#these two are stuck in my brain like parasites i want them gone

[midnightfrappe]

'' Oh.... ''

[spinjitsuburst]

ramble about ur favs i wanna hear abt ur thoughts -zaptrap

HAN’S INFODUMPING ABOUT JAY... START!!!!

so like sgdkdhdkdhd I say Jay and Lloyd are my “favorites” but honestly it’s so hard to pick favorites out of this skittles squad like I love EVERY character for a variety of different reasons. I was going to also infodump about Lloyd but then I started talking about Prime Empire and then this post got. Long. So. it's just Jay I may infodump about Lloyd another day especially since I'm very Conduit Brained Rn but yea yea!

this is long so i'm putting most of it under the cut so y'all don't kill me for making a huge long post

I considered putting Zane and Sora on here as well since I’d also consider them my “favs” but like this is already gonna be. A lot of. Infodumping (also i typed THIS part before I even started and decided not to yell about Lloyd because this already got long enough). Maybe I’ll make a separate post for those two hmm hmm much to consider but for now MY (technically) FAVORITE NINJAGO CHARACTER: JAY WALKER

THE SPARKPLUG WHO INVADED MY BRAIN LIKE A PARASITE

so hey his name is a pun this makes me laugh ridiculously hard every time I remember he is named. After a misdemeanor HSKSHDKFH

Jay is such an interesting case of a character for me because I started out the show not liking him. Which is. Stares at my entire account I think my feelings have changed somewhat

Jay starts out as an asshole I don’t think anyone can disagree with me there (although honestly they’re all assholes in early ninjago they bullied a ten year old and left him dangling several feet off the ground) but over the course of the show you can see him start developing into a much more interesting character. He goes from being so insecure he's faking everything about himself to someone who knows who he is and is so genuine about it

now yea we could argue about whether his character was too uwu-ified post-season 10 but this is the FUN HAN POST SO WE'RE NOT GONNA TALK ABOUT THAT the point is you can SEE the growth that Jay has gone through and I am going to show you that growth through what I call

✨ The Skybound to Prime Empire Effect ✨

I AM SO PASSIONATE ABOUT THE IDEA THAT PRIME EMPIRE WAS WRITTEN TO BE A DIRECT PARALLEL OF SKYBOUND AND WAS CENTERED ON SHOWING HOW THE NINJA ESPECIALLY JAY HAVE GROWN THROUGHOUT THE SEASON

when season 12 rolls around we are at the point in Jay's development where he is CONFIDENT in who he is. He's a fun-loving jokester with the power of lightning and the drive to help people whenever he can. He uses jokes and humor to help alleviate tension and get people through whatever's happening. And when on his own what does he do?

BECOME AN ENTERTAINER BABEY

i like to think jay's club in prime empire was a safe haven for anyone stuck in the game who figured out hey. we Can't Leave and felt freaked about it. Also Jay would generally try and spread the word that hey something ISN'T RIGHT HERE which would lead people to want to stay with him

(totally plugging my friend's fic but this kind of thing is explored in would you like to enter prime empire by @finn-m-corvex y'all should check it out cool cool)

also the prime empire shorts which i watched all of in the midst of typing this video cuz i love them go watch them please please please jay was publically fighting the red visors which I imagine may have raised some red flags for some players

THIS SOMEHOW TURNED INTO PRIME EMPIRE INFODUMPING LMAO ANYWAYS Jay's confident! He becomes an entertainer because it's who he knows he is! And it's something that will get people hyped and having fun, which is very in-character for Jay to do! He uses those kinds of things to mask the Bad Things going on and get people remembering what's good

I've talked about this sort of thing before but that's Jay's whole philosophy as early as season 9! Which is a DIRECT contrast to how he views it in season 6, as Nadakhan puts it scarily accurately

"You make jokes to mask the fact that you're afraid"

(i was gonna grab a screenshot for that like i did with the hunted scene but netflix has bloCKED THE ABILITY TO TAKE SCREENSHOTS THE WAY I USED TO and i don't have them already and i'm too lazy to grab them from elsewhere so alas trust me he says it)

making jokes to hide your fear and using humor to remind yourself of what's good and coping with the bad are two VERY different outlooks on it

so I think this outlook is what drives him to make this glamrock persona in the first place - this is a bad situation, one he's in with other civilians, and what better way to keep him and themself safe until the others get there than throwing a big performance at a safe place!

also it's just so gender okay I want to look like Superstar Rockin' Jay so badly

it's also interesting to see his outlook on his parents change over time! In season six he finds out Ed and Edna aren't his birth parents and feels upset about it, not understanding why his birth parents would've abandoned him. In season twelve, that outlook changing is EXACTLY why Jay's able to get through to Unagami

"I was abandoned by my parents, too!... I never understood why, and I never had the chance to even ask. But I always hoped there was a good reason. What if there's a reason?"

(again curse you netflix i wanted SCREENSHOTS whatever whatever)

It's this scene that gets Unagami to calm down long enough for Milton Dyer to get there, and presumably is what stops him from just. Flattening him and Jay like a pancake.

to piggyback off of this i absolutely adore how Unagami and Jay consider each other adopted brothers in that one book I still haven't read and I hope he's in Dragons Rising at some point Unagami is my favorite "villain" (no longer a villain) in the whole show he deserves more screentime

like this is where i found out about this and it's plagued my mind ever since. i need to read. this book just for them

SO YEA OKAY Prime Empire is "Who is Jay as a Person Post-Skybound" to me also it opens up so many fascinating things about Jay. I rest my case

so backpedaling a little bit. JAY CARES SO MUCH ABOUT HIS PARENTS GUYS IT'S SO SOFT AND I'M sobs

like yea the first episode with Ed and Edna in it has Jay avoiding them like the plague but this gets explained very easily when you remember he was bullied for his home life before he became a ninja. It makes a lot more sense why he wouldn't want them around his new friends, assuming they'd react the same way. Also how was he supposed to know literally all the rest of the groups parents were either dead, presumed dead, or had a toxic relationship with their kid lmao

(Cole calling his mom kills me. Cole's mom is dead. I know they probably just didn't think that far ahead when writing the dialogue but it's so funny mans pretended to call his dead mom to get on Jay for not appreciating his parents iconic behavior)

anyways literally every episode Ed and Edna are central to (except like the one in skybound) Jay stops at nothing to protect his parents and it means the absolute world to me he's so much like them!! They raised an inventive little nerd and he will stop at nothing to make sure they're safe and it's. It's SO IMPORTANT TO ME OKAY

ALSO this is an excuse to clip my favorite piece of dialogue possibly in the entire show. Except Netflix won't let me now. So you just get the text dialogue

Jay's just fallen from the sky with a messed up eye and is incredibly distraught that all his friends are captured. And his dad just. The woRLD IS FALLING APART AND HE'S EATIN' SOUP-

Ed i love you

anyways

anways anyways this just turned into me rambling about prime empire and then Ed and Edna and a lot of disjointed other stuff but thank you for this opportunity i was going to also ramble about lloyd but i put this post in a word count and

yea i think that's enough for a tumblr post anyways! If anyone wants any like. More logically thought out and direct thoughts about characters feel free to send me asks this was fun thank u @zaptrap for this opportunity to scream about jay

[buglyknight]

275) STRANGLED

I am dreaming of you and him and me

And do you ever feel like

You are marrying the wrong person?

Probably not

You do not give me a second thought

For all your beautiful little words

That sound so sweet

You still will wear his ring

I’ll listen to them

And I’ll lose sleep

They should never have meant a thing

Yet your seeds had already grown

I’ve been watering the gardens

And now the rot has been sowed

Forgive me, I beg your pardon

Your roots break through stone

Through flesh and bone

You found me kneeling and unguarded

I sought you out

To sit by your throne

Only to be left beheaded and discarded

So, tell me you want me around

I’ll dance, sing and tell you jokes

You just want a jester – you want a clown

So, I’ll twist, contort and hang from rope

Laughter echoes

Tears fall

Your soft voice bellows

A smile disarms

The crows call

I can’t trust you, like Othello

To you, I give, my love, my life

This swollen bursting heart

But still, you’ll keep this disgusting painting

Locked away within the dark

So, keep these broken, tired, hands

Bruised knuckles and wrists sewn

You’ll find me when you think you can

When you know that you’re alone

So, stuff me in the closet

And toss away the key

There’ll be no protest, Love

You’ll hear no bark, no lip from me

I’ll be as quiet as a bug

As sweet as a honey bee

For if I tried to fight for my own life

I’d be killed by my own sting

You’ll dine out with your sculpture

Keep me stuck in second place

He is properly designed couture

And you keep a bag left on my face

Circle me like a shark

These hands are only bones

Admit to me there’s no spark

I shouldn’t be allowed to build your home

For all your lovely precious words

I swoon. I stutter. I trip.

The butterflies you give me, are absurd

They swirl. I’m swallowed. I slip.

Now call me when you want

I’ll sit patiently, await

Whatever this is that I have wrought

Will follow me to Heaven’s gates

For you, to me, are a haunt

In the dark thoughts you snake

I hear no ringing of the clock

Nightmares come. I don’t stir or shake

I’ll swim for shore while tied to rock

I’m drowning in this lake

And chasing you, my run’s a walk

I’ll sprint. I’m always too late

My love overflows, it swallows me

For you refuse to take

I wanted God to join us in wedlock

I thought that you and I were fate

So, the burden forever grows, it buries me

My spine cracks beneath the weight

Chained and bound ankles bloody

The earth begins to quake

O Love, I can’t float in my own sea

Will you miss me at my wake?

I’ll sleep forever peacefully

I’ll always be a mistake

The rope is tied

The noose does beckon

The archway preys on me

The barrel’s pointed in my direction

I’ll go unpeacefully

The razors - sharp

They know my name

Their edge, it comforts me

This carrion heart

This parasite brain

It throbs so unseemly

My Love, I’m sorry, you tried to teach

You tried to keep me steady

But I never learned or tried to listen

I failed the test – I was not ready

I was born wrong

Faulty and flawed

I could’ve used some correction

I ignored the past

Trusted my heart

I never learn my fucking lesson

So, I’m lead

By your beautiful claws

Into the abyss of my regression

I wish I was taught

How not to be caught

In the throes of this obsession

So, I wake at pearly gates

Brought here by what I let in

I’ll look for you, to find your face

But still, I would not win

And when I’m gone find me there

Bathing in my sin

Don’t comfort me, just send a prayer

For the scars left on my skin

For you were cruel

Your infinity, my muse

But still, I was chagrinned

For it was not me that you would choose

I was born to lose

You could only win

When I’m gone, Lovebug, find me there

Broken bruised and mangled

Find me when I confront God

Accuse him of our untangle

I’ll croak I’ll cry I’ll ask him why

He let you so closely dangle

I scream. I seethe. I lunge at him

This is the ending of my fable

I’ll claw I’ll rip. Tear him limb from limb

He’ll squirm but I will wrangle

He’ll scream he’ll cry but he’ll know why

By my own two hands I’ll see him

STRANGLED.

[lepusrufus]

To bargain for immortality pt.1

It's here fellas, the mutation sequel that I've mercilessly teased you with!

Content warnings: gore, torture, blood (like... lots), just a bunch of puking up blood, Miranda being her usual mad scientist self, torture in the name of science, Nicole be sick af (both literally and of crow mommy's bullshit), a little bit of blood drinking as a treat, medical procedures.

////

Tic toc tic toc

God that clock is so annoying.

Nicole wasn’t nervous. No. She chose this, at least for the most part. She had a long conversation with all her family, Alcina and Esteria both assuring her that it would work. It’s been years since the beginning of the experiments and by this point the process was almost perfected.

Miranda knew what she was doing.

That mattered little to her nerves though.

She instinctively pushed herself further into Cassandra’s side, who’s grip around her waist tightened ever so slightly.

The waiting was downright tortuous.

She, along with Cassandra and her two sisters were in her infirmary. The room mixed the ancient decor of the castle with modern medical equipment in a beautiful way. Not that anything less would be acceptable. Not that the familiarity of her workspace brought her any comfort either.

All their eyes snapped in the direction of the door when a heavy set of footsteps, with two lighter ones, were heard down the hallway outside. Soon the door opened with a barely audible creak and the two matriarchs entered, followed suit by Mother Miranda. Her presence alone was enough to make Nicole’s breath get lost somewhere in her throat, on its way to an exhale. The black wings, even partially folded as they were, did their job of making her look so much more intimidating than she was. Not that she needed them to begin with, a look from those icy gray eyes more than enough to send anyone to their knees.

Mother Miranda was, in all ways that mattered, a goddess.

A goddess that was about to infect her with the same thing that failed countless times in the past. The same thing that made the crawling mindless beasts used as guard dogs in the undergrounds. Or that made all the lycans.

Nicole gulped, a gesture gone thankfully unnoticed to anyone other than her painfully dry mouth.

But Miranda didn’t spare her a glance. She simply busied herself with some tools she had brought on one of the metal tables. With each clink the room seemed to close in on her slightly more, until Nicole felt as if she somehow ended up in one of Heisenberg's death traps. Spikes moving closer and closer until they would pierce her body and leave her in a messy pool of blood and entrails.

She shook her head and took a long inhale. No. This was going to work. She was not about to lose her family over a pesky thing such as mortality. She was not about to lose Cassandra. If getting infected by the Cadou was what it took to spend eternity with her lover then so be it. Possible side effects be damned.

Mother Miranda finally seemed to have finished, a now empty flask labeled Cadou sitting on the desk behind her while the parasite was writhing in her hand, thin whip-like tentacles extending frantically around itself. She called her over with a nod, and with a deep breath and a parting hand squeeze from Cassandra, Nicole forced her legs to take her across the room. Her steps didn't waver, she'd be damned if she'd show any hesitancy in front of this.

"Shall we begin."

It wasn't a question really, merely veiled impatience. Miranda did not like her, plain and simple. The fact that she was there to begin with was already a miracle. Miracle that wouldn't have happened were it not for the Ladies themselves asking for it.

"Yes of c-"

Before her words even had time to completely slip out of her mouth, golden talons plunged into the base of her sternum.

"Hopefully this can teach you that I don't like people going behind my back."

Nicole let out a choked gasp, hands instinctively wrapping around Miranda's arm, weakly grabbing at black robes. Ironically enough, those very talons were keeping her upright and, when they were removed from her flesh with a disgusting squelch of blood, Nicole curled in on herself, falling to her knees.

"Wha-... cking ki-... -er!"

Cassandra's voice reached her ears broken up, barely passing through the deafening ringing. Miranda also gave a reply and then seemed to address someone else but her much calmer tone meant that it only sounded like a vague mumble.

Not that Nicole particularly cared at the moment.

She curled into a ball, her hands almost clawing at her chest trying to find some sort of relief. It seemed as if vicious tendrils were making their way into every vein and muscle, tearing their way through any tissue they found. Her chest felt as if it had a hot iron pressed directly onto the skin, searing pain radiating in a cruel pulse matching her frantic heartbeat. By that point she was either sobbing or heaving, something that involved shallow breaths for sure. Her lungs were protesting fiercely, emptying of oxygen and then refusing to refill if not with great strain.

To make everything worse, the pain seemed to shift, now engulfing her spine and sending jolts that made her head spin and want to throw up despite her jaws being clenched shut so tightly that she was sure she'd start to taste copper soon.

She was only vaguely aware of hands shifting her body and soothing words that fell on deaf ears. She was now on a softer surface, but that did nothing to alleviate the assault on each of her senses. Probably she had thrown up at a certain point as her sinuses felt like being scraped by sandpaper with each shuddering breath. Her mouth too had a lingering taste of both bile and blood that made her stomach turn all over again. She would give anything for her body to finally shut down.

Why was she still awake and conscious god damn it. There was only so much her body was supposed to take before the brain shut down and she was reaching her limit of how much agony she could endure at a moment.

Please please please just pass out please.

She didn't though. Her body seemingly deciding to feel every single bit of the infection process, complete with the unending waves of pain and nausea that hit her more than she wanted to count. Any bit of sanity left in her would've probably disappeared had she tried.

---

It took two days for the agonizing pain to subside. Another two for Nicole to be able to form any kind of coherent sentence. Cassandra's soothing voice was of immense comfort, always there to tell her how well she was doing and how it would all be better soon.

God she hoped.

On the fifth day, her stomach still lurched at any movement too sudden. Her lungs seemed to fill with blood, courtesy of the still gaping wound at the bottom of her sternum, with any inhale too deep. The fact that she got used to the coppery taste rising up in her throat was disgusting in and of itself. At least there weren't jolts of pain shooting through every nerve and muscle in waves anymore though. That was something.

The fog in her brain was still clearing. It was hard to focus on anything, and each time Cassandra, or anyone else, asked her a question they would have to repeat it at least three times. It was beyond frustrating, the mind that got her through med school drunk half the time was failing the insurmountable task of saying whether or not she'd like some water. Glorious.

A faint knock on the door reached her ears. A redundant gesture really, as she didn't exactly have the clarity of mind to answer. Besides it was hard to catch her in a more compromising state than curled up in the fetal position, covered in sweat and most likely blood clots stuck to her lips.

Esteria came in, her one blue eye that wasn't covered looking at her with all the gentleness neither of her parents had ever offered her. Or it was just the cruel trick of a delirious brain. Either way, light barefoot steps took the Mistress to her bed. She sat in the chair adjacent to it and, with taloned fingers brushing strands of auburn hair out of Nicole's face, she spoke softly.

"How are you feeling today?"

Her voice was just as melodious as ever. It was the voice one imagines they would hear from an ancient being found deep in the forest. It made Nicole just a tad guilty when the only answer she could give was a pathetic whine.

Esteria simply hummed, talons running through the long messy locks of hair sprawled on the sheets.

"Would you like me to braid this for you dear?"

Nicole frowned. The Mistress was an expert at braiding, quick fingers able to make beautiful designs, both simple and complex. Comes with having floor length hair, her hazy mind guessed. On any normal day, Nicole would've accepted without a second thought. But now? Now she was painfully aware of the state she was currently in.

"It's filthy," she croaked, her voice raw and like stones in her mouth.

And it was. Her hair was waist length and right now it was slowly becoming a curse. It was greasy and sweaty thanks to barely being able to move a limb for nearly a week, which meant no showers. Not to mention how she lost count of the times she bent down to empty the contents of her stomach into a bucket, only to have some rebel locks fall in her face and get subsequently dirty. God she felt awful.

Esteria didn't seem to care too much though, as she simply helped Nicole shift slightly and talons started to work at some pesky mats. In no time, her hair was in a comfortable braid that started relatively high, keeping the locks away from her nape which meant just a tad less overheating. Not to mention it kept it in place and away from her mouth that she didn't trust in the slightest right now.

"Thanks," she actually managed to not let her voice crack this time.

"Oh it's no problem. Also," there seemed to be an odd strain in her voice, "Mother Miranda is coming this evening. She said something about an examination."

Nicole couldn't help but openly wince and curl in on herself a little more at the mere mention of the woman. Her chest seemed to pulsate painfully at the memory of the golden talons embedded deep in her flesh. Right now she wanted those hands anywhere away from her.

"What time is it?"

Esteria looked at the clock placed somewhere on the wall behind them. "About twelve. Still got time."

How hard would it be to drag herself to the adjacent bathroom for a quick shower? The only way her situation could get worse was if none other than Mother Miranda came in to see her in that state. She took a deep breath that her lungs protested against and pushed herself onto her elbows. At Esteria's skeptical expression she tried to sound less horrible than she felt.

"I need a shower."

Esteria pursed her lips. "Sorry dear but I don't believe for one second that you can stand for more than a minute. I'll ask a maid to draw you a bath."

Nicole only nodded weakly and let herself fall back into the cushion.

---

It took far longer than Nicole would ever admit to get herself fully clean. Her muscles were sore and protesting at every pass of the soapy sponge. Her hair was a whole other battle and she had to bite down on her pride and ask the maid positioned outside her door for help. It was a tortuous fifteen minutes until the poor girl managed to detangle the long locks enough to be shampooed and washed.

After she was content with the level of cleanliness of her body and the maid was dismissed, she stood there preparing herself to get out of the basin. In the meantime she looked down at the wound at the bottom of her sternum. Maybe wound wasn't the right word. It looked more like a gray and black scar with vein-like tendrils spreading across pale skin. It looked downright gruesome. Miranda really did not try to do a clean job in the slightest. Didn't even think to use anesthesia, like she had with most other experiments, according to Alcina.

She sighed and finally pushed herself out of the water with shaky arms.

By the time Mother Miranda arrived she was feeling slightly better. Why she came personally was still a mystery to Nicole. Maybe some sick sense of satisfaction in seeing her in pain.

Either way, by the time their so-called goddess came into the infirmary and told Nicole to lay down on one of the tables, she managed to shuffle her way over without her body protesting too much. Cassandra also quietly made her way on the opposite side of Miranda, gaining herself a glare.

"Must you hover over her like that?" Miranda's tone was as even as ever, but her eyes betrayed annoyance.

"Does it hinder you?"

Cassandra was not an idiot, the growl she wanted to add into her question was instead replaced by a tone not too dissimilar to Miranda's own, who simply tugged her lips into a grimace.

"Very well."

At first they went through a normal examination. Pupil dilation, reflexes, all things a normal doctor would do. Then Miranda told her to unbutton her blouse so she could take a look at the infection scar.

Nicole couldn't help flinching when thankfully gloved fingers would poke and prod at the sensitive flesh there. Her cold digits felt like hot coals were spread on her chest and nails dragged uselessly on the metal underneath her body for some sort of distraction.

Mother Miranda decided to get a tissue sample and that's when Nicole decided that maybe she would rather spend eternity as a ghost. She squeezed her eyes shut when a scalpel was brought to the overly sensitive skin. It took her back to when she would do autopsies, years ago. Tissue samples were always an integral part of her work. How ironic that she found herself on the other side of things.

It's fine.

She winced when the blade cut into flesh and sent a jolt of pain through her chest. Nicole couldn't help but think of the long days she spent agonizing while her chest felt like it was burning her alive and hoping that it wouldn't repeat. A sigh of pure relief slipped past her lips when whatever fake deity there was besides this woman, listened to her and the sensation died out quickly. She dared to open her eyes, only to see Mother Miranda frowning down at the small vial in hand.

It was quickly given to an assistant and she unceremoniously grabbed Nicole's wrist, dragging the blade across the length of her forearm.

Nicole gasped at the sudden sharp pain, and even Cassandra dropped a few choice words in romanian due to the surprise. No. No no no. What the hell-

Any questions, or less dignified reaction, died in everyone's throats as they watched the skin stitch itself back together. The repairing muscles gave a tingling sensation but soon the only proof that a cut had been there were thin trails of blood.

Mother Miranda chuckled and wrote down something in the notebook she brought with her. "Accelerated healing. That can be of use."

Nicole couldn't help but throw a glance at Alcina, who was sitting in one of the many chairs with Esteria by her side. Her expression was unreadable, a mix of conflicting emotions flashing in her eyes like rapid lightning. She would've tried to decipher their matriarch's probable thoughts were it not for the smell that was starting to assault her senses.

"Ugh what's that…blood… "

Coherent sentences were still not something her brain wanted to do apparently, but judging by how her nose scrunched up in a grimace, Cassandra got the gist of what she meant.

"Um… your arm," she pointed to the still fresh blood slowly dripping from her skin.

Right. Dumbass.

"Or damaged sinuses. Should go away soon," Miranda added from where she was noting something down and giving instructions to her assistant.

Also fair.

She sighed and tried to ignore it. Her sinuses still felt like sandpaper all the way to the back of her throat. Every time she swallowed, it felt like needles scraping the inside of her neck down to her stomach.

Ugh.

Thankfully, Mother Miranda did not linger for much longer. She wrapped up any samples and was out of the room soon after with her assistant in tow. Then, Nicole could finally go back to laying down in bed and feeling miserable.

And miserable she felt. Her body seemed to have decided to rewire itself into its new mutation. It didn't have any effect on her physical appearance, but the insides seemed to want to liquefy only to be mended back together. It was another week of basically living with a bucket in her lap and throwing up blood clots that seemed to invade her lungs and organs. How she didn't straight up asphyxiate was a mystery that she didn't think she wanted solved.

And to top it off, she was starting to think that humidity from some leaky pipe somewhere in the castle was causing a slight mold problem. Almost everywhere she went, there was this faint moldy scent lingering in the air and it was mixing horribly with the coppery feeling inside her still offended throat and sinuses. Nobody seemed bothered by it though, so maybe it was simply a side effect of the infection that was yet to go away. It wasn’t nicknamed the Mold for nothing, after all.

[supremeinlilac]

Greiving for something not lost

Sally Mckenna x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 5.1k

Warnings: Canon death, mentions of suicide, grief, slight mention of nsfw activities but it’s literally nothing.

A/n: Here’s the exchange gift for @cissa-calls , and I hope it’s not too dark for you :/ I researched a lot of Greek Mythology because you said you enjoyed it so it’s based around a myth, although as always I got carried away so it ended up only being a small portion. I hope you like it :))

Instead of taking the direct route to the Cortez, you idled down the backstreets of LA, one hand stuffed deeply into your pocket as you scuffed feet against stones on the path. It did little to clear the fog in your brain after yet another argument with Sally, it was always too loud in the city and you seemed to never be able to silence it enough to think.

Sally had promised you, time and time again that the next job would be the last, and you clutch at the hopes that each time she’d be telling the truth. Each time you’d fumble with fingers against the hem of her jacket and beg her to stay, and she’d pry them off and tell you not to follow her.

“The Hotel Cortez is not a place for you babe,” she’d say, and then she’d be gone.

Usually, you’d accept that, and would wait by the window for glimpses of her silhouette along the street when she’d returned. Your heart would thrum in protest against your ribs almost painfully until you’d see her safe again. This time, you’d both cried and fumed. Neither understood the other, neither wanting to admit that they feared what that meant.

Your other hand held a small spray of white anemones, and an apology scribbled on paper. You had to rehearse it before you met with her again, she seemed to be able to sense when you weren’t genuine. You’d wanted flowers of a darker colour, they were more Sally, but had had to settle with that of purity and innocence. Not Sally at all, but you were still too proud and stubborn to stalk around more shops to find the perfect gift for her when you’d both been in the wrong.

The detour meant you’d probably find your girlfriend already high, stumbling aimlessly around rooms with that grin on her face that always made you want to kiss it off her. No doubt that tonight would end as it always did. Possessive and passionate in your shared bed. Sometimes you wouldn’t even reach it. Sorry with Sally was always spoken through sex.

The thought of apologising through kisses and softly idle fingertips had your pace quickening, and the guilt heating up within you. You didn’t like fighting with Sally, and you sure as hell didn’t like what you fought about, but you loved to bribe her back to you this way. But as you turned the corner to the hotel, the guilt in your stomach dropped into that of dread, and a lump formed so quickly in your throat that you felt you would choke on it with what you saw.

Aphrodite had warned Adonis about the dangers, just like you had Sally, and yet, here they both lay. It was as if her body blurred into two with your tears, two lovers, separated by the cruel twist of deaths knife in a hollow chest.

You seemed to be able to do nothing but stagger towards her, vision smoky and you prayed it was a dream. That you may stir in the sheets beside Sally, and she’d reach to still your tremors like the silent hand of a god against the rumble of an earthquake. Be still my love, do not fear what can not hurt you. I’m here, reach for me.

Now, you wished for something as merciful as a dream.

Her face paled to grey as you neared, and the world seemed to fall away. Passers by seemed unaffected as hurried feet carried them home, anxious to block out the city with thick blinds and gentle music. Your despair willowed to nothing, a commotion simply on the other side of the road wasn’t a rarity. The city had seen it all before.

It turns out the Hotel Cortez wasn’t a place for her either.

You felt like throwing yourself to the ground beside her, bare knees scraping against the harsh pavement, yet you’d welcome the pain beside your lover. White noise filled your ears, and only the blaring of car horns could cut through its insistent ringing. You couldn’t even hear yourself crying for help to anyone who might listen.

Her eyes were wide, glassy and pleading, but you saw no life in them. The glass gave way to murky water and it was clear you’d reached her too late. Defeated, you crumpled beside her, flowers forgotten in leu of pressing lips to her temple and whispering the apology as if it may be heard by her soul and it might return to her body. To you.

You wanted to close her eyes with gentle fingertips but feared that if she stopped seeing you then it would be the end. That it would mean she was gone.

A flower sprang where he lay, hours after Adonis’ death, a deep crimson anemone that bore the shade of his blood. Born from the sweet nectar from Aphrodite’s hand, the wildflower bloomed. Beautiful trauma.

The flowers on the ground by your side seemed to wilt, sensing the sour odour of deaths passing, they hung their heads in mourning and shrank into their petals. Heavy with grief. White anemones turned red under the suns dying love, its light bowing behind the buildings so it may pretend to have not bared silent witness to souls divided.

Aphrodite pleaded for her lover’s life in the underworld, so he could be with her once again in life. You would have plead as she did, knelt and sold your soul for Sally to be returned. You would have done as Aphrodite did, if you thought it would help. If you thought that someone could see your pain and render it pure enough to grant the impossible.

In the real world, there are no gracious second chances for such a fickle thing as love.

And now, it seemed that the Hotel Cortez would be her place, tied to her always in death.

You stayed by her side until the coroner arrived to take her away. You couldn’t cry, instead just watched through eyes of steel as the back doors of the van were slammed obnoxiously, ringing in your ears long after it had pulled away and been lost to the traffic. You vaguely registered someone’s hand on your shoulder, a soothing motion, talking as if underwater, muffled and unintelligible. You felt like you were barely clinging to driftwood on an unsettled sea, each swell of a wave bigger than the last.

In shock- you heard someone say. Suicide. That broke your haze.

When you’d got home that night, the silence had screamed at you. It had been too quiet to sleep, and you ached for the way she’d blast music loud enough to warrant the neighbours complaints the next day, so you’d have to bake horrendously in the kitchen cookies as apologies. Or when she’d strum against her guitar and the gentle tones would pull you from your work and into her lap to watch her fingers manipulate the instrument into art.

You craved the shrill laughter of Sally when she’d prank you childishly, how she’d pull you towards her and you’d see how joy creased her face beautifully. You’d always want to make her laugh and brush the pads of curious fingers over the dimples formed and make her shy away.

You’d never hear her song again, you realised, blinking away tears when the guitar propped in the corner caught your eye. Chest heaving painfully, you half wanted to grasp it by the neck and slam it against the ground over and over until anger diffused and you could cry into its shards. The other half, the winning half, wanted to pick it up and set it against you, ghost fingers over its strings so the thrum was barely audible. She’d played this tune, taught you this tune, and you vowed you’d never forget it. Fingers in her shadow, you ran them over the smooth wood, eyes closed and head back on the sofa.

She was everywhere in the apartment, and it only served to remind you that she was also nowhere.

The suffocating hands of her absence pressed against you, a ribbon of blackened ash around your ribs, until they threatened to crack under its pressure. Was it possible to miss how she hurt? Your lover, with her wild hair and glassy eyes, you could see her as she was, you would drunk in how she would move. Dancing slowly in an empty room, as if the world were watching her.

Wild hair was born to writhing snakes, and you feared to look directly into her eyes now. Death had claimed her as its own, and you refused to accept her insistent fate. She’d return. You’d look into her eyes and see that of your lover, and not of Medusa. Lungs of stone, how could they swell to receive the gift of a breath without her beside you?

Now you drowned the guilt, drunk in its depths instead of in her eyes.

Stuck in endless loops of questioning what if. What if you hadn’t taken the detour, what if you hadn’t argued, or if you had made her stay instead of letting her leave the apartment? Would she still be alive?

It wasn’t your fault but oh, how that option seemed so sweet in this moment. To be swarmed with an actual reason to hate, how it would be easier than the reality. You’d rather have yourself to blame than have no one. Responsibility for actions you weren’t even sure of. Questions unanswered by police, that would remain unanswered because the only person with the solution was gone. What had happened?

The pressure seemed to build up in your head, an unbearable thickness of thoughts that had nowhere to go but to force themselves down your throat so you’d choke on them, and the feeling of sickness would resurface. They’d swim in your gut like parasite and never still.

It was worse at night.

Distractions were less and your emotions ran so far above you on blackened clouds, so out of reach that you doubted you’d ever be able to wrestle them back into submission. Would they eternally be dancing in mockery and pulling at marionette strings in your limbs? A shell of your former self, only held up by unpredictable emotions that could burn you with their ice just as much as their fire.

After your first day back at work after the incident, you’d returned home exhausted, wanting nothing more than to collapse into yourself on the sofa and cradle one of her jackets. You forgot the lock the door on your way in, and remembered hours later, after the sun had drooped once more that you needed to lock yourself with your thoughts again for the night.

You reached into your handbag, searching for something that seemed menial now, and instead your fingers curled around her packet of cigarettes. You stopped, hand still in the bag, and your breath caught painfully in your throat.

It had been the first since that night, raw and salty tears that burned your eyes red and blurred your vision. The kind of crying that wore you to nothing within minutes and had you clutching bony fingers to your chest as if to pry open ribs and reach your lungs. You couldn’t breathe.

Everything caught up with you, and you felt as if you were falling alongside her, scrabbling to find purchase against nothing. The rational side of your brain knew that you wouldn’t crash to the ground, but you couldn’t help but be brought back to her side in that moment, a whirlwind of emotions that you couldn’t control, circling your head in a way that made you dizzy with your grief.

Her pale face, mottled with the tears of her death invaded your mind, the blood staining the pavement. Suddenly you felt hot with it, as if the sticky blood was covering you, pulling you to drown. You could smell its invasive metallic scent, almost taste its musk in your throat with every breath. It was thick, and you were clawing at your arms to try and wipe it away. It was everywhere, and then it was nowhere, and you wondered why you’d been tricked by grief in the first place.

Shaking, your fingers had flipped open the packet and picked one out. You didn’t smoke, yet trembling hands found the lighter and lips found the filter which already had a smudge of red on it. Almost as if Sally had gone to light it but changed her mind, discarding it back for later use. She never used it again, now it was you that drew in an unsteady breath, drawing the panel door to the side as you took the rest of the cigarettes onto the small apartment balcony you both shared to smoke them, alone.

There was really only room for one person out there at a time, yet you and Sally would huddle together on the nights when the city would keep you awake, and she’d wrap pale arms around your waist and nuzzle her chin into the crook of your neck. Passing her cigarette back and forth you’d overlook the streets below and watch the living.

You’d both used to wonder what it would be like to lead the lives of those people below, those on their way to work before the sun even surfaced over the horizon and set its path for the day. Working before the pair of you had even been asleep. The banality of their routine, oh, how you both pitied them. They’d work boring jobs to pay the rent for the whitewashed walls they’d come home to each night, eat the same meals at the same time, prepared by wives wearing lines of age, deeply set in valleys on their faces. These people always looked older than their years, tired and worn from work and children born to save a marriage already lost.

You’d used to pity them, yet now, you craved the intimacy of a boring life with someone you loved. You’d rather the predictability of this life than the one you had now. Nothing.

On the balcony, you smoked all the remaining cigarettes in the pack. Usually, you didn’t smoke, but you did, just to feel close to her again. Curling your fingers around the butt the way that she used to, and blowing the smoke out, watching it furl and twist into the cold night. You craved the warm roughness of her hands.

She’d kiss you with the lingering taste of those cigarettes, and you’d grown addicted to it. Still, once you’d finished the packet, you’d found yourself unable to rebuy them.

Slowly, you forgot its essence. You felt like you were forgetting her.

In the news, you waited for them to show a photo of Sally, one detached from everything she’d grown to be, beside a headline of death. The low hum of the city news was background noise to your grief, and you ached for someone to care enough to tell about her passing. For weeks, there was nothing. There was nothing and then there was everything, all at once, and in that moment, you knew that you would’ve preferred the nothing.

They said she’d jumped.

They hadn’t known her, and they said she’d jumped.

How dare they when you’d screamed at them until hoarse that she would never, that she promised she would never? The quick solution, one that wouldn’t raise questions, or demand the precious funds of the very system she’d been cheated by, to fork out for justice. She was an addict, they’d said. Painting the sky above her head an angry black, with clouds that swirled with viscous intent. She was a junkie, and therefore the answer was simple.

Death had been an inevitability with a life like that, habits like that. A person such as that.

You wasted grief on your anger, long nights where you’d clutch the phone to your mottled cheek with whitening knuckles, cursing everyone who’d rendered your love unimportant. You’d fall asleep on hold to police that had no more answers for you, no more pitied excuses and apologies for a loss they knew nothing about.

And it was on one of those long nights, when you sought for comfort that could be not offered by the living, that you reach for the memory of the dead. Running fingers deliberately slowly over the clothes that hung in the wardrobe, fingering through her dresses on the railing before slowly closing the door again, leaning against it and sinking to the floor.

You’d opened all her drawers that night, some for the first time. Spritzed her dresses with her perfume that still stood on the mantle, revitalised Sally in the apartment with her smell. It was as if you were back to then, when she’d return from work, stroppy and tired, yet still reach for her perfume and generously sprayed the air that she’d then dance into.

Picking one of her band shirts out of the drawer, you slipped your shirt off and replaced it with hers. It was soft cotton, the one she’d most frequently sleep in, and it brought you warmth like her hugs used to, arms enclosing you and grounding you in moments of fear.

You slept in it that night. Telling yourself that that would be it and then it would return to the drawer. But one night stretched painfully into three, and you found yourself unable to sever the small mercy you’d given yourself in wearing her clothes, the attachment to her that only you would know when you walked the street. No one else knew the chain you wore were hers, the boots, the dress. No one knew sally because there was no one left to know.

It had been a year since that day.

You’d woken with a headache and turned over in bed, wanting to shelter yourself from the day with blankets, sleep until the moon shone and the day turned into the next. You knew you could do that, but guilt had you pulling on the covers and groaning as the sunlight poured like liquid through the slit in the curtains.

It was going to be a long day. You already felt tired.

Pulling one of Sally’s band shirts over your head, you traipsed sluggishly through the apartment, purposefully ignoring the mess, like she would after a night of drinking. Not that it mattered today. You unhooked Sally’s oversized jacket from the peg and slumped it over your shoulder. Today was the day, you’d decided. You were going to visit her grave.

In the past year, you’d planned to visit her grave on several occasions, but avoided it at the last second. You couldn’t stand the thought of Sally trapped there, tied to the soil when she should be dancing upon it with you.

Sally couldn’t be tied down to a single place, she moved freely, without reign. It was how she liked it, and how you’d learned to love her. Labels had never been her thing. And now she was labelled on stone, with a corny phrase that she’d hate, with a date too early, a life too short. Sally deserved to be free.

She was the wind, unpredictable and changing and wild, she would go where she pleased and return on the breeze. Sally would’ve hated being buried, and yet through the selfish need to have a real place to visit her, she had been. You can’t capture the wind in bare hands, can’t collar it or tame it and make it beg. It controls you and you have no choice but to concede to it.

That was Sally.

Even now, a year later, you found yourself faltering. The gates of the cemetery loomed ahead of you, and your hands bunched at the material of your pants nervously. You could feel it calling, begging almost, for you to simply reach out and push the gate open with a metallic creak of protest. To visit the place you’d always avoided.

But just as you always did, you lost your nerve, sighing and peering down the road for a reason to be drawn away. For a distraction, even just for a moment. An excuse to gather your thoughts just enough to face your lover.

A corner shop caught your eye, with the newspapers in the windows just begging for customers. How convenient. Stuffing hands into pockets, you strode over the road with new purpose.

Dragging yourself down the claustrophobic aisles in the store, you distracted yourself with exited colours on packaging, picking items of shelves and replacing them further down the aisle. You didn’t care for tidiness today.

When a shop attendant asked you if you needed any help, you gave him a sad smile in appreciation and picked up a small bunch of white anemone flowers, her flowers. Last year, they’d been a peace offering, this year, an apology. The employee shuffled along again, and you set your eyes down to the floor.

Flowers in hand, you made your way to the till, placing them delicately onto the counter and fiddling for coins in your coat. You hadn’t planned on buying anything, so neglected to bring your wallet. Luckily, this was a coat you’d not worn since Sally’s death, and she was a fan of keeping loose change in the deep pockets.

“Is that everything for today?” the woman behind the till chirped with the voice of someone with long experience in public services. It cried out in tired falsity, in ‘how long have I left on my shift?’ It was a line well-rehearsed and overused.

Just as you were about to nod in answer, your eyes caught the tobacco cabinet behind the bored check out assistant. “What brand?” She asked pointedly, and you stared dumbly past her. Had Sally ever bought cigarettes from this store? Shaking out the thought from your mind, you answered her, asking for Sally’s brand and quickly paying and leaving.

Outside the shop, you held the package tentatively in your palm, fingering at the packaging as she used to when she was nervous. She’d wrap a tune with her chipped nails against the boxes edge, and you’d coax it from her, and dip her under the moonlight in your arms. Now, holding the cigarettes held no comfort for you, feeling both foreign and familiar, it left you aching for her.

Still, you found yourself unable to visit her grave. It was all too real to see where she lay. You needed something tying Sally to you that wasn’t so physical. You laughed to yourself. How ironic it was, to force her into a grave for something so trivial as to have a place to call her resting place, only to find yourself too weak to face your choice.

Instead, you took a left, and then another, and then a right, and continued until you could no longer smell your own fear in the air with the concept of her grave. Deeper into the city, where the pollution stained white houses grey, you could breathe clearly again. Guilt will consume a person, clog their lungs with it until their breathing is laborious and the weight drags them down into their thoughts.

You’d walked this route before, one year before, with white anemones and an apology in hand. You’d never gotten to tell Sally what you’d wanted, but perhaps you’d take her the flowers, and smoke her cigarettes in the window where she’d fell. You’d tell her what you didn’t get the chance to.

The hotel was just as you remembered it, flickering neon 34w`lights that read ‘Hotel Cortez’, and the eery alleys and parked cars that seemed to be in the same position as the year prior. It was as if time had paused, hotel residents left their cars and had never returned to them.

You weren’t really aware of yourself in that moment, feet leading a silent path as you found yourself stuck in a memory. When you reached the place you found her, your feet faltered, and you couldn’t tear your eyes from the paving.

The pavement was clear, physically untainted, and any normal pedestrian would question your loitering. But although it appeared to be clean, you know because you’ve seen, you’ve remembered. The pain that would still remain, deep in the cracks of the paving stone, no matter how much scrubbing the clean up team undoubtably did after Sally’s body was removed, they couldn’t remove. They couldn’t fade the scarring, or the feeling of death that overcame you when you stared at the place she’d laid.

Someone bumped your shoulder as they passed on the street, muttered remarks about people standing in the middle of the street, and you raised your eyes to watch them walk away. When you looked back at the stone, the connection to it had been lost, and you found yourself unable to re-enter the trance you’d been in.

Pressing through the hotel doors, you left the light of the sun behind, left the living, and joined the death of the dusky lobby. Wondering through its room, you imagined Sally doing the same, with confident strides and a purpose. It was a nice place for downtown LA, you had to admit, but you couldn’t shake the eerie feeling that came with it, of being watched by invisible eyes in the walls. The feeling one gets when you visit a place where death rules over occupants.

You looked up to the next floor, and swore you saw a flash of an animal print coat moving behind the barriers. No. Must’ve been the lighting change from coming inside.

A woman pointed you towards the bar, and you nodded towards her. Did all visitors come for the hotels bar? She seemed to know exactly what you needed, tired eyes searching for something not quite there.

In the bar, you drank and you smoked and spoke with the woman behind the bar who must’ve noticed the void behind your eyes. She didn’t question you, why you were alone, just slid extra drinks across the table with a wink and a smile. You didn’t return it, opting for a grateful grimace instead.

All of a sudden, the smell of Sally’s perfume seemed to melt into your senses, overpowering that of the cigarette, and the liquor, until your head swam with memories linked with its scent. You didn’t remember spraying it this morning, and it confused you. It was so strong, and real. It didn’t seem like your brain was tricking you with its musk, like it so often would with a silhouette against the apartment window.

Suffocated by Sally. You drowned in its poetry.

Searching for its origin, your eyes roamed the bar. It was real, you figured. Turning on the bar stool, your eyes met those that you thought you’d forgotten, and you found they were exactly like you remembered. Sally stood, leant against the wall opposite you, arms folded at her chest yet wearing cheeks stained with tears and widened eyes. You scrambled out of your chair, and the world fell away from you. You didn’t even try and catch it when she was next to you.

You palmed at your eyes, begging yourself to wake up from what must be a dream. Despite knowing she wasn’t real, you ached for your mind to stay in this fantasy so at least you wouldn’t be alone. Removing your hands, you felt yourself lighten. Sally remained still, unmoving yet she was closer that ever. You could reach and brush against her cheek if only your arms would cooperate.

“Y/n?” she breathed, in that choked up voice, and you were falling again.

As if trapped in a dream, you startled awake with the feeling of cool fingers massaging against your scalp. The room was foreign, and it smelled like her. Foreign, yet startingly familiar as if you’d been there before.

Sally was curled into your side, and your breathing laboured again. You didn’t understand how she was here, you- you buried her. Sniffling broke your doubts, and Sally adjusted her head atop your chest. When you wiggled beneath her, her sniffs turned to coos, and her fingers in your hair and clutching your top were soothing at your cheeks.

“I love you, I’m here,” she flustered, worrying her lip between teeth, and you could see the moon in between buildings outside the window. It watched you with bated breath and shone onto her pale skin until her tears seemed to shine. “Say I love you Sally.”

Sitting up against the pillows, you caught her face in your hands, cupping it so she couldn’t move away as you remembered the outlines of her eyes, lips, the curve of her jaw and cheekbones. “I love you,” you found yourself admitting, tears welling in eyes that couldn’t believe what they were witnessing, “are you real?”

“I’m-” Sally started, faltering as if she didn’t quite know the answer either. “I’m here.”

You wanted to apologise anew, whisper the memorised speech that you’d spoken to her that night, but the words seemed to catch in your throat, sharp like the barbs from barbed wire were caught against the delicate skin. Instead, you pulled her in to brush lips against hers, testing slowly if they actually would meet and not melt through what your mind was making up.

They did meet, and you muffled a wail against hers, all the pent-up grief for the woman you were now kissing resurfacing. Fingers clung to her coat, which was still soft beneath your touch, and you pulled her closer to you. She cried, and you cried, and hands met to brush them away.

“I missed you baby.”

You didn’t stop to think about what it meant that she was here. Focusing only on her hands linked firmly in yours, and how she deserved to feel the taut string of a guitar again. You’d bring it to her, and she’d play her song. You’d hear her voice and feel the vibrations of her throat against your lips as she sang.

You’d do it all again.

Time you thought was lost was now frozen, suspended in a single heartbeat. She hadn’t aged a single day, and yet her eyes showed more trouble than you’d ever seen. You couldn’t wait to return and kiss away her worries, reintroduce yourself and love her and be loved like you both deserved. But for now, you were content to simply exist in her presence again.

You wouldn’t take her for granted.

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[abizarreyodelingincident]

Braaaaaaains...

Jason Todd is legally – and biologically – dead. His family noted his lack of pulse at three in the morning, inside the cave, his body laid out on a table with medical instruments.

No, really, tell him something he doesn't know.

What else crawls out of a grave moaning and groaning?

Or, Jason thought his family full of the world's greatest detectives was smarter than this. Apparently not.

****************************************************************

It had been an ordinary night. Calm. The stage for very little costumed crime and barely more regular, non-insane crime as well. Half the menagerie that made up Dick's loving ragtag bunch of younger siblings had even taken the night off.

Nothing should have make him arrive to silence this thick, to this faint echo of sniffling.

He sprinted after the noise.

Damian's fine, left before me. Duke didn't go out, nor did Steph. Babs spent the evening with Cass in the cave, Tim swept the bowery and said he was going to stop by Jason's place to-

He collided with a shaking, tear stained Tim right outside the medbay.

There was a body on the closest table. Others around it, crying, pacing, muttering in denial.

Dick couldn't look.

No, no, please, please no. I can't do that again. I can't!

Scarred skin, too pale – to be Duke or Cass – by death. His breath hitched. No. He. Fuck.

He knew those scars. Those arms. That chest and that fucking Y from navel to shoulders.

“Dick! Jason... he was...  I found him in his apartment. And I brought him to the cave... but... Jason doesn't have a pulse. He's... cold...”

Dick stumbled.

No.

No, no, no, that... that couldn't be real.

He caught himself on his little brother. Brought himself into a hug too tight, as painful as the arms gripping his ribs and back. A grip meant for a lifesaving light at sea. For a safeline over a ravine.

Twice. He'd lost the same brother twice. And this time, he didn't even have the excuse of inexperience and unstable situations. He... he patrolled the city whilst his brother was dead, completely oblivious to the fact. How could he? How dare he not know?!

“Shh, Tim, I'm here. I'm here.” But not for Jason, whispered a vicious part of him.

“What's all this?”

Dick's heart just about stopped.

Damian stood at the entrance to the lockers' room, uniform folded under one arm, hair slightly damp from a shower and Bat-themed pajamas worn without shame. His mild annoyance was proof he had no idea of the drama that had happened not twenty feet from him.

With reluctance, he let go of Tim, a gentle hand lingering on his shoulder, before he took a few steps toward his youngest, most vulnerable brother.

“D-Dami, I... ”   Damn it, he had to be the one to tell Damian about this. Because otherwise, the person to break the news would be Bruce, and-

Shit.

Bruce.

Oh God. How could they possibly tell him- ? After all their fights, the goddamned shattering that had broken the man he had been, and their last conversations even being more admonishment about protocols that Jason had flippantly disregarded. Bruce would never recover. That was it. The end of Batman.

...But first, God he hated himself, wanted to just curl up in a corner and forget everything, first he had a young brother he needed to talk to. One... one little brother less than just this afternoon.

“Jason... ” He swallowed, his throat tight, his heart in denial, the words so damning, but needing to be said. “Jason did not make it. He... he's dead.”

Damian stayed thoughtfully silent.

Not... not the tearful reaction he had expected, but Damian had grown up surrounded by so much death and horror that he would obviously be guarded. And oh, Dick's heart went to his baby brother, and he truly wished he could

“I do not understand. Why such theatrics for the zombie?”

Dick gasped, knowledge warring with the flash of anger.

“Damian! He's our brother!”

“Did he lose his head?” Damian demanded, and Dick's mind buckled.

“Huh, no, but that doesn't have anything to d-”

“Then, why are you acting so weirdly emotional, Richard?”

Before Dick's temper could catch up to his mouth, the longest and most painful-sounding gasp erupted from the medbay, where, to the general shock of all, Jason's gray-ish body shot upward with both his arms raised.

Electroshocks didn't make you jolt like that.

Electroshocks, in fact, remained in their kit on the other side of the medbay, unused. Because Jason had seemingly been dead long before he had been brought to the cave.

That was roughly the moment when Dick's brain caught up with the first of many hints. Latched onto it with a fool's hope.

“... Damian... When you were calling Jason a 'zombie', what did you mean?”

Damian's brows scrunched up together, a look he meant to be intimidating, but had more in common with a disgruntled kitten. “Exactly that, Richard. Do we not have files on zombies in the computer? Dead bodies walking about animated by unholy powers?”

Jason's not- Dick forced the half formed thought to a halt. For once, he rather wanted to be very, very wrong in how he perceived his family.

“What's with all the noise? Can't someone try to sleep like the dead without screaming?” Jason groused. “Should have gotten myself buried ag-OOF!”

“JASON!” screamed the hysterical teenager that had launched himself at a very lively dead body.

“Huhh? Hi, Timmy?” Jason said blearily, ruffling Tim's hair, eyebags suspiciously prominent. “... Fear gas?”

The blinking slowed, the fog of sleep drifting away as he silently begged the rest of them for an answer.

Happily provided by a still crying Tim. “I thought you were gone!”

“What is dead may never die,” Jason quipped, his mouth twisting in that cocksure grin from his Robin days.

And Dick wanted nothing more than to stop right there, pass out from the relief and joy of his little brother being alive and kicking, but...

But... 

That joke. One of many morbidly unfunny jokes and puns.

Bone-deep fatigue crushed his back. A bitter curse for whatever higher forces messing with them echoed strongly inside his skull, before he gave in to the inevitable and inhaled a few times for patience.

“Jason. We thought you were dead-dead.”

With prickly, hedgehog style affection, Jason pushed Tim back and stood up, stretching. “Come off it, Goldie. I wasn't even decapitated. I mean, if you were really worried, you could have just called a necromancer or something.” His expression hardened. “But if you ever call a necromancer on my ass, I'll shoot your perfect glutes.”

Yup, yup, yup, this is happening.

Tim finally wiped the rest of the tears away, helped by one of Stephanie's handkerchiefs, when he froze. “Wait. Your skin's still pale as a corpse.”

The flicker of amusement in Jason's eyes killed it for Dick.

God, how could they have all been this idiotic? If Wally ever learned about this – Shit, did Roy and Kory know before him?!

They were going to laugh their asses off at him.

Jason, unaware of the world recalibration happening in his poor big brother's mind, shrugged and rolled his shoulders – who creaked suspiciously loudly, more like rusty hinges than normal body parts. “Eh, I'm just a bit hungry. Nothing a meal or two won't fix and get some blood flowing back under my s-”

“You're a zombie.”

They turned toward him.

“Way to cross the finish line on time, Mister Rabbit,” Jason drawled.

Barbara, for once, looked completely unprepared. “A zombie,” she repeated, dazed.

Stephanie's nervous giggle died out when she noticed the lack of humor. “... No!”

Cassandra furiously looked down, muttering in her fist. Duke, by contrast, had the expression of a person stuck in a very awkward nightmare.

Even Jason's good-natured ribbing faded in when faced only with the distant screeched of bats. “... Hm, guys, bats, roostery, parasites and octopi? This is old news. What's with all the... ”

He vaguely gestured at their faces.

“Old news?” Tim rasped like he was being strangled.

“I came back from the dead years ago! Come on! Am I in a parallel universe? Hey, Demon Brat,” Jason called, baffled, “you knew, right? I didn't imagine that, right?!”

“Of course, Todd. Mother informed me of everything. Besides, Grandfather's interest in your state of being was of interest for a few weeks. How could I have been ignorant about your zombified state of being?”

In the corner of his eyes, Dick noticed Tim's, Barbara's and Cassandra's expressions all pinching in displeasure. In a way, Dick was reassured. He hadn't been the target of a family-wide hoax to discredit him as an attentive and loving eldest brother. No, he was just naturally blind, apparently.

“He knew?” Tim growled, like it was a personal failing of the fabric of time and space.

Damian's tone was the exact opposite. “And none of you realized...?”

Dick squirmed. “I... huh... you see...”

His baby brother eyed him, completely unimpressed, and for once after years of partnership, Dick felt he deserved every single ounce of it.

“I see... I shall reevaluate the value of this 'detective training' I've been given if this is the result then,” he said, the nearest thing to completely disavowing his older siblings without saying so.  

In other circumstances, perhaps the others would have demanded that Damian stay and explain, but he suspected the quelling look it would have deserved prevented them. Not one of them spoke until Damian had disappeared upstairs and the elevator doors had closed.

“Jason, since when have you been a zombie?”

Jason blinked, jaw hanging. Juuuust enough for some of the scar tissue on his face to stretch past normal. Why did Dick only notice that now?

“Wait, you're all serious? How could you not know? I told you guys!”

And there was Dick's pride rearing its ugly head, because no, no he had not been told and maybe his deductive skills needed a very complete overhaul, but his memory was still excellent!

“You never said that. Heck, we weren't even talking until two years ago!”

“I literally told you all that I crawled out of my grave by myself, groaning the entire time. No experiment, no Lazarus Pit, just a body waking up in its own coffin and deciding to breathe fresh air. Does that not scream 'zombie' to you?”

They cringed.

“Not the only one that returned from beyond,” Babs mumbled. He could see her pull up the mental list right there.

“I greeted you all last meeting with a 'What's up, my bat folks? It's me, your favorite zombie!'. What did you think that meant?”

“That you're an asshole with a morbid sense of humor?” Stephanie quipped, and Jason momentarily paused his indignation to high five her. Fair's fair.

“Okay, but what about that time I got shot in the chest and I told you all not to worry about it?”

“I just figured you were going to get stitched up by Leslie or yourself, you know, regular bat neuroses,” Tim confessed.

Dick made a mental note to keep a much closer eye on Tim's patrols for the next few months.

“From a bullet chest wound?” Jason asked with an incredulousness that was not at all earned, because he was a freaking zombie!

“I thought your armor had blocked it! The hole wasn't bleeding!” Tim protested, cheeks red and tone defensive.

“Well, yeah,” Jason replied. “I don't bleed. It's like some fruit pulp or something. Ain't coming out if you don't press. My heart's not pumping.”

That's a 'nevermind' on the smoothie I saved for after patrol.

“Well, I know that now,” Tim said.

“I feel like I should write it down on the plaque or something,” Jason still sounded amazed, and might have pinched his arm just to be sure he hadn't been daydreaming, “Like, 'a good soldier AND A VERY DISCRETE ZOMBIE!' in big flaming letters. With a spotlight. And a dictionary opened on 'Zombie' or 'Undead'. You know, just in case the next batbrat to come along needs a few subtle hints about my true nature. What'd you think, Dick?”

He could not have been blushing harder than he currently was. “I think shut up.”

“Of course. What about when I shoved my deadly cold toes at Tim under a blanket?”

“Cold feet.”

“Never eating around you guys?”

“Daddy issues with Bruce,” Barbara deadpanned, and got a sock thrown at her for her honesty.

However, Duke, poor kid, turned green. “Wait, so when you offered me some jellied brain... was that not a death joke?”

Dick's stomach spontaneously shrivelled.

By the grimaces and sharp inhales all around, that was a common reaction.

Then the worst possible thing happened: Jason grinned.

He strutted, all confidence and brashness, and viper-quick, snatched an arm around Duke's shoulder. “Narrows, Nightlight, my tiny bitsy bro, everything I do is a death joke. My very existence laughs at death.”

Inside the batcave, the groaning was long-suffering and shameful.

“But that was actually brains,” Duke countered.

“Yeah. Calf brains. It's a delicacy.”

Tim massaged his forehead. What a mood.

Duke narrowed his eyes. “It was purely for the joke, wasn't it?”

Jason patted him on the back so hard Duke faltered. “One tragically wasted on your obtuse mind. I prefer me some Tête fromagée instead. Less like grainy jello.”

Stone-faced, Barbara wheeled herself toward the batcomputer. There, upon a series of quick clicks, she opened up the Bats's files. “Alright, you had your fun. Do you need to eat brains or are you just the world's least funny meathead?”

“I'm the world's most misunderstood vigilante!” Jason loudly protested, milking their pain for all it was worth. And then some. “But yeah, I do. No grey matter in there” -- he tapped his belly -- “no thinking up here.” -- his skull.

“Need some better quality brains then,” Tim stage-whispered to Stephanie.

Cass pointed the finger at Jason. “No killing for brains.”

Jason's good humor flickered with a flash of green. “Ain't ever done it, never will. It's a matter of morals, not hunger, Cass.”

Dick swooped in that minefield before it exploded.

“Great! Proud of you, Jay! You're the good kind of vegetarian zombie,” he said, putting an arm around his ginormous little brother's shoulders.

Wait a minute...

“Hey, you're older than when you died! Zombies don't age.”

“No, I was thrown into a Lazarus Pit, and the evil waters cured the malnutrition-induced delay on my growth. Haven't aged a day since.”

“I just thought you had a weird babyface thing going on,” Tim said.

Jason's grin turned sardonic. “Quite the opposite, Timber.”

Dick put his head in his hands in some vain attempt to prevent his brain from leaking through his ears.  With his luck, his little brother would 'playfully' eat some of it. “There's no way you look this rugged at biologically sixteen! I refuse to believe that.”

“Can you imagine my power if I'd been allowed to reach my full potential?” Jason leered, eyebrows waggling like waves in a sea at storm. “So many heart attacks.”

Barbara and Cassandra exchanged a silent look, and, after a solemn nod, Cassandra reached up to slap Jason upside the head.

“Thank you, Cassandra,” Barbara told her. “Jason, never do such a thing again.”

The disgruntled groan that followed must have been on purpose, because Jay was indeed an asshole.

“Besides, it's not like the world will ever know,” Tim said, cutting, a smirk hiding by his hand.

Dick really thought his little brother was far too relaxed upon learning that Jason was one with the undead. Sure, they had all encountered various levels of zombies during their missions, from all sorts of oral traditions and cultures, alien viruses and hidden nanobots piloting meat puppets. It wasn't even classified as a nation-wide crisis to encounter free-roaming zombies. But since the chronically unalive individual in question was one of their own, Dick felt he was owed at least a whole evening of frazzled panic and incomprehension for once.

“Oh?” Stephanie instead asked, sensing blood.

Tim shrugged. “Well, you know, no pulse, no blood flow,” he said with an angled eyebrow nodding at Jason's crotch

Stunned silence followed, their expressions varying from disgust, horror, unholy glee and, from Jason himself, wide-eyed shock that his shrimp of a little brother had had the balls to assimilate the zombieness fast enough to mock him for him.

Dick prayed for patience. For fortitude. And for an alternate timeline where he was an only child.

Why, for all the love of cotton candy and professional uncriminal clowns, did Tim put THAT image of Jason inside their brains? What had he done, him, a loving model for all of society, to suffer like this?

Maybe if he asked nicely, Jason would eat the image out of his head. He owed Dick that much after this clusterfuck of a conversation.

“Ooooooooh,” Stephanie crooned, miming getting dunked on. With acrobatics.

Jason huffed. “Like I was ever interested in the first place. I ain't Dick.”

“Okay, no slut shaming or virgin shaming, in fact, no shaming at all, please. In this house, we accept all sexualities, but we don't give out raunchy details about any of it, I only have so much brain bleach.”

“Share?” Duke pleaded in a whisper.

Oh, I wish I could, you young innocent soul.

A few beeps turned their attention back to Barbara and the batcomputer. “Well, that's one long overdue update to Jason's files. Anyone else want to share their 'obvious' medical condition?”

“Excuse you, being dead is not a medical condition.”

“I will make you wish for the peace of the grave, Jason.”

Droplets dripped from nearby stalactites.

A few bats flew overhead.

Jason turned to them like nothing had been said.

“Right. That was fun. Best night of my month. Can't wait to tell the Outlaws.”

Dick resigned himself to a series of unflattering texts by the absolute dickheads that were his second family. He could already tell the messages would blow up his phone to the Moon. 'You didn't know your brother that came back from the dead is a zombie?!'

“Have mercy and wait tomorrow morning?”

That smile could have been great or terrible. “You're lucky I'm in a spectacularly good mood, Dick.”

He had lifted his leg over his bike's seat when Duke was struck by genuine worry.

“Wait. Does Bruce know?”

Jason barked out a laugh.

“Of course he does! God knows he's got some massive blind spots, but he's obsessive, paranoid and I find subcutaneous trackers on me every week. No way he didn't get the hint before now.”

But, as his gaze went over the rest of them, his good cheer dimmed, his grin slipping off his face as surely as a bit of decayed flesh.

“... Right?”

[the-darklings]

—𝐭𝐢𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐚𝐭 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞;

⤫ pairing: johnny silverhand x corp!v(ermillion)

⤫ summary: Usually, they’re a calamity together—destructive and volatile as each other. But right now, just for a second, there is only music and them.

⤫ word count: 2.3k+

⤫ warnings: spoilers for act i & side mission the ballad of buck ravers, third person but can be read as RI ig, swearing, written in one sitting so who knows what the final result is - certainly not me. 

⤫ notes: let me leave my clown shoes outside.

It starts out the way it always does. 

One ring leads to another and she suddenly finds herself running or driving around the Night City with little to no rest, pulling one job after another. The more jobs she closes the more she seems to be in demand.

Good for business. Good for making a name for herself, too, but not so good on her overall being. 

She’s been running. Like a fucking coward. Filing her days with meaningless shit while trying desperately not to think about her ticking clock. About Jackie. 

Guilt gnaws on her bones daily. She should have done more, been better, more careful. Jackie never should have died. It was stupid and blind ambition that drove them both to try and pull this near impossible heist in the first place. Her own reckless drive has blinded her, and now the person closest to her in this fucking city is nothing more than a cold corpse. 

Fuck.

She should have sent him to his family instead. She only wanted to spare them from the grief of having to see Jackie in the state he was in but now Araska has his body and god knows what those assholes might be doing with it. 

And now…

Well she has nothing to lose, does she? She’s already dying, already hunted, her only close friend is dead. She promised to make him proud. Make it to the big leagues or make a league all on her own if that’s what it takes. Bleed this city dry if that’s the price to pay for what she wants. 

Back when she worked for Arasaka she wanted knowledge which led to power. Then she wanted guns and money and a roof over her head. 

Now she wants something more. After coming face to face with her own fragile morality, she has begun to realise how meaningless things like money and power are. Now she wants to surpass that. To become something immortal—something that will outlive her body. Maybe even outlive this city.  

Jackie should have been one of such people. 

“You look like you’re about to shit yourself,” a voice drawls from beside her, a crackle filling the air as a too familiar silhouette of a man appears in her sight. “Or cry.”

“Fuck off.”

V turns away from one Johnny Silverhand because it’s hard to look at him and not be reminded of the fact that she’s slowly dying and the construct only she can see and hear is the one doing the deed.

“This self-pitying bullshit needs to stop,” he says, ignoring her vicious words. “We share a brain, remember? I feel what you feel. It’s downright depressing in your head right now.”   

Her jaw clicks at the reminder. Everyday she wakes up and feels like they’re linked by a bridge—he stands on one side, and she on another. When they come closer, she can feel it—feel him. The overlap is near dizzying, overwhelming, even a little addictive. But it’s always followed by agony because she fights back, tries to shove him away. If not, he will consume her, but she will get him out of her head before that ever happens. 

You share a brain now, Vik had told her only days prior, his eyebrows knitted tight and—albeit subdued—but clear worry in his low voice, senses and memories, even perception. Eventually it will become impossible to tell whose who anymore. 

The worst thing is the fact that he’s right. 

She can feel Silverhand rooted inside her; a constant, a presence that is persistent to a point she knows she’s not alone even if she wishes to be. 

An echo of a being deep inside her.

“Then get the hell out,” she bites back, fighting to keep her temper leashed so she doesn’t burst out at him like she did at the diner. She can still remember the wary stares she received from the diners when she started shouting verbally at a figment only she could perceive in the first place. “I didn’t ask for a parasite to make himself home in my brain.”

Johnny scoffs under his breath, raising a cigarette to his mouth, and she’s nearly overcome with need to remind him that he’s fucking dead, and can’t smoke. That, and the fact that she would prefer him to leave her the fuck alone. 

“You did the job, didn’t ya? You sure you didn’t have this comin’?”

Flipping him off, she storms past him, her jaw clenched to appoint it aches and eyes narrowed. Just her luck not only to get stuck with a human tumour but for the said tumour to be a bastard to boot.  

So much for being buddies. 

Sun has set over Westbrook hours ago yet Chinatown is as busting with life as always. Overflowing with conversations all spoken in different languages, smells, distant gunshots, and people from all walks of life just trying to survive. Even during her years with the Arasaka, she never quite got used to the vastness of the Night City—not even when she was sure she was at the top. The way this city seems to breathe and fester day in and out; a living beast full of dangers and potential is unique. 

Lost in the crowd, it’s almost easy to forget who she is aside from another face in the said crowd. She’s not a merc, not an ex-corp working counterintelligence—she’s not anything. 

Her optics catch sight of several Tiger Claws lingering around the market, and she makes sure to give them a wide berth, especially when she notes the impressive list of their stats. She’s not stupid enough to attack outright when they outclass her—for now—and there are several of them around. With the market this busy the only outcome to that fight would be a bloodbath with police on her ass when that’s the last thing she needs right now. 

Despite that logical part inside her steering her well clear of the gang members the need to blow off some steam bubbles under her skin. An ache starts to form against her temple soon after, making her focus blur around the edges as she wanders from vendor to vendor aimlessly. 

“Hey, V,” a rumble of a voice cuts through her thoughts—and she hates how she can’t quite ignore his voice unlike everyone else—and turns her head in the direction of the call. She had foolishly assumed he was going to give her some peace of mind for tonight at least. “Check this guy out.”

Walking up a dimly lit staircase, she had barely noticed a man sitting on a rickety chair and playing a guitar. Much like her, others walk right past him, ignoring the man altogether. 

Johnny glimmers into sight, squatting in place and oddly intent on observing the old man while he plays.   

She entertains the idea of walking away simply to piss him off. If something is of interest to him, then she wants to ignore it so hard it gets under his nonexistent skin. Petty, perhaps, but ever so satisfying. 

Hearing no reply or receiving much reaction at all, Johnny slants his head her way, nodding once towards the man, “What do you think?”

Squinting, she drags her gaze towards the guitarist, crossing her arms over her chest while she listens. She’s not even sure why she’s bothering but…

The melody is slow, near drowned out by the bustling sounds of the nearby market and chatter of people walking past. 

“He’s...fine?” she offers lamely. “I mean he’s pretty good.”

A slight smirk crosses over Johnny’s mouth—gone in a blink but the focus he places on the man who seems to be unaware of her or the silent second spectator surprises her. 

“Loses tempo more than he keeps it,” he comments, almost absently, and she feels her eyebrows arch in another show of bewilderment. A quiet spells falls over their little nook, and Johnny listens more, thoughts rolling inside his head if his body language is any sign. “Sloppy on the technique but he has feeling in the way he plays. Can’t teach that.”

“If only you didn’t die,” she sighs softly, closing her eyes in mock sympathy. “This could have been you.”

He surprises her again by laughing at that. It’s a deep rumble of a sound, and she can almost feel it echo between them and their mental bridge. “You’re kinda of a bitch. Has anyone told you that before?”

Her teeth flash in the dim orange glow of the neon lights. “And you’re sort of a dick. Anyone tell you that before?” she wonders with a charming, practiced smile. 

He flickers out of sight and she’s about to call it a mental victory but a tickle of electricity kisses across the bare curve of her shoulder and neck, and she shivers when he appears beside her. His arms are crossed as well, and he glances her way briefly.

“Seems to me like we’re two peas in a fuckin’ pot, then,” he points out easily, and shakes his head, seemingly amused by his own words. “I might have tried to kill you a few weeks ago but look at us being chummy, Ver.”

Her throat closes up at that, expression tightening. He notices of course. Or maybe it’s the unease that slices through her mind at the casual way he uses her nickname. 

“What? Am I not allowed to call you that or somethin’?” he wonders curiously, seemingly entertained by her reaction. Asshole. 

“Only my friends call me Ver.”

Jackie was the first. 

That thought makes her swallow painfully, a dull ache clawing against her heart. One would think that years being a corpo would have wiped whatever humanity still lived in her but Jackie’s death had been a stark reminder that she couldn’t be further from the truth if she tried.  

“Why?”

She gives him a flat look. “Because my full name is Vermillion, but people tend to find it a mouthful so…”

“Vermillion,” he repeats, his intonation dry, and she shoots him a quick glare, daring him to make an issue of it. Naturally, his next words don’t surprise her, “That’s a stupid fuckin’ name.”

“Oh, because Johnny Silverhand is so much better.”

She expects him to say something snarky in return, argue maybe, but he only snorts. His metal hand lifts, pushing his aviators down slightly as he glances at her over them.

“You got me there.” 

Usually, they’re a calamity together—destructive and volatile as each other. But right now, just for a second, there is only music and them. Shadows and life of the Night City holding them both suspended in this moment. No arguments or biting comments. No guilt, either. 

A slight smile tugs across her mouth as she continues listening to the man play his downbeat little tune. Her shoulders loosen, drooping slightly and she lets herself breathe for a moment. Just the one. 

“Used to be just like him,” Johnny speaks up suddenly, his voice more subdued, lower, and taps his fingers against the cigarette he’s holding. “But better. Used to play everywhere we could. Garages, bars. Anywhere that would have us, and we always had an audience.”

She hums, offering him a brief glance. “You mean you were actually good?”

She can’t see his eyes in the darkness of the street or through his tinted shades. But despite that, she can still feel his glare and the mental bite of chagrin/irritation/why is she so annoying? and deeper than that a spark of amusement/little shit thinks she’s funny. 

“What’s this?” he muses, his words sarcastic. “A corpo rat that actually has a sense of humour? Colour me surprised.”

“No can do,” she shoots back promptly, fighting back a wider grin. “You’re too dead for that.”

He tsks, throwing his cigarette to the ground and she almost rolls her eyes. “Can’t wait to be out of your damn head, princess.” 

“Can’t wait to be rid of you, either, so the feeling is mutual.”

Their words might be stringent but she can almost taste the faint amusement trickling between them and under that bridge that connects them. 

“There might still be some bootlegs of those old days,” he muses thoughtfully. “People used to record everything back in my day.”

She drags her gaze his way, lips thinning into a firm line, “I’m not becoming a fan, if that’s what you’re hoping for.”

“Afraid you’ll hear real music and won’t be able to go back to this modern garbage I hear everywhere?”

There is challenge in his words and she bristles. Maybe this is what she needs. She may not be able to put holes in some Tiger Claws with her sniper rifle but she sure as hell can go on a scavenger hunt and see what she finds. 

Besides, it might help her to understand the man nested inside her mind a little better.

So when an hour later the old, wrinkly vendor asks her why he should give her his oldest, most precious Samurai vinyl, she tells him the truth. 

A twisted truth. 

But truth all the same.

“He’s with me every step I take, every move I make,” she confesses softly, something deep down breathing awake at that admittance. “Johnny’s like my conscience. My eternal, infernal moral compass.”  

She doesn’t miss how the man in question doesn’t appear, doesn’t say anything even after hearing that. She would have figured he would be the first in line to offer her some mocking, snarky comment but there is only silence. 

In fact, she can barely feel him at all. The tether between them is still and quiet. 

And his silence says a lot more than he probably realises. 

.

an: hello. guess whose not dead and kinda back to writing. dunno how much of cp77 you should expect because coa is still my priority but maybe occasional fic for these dumbos is on the cards. oh, and takemura because cdpr are cowards for not giving us that enemies to friends/partners to lovers romance. also I know this isn’t strictly RI and I honestly considered writing it as such but saw...no point? since the premise still would have been the same, so something a little different today ig. 

[like-rain-or-confetti]

Mind Games (Alec Volturi x Reader)

Everyone had warned you about the twins, the 'witch twins'. They were described as pure evil incarnate yet when you met them, their sadistic side was apparent, even their standoffish nature but nothing came across as pure evil. You were warned that they looked innocent but it was an act. Everyone you had ever known told you to stay away from them, no matter what they say or do. 

You tried to remember the advice, keeping it in the back of your mind as the two introduced themselves to you and even grew to befriend you. Still the advice rang in your head but you couldn't help but feel sorry for them. That perhaps they were a little misunderstood or just wanted someone. You couldn't explain how Alec drew you in. If anything he seemed to influence your friendship with Jane. Everyone had told you to stay away yet the twins were encouraging. They didn't recoil when you told them your gift as many did. 

You were honest, your gift made you do terrible things. It wasn't exactly enamoring. Perhaps that made you drawn to them more, outcasts meeting outcasts. They seemed to enjoy your ability and more specifically, the dark things you had done with it during your past. You weren’t proud of those times and they didn't lecture you or encourage you to do worse. Instead they accepted it, they had done some pretty wicked things and anyone who didn't was associated with someone who had. Seemingly that's just how it is in the vampire world. 

Somehow, the friendship naturally progressed to Alec wanted to stay behind to spend more time with you. It was always talking in the most secluded areas where no one would find you. The forest, against a particular large tree, moss acting as a seat. In fields and meadows where you both would be hidden sitting among the grass. The two of you would just roam, finding the perfect spot to sit and enjoy the moment. Neither of you brought up the progression of the friendship. It came natural when you both began to sit that little more closer than before. Lingering touches, like Alec running his finger along the side of your jaw absentmindedly. It was easy to be around Alec. You didn't always have to talk, explain yourself. He already knew. The atmosphere was intense but never uncomfortable. The world continued on but you and Alec were stuck in your own bubble. 

You turned your head and suddenly jerked back with yelp. Alec turned his own head quickly to you. "What did you do? I looked away for two seconds!" "That bit of grass went up my nose." You heaved, covering your face. "Wait... seriously?" Alec's eyes widened slightly. "Yeah. I literally moved into it." You replied, still cradling your nose. "Are you being dramatic? Surely you-" You cut Alec off. "No, trust me. It went straight up there. It went so far up my nose that I think it could reach some distant childhood memories." Alec couldn't help but laugh. "You're an idiot! Are you okay?" "Yeah, think so." You nodded, grabbing the specific blade of grass, tearing it from the roots and tossing it behind you. "Now I've had vengeance." Alec shook his head with an amused smile. "I can't believe you did that. Pay attention to your surroundings! What had you so distracted?" 

That was a tricky question, because you had been thinking about him at the time. However you couldn't tell him that. "I don't know." You shrugged, looking down at the ground. "That's a lie." Alec pointed out. You knew you couldn't lie to Alec, but it had been worth the try. "If I tell you, you can't freak out." You began. "That's concerning. Should I be worried?" Alec asked. "No, it's not bad but it's a secret. If I tell you, you can't freak out." Alec nodded in response. You stared at him momentarily, clearly very nervous. Quickly, you leaned in, meetings Alec's lips with your own. He stayed very still and you decided it was best if you pulled back. Although when you did, Alec immediately chased after your lips, this time kissing you. His hand moving to pull your face closer to him. 

That kiss remained a secret, although a happy one. Never to be mentioned around anyone else. Everyone told you to stay away from the twins, that they were dangerous. You probably should have listened. 

When another two men who were introduced as Felix and Demetri, met you in the place you were to meet the twins along with them, you knew something wasn't right. You grew nervous with the feeling as though you had just stepped into a trap. You took a step back, your unease written all over your face. "Calm down." Alec said as the two twins stepped closer. "We're friends, aren't we?" "Friends?" You repeated. "Yes." Alec smiled slightly. "Well, you and I may be a little closer than that." With a small smirk, Alec ran his fingers along his bottom lip. "We're friends." Jane continued. "We'd like to take you to meet more friends." Alec continued. Jane stopped but Alec took a larger step forward, his dark most surrounding you in seconds. You slumped forward, into Alec's shoulder. He hummed in amusement. "Well that was a little too easy for my liking." Felix chuckled. You had begun to slide of Alec's shoulder but before you could hit the ground Felix scooped you up. 

Your eyes snapped open, Alec's mist retracting. You sat up with a startled gasp. You looked around to see a room that was made of stone and marble. Before you sat three vampires. "Ah, young (Y/N), you're awake!" You quickly moved to your feet and in seconds you had the twins to your right, Demetri and Felix stood to your left. All four had their eyes latched on you for any sudden movements. The man in the middle descended the stairs to his throne with a gleam in his eyes. "Our sincerest apologies for not making your acquaintance sooner. I'm afraid we had other matters to attend to. Although I hear nothing but good things about you. Our dear Alec, told us so much about you." He stepped closer. "My name is Aro, behind me are my brothers, Marcus and Caius." Aro gestured to each as though this was a friendly introduction. You, however, were still in the mindset that you had been brought here against your will. That, you wouldn't forget so easily. 

Aro's hand locked onto yours. He hummed quietly in amusement. “There's so much in your mind. It branches out into others. I don't know where to begin. You see, my dear, your mind doesn't seem to work like others. People minds are so easy to read, their thoughts just come to me but for you, cara mia, it appears I must decide where to look." Your head snapped up. "Get out of my head!" You screamed. Your fingers wiggled free of Aro's. Your own fingers covering his in a tight grip that was painful. Suddenly Aro couldn't see in your head anymore. Aro gasped, a sharp pain coursing through his head. His own mind flashing before his eyes and that was when he had realised this was you. Almost like a filing cabinet, every thought he had ever had, every memory, you rifled through them all quickly. Each tiny detail became agonizing. Aro began to cry out in pain."Get out!" You didn't, only continuing to poke through his brain. He finally tore his hand free from your grasp, staggering back. Aro couldn't help but look at your hand. Your fingers wiggled slightly, resembling the motion he could imagine someone's fingers would make hunting through a filing cabinet. You glared at him. "Dungeons." Aro seethed. "Take them to the dungeons!" 

"Demetri..." Your voice echoed in his mind. "You track the mind. Cling to tenors of people, I see...so many people." Demetri clenched his jaw, slowing to a stop. "Get out of my head." "No." You said simply. Demetri silently cursed himself. He knew he shouldn't have touched you. Yet he did so without thinking and now you had tapped into his head. "That's so bizarre...it's like intangible ropes, pulling you towards everyone." "You're a parasite! Get out of my head!" Demetri seethed. You seemed to laugh at this. "You did it to yourself. You can't blame me for what goes on in your head. At the end of the day...I'm in the dungeons." Your voice lowered, becoming more forceful. "You put me here." 

Suddenly the corridor before him shifted. He couldn't explain it but before his eyes was a seemingly endless hallway with doors, that branched out into more corridors with doors. A maze that was on going. Mazes were never an issue for Demetri, he just had to follow the scent of who he was hunting and he'd find his way out on his own. However this seemed to not be the case this time. Demetri noticed that every direction, the pull of his gift sent him. He couldn't latch onto one particular person and the scents were so tangled that it seemed as though everyone was everywhere all at the same time, leaving no room untouched. Demetri then knew that you were messing with his head, his gift, just as you had done so to Aro. "A parasite, you say..." You mused. "...have you ever looked in the mirror and hated what looked back at you?" Demetri wasn't going to give you the pleasure of an answer, however you continued without skipping a beat. "I think I'm more of a reflection. Or more specifically, a reflection of your gift. I'm reflecting your gift that you press onto others, back onto you and now your poor little brain is all confused." Demetri could hear the pout in your voice and it only aggravated him more. 

Five hours had passed, you'd gone quiet quite some time ago. Almost immediately after mocking him. However, things were not back to normal. In fact, for the past five hours he's been roaming the halls. Doors led to more corridors and even more doors. There was no pattern, just a constant loop that even going backwards didn't seem to have any use. Since then, Demetri had lost all sense of direction and had no idea where he had started. Although to his surprise, when turning another corner, the scene had finally changed. He looked back seeing the same normal corridor he had looked at for all these hours but turning that corner lay ahead a different corridor and the very one he had been heading for. Whatever influence you had over his head, it was gone. 

Jane's visit was surprising and very rushed. She held up a bag of blood. Who really knew where she got that from but blood bags weren't as appetizing as from the vein. You were willing to bet she hadn't even heated it up. "Here. For you. I'm afraid I can only give you one, but it'll be enough to keep the thirst at bay." She put her hand through the bars, holding out the bag. You stared at her. "Hurry up or I'll drop it." Jane said coldly. This is probably the most loving you had ever seen her and is probably the best she's capable of being nice. You moved forward and took it from her. "Thanks and thanks for adding some attitude with it. It's great to see you too." Jane rolled her eyes. "I'm not going to sit and watch you complain." "Apparently you're not going to be my friend either." You shot back. "You're being ridiculous. I'm busy, I have a job to do. I can't coddle you until you come around. I am your friend and so take that as some friendly advice." "Coddle!?" You snapped incredulously. "You kidnapped me! Where was the coddling you speak of exactly!?" "Yes, we did. However this isn't a bad place to be and you aren't being tortured." Jane responded simply. "You can't be serious." You said in awe. "Jane, if I took you to the Cullen's against your will and told you that you should be happy because it isn't a bad place to be, would you be happy!?" "I don't have time for this." Jane insisted. "I could have just left you down here to starve but I didn't. I took time out of my day to make sure you're a little more comfortable. If you don't believe we're friends then that isn't my problem. That's yours. I've been nothing but honest the whole time." "Wow. Thank you so much Jane for putting me in this situation and keeping me comfortable." You responded with sarcasm. "Keep talking to me like that and i'll-" Jane began but you interrupted. "Or what? You'll put me in the dungeon? Oh wait." Your eyes narrowed on her with a cold gaze.  "Are you sure you want to test me, (Y/N)?" Jane asked. "Are you?" You responded. Jane didn't answer in words but the agony you quickly felt responded for her. Although you were just as quick to remember how to make the pain stop. You grabbed her arm before falling to the ground. She tore her arm away with a growl but the damage was already done. You looked into her eyes and suddenly you didn't feel the pain anymore, Jane on the other hand, let out a very loud scream, immediately collapsing to the ground. Somehow, she couldn't stop the pain, even when she immediately halted inflicting her gift. Yet the pain kept going. With bars separating you both, it was then you who stood over her. "Does that hurt?" You asked lightly as she continued to scream. "I hope that hurts." You said, eyes boring into Jane. "A lot." You added. 

Suddenly Alec came rushing down the stairs along with Felix, Demetri and Santiago. You released Jane and Alec wasted no time upon arrival rushing to his sister's side. You smiled at the guards before turning away to lie down on the stone bench. As soon as Alec was certain his twin was right he shot you a glare. "You know, you're glaring at me like this is my fault. Like I wasn't the one taken here against my will and threatened with torture." You turned your head, eyes meeting Alec's. "And you want me to believe I was ever your friend?" "We are your friends but we also have orders and our limits." "Only with everyone else, Alec. Neither of you were ever taught when to stop." Your smile vanishing. "You got your sister, now go away."

Aro, Caius and Marcus approached your cell quietly and you smiled sweetly. "Demetri said you'd be back. You did." Your smile vanished. "Good." You said with a lower tone of voice. "We've been trying to understand your gift. It's been quite a conundrum." Aro began. "Oh really?" You responded blankly. "Do you know what it is?" Caius asked. "No, but it's very good for self defense." You said flatly. "We have concluded that you mimic gifts after physical contact with them." Aro continued. "Therefore, you aren't a mind reader, you copied my gifts and used them against me." A flash of anger crossed Aro's face before returning to a stoic demeanor. "You should never look into someone's mind without permission." You agreed. "It's fascinating though isn't it?" "What is?" Aro responded. "People are like doors to us. One touch and we're in. Yours is very nice. It's consistent. You know what to expect. For me, I could be given anything. Vampires with abilities are much more interesting. Those without, it's just pure mind control. I confuse them all the time, they never know what they're actually seeing.", You cracked a smile. "I made one jump off a cliff for no reason. Although, Carlisle was helping me to be a better person. Anyway, that is irrelevant. The point is, you've gotten very comfortable opening doors. Now you're discovering that some doors should never be opened." You stared at Aro. "You should have never looked into my head because now I've looked in yours." You watched as Aro stiffened again, his eyes piercing through you with a deadly look. You stared back into his eyes. "It kills you to think of how much I discovered in the seconds I was in your head. Doesn't it?" Aro didn't respond and you continued. "You even know that if you tried to find out, I'd be back in your head again and I would only do the same as before." "Alec tells us that you've never been so hostile during his time with you." Aro says, moving the conversation before you could say anymore. "That happens when your kidnapped by someone who you thought was a friend. I'm more than aware this was the plan all along." "You could make this easier if you'd join us. You'd be very happy here." Aro responded.  "Easier for you." You corrected. "No thanks." "Then you'll remain here until you change your mind and you will, my dear. You will change your mind." You cracked an amused smile. "We'll see." 

To your surprise, Alec visited you alone. You remained silent. "You know I don't like you being down here." Alec admitted. "You're the one who put me here." You responded. "Felix and Demetri did actually." Alec shot back and you cracked an amused smile. "Whatever." "Would you forgive me?" Alec asked, joking long gone. "If I said I was sorry for our intentions, for ensuring you ended up here. Would you forgive me?" "That depends on what happens next." You responded quietly. "Forever is an awfully long time to be held captive." 

In seconds Alec curled his fingers around the bars, leaning in close. "Just... come up to the bars." Alec said. Slowly you sat in front of the bars, leaning forward slightly. "You shouldn't have brought me here." You told him simply. "My ability is addictive, you know that. I'll hurt people." "That doesn't change my mind about you. Just...don't do that to my sister again. You know-" "She started it." You interrupted. "I know...and I spoke to her." Alec responded. "I told her I didn't appreciate it. She didn't like it herself because she really had began to consider you a friend.We all have bad habits. You're just as quick to use your gift as Jane is to use her own." "You know if you let me out...if you were my friend, you would." Alec smiled sadly, raising a hand to your cheek. "I can't. Perhaps in a perfect world I could, but I'm not perfect, no one is and this world will never be perfect." You looked down in disappointment but didn't move away from his hand. He looked at you momentarily before using the grip he had on the side your face and pulling you towards the bars. He met your lips between the spaces of the bars with his own. In that moment, he had proven what his words could not. He knew the power he had given you with even the lightest of touches yet had given it anyway. A sign of complete trust. Alec broke the kiss. "I want you to stay. Just...think about that." He moved away, letting go. He sent you one last look before heading back upstairs, leaving you alone in the dungeons once more. 

 It wasn't often Alec spent some time alone. There was something about the leave and quiet, the silence enveloped him and put him at ease. He didn't think it would have been possible for someone with super hearing to ever have such a thing as silence. Yet everyone seemed to learn how to be silent, unnoticed. Every movement is graceful and quiet. Knowing you were several floors below him was comforting. In his eyes, the closer you were, the safer you were. Although he couldn't completely enjoy it. You didn't want to be there. Alec wasn't stupid, he knew you didn't just mean the dungeons and he wasn't going to pretend. You didn't want to be there, in the castle. It took you time to ever feel safe in an area. Volterra was so new that it was no surprise that you wanted to flee. Although Alec still hoped you'd stay. If you wanted to stay with him, it would make everything better. Aro wanted you and he'd never let you go. You were clever enough to figure that out. Although you were too stubborn to accept it. Alec lay back on his bed. He rarely used it much like the rest of the vampires in the castle. Although they could appreciate a soft place to land so they were always given if requested. Alec closed his eyes with a deep, unnecessary exhale. When his eyes opened, they widened. You loomed over Alec, smiling, like a predator that had caught it's prey. "Aren't you happy to see me?" "You're not supposed to be here. How did you-?" Alec moved to sit up but realised very quickly that he couldn't move and it wasn't your weight holding him down. He looked over at his hands as best as he could, they didn't even twitch. He looked back up at you startled. "Not a nice feeling is it? To not be able to move but, it could be worse. That's only one of your senses. You take away all five. However, you'll need the other ones. Well, maybe not your sense of smell." You asked. Alec's eyes as suddenly that was gone too. "You did this to me to bring me here and countless others. Are you scared? Like I was to wake up in an unknown place?" Your hands cradled Alec's head. "For what it's worth..." You softly pressed your lips to his in a brief, sweet kiss. You straightened up again. "Although that isn't what I intend to do. I want you to feel the fear I did, that I do." 

Suddenly a match was in your hand. Within a second it was lit. Alec's eyes widened even more in terror. His only fear, fire. You moved it towards his face. "Stop!" He said quickly. You only smiled, moving off of him to lay over him. Your back on his chest, legs in-between his and your head resting next to his on his pillow. You hushed him softly. "It's okay. This isn't real, remember?" Alec swallowed hard, doing his best to remember that. However it didn't make it any easier. "I'd never burn you. However this is the one thing that scares you." You began. "If you hurt me, I'll hurt you. You know that's how it works and these friends of yours have only hurt me. Including you and Jane." Your fingers suddenly curled around the open flame. "Don't!" Alec said quickly, waiting for a cry of pain or the smell of burning flesh- despite having no sense of smell. Although the cry never came. You squeezed your fist tightly around the match, as though suffocating it. When you loosened your hold, revealing the match. It was no longer lit and of any use. "I don't want to hurt you." Alec ground out. "So don't make me. Pull stunts like this and I'll have no choice." You moved off of him, instead rolling into his side. You moved his face to the side, making him look at you. "You said I wasn't evil, yet this place...you make me do evil things. I can do good with this power." Your face changed to one of sadness, looking into Alec's eyes. "I could have loved you once." You said quietly.  Without thinking Alec moved his hand to your face. You gasped and Alec seemed just as surprised since he couldn't feel anything else. Yet he had moved his hands. Before anything could be said, a weight was lifted from him, he could feel and smell everything and you were no longer in the room. 

 You looked down at your hands. Your time with Alec priced that you could use his gift against him. As long as you didn't let anyone else touch you, you could bide your time and escape. However when that time came, your plan didn't work out too well. 

It took three days but you decided that Felix -alone- was the best opportunity you'd get. Alec's gift worked momentarily but you had to touch Felix work it to work and the more contact meant the more Alec's gift trickled away from your control. Felix was frozen in place for only moments before Alec's gift faded away entirely. Like clockwork, Felix lunged. You knew you couldn't let him get his hands around your neck. If he did, it was over. You didn't know if Felix was gifted either, it had never been mentioned before but you knew this man was stronger than other vampires...including you. You caught Felix's arms, doing your best to push against him. Slowly he began overpowering you. Suddenly it stopped. It became apparent you seemed to find strength within yourself, a strength you didn't know you had. That was when you realised, whilst push back against Felix, the strength wasn't yours at all. It was his. Although it wouldn't be enough to push back. You couldn't let Felix catch on your realisation before it was too late. So with a spur of the moment decision that could have been very very stupid, you twisted his arms. 

You heard sickening cracks, Felix's arms twisting to the elbow in a very unnatural angle and became useless. You quickly tripped him to the ground. "So sorry about this. I just need some more time.” You slammed his head against the stone ground. Cracks forming along his face, neck and no doubt the back of his head- the impact point. You hurried up the stairs to be met with Afton, another guard you had met during your time here. You yelped in panic as you grabbed his hands instinctively and throwing him down the stairs of the dungeons. Before you took off running you heard his landing before Afton let out a startled. "Felix!?" You wanted to kick yourself. You hadn't intended on grabbing Afton's hands which meant Felix's strength was gone. As far as you knew, Afton didn't have a gift or anything that could help you. You had to create as much distance as you could with the dungeons and you had no doubt the Volturi was well aware of your escape by now. You weren't exactly quiet in your execution of the plan. 

You found yourself in a large hall of sorts, following the scent of fresh air but it was certainly a process given all the rooms. Within seconds you were grabbed, turned to face the one responsible before tackled to the ground. You realised it was Alec who had a tight grip on your arms. "Stop fighting us!" Alec hissed. "Y'know, what I was called a while ago?" You grinned, struggling against him. "A parasite. Although as far as I see it, nothing I do can get rid of you so who's the parasite now!" You growled as you tried to break Alec's grip that locked you in place but to no avail. "Stop it!" Alec responded. "No!" You snapped back. "You were always going to bring me here. Everyone was right about you. You lied to me. You pretended to be my friend. Hell, you even let me kiss you! I bet you enjoyed how much your little game worked didn't you!?" "Stop talking! You don't know anything! Yes I was sent to find out about you and eventually bring you back but I actually did grow attached." You struggled even more but Alec's grip only got tighter. "Damn it, (Y/N), stop fighting me!" Alec threw you to the ground before pinning you down. You screamed in frustration. Alec had much more experience in combat than you did and you despised how easy you had made it for him. You yelped as you felt his mist creep across your body. "No!" You screamed almost in panic. The last time this happened, you woke up in Italy, where all this began. Alec shushed you as your body went limp. Much like you had done to Alec before, he made sure you couldn't move but could talk, see, hear and smell. You were trapped in your own body. Fear rushed through you. 

Alec loomed over you. "Listen to me, (Y/N)." He said firmly to you. "You think I lied to you about how I feel but I didn't. You think I want to hurt you but I don't and you want to hate me but you don't. You know I will always protect you if you would just stop fighting. I need you to stop. I need you here with me." Suddenly the smallest whine escaped him with a word you never thought he'd say. "Please...please." You were quiet for a moment. "Maybe, if things were different it would be easier to say 'i love you', don't you think?" You asked. "You can't keep me." You whispered. Alec slowly shook his head. Denial. "You can't." You continued firmly. "I can't be a part of Aro's collection and you can't use my feelings to keep me here. I don't want to be a weapon. I want to be me. Don't you understand? My power can make me a terrible person and it's up to me to save you from that person." Alec slowly shook his head. "I won't let you." He said quietly. "I know." You whispered back. "I still have to try." Your brow furrowed as though lifting something heavy. A small whimper escaped you and Alec realised what you had done when the same numb feeling he had felt before and given to many others, travelled up his legs and into every bit of his body. In seconds, he couldn't move, whilst you gained feeling back. You rolled him off you gently. "Don't leave me." He mumbled out as best as he could. You said nothing. Instead moving to stand up before you began to walk away. "(Y/N), don't leave me!" 

 You hurried to maintain some distance again, not knowing how long Alec would stay like that whilst you weren't around. You panicked when you entered another room that was massive. A hallway that had large stone stairs that seemed lead to upstairs on either direction like a 'T'. "No..." You couldn't help but utter. This couldn't be the right way. However, you froze when you heard someone behind you. You turned and much to your horror, it wasn't one person but two. 

"We really should have kept Eleazar around. Perhaps then we could have found you years ago." Caius walked towards you, his eyes trained on you. Marcus looked behind him, his eyes also trained on you. "(Y/N)? That's your name isn't it?" Caius asked. You moved up a stair. "You really do have the wrong impression of us, truly. You see, we protect our kind from the human world. We must in these times. Humans have the technology to hurt us after all. We make sure there is justice and protection for our kind. That's all." Caius finished, just below the stairs. Never did he tear his gaze from you. 

Slowly he began to ascend the stairs, all the while you moved up more stairs to keep the separation. "Gifts like yours are very difficult to hide from us, rumours run like wildfires in our kind. Yet here you are. Only now in our sights. Tell us, little one. Where have you been hiding?" After a pause and your silence, Caius continued to ascend the stairs and you did the same. "We can make you an offer, one that is unheard of for our coven to give." "Lucky me." You mumbled, trying to keep as much distance as possible. Your comment, surprisingly, went ignored. "The Volturi do not give second chances but you, for your cooperation, we could make an exception. You'd have to keep that a secret. We cannot give such chances to just anyone." As he got closer, Caius put out his hands where you could see them but he could also use that same stance to attack you. It wasn't comforting. "We could help you with that gift. Help you with our way of life. You could live long and well. Our food comes to us, you wouldn't have to hunt." 

Marcus was suddenly at the bottom of the stairs and he then spoke up. "My gift senses relationships. I can see your relationship to Alec...and Jane. You don't have anyone else. You keep everyone out, but you want a family. You want people to depend on. We can be your family, we can be the ones you depend on." "You must be desperate to keep me here, to do this yourselves." You said, finally at the top of the stairs. "It'd be unfortunate to have to kill you." Caius responded. "You know my answer." You responded flatly. Caius' eyes narrowed on you, with a slight scowl. "Pity." Just before you could your hands around Caius' neck. He grabbed your arms and threw you down the steps. 

You looked up at him as he descended down the stairs, not even in a hurry. You turned quickly, noticing Marcus was only feet away. You hissed, no longer noticing your now dislocated shoulder that had broken your fall at an odd angle. Caius wrapped his hands around your neck, his knee pressing down painfully on your diaphragm. "Oh my, little one. It seems you only picked up my temper this time. Don't you know that I don't have a gift? Just thousand of years of experience." He smirked down at you as you heard more footsteps approaching. "I've got them." Caius said to whoever had entered. You couldn't move to see who it was. "Wonderful! Well done!" Aro's cheery voice rang out. That was one set of footsteps accounted for. "Let us fix that arm." Marcus bent down to your side and you tried to flail away from him but Caius grip only got tighter. 

Marcus took your arm, surprisingly gently before forcefully tugging your arm back. You tried to pull away from him again but couldn't move under Caius' weight. Once again Marcus tugged forcefully downwards on your arm and with a second popping sound, your arm was back in place.  "There, that must feel better." You could practically hear Aro's smile. Caius hauled you up. His grip on you still tight. It was Aro, Felix, Demetri, the twins and Chelsea. "Alec?" Aro turned to him with a nod. 

In seconds Alec was in front of you and Caius' grip had loosened. Alec pulled you into an embrace, much to your surprise and didn't let go. He continued to hold you to him as with another nod, Chelsea was beside you. She leaned in and began to whisper in your ear. You seemed to catch on what was happening as you gasped and tried to pull away from Alec. However he was stronger, holding you to him very much like he would a hug. Maybe it was. You didn't know. You felt yourself begin to relax into him as Chelsea continued to whisper. You squeezed your eyes shut, a small whimper escaped you as you realised you were losing. They were winning. 

She reassured you, making everything seem okay. Reminding you of your bond with Alec, telling you about how they could help you and would love to consider you one of their coven. You could feel your bonds being tampered with, solidifying bonds that hadn't even existed before. Suddenly you felt no bad feelings for the three leaders. Most of all, you wanted, no, needed to stay with Alec. Forever. 

In that moment, you knew you had lost. She pulled back. Nodding to Aro before stepping away. Alec leaned back to look at you, his eyes sad yet relieved. As though he was finally sure you were safe. He kissed your lips, then the corner of your mouth and then your cheek before moving back into the original embrace.

[p-artsypants]

P-Artsypants Fic Masterpost!

This information is always available on my blog. 

Find most, if not more, of these fics on:

Fanfiction.net | Archive of Our Own | Wattpad

(~AU’s, *Finished, ❤️Author’s Favorites)

Kingdom Hearts

~❤️Rage Awakened AO3 | FF.net- Ten years ago, Terra, Aqua, and Ventus lost their fellow apprentice, Sora, in Deep Jungle. Now, they are to return with two new students, Riku and Kairi, to lock the heart of the world. All the while, something watches from the trees. Feral!Sora AU

My Kingdom for a Heart AO3 | FF.Net - The curse of being one of the Princesses of heart, is that there’s always someone out to get you. As Xemnas looked failure in the face, he reached out in a last ditch effort and destroyed Kairi’s heart. Now her friends must travel the worlds again. Sora, to find a way to recover Kairi’s heart, and Riku, to make amends to those he has wronged. All the while, the darkness grows. [Unfinished, on permanent hiatus]

Miraculous Ladybug

One Shots

*❤️Amalgam- When an young man is rejected for being ‘incompatible��� he turns into the akuma ‘Amalgam’ able to fuse two people together. And later Adrien and Marinette would debate if it was lucky or unlucky that they got hit. (Also Available in Russian)

*Sing We All Noel- After receiving the worst Christmas present ever from his father, Chat Noir finds himself out on the streets with nowhere to go on Christmas Eve. Thankfully, Ladybug finds him and brings him home.

*Speechless- In a world where everyone has a soulmark, the first words their soulmate will say to them, Marinette is born without one. But Adrien Agreste has two. Curious, considering he’s mute.

*❤️Tunnels of Love- The night started out with an accidental kiss from Adrien Agreste, and ended with her bleeding in the Catacombs of Paris. Ladybug, the wielder of the miraculous of good luck. Yeah right. (Some blood)

*The Reveal That Wasn’t- First Parts My ending to kittybug’s Tumblr Prompt

*What A Mess We’re In- Ladybug has a lot on her mind, and when Chat Noir bugs her enough, she tells him she’s going to confess to her Crush, Adrien Agreste. Chat’s reaction is not what she’s expecting.

*Oblivi-oh no! - A retelling of Oblivio, except Ladybug is the only one to lose her memory. How will Chat deal?

*Bad Day (3 chapters) - Marinette was Ladybug! This was Adrien’s luckiest day ever! Except it wasn’t, because all his good luck was used up in one go. Turns out this might be the worst day of his life.

*One Win, So Many Losses- Marinette was forced to break up with Adrien. It had been a low blow from Gabriel, to be sure. But she was Ladybug. She’d find a solution…right? An alternate ending to Chat Blanc, where Adrien doesn’t Cataclysm the akuma.

*❤️Five Minutes- Gabriel has had enough of all these girls fighting over Adrien. He decides it’s high time Adrien picks one, and arranges the perfect opportunity for him to do so. Each candidate has five minutes to present why they’d be a good girlfriend. Marinette decides to take this opportunity to shoot her shot.

~*Panache- Every eligible maiden was invited to the Prince’s ball. That included Marinette, scullery maid in her own household. But her stepsisters destroyed her dress, and she can’t go to the ball in rags. Or can she? (Cinderella!AU)

*Perfect, No Matter What-In which Gabriel sets the bar even lower for himself, a reveal happens because of pain medication, and the new guardian actually goes to Chloé for advice.

*Crushed- Stuck under a collapsed building together, Chat Noir and Marinette have a heart to heart.

*Lovelace- Convinced that he's unlovable, Adrien is quickly thrown for a loop when Marinette confesses her love for him out of the blue. An akumatization and reveal later, he changes his mind about being unlovable.

Long Fics

*❤️Longest Night- (FF.net | Ao3) - The day started out sucky to begin with. Her crush ousted to the class and Adrien. Lila taking pride in exacting her revenge. But by the time patrol was over, a young man was dead, and Ladybug’s identity was at risk. Lila was the least of her concerns. Good thing Adrien was taking it all like a champ. (Rated M for scenes of torture)

*❤️Nine Lives- (FF.net) When Adrien Agreste is scheduled to go to a Military School in Germany, Chat Noir must make a critical decision. Does he give up his Miraculous? Or does he give up his life as Adrien? I’ll save you the trouble of guessing, he gives up being Adrien.

*Tender Words- When Marinette finally gets the guts to confess her feelings for Adrien, some things go so wrong, and other things go so right.

*Integrity- Overwhelmed with her responsibilities, guilt, and drama, Marinette has an emotional breakdown in front of everyone, and even hands over her earrings in a moment of weakness. Only for a few seconds, but the damage was done. Adrien’s pretty quick on the uptake like that.

~Much Obliged- Everyone deals with grief differently. Some take to drinking, others devote themselves to charity. Adrien Agreste? Well, he became a cowboy. Marinette Dupain-Cheng is a witch, one of very few in the world. She knows what it’s like to be doubted, and assumed delusional. Maybe that’s why they got along so well. Or maybe it’s just because they both like big hats. AU where everything is the same, except instead of superheroes, Adrien is a Cowboy and Marinette is a witch. (Unfinished) (Based on a AU by @bugaboo-n-bananoir)

*I’ll Handle This- “I’ll solve all your problems,” Plagg had said. “You just have to agree to it.” A fixed relationship with his father, Lila to stop bothering him, and Ladybug to fall in love with him? Who wouldn’t agree to that? Except Plagg was the God of Destruction and Chaos and had a more…hands-on approach. Adrien just wants his body back. (Body swap fic)

The Ghost of Smokey Joe- Adrien Agreste was acting bizarre. Stilted body language, plastic smile, and he seemed to have forgotten how close they were. Before she can get the truth out of him, Marinette finds herself as the sole heir to the Gabriel brand and the mansion, following the murder-suicide of both Adrien and Gabriel Agreste. The mystery continues as Tikki explains that Adrien was Chat Noir...but if Adrien is six feet under, why is Chat Noir still running around?

How To Train Your Dragon

One Shots

The Vikings Have Their Tea (FF.Net | AO3)

Arranged Marriage- Takes place at the beginning of HTTYD

❤️Breathe- Survival of the fittest

~Childhood Friends- At the Sandbox

❤️Easy Fix- In which Hiccup has a bad day

~Fashion Designer- Astrid needs a fill in

❤️Frozen- In Which Astrid takes a Dip and things get frisky (Rated M)

❤️Headache- In Which Hiccup hits his head….really hard

❤️Heir- In Which Hiccup is Picked (Longer version by FateCharms)

Illness- In Which Stoick is a dad

~Illusionist- Trick gone wrong

~In the Walls- In which there’s a poop ghost

~Knocking On The Wrong Door (2) - A chance encounter

❤️Messages- Astrid is Frustrated with Hiccup’s obliviousness

~To Mirkwood- Hiccup is not a dwarf

~Monster Falls- Hiccup and Astrid take a dip

❤️Mute- In which there’s a quiet stranger

~Music Video (ImgHS)- He didn’t expect it

❤️Operation: Lovebirds- In Which the gang makes a plan, and Hiccup gets Drunk

~Over- Too many nightmares

~Partners in Crime- A normal day at work

~Pirate- Astrid is the greatest treasure

~Prince- He doesn’t want to be a broken King

❤️Sorting Things Out- In Which Astrid gets her ducks in a row

~The Dragon and The Dame- Beauty and the Beast Au

The Pit- In Which Hiccup is rescued

Hide and Seek- Part 1

Lost and Found- Part 2

Long fics:

*❤️Infernal Responsibility- Being the son of the chief takes brains, courage, and a lot of patience. But at his father’s the request for marriage, Hiccup decides he has had enough. When he seeks out a life of ease, he runs into more than what he bargained for.

*❤️Roses and Lilies- “Astrid, you and I both know you’re much tougher than I am. You’re more brave, and a better fighter…but just for a little while…could we pretend that I’m the one protecting you?” “Oh gods yes!” (Also Available in Spanish!)

*~What the Water Gave Me- The sea is a wild and dangerous thing, something that cannot be foretold or predicted. Hiccup discovered this many years ago, in human naiveté. Yet, what was meant as a sacrifice became a new life, one like no one could comprehend. He now finds himself once more in the unknowing hands of those that sentenced him to death. He only prays things will be different this time. Merman!AU

*Parasite- Soulsnatcher Dragons are rare but deadly. But, As Hiccup finds out, it’s the eggs you have to watch out for.

*~320 State Street- Gobber’s Goods. A Hardware Store that was rumored to have everything you needed. She thought she only needed a job. Turns out, she needed a lot more than that. (A Modern AU no one asked for)

*~❤️The North Tower- When Finn Hofferson died, Astrid inherited his castle in Wales…and a whole lot more. Something sinister lurks in the North Tower.

*~❤️Boy Toy- AO3 - At the age of 21, Princess Astrid lawfully has to pick a husband. But when the perfect groom is nowhere to be found, she requests the toymaker to create one for her. It’s safe to say that everyone in the kingdom is a little concerned. (Pinocchio!AU I guess?)

No, You Go First- AO3 - The Chief of Berk was a headstrong viking, stubborn and full of pride, and willing to do whatever it takes to keep his village safe. But for a moment, he puts that aside, and listens to his son. In which Hiccup convinces his dad not to make him go through Dragon Training, and the subsequent changes that follow.

*In Due Time- AO3 - As another illness sweeps through Berk, Gothi needs another ingredient for her medicine…one that doesn’t exist anymore. Fortunately, she kept that old spell book around for such an occasion. Big Hiccup is sent to five years into the past, and his younger self sent to take his place in the future. But it’s only a few days, what could go wrong?

Trollhunters: Tales from Arcadia

❤️Arcadia or Bust- In Which Arcadia welcomes back it’s underground citizens.

Teen Titans

Oneshots:

~Big Brother- Don’t turn out the light (Horror)

Dear Jason- Bruce Writes a letter

Just Drawing- Bruce thinks about Robin

The Prisoner- Starfire is Guilty

Of Mustard and Three Foot Purple Tongues- A collection of Oneshots and Drabbles

Long Fics (*Finished):

*~❤️Carol of the Bells- High in the dark Bell Tower of Notre Dame, there lives a mysterious bell ringer. Legend tells of the angel who fell from the sky, and the curse she bares. There are few who know her true identity though; her master, the priest, and the acrobat that performs on the streets below. Based loosely on ‘The Hunchback of Notre Dame’ RobxStar and slight BBxRae

*No Escape- Three years ago, Starfire escaped an Alien race called the Gordanians, to arrive on Earth. They’re back, and ready to put Starfire back where she belongs, behind reinforced Titanium bars. Robin’s not about to let her go…if only he hadn’t got captured first. How does it feel to be the alien, Robin?

*Now you Know My Pain- When the new Villain, Gender Bender, comes to down, the Titans find themselves in an odd situation. They’ve been turned into the opposite gender against their will! Now in order to change back, they must learn to understand the gender they’ve turned into. Rated T for obvious reasons. A great read if you’ve ever wondered why girls or guys do [blank].

*Paint it Black- Robin disappeared three months ago. Now, Jump City’s crime rate is mysteriously being taken care of by a normal, albeit strange, teenage boy who goes by the name Black. As the Titans befriend this lunatic, they begin to see a relation between him and their missing leader. Will they be able to find Robin, or will Black turn them all insane as himself? Actually, contains NO OC.

*Saving Grace- “When I’m done with you, you won’t be able to walk upright or speak coherent sentences and all you’ll see is my mask and my voice repeating in your head…Weak. Richard Grayson, I am not tough, I am everything that you fear.” Happy Ending! Smudge of RobStar. NO Slash!

Other Fandoms

Final Fantasy XV

❤️Requiem for Pitioss-“O King. The god’s have heard your cries. Know that we weep with you. The Oracle’s calling has not yet been fulfilled. But…Lunafreya as you know her cannot return the way she was.” Noctis looked up, hopeful. “But she can return!” Canon divergence from Chapter 9. Happy ending. Some spoilers.

Final Fantasy X

I Do…I Guess? - “I would…like to ask you something.” “Shoot.” “Well…if it’s not too much…I’d like to ask you…to marry me.” Knowing what’s to come during her pilgrimage, Yuna asks Tidus to marry her, strictly for convenience and having an official next of kin, of course. Starts after Luca and how this decision would affect the rest of the story.

Beauty and the Beast

*❤️Behold the Beast- A Oneshot alternate ending to the Animated Film

Cinderella

*❤️Midnight- “When the clock strikes twelve, the spell will be broken,” the fairy godmother had warned. A retelling of the story, when Cinderella doesn’t escape the ball in time. Oneshot

*So This is Love- What if Jaq and Gus hadn’t made it in time to help Cinderella? A new twist on the ending of the classic Fairytale, and what lies beyond the story. She still gets her happy ending and her Prince, and her step family gets their just deserts.

Sleeping Beauty

*❤️A Love Song Back To Me- Maleficent saw the loophole that stared her in the face. Prince Phillip would break the curse in time, for sure. After all, he was betrothed to Aurora. So in an effort for her evil plan to stay in action, Maleficent takes care of the young prince herself. Phillip never imagined having to live off the land like the birds above. Alternate twist on the classic Disney tale.

Escaflowne

Down Feathers- Hitomi’s depressed. She’s been away from Van too long, he comes back to visit her…but what if something went wrong with the transfer? (Not finished. Never will be finished. Mwahaha) Circa 2012

*Angel’s Wounds- Fanelia’s been victorious in their most recent battle with Basrum. Unfortunately, someone is wounded and just seeks solace in his love that lives so far away. Post Anime.

Momma Look Sharp- With the war between Fanelia and Basrum finally coming to a close, the kingdom is celebrating. The young king, however, is suffering from an experience unlike any he had before. Van finally seeks solace in his wife.

[onelastbreath-writes]

I Spy

Pairing: Frankie “Catfish” Morales/Fem!Reader (AFAB, no y/n)

Word Count: 1.7K

Warnings: Brief mention of bad(abusive/manipulative) parents, general adult topics, swearing.

Summary: You meet a cute guy at a bar, you date, you fall in love, and oops, it turns out you’ve both been lying about your careers. Classified only stays classified until you get assigned a mission together. (SpecOps&Spies, with Young!Frankie)

A/N: Hey guys, I was bad and started another fic. Whoops. This one is for Triple Frontier because I love that soft boi Francisco. The flavour of this fic, the vibe if you will, is basically the spiderman pointing meme. I’ve vaguely set the timeline to like mid-2000s? so I’ll be trying my best to stay true to technology and aesthetic of the era. There was so much denim. Anyways, that means I’m trying to write for about a 27-33 year old Frankie and a similarly aged reader. I don’t see this series being more than a couple chapters at best, so it’ll be short and sweet. Also, like, very little angst if I can help it; I just want this one to be a good, cute, fun read. Hope y’all enjoy! Xoxo

[AO3][Masterlist]

“So, you’re coming out tonight, right? You’re not busy or anything?”

“Please don’t say it like that, you know how busy work actually is. And I’m a grown woman; if I didn’t want to go to a shady dive bar with you and your very loud friends from the office, I’d say so,” You loved your best friend, and you missed spending time together, but you really couldn’t say the same for her co-workers.

You had nothing against the women she worked with, and you found that they were all perfectly lovely and usually quite fun to be around… it was just that when the alcohol came out, the volume control and verbal filters disappeared.

You wouldn’t say that barhopping was what you’d prefer to be doing tonight, along with more or less babysitting your friend and her friends, but you didn’t know when you’d next be able to squeeze in a night off to just hang out and have fun, so this was happening. You would laugh and smile and keep the drunk secretaries from going home with questionable people, and then you would look back on your ladies’ night with fond memories until you could eventually attend another.

You had known when you picked your career that it would be an around-the-clock, all-day, every-day sort of thing. You never deluded yourself into thinking you would have much of a social life or long-term relationships. Most partners, hell even most friends, would have a problem with you jetting off for weekends, or disappearing for days at a time under mountains of paperwork and appointments.

It just made your best friend that much more important to you. You’d met as kids, went through years of school beside each other, hung out, did stupid teenager things and then stupid young adult things together. You’d cried and laughed and fought and made up a million times, you’d gone to different colleges and still kept in touch, moved away, moved back, and you were still going strong. She was your ride-or-die, your anchor and your parachute and everything in between, so if you could use some of your precious, hoarded, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it time off to see her, that’s just what you’d do.

“You should take some of that fire, and direct it at your boss. Tell him no for a change. I’d love to see his face at that!” She meant well, always trying to look out for you and your health when it came to your beyond demanding job. You weren’t even allowed to tell her a fraction of what you were doing in your professional life, and she knew it, but that didn’t stop her from being ready to throw fists at your employer at a moment’s notice.

“One does not simply tell the über-rich that they don’t need to fly to Paris, again. Being a PA is a full-time nannying gig, except your charge is an adult who can argue when you say no, and you cannot put them on timeout when they’re being a brat. Where he goes, I go, and unless something drastic happens, it will probably continue on like that for a while.” She laughed at your jokes, and your heart hurt a little less at her glee. You knew she would never give up on you or blame you for your work being unpredictable, but that didn’t make the sting of last-minute cancels and missed outings hurt any less, for either of you.

“But it must be nice, just getting on a plane and going somewhere amazing at the drop of a hat. Travelling the world like a superstar, meeting people, having amazing adventures with mysterious strangers…”

“Easy there, Mamma Mia, your wanderlust is showing. And I’d take you with me in a heartbeat if I could. You were born to be a jetsetter, not to be stuck in this town with nothing but the office cubicle beside you to stare at. And I still think you should apply for one of those immersive culture grants you keep mooning over. They’d be fools not to fund your writing expedition!” She was an incredible person, three full degrees to her name in the time it took a normal student to get one, and a brain that could run miles around the rest of the professionals in her field. But she was tethered to this quiet backwater town, and she wasn’t free to fly like she deserved.

“You know I can’t just… go, like you can. My mom, it’d just break her heart… I don’t want to leave her alone, not after Dad,” You honestly doubted that you’d ever meet a woman more horrible and undeserving of her own daughter’s kindness. Helen was a parasite full of lies and manipulations and greed, and she had attached herself like a bad rash to your friend after she’d chased away the rest of her family members.

Your friend searched for the good in everyone, but you wished she’d stop looking for it at that home.

“You deserve your own happiness and freedom, and she should be encouraging you to spread your wings if and when you’re ready.” Politicking your friend was never something you enjoyed. She was the last person you wanted to use your negotiating credentials and sly subterfuge tactics against, but you wanted, needed, her safety and health more. You considered it almost bribery; dangling her dream future in front of her in exchange of being rid of the garbage in her life.

“Hey now, we’re getting way too deep into sad-drunk night conversations, and this is strictly a happy-fun-drunk night. Please leave all baggage and woes at the door, thank you!” You admitted your defeat and surrendered your verbal power point on Why Helen Needs to Disappear. You would get her next time for sure, give her the accelerant to burn down that bridge. “Anyways, the reason I called was to remind you of our haunt for the night. One of the girls, Kelly, you remember Kelly, found this adorable little hole in the wall. A total boys’ club apparently: darts, pool, sports games on the TV, but Kelly’s sister’s friend’s brother Tyler said the place was a favourite of the local army guys. So, if nothing else, we’ll at least have some hunks to look at for a while. It’ll be great!”

You jotted down the directions to the bar as she listed them, and the time you were expected to arrive there.

“Oh! And wear that cute little blue number you bought last spring; I know you still have it so don’t you dare lie. It makes your ass and legs look divine, and I think you could stand to make a new acquaintance tonight.” That Little Blue Number was buried in the back of your closet where you had hoped it would remain forever, but luck was not on your side tonight it seemed. But it did make you look, and feel, fantastic.  It was just so… breezy. “And heels! Real ones, not your cute little personal assistant kitten heels. Those black strappy ones would work like a dream!” You just sighed dramatically into the receiver and agreed to her demands.

“I’ll let you go now, and yes, I suppose I can be presentable tonight, dress and all. See-ya later!”

---

Hole in the wall was right. This place was basically underground it was so on the D.L. It was warm inside though, and in the middle of autumn with so much skin on display, you could not be more pleased to get away from the chilled outside air.

You would describe the interior as comfortable with a hint of rustic; lots of warm dark wood and low lights, mixed with the soft Latin music crooning in the background and the few patrons’ conversations adding to the ambience.

All in all, it was probably the nicest dive bar you’d been to in your hometown.

Your party was easy to spot where they had claimed a group of pushed together tables towards the far side of the establishment, and you carefully made your way over to them in your tricky high heels.

You said your hellos to returning faces and introduced yourself to the new additions, and accepted the chair you were pointed to and the drink pressed into your hand.

And so, the hours rolled.

You had enjoyed two fruity cocktails and a flaming shot before you called it quits on the alcohol for the night. You still had a few hours to sober up enough to drive home safely, and you would be able to help the girls get to their rides and ways home too. You appreciated having a social drink or two, but you didn’t care for hangovers and would happily take slightly tipsy over party-hard drunk anytime. Plus, your contract stated you were on-call, always, and you could be required to navigate high-stress negotiations at the drop of a hat. It was just better to cut yourself off, then reap the consequences of your actions later.

You tapped your friend’s shoulder as you walked past and leaned over to talk into her ear. “I’m getting some water for the table; do you want anything else?”

“Mmmm, no I think we’re good for now, thanks!” She was plastered already, but she had a huge grin on her face and was laughing at her co-workers’ stories, so you considered it a win of a night. You gave her a pat goodbye and swayed your way to the bar.

But you just were not accounting for the uneven floorboards, or how much your heels affected your currently less than steady equilibrium, and before you could blink you were teetering over into a nasty fall.

“Whoa there, easy does it, muñequita” Arms wrapped around you and pulled you back into a warm chest. “Careful now, don’t go twisting an ankle in those fancy shoes.”

You certainly did not account for the man you turned around to face. Wow.

His hands glided respectfully from where he had caught you around the waist to your still bent and held out elbows, steadying you as you swayed dangerously again.

Warm brown eyes, soft brown curls, and the sweetest smile you’d ever seen. It felt like your heart was going to beat out of your chest, and you knew that it wasn’t left over adrenaline from your near wipeout. He was gorgeous and handling you so gently, and you wanted to spend forever in that moment.

“Hey there, palomita, I’m Frankie, can I buy you a drink?”

[Next Part]

[brelione]

Have You Ever Been In Love (JJ Maybank X Reader)

Warnings:Smut,fluff,mentions of really gross jellyfish stings

This is the first smut ive written so dont judge me pls

JJ Maybank had never been in love.He never wanted to be in love either.He had never seen it or understood how people could die for it.He had heard the story of Romeo and Juliet hundreds of times.How it had ended in a beautiful tragedy.Love was an illness that killed people.It was like a parasite that ate away at your heart and brain until there was nothing left.It sounded painful and he’d rather be set on fire then fall in love.He had convinced himself that he could never love anyone in such a way.He convinced himself that he’d only ever love someone like a sibling.He could never really fall in love.He had tried lying to himself over and over and had gone as far as to write it on paper over and over again.Nothing worked.He was sick with the plague of love.The first time he ever saw you he couldnt understand the feeling within him.He had been working at a gas station.That job had only lasted two weeks.His shift was from 12 am to five am and he hated it.It had been three in the morning when you walked in with your wet hair,slightly bloodshot eyes,bikini top and shorts.The terrible gas station lighting should’ve made you look like shit but you looked fantastic in his eyes.

You had waved to him quickly before heading to the back into the freezer section.You were limping ever so slightly,your flip flops echoing through the building.He kept staring at you,trying to figure out if he had ever seen you before.He saw the bright red lines across your thigh and shin.It looked gross and painful but you didnt even care as you grabbed a pint of ben and jerry’s icecream.You went over to the counter where all the coffee,syrup,sugar and cream was.You made yourself a caramel iced coffee before limping up to the counter.His eyebrows were furrowed as he looked down at you. “Hey,do you have like a band aid or something?”You asked.He frowned. “What for?”He asked,pretending he hadnt noticed the bright irritated injury.You grinned. “Um...jellyfish stings.”You answered.He shook his head. “Youre gonna put a band aid on a jellyfish sting?”He asked.You nodded,sipping the coffee and putting ten dollars on the counter.He leaned across the counter,glancing down at your leg. “Yeah,no.That’s pretty bad.You should clean that off and wrap it up.”He suggested.You bit your lip,shaking your head. 

“Nah dude,i’ve got ice cream for a reason.It doesnt even hurt that bad like its fine.”You answered,grabbing the icecream.He handed you two dollars back,telling you to wait a minute before putting his hand under the counter and grabbing the box of rainbow bandaids and handing you one.You smiled. “Thanks,JJ.”You took the band aid,holding it up to the light. “Ooh...a yellow one.”You mumbled,putting the band aid in your pocket. “Do I know you?”He asked.You shook your head. “But you knew my name.”He squeezed the counter,trying not to blush at all.You pointed to his name tag.He had completely forgot about it.He nodded,biting his lip hard and looking away from you. “So what’s your name?”He asked.You grinned,grabbing your coffee. “Wouldnt you like to know,pretty boy.”You smiled before walking out.He watched as you left,letting out a loud sigh.He let out a laugh,not understanding the feeling that was taking over his body.He stared down at the counter for a while,scolding himself for falling apart like that.Flirting had always come easy for him.He’d never met a girl that he couldnt charm with his looks and his words,except Kie,of course.

But even she had blushed a good amount of times when they first met.But not you with your jellyfish sting and your ben and jerrys icecream.It wasnt until about a month later that he had seen you again.He had lost his job at the gas station because he was caught smoking weed inside.He wondered if maybe you had come by the gas station looking for him since he had left.He kept thinking about you,wondering your name or if you had ever cleaned off your jellyfish sting.He had been at The Wreck as he stuffed his face with french fries and listened to John B. and Pope’s rambling about something scientific.The fries nearly fell out of his mouth when he saw you walk up to the counter. “Hey,hoe.”You grinned at Kiara.She gasped. “Dude-oh my god its been like three months!”She exclaimed,coming out from behind the counter and hugging you. “Hey.”You repeated,pulling out of the hug.She said something quickly to her dad before literally dragging you over to the table where your other friends sat. “This is (Y/N)!”She told them excitedly,shaking your arm.You grinned at JJ before saying hi to the group.Kiara explained that you had been staying with your father in Massachusetts for the last couple of months and that you two had been friends since like seventh grade and whatever.

JJ hadnt been paying attention to her,only focusing on you.The overwhelming desire to laugh and hug you was almost scary.He even knew your name now.It fit you quite well.You looked like a (Y/N) for sure. “JJ,what do you think?”Kiara asked.He frowned a bit,trying to figure out what she was asking. “What?”He asked.Pope laughed. “Dude,pay attention for once.”He sighed.Kiara rolled her eyes. “I asked if you think (Y/N) should join us on the boat today.”She repeated.JJ nodded. “Yeah,yeah definitely.”He blushed,trying not to look at you.You grinned. “Cool,I’ll see you guys later then.”You winked at JJ before getting up and walking out of the restaurant.Kiara snorted in a laugh as JJ smacked his head down. “Have you two met before?”She asked.JJ nodded,picking his head back up.Kiara gasped. “Oh god-did you two hook up?Please tell me you did not hook up with my best friend.”Kiara waited nervously for his answer.JJ shook his head. “I wish.”He replied.He ignored the feeling,telling himself that he was just too high for social interaction and that was the only reason he felt the way he did.

He hadnt smoked in hours.His mind wandered back to a month ago when he had seen you the first time.He had been getting dressed at John.B’s that afternoon,trying to make himself look nice for when he saw you.He had changed his sleeveless shirt for the first time in two days.He had taken a quick shower,brushed his hair and stared at himself for a good five minutes.He wasnt in love.There was nothing wrong with wanting to look nice for someone.Kiara had basically yelled at JJ on how to get to your house. “No-no you gotta-OH MY GOD JUST LET ME DRIVE!”She had shouted and ended up driving the boat.She pulled up to your personal dock,waiting for you after sending you a text.Your house had chipped paint and six chickens roaming around your backyard.His heart sped up,breaths getting a bit fast as he waited for you to come out.When you did he couldnt look away from you.Your hair was tied up,a yellow highwaisted bikini tight on your skin.You walked past your chickens,down the hill and towards the dock. “Hey,loser.”You grinned at Kie.She held out her hand to help you on to the boat,pulling you so you were sitting next to her. “Hey (Y/N).”Pope greeted. 

“Hey.”You grinned,fist bumping the boy.You leaned back,raising an eyebrow at JJ.He hadnt noticed that you were staring,to busy looking down where his eyes shouldn't have been.He licked his lips,looking back up at your face.You winked at him,causing him to blush and look away.He spent the whole day sending glances your way,glancing down at your thigh every once in a while.There was only some scratches left and a small patch of peeling skin on your thigh where the awful sting had once been. “So why were you in Massachusetts?”Pope asked,leaning his head on his folded shirt.You laughed quietly.That was a fun thing to explain to people when they had asked. “Well,you see,my half sister’s step mother’s cousin was getting married so I got invited.Obviously I decided to go but then like I got stuck up there because there was like a tropical storm or some shit and the wind was going ninety miles per hour and there were flash floods and the power went out and full as buildings like collapsed

.It was a huge mess and then like a couple days later it was negative ten degrees and all the water froze and I couldn't drive out cause of it and it sucked and I think someone like manifested bad luck on me.So it kind of sucked but then I got boba coffee in boston and I went to an aquarium and all these museums.There are so many hospitals in Massachusetts like it's kind of crazy.But then I ended up somewhere in the suburbs on my way back and I slept in my car for like four days until I got my car fixed and then I got here like a few days ago.”You explained,looking over at JJ to make sure he wouldn't say anything.Pope nodded. “So what museums did you go to?”He asked,continuing your conversation.JJ felt a bit jealous that you weren't paying attention to him like he was paying attention to you but he couldn't really be mad about it.He just wasn't your type.He wasn't in love.He just wanted you to like him.It had been two in the afternoon when they stopped in the middle of a clear bay.

JJ had watched to see if you were going to go into the water.He watched as you pulled your hair out of its tied up mess,nudging Kiara’s arm.She nodded,jumping off the side of the boat with you.JJ watched as you swam away from the boat around one hundred feet with Kiara close behind you.He watched the way your body moved in the water and how you kept purposefully splashing water into Kiara’s face.He listened to your giggles as you got back to the side of the boat,declaring that you had won.Kiara groaned,lifting herself onto the boat.JJ held out his arm for you to pull yourself up.He blushed a deep crimson as you squeezed his forearm lightly and thanked him.He watched as you and Kiara laid on your backs,basking in the sun while you had a small conversation.He had ended up jumping in the water with Pope,racing John.B and JJ to a buoy a few yards away.He had swam as fast as he could,saltwater splashing into his nose and mouth.He hoped you were watching.For eight months you had been part of the close knit friend group,officially being voted in in favor of everybody after a month of hanging out with them.While they all went to school you had just spent everyday at your house doing whatever you felt like doing.

You’d still swim and surf during the winter because the water wasn't even close to cold.You’d come around John.B’s house when he and the others were out of school.Sometimes you’d even spend the day at his house.Little did you know that JJ would skip the last half an hour of last period pretty often just so he could spend time alone with you.He’d announce himself as he walked in,his heart beating fast as he stood in the doorway.You’d always hug him tight and ask him how his day went and if he wanted to go surfing with you.He’d say yes every time and change into his bathing suit quickly.You’d get so excited to finally see everyone after they got out of school.Kind of like a puppy with separation anxiety.JJ would tell you everything about his day from what he ate at lunch to any jokes he had heard that he thought you might find funny.He’d tell you about a dog he’d seen walking around during P.E or an explosion in the teacher’s lounge microwave.He told you everything he could think of and made it sound as dramatic as possible just to see your reaction.You never questioned why he got back before the others every single day but it didn't really matter.You surfed for hours together before laying on your stomachs on your boards and floating across from each other. “JJ.”You sighed,putting your head down on your folded hands as they rested on your board.

He hummed,looking at you to give you his full attention. “Yeah?”He asked,waiting nervously for you to ask the questions you had.There were so many things you could say.Perhaps Pope had let something slip out.He had ranted to Pope about his feelings for you and how he couldn't understand.Pope tried to explain to him that he was in love with you but that wasn't possible.He wasn't capable of loving someone the way he loved you.He didn't love you.He just loved everything about you and wanted to be around you all the time.He wanted you to lay on his chest as he played around with your hair while you told him about your day.He wanted to take you on late night walks along the beach and collect seashells with you as you giggled about random things.He wanted to sing you silly songs as you whined for him to shut up.He wasn't in love with you.He just wanted you to love him and date him and be his.But that definitely didn't mean he was in love with you,right?You sighed as the sun beamed down on your skin,the water twinkling almost blindingly. “Have you ever been in love?”You asked him.

He bit his lip,glancing out at the horizon.He didn't know how to answer you or even how to react.You knew about his random hookups with tourons and how he was known as a bit of a man whore.He knew that you knew.But you didn't know that he hadnt hooked up with anybody since he had met you.He licked his bottom lip,looking back at you.You were looking at him,only your nose and eyes visible because the rest of your face was hidden by your crossed arms.He gulped. “Um...no.No.No i’ve never been in love.”He cleared his throat.You giggled,the sound echoing off your surfboard. “That was not convincing at all.Girl or boy?”You asked,interested in his story.He shook his head,grinning. “Nobody.”He answered,avoiding your gaze.You reached out,grabbing his arm. “Come on,J.Tell me about it.I’ll tell you first if you want.”You offered.His stomach churned at the thought of you loving someone.He didn't know why.Well,no,he absolutely knew why.He knew it was because he had a thing for you.

He didn't know what that thing was but he didn't really like it much.He nodded,waiting for you to tell the story.You sighed. “Alright.It was eighth grade and his name was Ryan.”You began.His eyebrows furrowed. “Ryan Field?”He asked.You nodded,making a look of disgust come across his face.You giggled. “You know what?Shut up because I was twelve,okay?So,anyways,he sat next to me in Geography and this was before I dropped out and I was barely paying attention.We’d pass notes back and forth and then I had his phone number and we’d text all the time and then we ended up dating.It was my first serious relationship and he broke up with me because he thought I wasn't like mentally stable enough for a relationship and I couldn't handle it.I guess he was right and it definitely hurt when it happened but thinking about it now I don't even know if I actually loved him or if I just was trying to like….convince myself I was happy,you know?I don't even know if love is even real because I used to believe in it when I was little but then I got into the real world and shit kind of just hit the fan.Its all just messy and it's probably all bullshit but it's nice to think that maybe there are people that we’re meant to be with.I don't even think I have someone im supposed to be with cause like,everyone i've ever cared about leaves me so now i'm constantly paranoid that you’re all gonna leave me so that's fun.”You spoke quickly and held up a peace sign.

His eyebrows knit together as he stared back at you. “You-you shouldn't feel like that about us.You know-you know that we'd never leave you.You know that we-that we all love you,right?You know that I love you and we all love having you around and that things wouldn't be the same without you.You know that,dont you?”He asked frantically,his hands tightening on his board.He couldn't believe everything that you just said.The atmosphere completely changed.It felt tense,the giggling and teasing from before had completely faded and was now replaced with nervousness.The clouds covered the sunlight,the air was cool and the small waves had calmed.You sighed quietly,sorting out what you wanted to say.He could've been lying about it.They all probably talked bad about you behind your back anyways. “We should get back to the house,looks like it's gonna rain.”You spoke quietly,paddling back to the shore.You sniffled as you walked on the sand,JJ jogging close behind you.

 “We should seriously talk about this.Why wouldn't you tell anyone that you felt like this?”He asked.You let your board fall to the sand,turning around with tears in your eyes. “Because I'm scared,okay?Im scared that he was right about me not being mentally stable enough for relationships and that i'm a bad friend and a bad person.I don't even deserve happiness or relationships or love,god,i don't even know if im capable of it-”You ranted,tears coming from your eyes when he smashed his lips against yours.It was rough and desperate as your shaky hands made their way around his neck.You couldn't even wrap your mind around what was happening.His arms draped around your hips and held onto you like you were a life line,pulling away for a moment to breath before kissing you again. “JJ.”You whispered,still holding him close.He panted,eyes still closed as his forehead leaned against yours. “JJ,what the fuck are we doing right now?”You asked,out of breath.He licked his lips,knees weak and his bottom lip quivering. “I dont-I dont know it seemed like a good idea.”He whispered,still holding onto you.You didn't know how to react or even what to say.You just stood their,hands on the back of his neck with water dripping onto your fingers from his hair.

 “Sorry,I shouldn't have done that.”His hands fell from your body.You pulled him back for another kiss,his hands on your waist as he pulled you impossibly close to him. “I meant it.”He mumbled before pressing a small kiss to your lips.You bit your bottom lip,letting out a small shaky breath. “What?”You asked.He gulped. “When I said we all love you...that I love you.I meant it.”He spoke quietly.He bit the inside of his cheek as he waited for you to respond.He was in love.Thunder rumbled loudly,the sky darkening as rain pounded down on the two of you.He didn't even care,only worried about what you were going to say.Your finger traced his jaw slowly,dragging your warm finger up to his temple and slicking his wet hair back.The rain sent shivers all over your body as you pulled him back down.He bit down on your lip,tugging it lightly before practically shoving his tongue down your throat.A moan ripped from your vocal cords as you pressed up against him.His lips traveled down your jaw and to your neck,kissing,sucking and biting.The rain became heavier and the air became colder. “JJ...J-we….we need to go-go back to the house.”You whispered,hand tugging at his hair.He let out a small sigh.

 “Please-please-I need you now.”He whimpered,pressing himself to you so you could feel how hard he really was.You bit your lip,looking up at him. “You can last five minutes.”You told him.He shook his head. “I cant-I cant do it-im so hard it hurts.”He whined.You picked up your surfboard. “Then you’re gonna have to run back if you can't last.”You smirked,jogging back up the hill.JJ ran after you with his surfboard under his arms,tossing it down in the backyard. “Hurry,please.”He told you.You grinned,seeing the van wasn't there yet.He dragged you into the guest room while you closed the door and locked it.He pressed you up against the door,kissing you hard and untying your bikini top.He let it fall to the floor before moving downwards.Your breasts were cold from the water but he didnt care,leaving deep purple marks all over them.You let out small moans as your fingernails scratched against his scalp.

You pushed him down on the bed,straddling him and pressing a kiss to his lips.You sucked hickeys along his jaw and collarbones. “Please…”He whispered.He had never been this desperate before.He had never let anyone be on top before either.You began to roll your hips slowly,grinding on him.He let out a loud,raspy moan as he gripped your hips to make you go faster.His mouth fell open as his head fell back.You leaned down to create a dark hickey on his neck.You slid his bathing suit down,licking your lips.He bit his lip as he waited for you to do something.He let out a loud gasp as you ran your fingertip along a pulsing vein. “You like that,JJ?”You asked.He nodded quickly,making you grin. “Words,baby.I need words.”You taunted.His eyes closed tightly as he let out a whimper. “I like it-I love it so much,princess.”He squeaked out as your hand moved faster. “Please-please-just-”His sentence was cut off by a loud moan ripping through his throat. “Please what?”You asked innocently.He bit his lip hard,trying not to let anything else slip out. “Please just-please I just need you.”He moaned,back arching slightly.You loved having this power over him as you watched him fall apart in front of you.

 “What do you need,J?Tell me what you want.”You spoke softly.He swallowed hard,sweat and water drops coating his forehead. “I-I want you to fuck me hard and-and I want to make you-make you feel good.”A half scream half moan left his mouth along with a string of profanities.You leaned down so you could whisper into his ear. “You wanna make me feel good?Oh,thats cute.”You whispered before sinking down onto him.He nearly screamed,eyes going wide. “Let it out,baby.No one can hear you.”You whispered to him.He let out a loud scream that was so loud it could break glass.You began to move at a hellish pace,letting out small moans. “Moan for me.”He told you,guiding you up and down on him.You let out loud moans,glad no one else was home.You were going so fast and so hard that you knew you probably wouldn't be able to walk properly tomorrow. “Im so close.”He whined.You went even faster than you thought possible,grinning as he let out a shout as he reached his high.You kept going after that,making him a bit confused but he didn't complain once he glanced down and saw as his member went in and out of you,your head dipping back as you let out a long,high pitched moan and squirted.He smirked,holding on tight to your waist before flipping you two over. “You’ve done so much for me today,baby,Let me help you out.”He spoke softly before kissing your forehead.His fists went onto the mattress next to your head as he began to pound into you ridiculously hard.Your fingernails dug into his back as he sped up,determined to make you come undone again.

It barely took two minutes for you to cum again,the juices leaking out and coating your inner thighs and his member.He pulled out,laying down beside you. “God,you feel so good.”He moaned quietly,arm around your waist.You grinned. “I know,baby.You’re so good for me.”You kissed his forehead.He leaned into your touch,burying his face in the crook of your neck.The storm was just calming down when you heard the door to the house open.You got up quickly,grabbing your wet towel from the beach to clean yourself out.You grabbed a random long sleeve shirt and slid on a pair of shorts,tossing JJ his pajama pants before tying your hair up to fix its messy state.You unlocked the door before sliding under the covers and resting on JJ’s chest. “Pretend to sleep.”You whispered to him when you heard footsteps coming down the hall.He nodded,placing his arms around you comfortably before closing his eyes.He heard the door open and a small gasp that had obviously come from Kie.He tried not to smile when he heard the loud click of a photo being taken before the door closed again.

[lady-divine-writes]

Ineffable Holiday 2020 - “Schemes and Dreams and Kisses and Things” (Rated PG)

Summary: In the hopes of getting a first kiss from Crowley, Aziraphale hangs the largest ball of mistletoe he can find over his desk. And then ... he waits. (1514 words)

Notes: Written for the Ineffable Holiday 2020 prompt 'mistletoe'.

Read on AO3.

Aziraphale looks up.

He looks up again. 

He double-checks obsessively to see that it’s still there. 

Why wouldn’t it be? He hung it up only a few hours ago. Then he checked on it – twice. He looks, on average, three times every five minutes.

His neck is beginning to smart.

He tacked it up good and tight. There's no reason for it to fall. Besides, if it falls, it would fall right on him. No need to keep checking. 

That’s what he tells himself.

But a minute later, he checks again.

Aziraphale had waited until after the wine had been drunk, the cookies eaten, and a sated Crowley had retreated to the sofa in the bookshop's backroom before he hung the mistletoe directly above his desk chair, making sure it was in the perfect spot for Crowley to catch him sitting under it. It's the largest ball of mistletoe he could find - a massive floral bezoar wrapped in red velvet ribbon and adorned with a silver bell. Three poor birds have flown into his window already, attempting to get at the thing.

There should be no escaping this for either of them.

Aziraphale is determined.

He has every intention of sitting underneath the darned thing until Crowley gives him a kiss. On the lips, the forehead, the cheek - it doesn't matter. Just some combination of Crowley's mouth on his skin would be deemed acceptable.

Crowley and Aziraphale have been more than casual visitors in one another’s daily lives going on five months now. One might even say they’ve become closer to intendeds. In the traditional sense. Crowley drops by, they have tea, they talk, but that's the extent of it. To date, as far as securing a kiss is concerned, they haven't even come close.

Sadly, mistletoe is the best idea he’s had for getting one. 

Of course, he should probably learn to say the words, “Crowley, I really wish you would kiss me,” before relying on props like this semi-parasitic shrub. Regardless, he’s going to sit there, book in hand, and wait for Crowley to notice. Because what’s the use of mistletoe if Aziraphale points it out? He might as well go up and kiss Crowley, right? If that’s the case, he should have done it months ago.

God, Aziraphale realizes with wide-eyed intensity, I should have kissed him months ago.

Aziraphale glances up again and sighs.

Yes, he should have. But when it comes to Crowley, Aziraphale can be a bit of a coward. He's not too proud to admit that.

He’s not going to push. He’s waited 6000 years. What’s another one? Or ten? Or hundred? Now that they’re together, he’s going to let things progress at their own speed. 

Even if that speed is the excruciating crawl of another seventy-five human lifetimes.

A groan.

A mumble.

A curse.

A shuffle.

These are the sounds of a demon rising to greet the day.

Well ... the afternoon.

And Aziraphale’s brain stops working.

There had been several close calls when Aziraphale thought Crowley was getting out of bed, but he simply rolled over and fell back to sleep.

Not this time.

Aziraphale feels every step Crowley takes, the wood floor creaking as he navigates a path with eyes shut to Aziraphale's small kitchenette, putting on a pot of water for coffee. Aziraphale hears Crowley hum to himself - a mixture of an ear-worm Christmas tune and a song Aziraphale vaguely recognizes as being performed by the band Queen. 

A love song to a velocipede, he thinks?

Aziraphale taps his toe anxiously as he waits ... waits ... waits, shifting positions, trying to figure out which version of him reading Faust seems more casual. With his elbow resting on his desktop? Or him reclining back in his chair? 

Aziraphale pops bolt upright when he hears Crowley click off the stovetop and pour. He crosses his legs when Crowley's heavy footsteps head his way, then uncrosses them when Crowley finally emerges. He's dressed in the same clothes he fell asleep in - swanky black trousers and jacket, a grey silk shirt, his glasses fixed firmly onto the bridge of his nose. He miracled the wrinkles out of his clothes and his hair into a semblance of neat waves, but he still looks like he slept in the gutter outside. He walks in carrying two steaming mugs, raising one as an offering and a greeting.

“Uh, hello, my dear,” Aziraphale says, fighting with all his might not to glance upward. 

Eyes half-lidded, Crowley sets one of the mugs in front of Aziraphale. “Hey, angel. Here ya go.” 

“Oh. Thank you. That's very kind of you." Aziraphale toys with his mug, turning it left and right. The coffee is cloudy, but not with cream. A sniff tells him that Crowley topped off his mug with a generous dollop of Bailey's. Thank goodness! he thinks. Liquid courage. Even with this good fortune staring him in the face, Aziraphale doesn't lift his mug to drink. "Any plans for today, dear boy?"

"Hmm ... not really." Crowley yawns. "Thought I might just hang 'round here, bother you if you don't mind."

"I don't mind at all," Aziraphale says. "It's always wonderful having you around."

"Great. Oh, by the way, your book’s upside down." 

"Uh ..." Aziraphale flips to the cover and discovers that yes, indeed, it's upside down. So much for casual. “Thank you.” 

"Don't mention it. I'm headin' back to the sofa. You should join me, read your book there."

"Should I?"

"Mm-hmm." Crowley takes a sip from his mug. "How else am I to bother you if we're in two separate rooms?"

Aziraphale nods. "Yes. I see. Well, in that case, I'll be right in."

"Fantastic."

Aziraphale sighs as Crowley passes in front of him, staring into his cup, missing the mistletoe entirely. 

That was a disaster, Aziraphale thinks. One for the record books. 

Wasn't he determined to sit under the mistletoe until Crowley kissed him? 

Yes, but he doesn't want to turn down an invitation to spend time together either. 

Maybe he can bring the mistletoe with him into the backroom, sneakily set it up in there. Crowley probably wouldn't notice if he Aziraphale hung it not so sneakily. He looks like he has one foot stuck knee-deep into unconsciousness as is. 

A step through the threshold, Crowley stops when he notices Aziraphale isn't following him. He takes a step back and looks at him - book closed around his index finger, cheeks pink, his lower lip pinched between his teeth, eyes aimed down at his feet. He looks embarrassed about something. 

And disappointed.

It can't really be because Crowley interrupted his reading. Aziraphale has read that book thousands of times. Which is probably why he was reading it upside down. More of a challenge for him.

But Crowley didn't get up for coffee. 

He got up to give Aziraphale his Christmas present.

Early.

Mostly because Crowley can't wait. 

If he doesn't give Aziraphale his present now, Crowley will think up a dozen reasons why he should wait.

A dozen bullshite reasons.

"Aziraphale?" he strolls over to his angel, waking inch by inch with every step he takes, and sets his coffee mug on the desk.

"Yes, my dear?" Aziraphale looks up. "What is ...?"

With a sleepy but mischievous smile on his lips, Crowley puts a hand behind Aziraphale's neck and kisses him, drawing out the moment before, giving his angel all the opportunity in the world to tell him to stop.

But Aziraphale says no such thing.

Crowley’s mouth is soft and warm and tastes like Bailey’s, but what Aziraphale loves about this kiss is it’s in no way urgent, the way high-romance novels make people believe all kisses should be. According to the lovely publishers at Harlequin, first kisses must be desperate to be passionate, painfully so. 

Crowley kisses Aziraphale as if he's claiming something that has always belonged to him, something he lost track of, and he wants to savor it. Crowley kisses Aziraphale as if they could stand there all morning long, all day long, and kiss, and Crowley would be perfectly content. This is where their Tuesday is going to begin and end - with Crowley kissing Aziraphale.

Crowley pulls away grinning, but Aziraphale looks dumbfounded, not a single word left in his head to express the thoughts sparking off one by one like fireworks.

"Wot?" Crowley asks, mildly self-conscious that his plan may have not gone off the way he'd hoped.

“Uh ... oh ... mistletoe?” Aziraphale asks, eyes darting up towards the obvious culprit behind this moment.

“No,” Crowley says. “I’ve wanted to do that for months now. I just never got the chance.”

"Oh."

"So ... you gonna let me bother you?" Crowley teases, and for the first time, Aziraphale catches on to the fact that bother in this context means kiss.

Perhaps more.

And yes, Aziraphale definitely wants that.

"That sounds ... lovely." He stands from his desk chair and takes Crowley's hand, leaving his ridiculous bundle of mistletoe, and their coffees, behind.

[kpopchangedme]

Sun-drenched [M] - Youngjae

Every time you opened your mouth something outrageous came out but unfortunately, your new dorky step-brother seemed to be immune. You couldn’t tell if Youngjae was actually that clueless or if your reputation preceded you. 

Protagonists: Choi Youngjae & You

Word Count: 4.6k

Genre: NSFW - Cringe Fest - Smut - slight exhibitionism - f*ckgirl - Stepbrother!au || [One Shot]

[The Pleasure Chest: A Cringe Fest]

GOT7 | M.list

Your mother was doing that thing with her hair again, slightly shaking her head every time her new beau spoke. Every single bob invariably made her blonde curls spring. How disgusting. You had asked to be bleached once, a few years ago, and she had the audacity to claim it would look cheap on you. So unfair. 

She hadn't met her fourth husband for more than 6 months before she did just that. She thought it made her look younger, but Miami-midlife-crisis was more like it. It wasn't pretty wheat blonde, it was white yellow-ish banana buttercream. On-sale daffodil... Much like the sad ones Youngnam had gotten her from the convenience store yesterday.  They were now awaiting certain death in a crystal vase husband-number-two had gotten her for God knows what occasion.

You rolled your eyes when your latest stepfather started going over safety rules again. At your dad's there was never a need for them and if you correctly remembered the last time you had lived with your mom... You smiled, imagining how Dr. Top Surgeon would react if he found out his perfect church-going wife used to pop pills like candy and store a very impressive bong in the third drawer of her kitchen.

That would make for a fun scene. 

The goodbyes seemed to stretch half an eternity in the living room, after which you got dragged to the hall where the speech began all over again. Your mom gave you a short hug, more of a shoulder squeeze, then she pulled back and frowned with intent as much as her botox allowed. You shrugged off her silent don't-screw-this-up warning, already waving goodbye to her husband. Shoo shoo, you thought, sending the adults off to a far far away location. 

As soon as the door shut behind, you squealed in excitement. 

Summer had officially begun! 

Moving half across the country to fake “house sit” their new place while they honeymooned in Boca wasn't exactly what you had scheduled for your vacations. But when Youngnam accidentally let the words infinity pool and cars – as in with an S – slip out during the weekly video call, not even the dread on your mother’s face could’ve deterred you from flying over. 

As it turns out, Dr. Choi was loaded. 

Something you probably would’ve figured out earlier if you’d bothered showing up for the ceremony at all. Unfortunately, the wedding hadn't matched your Spring Break’ schedule and you decided having been present to the many previous ceremonies should be considered enough daughterly care for a lifetime. 

As you bent to the freezer for a celebratory parent-free popsicle, you felt the eyes of that gift-that-came-with-the-house glued to your ass. He briefly glanced down at the flash of your stomach’s skin when you jumped to sit on the counter. 

Surprisingly enough, your mother’s many rings had never once come with a step-brother before...

Usually, she went for the bachelor or womanizer types and those had the decency to never have baggage. Dr. Choi was a break of pattern and the news came with complete horror on your part.

For as long as you could, you had made a duty of never meeting his son, pretended he didn't even exist. So when the bubbly blended trio came to pick you up at the airport yesterday, you had been shocked.

They had said soloist of the local Choir and you’d heard; loser. Piano lessons? Dork. All-boys school graduate? Stuck-up. Computer Science Major? Nerd alert.

No one had talked about… That.

As a matter of fact, Choi Youngjae himself had not spoken much either, but he was certainly looking... 

And there were few things you enjoyed more than having a man's undivided attention.

Standing in the middle of the kitchen in all his glory, your new step-brother was staring, as usual, watching intently as you sucked your popsicle. You made sure to make a show of it.

“So… What about lunch?” He finally asked even though it was barely 9. Just to rattle him you hummed on the sugary treat as a reply. Mission accomplished. “S-Should I order pizza?”

“Don't worry, I’m easy...” Youngjae’s gaze fluttered down to your belly ring again. Boy, if he liked that one he had a few things coming. “I’ll eat anything if it's on you.”

Gaze widening, he pretended to look at something over in the living room and walked away.

Wait no, the poor guy literally bolted out of the kitchen to escape to safety. So fast one could wonder if this whole first exchange was the fruit of your devious imagination.

Oh no, you had just traumatized your babyish step-bro.

It made sense, you were one scary bitch.

All-boys school graduate? Virgin, you mentally took note. 

Or perhaps your mom had said something about you devouring the souls of poor innocent men. They said the apple never fell far from the tree. Grinning like a shark, you discarded the melting popsicle in the trash.

This promised to be one Hell of a summer break. 

______________________

“It’s been more than 10 minutes...” Chimlin flipped the phone over to yell unintelligibly at her demonic baby twin sisters. Despite the protection, you winced. “No DMs.”

“Then he hasn’t seen it yet.” Artlessly reporting for BFF’ duty was a lot more fun face to face, but for a few months, video calls would have to do. “Trust me.”

“I don't know,” she whined, going on all over again about how her boyfriend hadn’t picked up the phone since their nightly routine fight of yesterday. 

Sometimes you wondered if you’d even follow her back on Insta if you met this current sad version of herself. Kinda hard to tell, but she used to be the coolest baddest chick on campus. Then she was partnered with that Italian exchange student for a Statistic class, disgustingly dripping pheromones, cash and European pizzazz. Yes, Statistics. The most boring course ever, let's be real. But Chimlin was a genius, the deadly hot kind. No matter how shit-faced she was, that girl could track the B-52s and Gin Tonics’ calorie count of each respective member of your girl squad, not that she'd ever had to care herself.

Then Massimo came. At first, he was just a casual hook-up, but he managed to worm his way into her brain and grew there like a tumour. By the end of last semester, they were full-on steady-going together like in cringy 90s rom-coms. He was always stuck to her like a parasite.

Gone was your favourite 4 feet 11 party animal.

“Do you have any idea how many bitches Mas could meet this summer?”

You snorted, “Not even close to the number of dicks you could have in Pattaya if you wanted to.”

“Phatthaya,” she corrected automatically with a dramatic eye-roll. “That’s the thing, I don't want to. I only want one dick and he's miles away.” She waved her hand to brush it off right as your mouth opened in protest.

Her Italian barnacle did want to remain with her on campus for summer, but Chimlin thought she had better plans that involved a lot more beaches and fruity drinks. She simply couldn't live with her own poor life choices now and you were just about to tell her so when a flash of skin on the screen distracted you.  

“What else have you been hiding?” You sing-sang, impressed by the view. 

She glanced over her shoulder, “That's my uncle. Like... He’s literally my mom’s lil’ brother. Gross.”

“I know what an uncle is and that's a very hot one if I’ve ever seen one. You can look.”

“We’re not all depraved sluts like you.” She only half-teased with a sharp laugh. “How's the cute new brother doing, by the way?”

“No idea.” You flipped the camera and zoomed on Youngjae's bedroom window like to prove a point. The curtains were drawn, concealing anything worth mentioning from view. You were lounging by the pool on one of those fancy long chairs, much as you had been for the past week. Margarita, sunscreen, repeat. If this boring routine went on, you’d be so tanned by the end of summer no one on campus would recognize you. Sometimes you did think Youngjae's curtains were wobbling, maybe he was spying on you but it could all be your imagination. “Typical. He's been in hiding from me since day one.”

“I don't blame him.”

“Don't blame me for wanting him either. He's a good boy in a bad boy’s body.”

“I don't even know what that means...”

“No one does. But he's not cute, he's hot. I need him all over me and I've been telling him so, but he's strangely elusive. I think he hits the gym above the grocery store on the corner, I should join.”

“Stalker.”

“I don’t stalk, I live in his house.”

“No wonder the poor guy doesn't go out of that room, I bet he picked up on all your slutty energy.” In the rectangle screen, Chimlin switched to tan the other side and you did the same, laying on your back.

“Ha ha. He'd have to be moronic not to,” you were holding the phone above, casting a partial shadow on your face.

“Your legend precedes you. He's scared you're gonna trap and fuck him.”

“What else am I supposed to do when you've abandoned me and flew to the other side of the world? You know I need a summer project.”

“And of course, it had to be a guy.”

You were so glad she stopped whining about Mas for a minute that you let that one slide. “Well, I am not a needlepoint kind-of-girl.”

“Right, hey maybe it isn’t the incest that’s creeping your brother out. Maybe he's gay.”

Someone snorted out loud at that – not you – and you sat up in alarm.

Two guys were standing by the edge of the pool.

“No, he's not,” said the one on the left, a smile in his voice. They were directly in your sun, so you had trouble making out their features. One silhouette was slightly slumped, the other tall and all limbs. You suddenly felt very exposed, dropping Chimlin to fasten your bikini top in a hurry. This show wasn't for strangers to enjoy.

“Who are you?” The second man asked, clearly lost.

“She's it,” the other echoed.

“Who are you? I live here.”

“We're your brother's social life,” the frisky one smiled largely, kind of in a dangerous way that you immediately recognized for your own. Friends, they were Youngjae's friends and they very clearly overheard your embarrassing banter with Chimlin.

Flushing – a rare occurrence – you brought a hand to shield your eyes from the sun while you corrected; “Step-br–”

A sharp voice cut in, “She's not my sister.”

Behind, Youngjae was standing awkwardly by the patio door, a stern look on his face. He didn't seem surprised his people were there. He didn't even glance in your direction before disappearing back as you blankly stared after him. 

“Well, thank fuck,” the you-guy turned to wink, following him inside. “Good luck with your summer project! I’ll root for you!”

In a daze, you picked your phone back up. Chimlin was still there, waiting dilligently to be briefed on what just transpired. You puffed your cheeks, mentally preparing for what was to come.

______________________

Swear to God, Youngjae had not come out of that room for two days.

Two.

Fricking.

Days.

Maybe he had a fridge in there.

Maybe he only came to life after midnight like a vampire to avoid the whore squatting his dad’s house. 

Whatever his annoying friends told him had certainly made a lasting impression. You just hoped he wasn't the type to go cry to parents whenever something happened. You had no intention of going back to your tiny dorm all alone and sad for the summer just because you hurt his feelings by finding him bangable. Or worse, at your father's.

What was he even thinking?

You had not done anything wrong. Pushed a bad joke a little bit too far perhaps, nothing to get all worked up about. No reason to get shunned out of your mother's life again. 

Youngjae's reaction, or lack thereof, was way out of line.

It's not like you had actually done anything to him. He was such a prude. A prude that eye-fucked you all the time!

Church baby boys were the worst.

What an ass.

.

.

.

Three days?!

Three days of an overly empty house. The atmosphere had gotten so heavy, the air so tense you couldn't even think about anything else. There was nothing left to do. Just sit on the couch inside or by that dumb infinity pool, starring at the drawn curtains of your step-brother's bedroom. They weren't wobbling anymore.

Which was what you were actively doing this afternoon, ruminating your dark thoughts for hours. You didn't even notice you were getting dangerously warmer. When your timer went off, announcing it was sunscreen time again you nearly fell from your chair. 

Doing the legs was the easiest part, your favourite to be honest. They were one hell of an asset of yours. You were massaging the thick lotion on your right calf when something at the corner of your eye caught your attention. 

For a heartbeat or two, you thought you were hallucinating. 

Youngjae had finally reappeared. 

He was standing at the end of the pool, a knapsack thrown over his shoulders. His thumbs were hooked in the straps, hands dangling to his sides like dead weights. If he looked like a young boy at first glance, the heated look on his face was one of a man.

Frozen still, you gulped. True to form, he kept staring for a long moment before turning to the house and you thought he was about to go into hiding again – but oh no, fuck – he was actually pacing towards you. 

“I’m back.” Youngjae blurted out awkwardly, mouth twisted. 

Yours was opened in a mix of disbelief and shock. He was actually addressing you. “Back?” From where the corner store?

“Yes,” his eyes ghosted over your poor excuse of a bikini before anchoring themself back to safety in yours. Again, horny eyes. If you were warm earlier, now you were burning up. “I thought it'd be better if I stayed away at Bam's for a few days…”

Right? No one could actually stay between four walls so dilligently. It made sense. You were so dumb.

Apparently, your confusion was evident. “Didn’t you notice I was gone?” No, you had not. So your step-brother was so freaked out being around you that he actually moved out for a few days. Had you gotten that bad? Jesus. “Anyway, I’m back home with you now.” 

Youngjae took a step closer, kindly getting in your light so you'd stop squinting at him. He looked even hotter in the bright light of day, sweat pearled between your breasts. He frowned and bit his lower lip waiting for a reaction. The things you'd do to that perfectly proper mouth. 

Of course, what came out of yours at the moment was less than appropriate. He was right to be scared, you weren't safe at all.

“Wanna do me?”

Yes, you were that bad. Terrible indeed.

“Do I-I,” he gasped for air – oops, “w-what?”

“My back,” you clarified smiling like a prisoner that hadn't been fed a good meal in days, “sunscreen.” The poor man should've stayed far far away from you. 

You weren’t crazy or desperate, but you couldn't resist. You had been patient and unusually upright so far. You deserved a treat. You were hungry and you knew your step-brother wanted you too, he wouldn't have felt the need to hide away otherwise. Youngjae had an interesting duality, shamelessly thirsting over you one minute and getting flustered and embarrassed the next. He must have been deeply unsettled by your open invitation because before you could flip over, he had claimed possession of the bottle. 

Or maybe he just didn't need to be asked twice this time. He knew. He wanted to give in to temptation. Why would he even come back here otherwise? 

Laying down, you reached to undo the bikini strings, pressing your loosely covered chest against the rough towel on the chair. You waited.

“You must really hate tan lines,” Youngjae said in your back, sounding tormented, “it seems you're never properly wearing clothes.” He sat down in slow motion like an obedient little boy as you grinned. 

“Are you ever gonna put your hands on me?” You teased once more, it was like a string was tugging up your insides through that dirty mouth of yours. You wanted to keep pushing him, wanted to find out what it'd take to make him break. And just fuck you really. It was fighting the inevitable by now. 

Every guy you met wanted to have you.

Usually, you didn't have to beg.

“I'm trying not to,” he admitted the obvious. “I promised I would never touch you,” Youngjae grumbled and you jerked in surprise when lotion spurted on your lower back. “Promised my father I’d treat you well.”

It made sense, a good boy would never disobey and do his dirty step-sister. If your legend preceded you, his golden son’s reputation certainly did too. Honestly, this promise made the taunting easier and even more tempting. It made for a funnier challenge and the spark in Youngjae's eyes when he looked at you hinted you could break him if you really tried.

You were about to defy his ethics again when words went back down your throat, letting way to a sharp sigh. He had suddenly fully committed to applying your sunscreen, fingers exploring your skin. You asked to be touched and he had risen to the occasion, firmly rubbing the lotion on your naked back. 

Earlier you had every intention of teasing him further by enjoying this a little too much, but you weren’t sure it was entirely voluntary when the first moan escaped. If he wanted to keep it PG, he probably should’ve stopped right there, but it didn't seem to deter your step-brother. He kept going, massaging you along the way. His thumbs traced circles up your spine until one of his palms cupped your nape. 

Perhaps this is what an erotic massage was supposed to feel like, heaven. Every stroke was totally appropriate, very perfect boy-ish, but still, your toes were curling. After a few minutes, Youngjae's breathing was heavy, he was enjoying this impromptu contact just as much.

You both had made yourselves obvious these past weeks; him with the eye-fucking, you with the open-truths. Clearly, the forbidden nature of your desires would make for an even more intense experience. You couldn't even imagine how it'd feel to take it further now. 

“I've never had a step-brother before,” you mewled, mentally following the downwards path of his hands.

“I bet you love messing with me,” he replied, barely audible. 

His pianist’s fingers were now haltingly sliding up your ribcage. He wasn't rubbing in anything anymore, just caressing all he could reach. 

He was right, but you wanted more. That was the sexiest thing that happened to you in forever. Having a guy want you bad enough he had to hide away to resit, and now having his hands on you. You wanted him everywhere, all over. You didn’t care; step-brother promises or not.

Giving in to temptation, you turned around, resting on your elbow. Your untied bikini had not followed so you watched as his face fell in realization. Youngjae's mouth opened in awe, eyes glued to your bare perky breasts. At the moment, there was absolutely nothing going on in that male brain of his. He didn’t move; you helped.

As soon as you put one of his hands on your chest, he came back to life. 

“Jesusfuck,” he breathed out, completely winded.

Wow.

Church baby boys were the best.

Entertained, you reached for the sunscreen, pouring lotion on yourself again. “You aren't done.”

“I…” Youngjae swallowed back his protests, cupping your boobs with both hands. He couldn't even look up anymore, enthralled by your nakedness.

No matter what their intentions were, it seemed good guys were still guys after all. If you had known he was this easy to overwhelm, you would’ve walked around topless sooner.

“The neighbours will see us...”

He didn't seem to mind that much, seeing as his thumbs were stroking your pierced nipples relentlessly. If those middle-aged housewives you only caught glimpses off looked over the edge now, they’d have a pretty impressive show. 

“Let them,” sitting, you snaked a hand to his dramatic bulge. Your mouths got so close you felt his breath ghost over. Beaten by your expertise, his shorts’ button came undone first, his fly was even more compliant. 

The moment of truth.

Youngjae's whole body shook when you took his cock in your palm. There was no hesitation, no second-guessing. Fuck, he was so hard and flushed for you. He pinched your erected nipples in response and you felt a familiar vivid jolt of pleasure and pain down to your toes. Not a virgin, after all, no doubt he would handle you just fine. 

You pressed your mouth to his neck and sucked, right where his Adam's apple bobbed.

That's it, all for you. You were so going to eat up that good boy.

“Mmmm, I’ll tell daddy you’re treating me so fucking well...”

Of all the filthy things you had said so far, this was the one that got the strongest reaction. The wrong one. Youngjae jerked up to his feet, tugging at his shorts in panic. He swore a dozen of times, out of his mind as you stood there, frozen still.

“Sorry,” he offered at last, pitiful before running for his life to the house. 

Fuck.

No.

Surely you were feverish. 

Having a heatstroke.

You had imagined the whole thing.

You had not just being left out cold by a man.

This type of shit never happened to girls like you. 

It took a few minutes to gather back your thoughts and when you did, you decided this wasn't even close to completion.

Without wasting a second more you stormed inside the house, almost flying upstairs to that mythical off-limits bedroom of his. You didn't bother banging, he was in such a hurry he forgot to lock behind, so the door flew open. 

Like a scene straight up from a bad porno, Youngjae spun on his computer chair, a hand still wrapped around his fully erected dick. You couldn't believe your eyes.

“Are you jerking off?” He was already pulling up his shorts again to cover himself, caught red-handed, blushing as though you hadn't been doing it yourself a moment ago.

“I’m sorry, I don't think you–”

“Please don't stop on my behalf,” you waltzed in, confident, and sat on his well-made good boy's bed.

“W-What?” Youngjae blinked, even more, rattled by the sight. 

He didn't leave because he didn't want you, he clearly did. He probably only left because of his father and that dumb promise he mentioned.

“Is this how you've been dealing all along?” You laid back on the comforter, smirking and remembering all those afternoons by the pool you’d thought you’d seen his curtains fall. He certainly enjoyed spying so it gave you an idea. He could try to resist you all he wanted, you'd still made him cave. “You don't want to touch me, right?” Your step-brother nodded, spellbound. “Because you're the perfect son.”

He swallowed hard, “But you keep… Saying those things, sunbathing… And to my friends...”

“Yes, you’re right... So let's start over.” You sighed in fake contrition, “I'm sorry, I've made this so hard for you. I’ll be good too from now on.”

Youngjae scoffed in disbelief, “You are sitting topless on my bed.”

“Oh,” looking down at yourself, you cupped your breasts. “I thought you liked the looking.” His cock was standing up, glorious testimony to this mess. “Don't worry, I get it. I promise I won’t let you touch me...” Throwing your head back without breaking eye contact, you moaned and lightly twisted one of your pierced nipples. “But I’ll make you watch...” Out of his mind, Youngjae did just that as you caressed your own chest for him. Somehow his eyes on you now burned even better than his hands earlier. 

You were so turned on, so worked up by all the days of teasing and loneliness. Your hips started swaying on his bed, craving some fiction and release. 

“You're crazy,” his voice was laboured but he had yet to escape again. This time you wouldn't have followed.

“I-I'm so wet, Youngjae...” Giving in, your right hand fell to your sex, rubbing your last piece of clothing. He was captivated. 

“Fuck it,” he immediately breathed out in surrender, hand wrapping around his dick. That was it, you finally had him. He was all in, playing along with your new favourite family game.

No touching, just innovative teamwork.

You had to establish ground rules, but pushing them was what fun was all about.

“I want you so bad...” You mewled, slipping your middle finger inside your bikini bottom.

Stroking himself, Youngjae groaned, “So you’ve been saying baby, but now you have to show me.”

Oh shit. You were going to come so fast if the golden son had other surprises like that. In a hurry, you wormed out of your panties before he could change his mind once more. In front of his fully clothed self, you laid back, touching your damp slit while he observed intently. The whole experience was surreal, your mind was buzzing, overwhelmed by the wrongness of it all.

It felt so amazing though.

Touching yourself for your step-brother was the sexiest thing you’d ever experienced, and you were very accomplished. You would’ve done anything he'd asked of you, and Youngjae knew that but he abided by his dumb rules. Standing up he came closer, boxer messily shoved down from his earlier haste, one hand was in his hair, the other working hard. You kept rubbing your clit repeatedly letting him see, hastening the pace until you were numb all over, panting. 

“Youngj-jae, I-I–”

Moaning, you broke faster than you had ever with someone, then again no one knew how to make you reach your own high better than yourself. Paroxysm made your thighs jerked as the pleasure waved through you, annihilating all sense of your surroundings.

When you came back, your step-brother was giving up too, bursting in thick spurts of hot cum all over your body and chest. His eyes were wide opened in black elation, intense, not missing a second of the show as he came on you. His whitish-gray seed painted your bareness in ribbons until he was completely emptied.

In silence, Youngjae dropped next to you on the bed, hands covering his face as you both caught your breaths. His now softening dick was still protruding out of his shorts and underwear for the world to see. It probably made for quite a view; your naked body covered in semen right by your respectable step-brother’s way more humble cock.

If your parents came home early, they would both have a stroke.

Youngjae sort of kept his word though... For today at least. 

Because now that you had him all over, you knew you were going to crave him under you.

And no man had ever resisted your charms before.

Step-brother or not.

[The Pleasure Chest: A Cringe Fest]

GOT7 | M.list

[tonystarkstan]

Peter doesn’t know how long he’s been staring at the wall. Distantly, he wonders what he must look like, knees curled into his chest and arms wrapped tightly around them in a hug, as if it’s any kind of replacement for someone else’s arms.

(It’s not.)

Things have been hectic lately. May has been forced into working longer hours at the hospital, so Peter’s staying at the cabin with Tony for two weeks. But not two days later, Morgan came down with the flu, which means they’ve spent most of their days trying to both comfort and entertain a sick child.

Despite how much he loves being with Tony and Morgan, Peter hates being away from May for too long, the previous years’ war leaving its scar on him in the form of PTSD and gut-wrenching anxiety that he’s going to turn around, and everyone he loves will be gone.

He vaguely remembers taking out his phone to text his group chat with MJ and Ned, but then they’d snapped him a picture of them laughing and baking cookies in Ned’s kitchen, and loneliness crawled through the spaces between his ribs and curled up in his lungs, and he closed the chat before he could press send.

Part of him knows that his loneliness is his fault. It’s self-imposed. But, he argues to himself, it’s for a good reason. May is under too much stress, and she doesn’t need to worry about how he’s doing when she already spends all day taking care of other people. God knows she needs time to breathe and take care of herself.

And he certainly doesn’t want to ruin Ned and MJ’s good time with his somber mood, so texting them is out of the question, he’s decided. Besides, MJ’s been dealing with enough shit from her parents recently that she deserves time to just let loose with her friend and have fun.

And Tony. Tony’s always there for Peter. He’s the one who helped Peter back to his feet, both on the battle field after Thanos and the one inside his head that followed it all. Morgan’s the one who needs Tony now.

The truth rises in his throat, blocky and bitter: people like him are exhausting. Draining and tiring. And eventually, it gets old. It gets boring. He’s used up all his Bad Brain cards and no one wants to deal with them anymore. No one should have to.

(But God, he’d like a hug. He would really, really like a hug and for someone to tell him that everything is going to be okay.)

He feels so heavy. He can’t imagine how heavy he must feel to everyone else.

So he curls up on his bed and stares at walls and gives himself hugs, because just because he’s stuck with himself, it doesn’t mean everyone else has to be.

Peter is so frozen, so paralyzed by the loneliness crawling up his spine that he doesn’t even hear his bedroom door open.

“Kid?” Tony whispers, and Peter squints at the light from the hallway that spills into his room. “Were you sleeping with your eyes open? Because Rhodey had a roommate in college who sometimes did that, and it was creepy as all hell.”

Peter just blinks at him, trying to pull himself up and out of the dark cave of thoughts he’d let flood his mind. He sees Tony frown and quietly close the door behind him before crossing the room and sitting on the edge of Peter’s bed.

“Peter. You good?” he asks seriously, and Peter takes a moment to remind himself that he’s an exhausting person and Tony is already exhausted before he answers.

“Yeah, I - I just can’t sleep,” Peter tells him, giving a half-truth. Tony hums, squinting through the darkness to study him for a moment.

“You know, I’ve really appreciated all your help with Morgan for the last week and half,” Tony says. “I’m not sure I’ve thanked you yet.”

“You don’t need to,” Peter protests immediately, and Tony smiles softly.

“Hush. You keep her entertained better than I can most of the time. It’s made her lot less miserable and therefore me a lot less miserable, especially with Pepper stuck in the city.”

Peter just nods. “Glad I could help then.”

For a moment, neither of them say anything. Peter thinks that maybe he’s about to leave, but then Tony says, “Alright, kid, spill. You haven’t been yourself these past few days. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”

Peter tries not to let surprise show on his face, but Tony reads it anyway and huffs.

“Oh, come on, give me a little more credit, bud.”

The teen offers him a small, sheepish smile. “Sorry.”

“Ah ha!” Tony says triumphantly, before quickly sobering. “So there is something wrong.”

Peter sighs, unfolding his legs and rolling onto his back to stare up at the ceiling and avoid Tony’s gaze.

“I just don’t feel good,” he says in a small voice, wincing at how childish it sounds spilling from his lips. Immediately, Tony shifts, sitting with his back against the headboard and Peter’s head resting next to him, hand soothingly stroking through his curls in a show of comfort.

“Can you elaborate?” Tony prompts gently, and Peter swallows thickly around the guilt stuck in his throat.

Why can’t I just be fucking okay? Why is it so fucking hard? The thoughts cause frustrated tears to spring to Peter’s eyes, and he clenches his fists into the sheets, angry at himself.

Alarmed, Tony quickly says, “Hey, hey. Pete, it’s okay. Just breathe for me. You’re okay.”

Peter blinks rapidly, willing the tears away, but they don’t go. And loneliness and sadness and every other disgusting thing sloshing through his veins and creeping in his bones rushes to his throat and tears through his teeth before he can stops it.

“I’m tired,” he bursts out, voice cracking on the word. “I’m fucking tired of feeling like this and I’m tired of being heavy and I’m tired of making other people carry it, and I’m so fucking tired of needing people to help make me better. I just want to wake up and say, ‘Alright, I’m better,’ and for that to be that. I’m tired of stressing everyone out, I’m tired of being this... this parasitic thing -”

He cuts himself off, jaw snapping shut as he realizes how much he just revealed. He turns away from Tony. Ironic, he thinks to himself. I’m rambling about how much I don’t want to worry him, and I’m only serving to worry him further. Nice one, Peter.

“Peter,” Tony breathes out, sad and horrified. “Kid, no.”

Peter feels a hand gently reach and out and turn him, and he reluctantly follows, still not looking his mentor in the eye.

“Look at me,” Tony says gently albeit firmly, and he waits patiently as Peter looks up at him. “Peter, did you notice that every time you referred to your mental illness, you were referring to how it affected other people? Not how it affected you.”

Peter pauses for a moment, not sure exactly where Tony is going with this.

“Kid, no one wants you to be better for the sake of us. We want to see you happy for your sake. And we know it’s a process. Hell, it took decades for me to get healthy, and I still find myself needing to go to Rhodey sometimes,” Tony admits. “And that’s okay. No is tired of you or whatever lies your Sick Brain’s trying to tell you. We worry about you because we love you. It’s not a chore.”

And oh.

“I... I just want to be better,” Peter says quietly, and Tony makes a noise of understanding.

“And I get that. God, I get that. But you can’t put pressure on yourself for it. You can’t give it a timeline. And you certainly can’t close yourself off to all the people who want to help you,” Tony tells him, nudging him affectionately, and nods, fidgeting with the sheets.

“I didn’t want to take your attention away from Morgan. And Ned and MJ were having fun and I couldn’t ruin that, and MJ’s already going through such a hard time anyway, and May -”

“Yeah, I’m gonna stop you there, kid,” Tony cuts in. “Here’s the thing: there is always time for the people we love. And, yeah, maybe it’s varies depending on the situation, but Morgan being sick does not mean I don’t have time to help my other sick kid. I know that’s how May feels about you and her job, too. And if your friends love you, then they’d much rather know you’re hurting and be there for you rather than suffer alone while they have fun.”

Peter sits on that a moment, letting the new information grow inside his chest. He’s not sure he entirely believes it, but he sure loves the thought of it. The thought that maybe there’s room for him, and that he doesn’t have to feel guilty for it.

Tony watches Peter’s face as the thoughts take root and makes a pleased face when he sees that the kid’s actually considering his words. He knows this is probably years of self-doubt and insecurity built up, all coming to a peak at the frustration of not recovering fast enough and the loneliness that comes with it, but it’s a start.

“C’mere,” Tony says, gently tugging Peter to him. “You need a hug.”

Peter feels tears welling up in his eyes again, but this time it’s more from relief as he shuffled into Tony’s side, leaning into his touch. Tony squeezes him tightly, and Peter smiles.

It’s much better than his own arms.

(It’s easy to think we’re alone. To think that we have to be. But we are not. And we don’t. Community is the most powerful weapon we have against the dark.)

[flowesona]

The Tower - Yandere! Seokjin x reader

The Tarot Series

“Well, this interval was a 4th but you said it was augmented when it was perfect…” (Y/N) was so tempted to close her eyes as her student tutor rattled on about how she’d done on their latest practice paper. Kim Seokjin was an entertaining person, sure, but not when he was talking about transposition and other boring exam questions that she’d rather die than take seriously.

“Are you even listening?” She snapped to attention as he scolded her. “I’m giving up my time to prevent you from failing, the least you can do is try!”

“Sorry, Jin.” She glanced at the clock, seeing the hand having just crept past the hour. “I have to go. I’ll see you next week?” 

“See you then.” Jin called after her as she hurried out the door, before letting out a sigh of frustration. Why did she not appreciate his time, his presence the same way he treasured her attention?

When she’d first enlisted the help of a tutor, he’d nearly tripped over himself rushing to fill the role before some other player could take what he’d longed for. But as soon as she started improving with his help, he realised his days with her were numbered, and he couldn’t let that happen. Slowly but surely, he started feeding her the wrong answers, triumphing as her test grades plummeted. However, the fall of her grades also affected (Y/N)’s pride, to the point she was near giving up. 

It was difficult to balance it, but Jin was doing his very best. He just needed the time and diligence to make her fall for him, so she would appreciate him when he finally lifted her out of the gutter. 

Jin just wanted her sole attention. But that prize was being fought after, hard.

*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*

As (Y/N) wove her way through the hordes of students to get to the library, she found herself colliding into someone’s back in her absence of concentration.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry…” (Y/N) started to say as he turned to face her. Namjoon only offered her a kind smile.

“(Y/N)! Were you going to study too?” Namjoon's warmth relaxed her as she nodded. He was a friend of Jin’s, she could trust him. Besides, they shared a class or two, and knew each other somewhat well enough to keep each other company. Company she very well needed, with exams approaching and Jin not always available to help.

“For the theory paper, yeah.” (Y/N) replied.

“Hey, me too! We can compare answers! You’ve got the 2017 paper right?” She nodded, as Namjoon eagerly grabbed her hand and dragged her to find a table near the back of the library, so they could speak in hushed whispers without being sternly reprimanded by the librarian.

“No, no. That’s tenor clef, not alto clef. Jeez, no wonder you’re failing when the key’s completely wrong!” Namjoon scolded lightheartedly. (Y/N) tried to nod and move on, to not let it affect her, but she was certain that she’d been right. She’d gone over it with Jin last week, and he’d told her she was right. So why wasn’t she?

“Jin’s tutoring you, right?” Her head jerked up, spooked at how he basically read her mind.

“Yeah.” 

“Well, either you’re a lost cause or he’s a hopeless teacher. All these mistakes are so amatuer, how could you not pick up on them?” Namjoon sighed. “Maybe I can help instead? Let’s go over this paper again and look at all the parts you got wrong.”

For once, (Y/N) felt more enlightened by her tutor. She wasn’t being told that all she was doing was wrong, just given gentle suggestions on how to improve. Namjoon's words stuck in her brain, rather than going in one ear and out the other like Jin’s lectures did. And when all was said and done, she felt way more confident about the exam than ever before.

“Say, Namjoon are you free tomorrow?” (Y/N) piped up once the clock hit half two, indicating they had to go to their next lesson.

“Of course. I’ll see you then?”

*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*

‘I don’t think your style of teaching suits me. Thank you for all your help, but I have found another tutor that can help me. Best wishes x’

Jin’s blood boiled when he got out of class to find that text message awaiting him. The temptation to throw his phone against the wall was immense, but before he could control himself his feet were carrying him towards the room that (Y/N) was in, seeing her enter the classroom with Namjoon by her side, chatting up a storm. Jin wasn’t stupid, he knew what had happened. His own friend had stabbed him in the back and stolen the girl Jin had been working so hard to have. Now, Namjoon had earned himself every fibre of malice in his former friend’s body.

Jin just watched at first. Finding a seat nearby them and pretending to be fascinated with a magazine as to not be recognised as he observed their interactions. He seethed in silence as he saw them together everyday, their chairs getting closer together, the ‘accidental’ hand brushing growing more frequent. He was ready to snap at any moment, to get on his knees and beg for (Y/N) to talk to him or to cut out Namjoon’s throat for his perversion on the girl Jin had staked his claim on a long time ago.

The nail in the coffin came in the form of a post on (Y/N)’s instagram. The second the notification popped up on his phone, Jin immediately swiped open the notification, shielding his phone under the table, not only to prevent the teacher from catching him not paying attention but to prevent his other classmates from getting a glimpse of (Y/N)’s beautiful face. Naturally, in this new picture (Y/N) was ethereal as ever, but the picture was tainted by another man’s presence. Her cheek was stifled against his chest, his arms were grabbing at her waist, it was just disgusting. But what hurt Jin the most was the caption.

‘My everything <3’

Jin was supposed to be your everything, why else would he have spent so much time meticulously “marking” her exams, stretching out their minutes together so that she could develop feelings? All that had led to her love had been snatched away. He stood up, letting his chair fall back and stormed out of the classroom, oblivious to the calls from his teacher.

He would rid (Y/N) of her parasite, make sure that her smile was solely for him.

‘Namjoon, can we talk?’

*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*

“Jin-hyung? Are you home?” Namjoon had taken the bait perfectly. The elder had to resist the urge to smirk, the eye-drop generated tears streaming down his cheeks. 

“What’s wrong?” Immediately his friend was at his side. “Did something happen?”

“I feel so betrayed!” Jin sobbed, rubbing at his red and raw eyes. “The girl I love is… is in love with someone else.”  

His friend rubbed his back to soothe him. Jin knew his friend was too gentle to suspect anything. His enemy was comforting him, and was right where Jin wanted him to be.

“Who is she? Do I know her?” Namjoon queried. “Maybe I can talk with her, tell her what a great guy you are and how she’s missing out on so much.”

“I-it’s (L/N) (Y/N). Do you know her?” Namjoon froze.

“Jin-hyung…” He was shocked into silence as Jin peered at him through slit eyes.

“I love her. How could you?” Jin’s voice was raspy but cold.

“I’m sorry, I never wanted to hurt you-”

“I love her! Can you even say the same?!” Jin shouted, standing up.

“Calm down. You’re not the only person in this world, just because you have feelings doesn’t negate how I feel about her. And she likes me back.” His friend responded coolly, all sympathy for Jin’s crocodile tears fading.

“If you cared about me, about her, you would break up with her. Do what’s right for us.” Jin snapped back, his face growing red with rage.

“I’m not going to do that. Calm down, let’s talk about this properly.” But Jin was not going to calm down. He was seething with anger, his hands trembling with wrath.

If Namjoon was determined to obstruct Jin’s way of life with (Y/N), he would have to be erased entirely.

His fingers found themselves grasping the small ornate lamp behind him, smashing it across his former friend’s forehead. The glass shattered, splintering across his face, but this suffering wasn’t enough. Jin wanted him to pay for changing (Y/N), for obstructing his love story.

He climbed onto top of the younger man and started throwing punches wherever he could: Namjoon’s stomach, his face, his ribs. His knuckles turned red and started bleeding as Namjoon’s skin became red and swollen from the damage. 

Jin didn’t even realise when Namjoon’s breathing had ceased and his eyes had glazed over. He just kept beating him, letting all of his frustration out on the former friend turned punching bag. Finally, he got off his victim, catching his own breath back as he looked at what he had done. This hadn’t been his plan at all. Now he had a body on his hands and no (Y/N) yet. 

At least he could deal with one of those easier. 

He started to drag the battered corpse away from his living room, deciding to shove it under his bed. His roommates wouldn’t invade his privacy, and he could dispose of it later, when it would start to smell. After putting the body out of sight and out of mind, he dug Namjoon’s phone out of his pocket. 

There was such a sweet release in finally calling (Y/N), after so long without a conversation with her. She picked up after the second tone. 

“(Y/N)? Can we talk?”

[merakiui]

There's an AFTERL!FE blog now! I'm so happy. All of your posts are so good and I love how you write. Would it be possible to get another story about Theo and Nine's rivalry? The way you write them is just so fun and enjoyable to read.

(Thank you so much! I’m very happy that you like my posts. (❁´▽`❁)*✲ﾟ* You may definitely have another story of their rivalry! I had a blast writing it. This can be considered a sequel to Cake, but it can be read as a standalone as well.)

Nerium Oleander (Theo and Nine)

Stalkers are poison ivy. Their victims are innocent trees, who breathe life and fortune into the one who watches them like a hawk. Twining around their limbs like rope and heavy iron and keeping them pinned for all their worth—it’s a display of parasitic infatuation. Love, like any other emotion felt in full, is awfully draining. Day and night, allowing that person to consume your thoughts. Thinking and wondering if they appreciate you just as much as you value them. Wishing that they would notice everything you’ve done for them on the sidelines. Loathing anyone who threatens that nonexistent relationship.

As fate would have it, there are unlucky instances in which love is one-sided.

Theo simply can’t bear the thought of that, so he becomes oleander—a flower blooming in beautiful death. One hint of its aroma can send you to an early grave. Every inch of the inviting flower is bathed in poison, and yet it’s still so gorgeous. Why is it that the ugliest personalities have the prettiest shells? It’s frustrating to know that he has competition. In a setting with nineteen other Reapers, Theo’s got a lot on his plate. Like ivy and oleander, it’s the exterior that fools. A sharp, monstrous idea can be wonderful as long as it’s hidden within layers of honeyed promises. Like a cake that’s stacked with plenty of delicious flavors.

He doesn’t want to waste his time on endeavors that won’t bear any fruit, but befriending every Reaper will have its benefits. He’s already made a list of those who pose the highest threat to his precious manager. Nine is at the very top, his name circled in black pen. As much as he dislikes the polite and oh-so-gracious Reaper, he has to pretend as if the two of them are friendly coworkers. As if he doesn’t wish for Nine to transfer to another Department or to cease existing. But immortality is funny like that. You’re either stuck with the best people in the world or the fiends of your worst nightmares. Theo wonders if this is his punishment. Spending an eternity with Nine is far more hellish than Quincy and his status as a devil.

Which is why he holds so much hatred for those who hurt his manager, specifically the ones who simply don’t know when to quit.

The blue-eyed oleander witnesses it in the early hours of the morning during a particularly unfavorable mission. A vengeful spirit had the gall to hurt his manager, and they had even more of a spine to talk to them as if they were a worthless weed. In his garden of noxious plants, Theo sees the disgusting hemlock attempting to snuff out the beauty that is his beloved rose. His expression switches in an instant, a light flickering behind those expansive eyes. There are so many emotions he feels in that moment, but fear is dominant as it grabs his heart and squeezes. The spirit could kill them. It’s about to kill them, and he’s flipping through his spell book with rapturous intent.

And then Nine is at their side, shielding them from the spirit’s attack. Before him, the specter vents in anger, spewing meaningless insults. Theo feels as though he’s just been kicked in the stomach. Why is it so hard to get to you? he thinks, gripping the leather book. His chest aches as he sees the manager cling to Nine. Why can’t I be the one who saves you for once? Why can’t you just rely on me? Nine is better equipped to deal with the situation as he listens, attempting to reason with the vengeful spirit. Its crocodile tears don’t faze Theo in the slightest. He should be the one crying because he was too late. One spell and his manager would’ve been rescued from the claws of such a beastly spirit. And yet Nine was faster with his reaction time.

Theo makes a mental note of the way Nine purifies the vengeful spirit once it’s calmed down. He’s always gentle when he talks to them, using his relaxing aura to coax them into tranquility. Theo would’ve preferred to crush it beneath his unmerciful heel, but the problem has been solved. There’s no use fretting over it now. Though it will definitely keep him awake tonight.

“Manager!” He jogs over to them, dropping down to inspect their wounds. “Take this to stop the bleeding. I’ll help you.” Unfastening his cape, he passes it to the manager, who holds it against the bloody laceration while he searches for a proper healing spell.

“Thank you, Theo,” (Name) says, wincing at the stinging sensation. “That spirit really put up a fight. Thanks for coming to my aid, Nine.”

“No need to thank me, Manager. I’m relieved you’ll be okay. Mr. Theo will have you healed in no time.”

Theo grits his teeth before facing Nine. He wants this unworthy hemlock out of his special garden. “Could you gather the others? Let them know that we’re finished over here.”

“Very well. Are you sure you don’t need my help?”

“No.” It comes out way too stern, and Theo’s quick to correct himself. “No thank you. We’ll be fine.”

He doesn’t spare Nine another glance as he departs, focusing on the manager’s pained expression with sympathy. They’re in his arms now, grasping at him for salvation. The situation couldn’t be anymore perfect.

“That was crazy, wasn’t it?” they ask, making light of the previous events. “My heart is still racing!”

“I...was so worried, Manager.”

They let out a wheezing chuckle. “Thank goodness Nine was there. If it weren’t for him, I could’ve gotten killed. It’s scary to think about.”

“Yeah. Terrifying,” he echoes while casting the healing spell on them. Surely there’s a curse that brings misfortune. Theo wants to do everything he can to master every negative incantation there is. Just for future reference. There are so many possibilities when it comes to his rivals. He’ll have a field day debating which is the most effective. “You’ve got to be more careful. If you ever find yourself in trouble, just come to me. I’ll always be here to help you.”

They smile, sitting up on their own accord and feeling for any wounds that might’ve escaped the cleansing powers of Theo’s magic. Every cut is sealed and every bruise is gone, leaving the manager with a feeling of rejuvenation. At once, they recognize the plush fabric of Theo’s cape and gasp, noticing just how much blood has stained the white cloth.

“I’m sorry for making such a mess. I’ll wash this as soon as we get back.”

Theo eyes the color with disdain. How utterly cliché. It’s almost sickening. Red on white is too bold—too deep of an implication. Red is a color that means many things, two of that being passion and love. A third is the color of blood. And white is meant to symbolize purity. Theo knows he’ll have to work hard so that the manager’s purity doesn’t bleed out onto the sterile white of this corrupt world. There’s no way he’ll ever let that happen. When he stares at his cape, drenched in splotchy crimson, he sees more than just a soiled piece of fabric. He sees the darkest imprint of (Name). But blood is still messy, even if it is his beloved’s.  

Theo wonders which cleaning agent is best for erasing blood. His thoughts spiral deeper and deeper into a rabbit hole of wickedness. Mortality is fragile, and cake and blood are no different. Both are victims of inescapable chance. On the other hand, immortality is a curse that binds him to the one he’d rather be far away from. Speak of the hemlock, who has completed the command with diligence. Nine approaches with the others in tow, all of whom crowd the manager like insects. Theo wishes to spend a moment longer with them. Just a few more minutes. There’s so much I want to tell you. He’s bound to this silver-lined rivalry, a prisoner of obsession. And Nine has no idea.

He supposes that’s how poison works. It doesn’t take long until it spreads within its victim, who is unaware as it shuts down vital organs and flatlines their functions. If Theo has to cut the strings that tie him to Nine and anyone else who dares get in the way of him and the manager, he’ll do whatever it takes. Like poison, it’s small and deadly. Poison might not kill an immortal Soul Reaper, but that has nothing to do with their mentality. Cake might be the same when it comes to ingredients and presentation, but it’s the baker who’s most important. A cracked baker is easy to exploit. He’s even easier to tear apart when he’s alone and basking in his own corrosive thoughts.

The oleander festers at the manager’s side, a quiet flower waiting for an opportunity to infect everyone with debilitating poison.

------

Nine has begun to notice a pattern. It’s tiny at first—like a minor inconsistency that isn’t worth the trouble. But then it becomes a prominent itch that looms in the back of his mind like a shadow. Since that mission, Theo’s been hanging around the manager as if he expects another near-death experience to happen, which shouldn’t be much of a worry. Although (Name)’s mortality is concerning, Nine knows the Reapers in the 14th Department would never let any fatal harm befall their precious manager. So why is there a strange feeling that overwhelms him whenever he spots Theo trailing after them, holding files or a bento he made specifically for them? Anyone with half of a brain would assume he’s playing favorites, attempting to get on the manager’s good side so that the punishment for skipping out on work is lighter. Though Theo doesn’t seem like the type to slack off, which is why Nine is sinking in a state of perplexion.

What is he trying to achieve? Realistically, what is there to gain other than (Name)’s approval? They like each and every one of the Reapers, so it’s not like anyone’s on their bad side. He has an eternity to figure it out, though Nine can’t exactly be bothered. If it isn’t hurting anyone, why should he fret over Theo’s behavior? It’s not as though he’s acting out of line. Rather, he’s been quite pleasant. He even offered to assist Nine in moving a few boxes. Nine doesn’t want to hold any suspicions about his colleague, nor does he want paranoia gnawing on his ankles like a puppy.

Without realizing it, he’s been aimlessly walking through the campus as he pieces together fragmented thoughts. His eyes land on the manager, who is alone as they stride towards him. For once, Theo isn’t at their beck and call. Nine thinks of Day and his unwavering loyalty. Perhaps Theo is just as enthused about (Name) as Day is with him. Nine shrugs those comparisons away, opting to focus on his manager.

“Hi, Nine! What’re you doing out here?”

“Taking a small stroll,” he answers. “The weather is perfect for this, and it’s always beneficial to get some exercise.”

“I agree. To be honest, I wanted to clear my head for a bit. I’ve got so much work that it’s beginning to stress me out.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, Manager. Would you like any help?”

“I don’t want to bother you.” They wave their hand through the air as if the distress isn’t clear enough. It’s obvious they’ve been pulling all-nighters just to get through paperwork and other tasks. “Would you mind if we walked together?”

Nine considers their offer for a moment. While he would prefer a few more moments to himself, he can’t deny someone as caring as (Name). It’s almost a crime to turn them down, and he has no idea where all of this fondness is suddenly coming from. Regardless, there’s a sneaking sensation that touches his sixth sense. Since when did the flowers have eyes? The wind rustles through the greenery, creating an eerie sound that settles in the courtyard. He’s compelled to retrace his steps and turn down the corridor, but your patient expression chases that idea away.

“I don’t mind.” He falls into step with you, calmly observing the deliberate clicking of your shoes. “Take care not to overwork yourself. The 14th Department depends on your leadership.”

At least a few Reapers are more than dependent, he thinks.

“I’ll be fine as long as I can finish everything on time. You don’t have to worry about me.”

“Make sure you’re getting enough rest and eating your meals—“

“I know,” they say, drawing out the syllables. “I appreciate your concern, Nine. It means a lot.”

He nods, a simple gesture that confirms his gratitude. His manager is always thanking and praising the others. Briefly, he wonders if they’ve ever taken time to care for their own well-being rather than the well-beings of the Soul Reapers.

“When all of this is over, I’d love to spend more time with you,” (Name) goes on, a bounce in their step. Nine doesn’t miss the excitement that flashes through their features at the prospect of getting to bond with him. He’d rather be alone, but Nine has found it to be a challenge whenever they’re involved. “Do you think you could teach me to play an instrument? I’ve been meaning to pick something up, but I never seem to have time.”

Well, Nine happens to be skilled with his hands. And hands are required to play most—if not all—instruments. Perhaps you’d like to learn the violin, or maybe you’re interested in the drums. He’ll have to learn as he goes with those, but it’s worth it if it means (Name) will be happy. How odd. Where did all of this compassion come from? Nine knows what instrument they’ll say, as the two of them have sat in the storage room and played it on plenty of occasions. The atmosphere doesn’t change, but the flowers certainly do. As if wanting to blot out a horrid memory, the eyes close and a mouth creases into a tight line. Nothing short of disappointment.

“I was thinking I could be good at the piano if I tried hard enough. What do you think? We can play together, and we can even form a band.”

A band consisting of two people is hardly a band. Handcuffs can only restrict one person. A pair of unseeing eyes are useless, and Nine knows his words must be chosen carefully lest his tongue sit on a rusted tray.

He puts on a thin smile. “Learning an instrument can be just as stressful as work. I wouldn’t want to jeopardize your health.”

“I’ll be fine, but you do make a good point. It might be overwhelming if I try to balance that and missions. One of these days I’ll try to learn.”

Just not now.

And he couldn’t be any more relieved.

------

Nine finds himself in the common room later that evening, reflecting over the events of the day when he encounters the blooming oleander. He’s preoccupied with the book in his hands, which is a collection of stories written by the famous Edgar Allan Poe. He never intended to pick up something so macabre. It happened to be the first thing he grabbed while perusing the shelves. Perhaps he should’ve looked for a poetry book instead. Before he can get up and complete that task, Theo enters his visage, the corners of his lips upturned. It fails to reach his eyes.

“Good evening, Nine. I didn’t expect to find you here. This is a wonderful surprise nonetheless.” He says a greeting that’s reminiscent of Nine’s, which has been tailored ingeniously. Recycled words are only worthwhile if they’re put to positive use, and Theo bleeds venom. He has no reason to speak to Nine. In fact, he’d rather avoid him at all costs, but that won’t work if he intends to poison his fragile mind with every bit of sly kindness he can muster. Theo has learned to be resourceful. A talented baker knows how to improvise, after all. “Oh, I recognize that cover. It’s an anthology of Edgar Allan Poe’s short stories. Which one are you reading?”

Nine glances at the page, picking out notable phrases. He’s at the part where the old man is smothered by his own bedsheets. “‘The Tell-Tale Heart.’”

“That’s grim, isn’t it? Well, all of his stories are, but that one in particular is really morbid.” Theo sits beside him on the sofa, keeping a gap between him and the weed that is Nine. “Wouldn’t it be scary if you woke up to someone trying to kill you? I know I’d be alarmed. But we’ve already experienced death, so maybe it’s not frightening anymore.”

He tries to understand the motive behind Theo’s incessant chatter. The two of them have never really clicked. Small talk isn’t something they can fall into so easily. Nine wants to ask Theo many things, but it’s wrong to suspect someone without any evidence. So he merely nods as he listens to Theo, hoping he’ll take the hint and leave. It’s not as if Nine doesn’t want to talk; he’s just not accustomed to this facet of the Day Reaper. Lo and behold, the question slips out before he can stop himself.

“What would you do?”

“Excuse me?”

“If you were one of the investigators, what would be your reaction to the man?”

“Oh,” Theo states, pursing his lips as if the inquiry requires deep thought. “We know that the narrator is unreliable. He only wants to kill the old man because of his eyes. He gets paranoid when he hears the man’s heartbeat coming from the floorboards, even after he dismembered his body. I’m sure anyone, investigator or not, would think he’s insane.”

“Do you think that?”

Theo bristles at the question, a sour taste coating his tongue. Why is he suddenly being interrogated by Nine? This isn’t an interview, and it certainly isn’t a questionnaire for a criminal. He laughs to cover up the crack in his mask. “Of course I do. No one of sound mind would murder someone defenseless all because of the way their eyes looked. Just saying it out loud like this is madness.”

Nine nods again. Insanity cannot exist without sanity. A heart cannot function without a beat. A parasite cannot live without a host. He’s not sure where this conversation is going. This is far from a cheery book club meeting. Nine searches every inch of his expression, noting the occasional twitch of his mouth and the constriction of his pupils. Yet he can’t detect an ounce of a practiced lie. Could it be that his instincts are misplaced? Is this what Theo has wanted all along: A moment to talk to Nine as friends rather than coworkers? Perhaps he has been incorrect in his judgement.

The book shuts; Nine doesn’t want to read anymore. There’s an unfinished composition waiting for him in his dorm room. Standing up from the couch, he lowers his head in the form of a farewell. He sets the novel on the coffee table so that Theo can indulge in the fictional world of Poe.

“I’m afraid something has come up, so I’ll be leaving now. Please enjoy the remainder of your evening, Mr. Theo.”

“I will.” Theo beams. “Sleep well.”

Nine doesn’t waste a second turning his back on Theo, exiting the common room with graceful movements. As soon as he’s out of sight, the happy grin melts away and is replaced with that of a dark scowl. He’s not a mindless fool. It was obvious that Nine was uncomfortable. He’s just too polite to say anything, and that’s a weakness Theo’s willing to dissect.

So you were reading Poe, hm? he muses to himself, picking up the book and turning it over in his hands. I took you for a poetry guy. How chilling, Nine. Manager wouldn’t like these grotesque tales.

Who is he to determine what they like and dislike? Theo’s watched (Name) for quite some time now, committing their quirky habits to memory. It’s almost comical how they never seem to notice. Nine does, but he’s always been keen, and yet he can never understand the meaning behind his constant staring. That’ll happen when you spend your days alone, keeping yourself entertained with the voice inside your head. Theo wonders if Nine gets lonely with that depressing lifestyle. The two of them are like night and day. Theo’s bright and blinding like the sun. Nine is quiet and calm like the moon. But there isn’t any oxygen on the moon, and the sun can steal a person’s eyesight without feeling any remorse. Two Reapers of complete opposites, rising and setting all the same. A weed and a flower masquerading in a game of cat and mouse.

Oleander grows to towering heights. A stalker’s presence looms as tall as the very flower Theo embodies. He doesn’t care if he’s a leech or a misleading flower. Anything’s better than hemlock and the imposter cake Nine’s baking. Theo’s the baker and the pianist, not Nine. It will never be Nine. He’ll make sure of that. At his very core, Nine is a jawbreaker of many emotions and memories. Theo will fracture every layer until nothing’s left. Until the ground is a mess of colors and stories that unfold before the entire 14th Department. He’ll dig into Nine’s mind with a knife and fork to pull apart stringy recollections of his past life. It’s guaranteed to be a dessert far tastier than a slice of cake.

Poison ivy is easy to identify. As the saying goes, ‘leaves of three, let it be.’ Theo isn’t as obvious as a sickening rash. That’s the difference between ivy and oleander. One kills and the other spreads with red irritation. While he could sit and wallow in bitter annoyance, he’d rather get to memorizing every hateful hex in his spell book. Maybe he can trick Ell into making him a felt doll of Nine. Oh, the thrill of voodoo. Theo’s never performed such dark magic before, but it wouldn’t hurt to try. He’d like to see Nine lose his mind for a change, because eternity knows Theo’s lost his.

The manager deserves only the prettiest of flowers, and oleander has such a gripping, virulent embrace.