly falling back to your knees before your new masters. You feel your head involuntarily rise, Felix suddenly standing before you.

“Oh, this is going to be fun. Are you ready my angel?" You gaze into Felix's eyes, a blue highlighted hue falling from the depths of them. Your body slowly rose with his hand as he quickly scooped you up from the ground. Chan’s brow raised watching closely as your body fell into Felix’s chest. Jisung released a low growl, fists slowly tightening as he watched further. Hyunjin's head twitched slightly in anger as he watched Felix turned his back to the crowd and walked out with his doll.

“What the fu- how come Felix gets to have her first? Sure, he found her, but I ki-” Chan quickly stepped in front of Jisung, eyes glowing bright. Woojin rolls his eyes as Jisung tries to stand unphased in front of his boss.

"It would probably be in your best interest NOT to remind me that you've already kissed our new pet. Hearing about it just pisses me off." Jisung’s teeth clenched as his expression fell at Chan's words.

"Sorry to say it boss, but whether you like it or not, it happened. I kissed her before anyone else. Guess the ladies just can't resist me." Jisung smirked, a chuckle leaving his lips.

Chan released a deepened sigh. "I mean it Jisung. And that goes for the rest of you as well. You may all have an attachment to her body, but I am still her main owner, and the head of this Karnival. No one does anything to her without MY permission." Chan slowly turned his head towards the rest of the group as they fell to expressions of defeat. Jisung waved his arm in the air just before folding his hands into his pockets and walking away. Minho, Hyunjin, and Changbin went back to their respective areas, grumbling lowly. Jeongin and Seungmin skipped off back together to rummage through the after effect in the arena. 

Once the 7 boys were out of earshot, Chan released another depended sigh. Woojin slowly moved next to him. "You know, I only say this in the most respective way possible, but you won't always have your eyes on that girl. Something is bound to happen behind your back."

Chan runs a hand through his blonde hair. "It's not as if I don't already know that my friend. I know at least three of them, if not all, are going to go behind my back and do something with our pet. With some of their history, I'm afraid of what they could possibly come up with."

As Chan tried to establish some ground with his team, Felix was off in his tent doing whatever he could to make you look like you were a true part of the family. He grabbed a few different clothing items from a giant metal chest, quickly dropping everything to the bed. 

"Alright then, time to get these rags off of you and into something more...appealing." Felix's eyes began to glow softly as he spun you around with his string, gently removing the torn clothing from your body. You stood there, body unable to move as a weighted feeling sat over you. Felix smirked heavily, tossing the old clothes aside and grabbing a random piece from the bed. He tossed a black dress over your head, pulling it down the curves of your body. He spun you slowly, eyes roaming up and down. 

"Yeah… Cute, but not quite what we're looking for." Felix quickly ripped the dress from your body once more. He paused for a split second, hand slowly gliding over the soft skin of your arms. "You really are something, you know that? No one is given the kind of opportunity you've been given." He speaks softly, almost lovingly. Admiring you, he reaches up to brush the fine hairs off your neck. 

Felix examined your body once more, analyzing every curve. He tilted his head slightly looking over at the small pile of clothes. His eyes narrowed slightly just as an idea finally struck him. He quickly grabbed a few red, black and white pieces from the bed and, just like a doll, began to dress you gently.

Felix steps back slowly once the outfit was fully arranged, an evil smirk falling over his lips. 

"This definitively says twisted. It fits you perfectly." His eyes turned soft and runs a gentle finger down your cheek. "What do you think, my angel?" 

He tenderly turns your body to face the full length mirror. You gasp softly and tilt your head, gazing at your new form. A smile graces your face and you let out a soft giggle. "Oh, Sir Felix. I absolutely adore it."

Felix chuckles lowly and rests his chin on your shoulder. He guides his hand down your bare arm, feeling the now scarred tissue under his fingers. "Excellent. Oh, how I can't wait to show Chan."