#they mean everything to me *distant incoherent screaming

[lookitseddie]

do you ever just think about 'you're the reason i had her, okay? i thought that if i did a decent job raising her, then there was chance she'd turn out like you.' and collapse to the ground in emotion. i sure do

[fishfingersandscarves]

Because at this point I figured out I'll never get it done... Let me hand you the bits I started writing for the idea of:

What was captured was only the most human aspect of Dream of the Endless, because there is no way simple magic circle could fit the whole of what dream is. It changed dreams and way humans experience it, drove many of them mad, but it did not truly hold Dream. (Closer to lobotomy)

Hob was sure this dream was supposed to be a nightmare about Robyn's death. He could feel it on an instinctual level, even if it was also all wrong. The tavern was there, the same old building with worn wooden beams and formerly white walls darkened by years building has stood there. There were lights inside and noise, a vague suggestion of people inside, drinking and arguing.

But the unreality intensified in waves as he approached the building enough to see inside. Rather than people gathered inside to drink and play like he is certain there should be there were just vague blobs of shapes instead of people, pretending to sit around and a large one standing in the middle of space. The sound was still just distant incoherent noise that fails to form any words, getting louder but not any clearer. Only the smells of alcohol and sweat and general human unpleasantness are still the same. Then the shape of the middle blob shifts a bit and... oh, there is a splatter of blood, strangely stark and clear on the aged wood but with how unreal everything else looks it doesn't have the emotional impact it should. Hob knew what it represented, and it was hard not to, but he is also aware it was just a dream and not a realistic one. It wasn’t even a nightmare anymore.

Hob looked around, again wondering why there are no people in the dream that by all means should be full of them. Then he looked at his own hand, first just glancing down, then as there was something missing he lifted both his hands, trying to take a closer look, just to realize that he didn’t have hands at all.

Actually, his body felt like he isn't even human anymore. The edges of the dream frayed and dissolved while he was still there and watched it go.

And then he woke up. It was still somewhere in the middle of the night, but he could hear the neighbors' dog barking... since when they had a dog?

shapeless shadows clinging to the edges of the room seemingly deeper, with swaying movement for no discernable reason. Everything seems off, wrong in subtle ways, but enough to drive Hob to check his hands, just to see, to make sure he really has hands and it's not just another layer of that strange dream, but it was just a hand, normal. No need to think too hard about it. He drank some water and turned his pillow, determined to just go back to sleep. Hob rubbed the remains of sleep from his eyes, just as a desperate scream sounded out from the house on another side of the street.

Hob sat up on his bed with a groan, wondering what kind of insane night was it going to be. Clearly, something must be going on and he didn't want to have anything to do with it.

If anything important is happening he would hear about it in the morning, but probably it was nothing, he tried to convince himself. And yet, it felt like something behind him was watching him. But he knew it was just a wall there.

With the effect it had, Hob decided to put the dream he had just had firmly back into the nightmare category.

He grumbled to himself, burying himself into the warm sheets, determined to ignore the feeling and people who decided to be noisy in the middle of the night.

Barking continued.

(it is the neighbor, little bit carried up by dreams of being a dog)

Dream of the Endless swayed on his feet, corporeal form dissolving at the edges, flashes of clothes weaving in and out of existence as he followed the faint thread of power back home. He gave all he had in that one desperate effort and not much was left of his personification, just enough for the gravity of his greater self in the dreaming to pull rather than recreate.

And then his next approximation of step across the unreal space got pulled off course.

“Here in the darkness!” Whispers of voices were more suggestions than actual words at first.

“Here in the darkness!” Demanded attention, yanking another step.

“Here in the darkness!” Pulled Dream down, stumbling into corporality.

“Here in the Darkness!” His cloak was material, the air was cold and bones ached with the pain of wear.

The chants stopped and Dream couldn’t feel his self, just the faux blood rushing and thumping in his ears, the feeling of skin covering muscles, internal organs materializing and shifting inside. Disgustingly fleshy and painfully limited, human senses ringing and clawing at his self demanding attention in absence of eternal song of the minds. Wrong. Something so small and contained simply couldn’t be Dream of the Endless. And yet Dream was there, personified. It ached like a fresh wound, being cut away from himself. It was making him sick. It hurt.

He couldn’t get the incorporated vessel to move. There were muscles and he never before had needed to figure out how those functioned. There was skin and it was tight and uncomfortable. It felt like he was tied down in it. Flesh resisted.

The figures were gathered around, empty mindless dolls walking around. They were just lifeless existences, shifting as they moved away. The cloaks obscured features, but the faces didn’t matter either way. They were just dull things without dreams, without souls that Dream could sense.

Not worth any attention, even as one shaped as a child was pushed forward.

The thing took his dreamstone of anchoring and pulled the bag filled with grains of creation out of his fingers that refused to cooperate. The corporeality should be less stable without it, and yet the bones stayed aching underneath the mess of biological parts he rarely would bother to pay any mind to.

Even those things didn’t help lifeless things to fix their lacking souls, but it hurt even more for Dream to be separated with even those bits of self, like the things had some malicious intelligence guiding them to tear away even more bits of what Dream was.

He tried to abandon the corporation, to drift into the diffused self.

The void welcomed him instead.

Hob glanced over the pub casually and then froze. There was a *thing* standing in the doorway, something vaguely resembling human, but like the bad rendition put together from pieces that were decidedly not.

Someone else noticed the thing as the whimpering inhale suggested and after that first reaction everyone else did as well, the voices fell silent, and heads turned, everyone seemingly too frozen in fear to react. Bunch of bloody animals in face of predator no one could escape from. Not when thing stood blocking the exit.

And then it moved, taking what probably was supposed to be a step, but flesh flowed and oozed and flowed in air all at once in a sickening manner, for a moment splitting things "leg" into two. The movement of the body parts was disjointed and it slid forward out of sync with it. It was moving toward hob, black holes in its head glowing with distant supernovas.

Then it shifted and yet it felt like it didn't change at all, marble sculpture of perfectly white skin, raven feathers formed into a shock of black hair sticking from the head, and Hob felt his stomach sink with realization.

It was trying to look like his Stranger. Failing badly at this but as it came closer he could feel that there was something familiar in its aura.

Someone screamed in the background, the piercing noise of panic, that seemingly broke people out of their terrified stupor, to make them run.

But the thing... flared, for the lack of a better term. And people settled on their places, back to their discussions and drinks like they haven't seen anything. Like thing was not standing right there in front of the table with a humble professor on other side.

"HOB GADLING" thing rumbled in a voice that wasn't voice, cascading of sounds of nature somehow coalescing into meaningful words. And then it wasn't using even that anymore, just flashes of images and intent flowing into Hob's mind, popping right there but obviously separate. Greeting. Then shift to question about his time between meetings, but not giving nearly enough time for Hob to form the words as it moved on from a topic, right into question if he still wishes to live. Almost as if this thing was following some sort of programmed script.

Hob felt bitter thinking about how it must mean his stranger doesn't want to meet him again if he sent this thing... but then he remembered the date. It was years early. As he thought that the thing seemingly responded to his thought, responding with a sensation of time flowing weirdly, non-linear, and grand concept. Too much.

He found himself slumped on the table, alone. The pounding headache suggested he had far too much to drink. But he couldn't have just hallucinated the bizarre meeting. Whatever it really meant. Something must be wrong. Something about his Stranger, almost certainly.

And Dream sitting in the fishbowl, disconnected and unaware what the hell is going on. The impersonal Dreaming definitely would capture back quickly at least the sand, maybe grabbing ruby quickly as well. Because while it isn't a person at the moment, it is all animals and plants and planets and stars and all has instinct to try being whole. Probably without anything else actually changing on front of capture, since Hob lacks way to figure out stuff, and there are no hints to try looking for something captured. So Morpheus is mourning that he is forced to miss the meeting. And when one day he is free, one if the first things to do is to rush and apologize for not coming and Hob is all so confused because he kind of was there twice in last century? He didn't quite look well, but it felt like him?

And Morpheus makes decision to basically sit with hob and wait for rest of him to come and pick him up because he clearly can't find the way to even try going back.

ooooooooooooo i love this <3 the body horror of it all <3

[caramel-velvet]

Kol Mikaelson Love Language: Quality Time

I was going to do some sort of smut for one of these but thought I wanted physical touch to be intimate without being completely sexual so I turned quality time into a bit of an off screen occurrence and got a little bit of an implied smut with this on.

Warnings: Implied Smut, Fingering, 18+

“Thank you for this weekend.” You mumbled, your hands gliding against Kol’s back as you straddled his lower back. He simply mumbled out a few incoherent words as your thumbs rubbed circles under his shoulder. You looked at the reflection of his face in the window, his eyes closed and face serene. “I really appreciate you taking time away from everything going on to come spend time with me.”

“Anything for you, love.” He slowly blinked his eyes open “Especially if it means getting to end my trips like this.” He sat up on his elbows, still straddling him you couldn’t help but readjust yourself so you wouldn’t roll off. 

“Hopefully there won’t be a need for these trips after this one.” You pushed him to lay down, lightly kneading the middle of his back out to his waist, gaining a slight moan from him. “Like that?” You questioned absentmindedly. 

“I’m normally the one asking.” He peeked up at you from his peripheral. 

Rolling your eyes, you smacked his back lightly, “Roll over for me.” You pushed yourself up so your weight was supported by your knees. Following your instructions, Kol adjusted himself pulling you back down on him. His hands traveled from your hips to your thighs, his blunt nails running up and down your oiled skin.

“I think I like this position better.” His eyes met yours, glancing down to your lips, then down your chest where he paused slightly as he heard your heart stutter slightly. Kol sat up, his lips mere centimeters from yours. He kept eye contact with you as his lips faintly brushed against yours. You wanted him pressed against you, but keeping tradition with his cheeky nature he repeated the whisper of kisses once more. As if sensing your frustration, Kol hummed against your parted lips “Take it if you want it, sweetheart.” 

Having enough of him, or maybe just not getting enough, your hands shot up to the nape of his neck crashing your mouths together. No matter how many times you’d kissed him there was a buzz that flowed through you whenever you and Kol kissed. You debated teasing him the same way he had teased you as you nibbled on his lower lip, feeling a shot of electricity make its way down your spine as Kol’s hands covered your hips, you grinded against him. Your hands danced down his torso, feeling his muscles contract under the varying sensation of your fingertips and nails.

Glancing from his abdomen to his eyes Kol lowered himself to lay down on his back, knees to the ceiling and his feet planted firmly on the bed. His eyes followed you as you removed the thin camisole that separated your warm skin from touching his cold one. He sat back up to take your right nipple in between his lips, nibbling slightly and pulling away with a slight nibble to the raised area. His fingers grazed the soft thin material of your panties. “These too, love.” 

“I don’t think you’ve earned that yet.” Feeling a slight high from looking down at him, you continued to roll your hips against his bare member.

He smiled at you, his hands pulled you down to him, his lips enveloping yours. His tongue playing with yours slightly causing you to moan out. His left hand moved to hold your face to his as his right moved to tease your nipples and then to the offending material out of the way to access your most intimate area. “So wet for me.” He couldn’t help the growl that escaped, “look at me.” Your eyes shot open as you felt his thumb circle your clit, panting you couldn’t help the low call of his name as his thumb moved away from you, his middle and index finger moving slowly through your folds before circling at your entrance. 

“Please,” you breathed. Your body felt as if it was on fire as you waited for him to make a move. His left hand tilted your neck up allowing him easier access to your profile. He nibbled at your earlobe pulling the skin between his lips, chuckling when you shuddered at the chill you felt. He pulled away, pressing your forehead against his own just as his fingers entered you. Your jaw dropped not expecting him just yet knowing he could tease for hours if he pleased. He took in your facial expression as you clenched your teeth together to stop yourself from moaning out. He moved in slowly, pushing back in until he was knuckle deep, your eyes rolled back as you felt his fingers circle within you pushing at just the right place. You couldn’t take your eyes off Kol, confused as his nose rubbed against yours gently, looking so innocent as if he wasn’t about to get you off in the next minute. His left hand moved from your neck to join his other hand. His left thumb circling your clit.

Feeling like this was going to be your undoing, Kol moaned out as you clenched around his fingers, his thumbs speeding up as he tsked at you. “Hold it.” His tone was gentle as his fingers picked up pace. You couldn’t help but cry out, his name coming out as a plea. Begging him to allow you to go over the edge that felt so close. “You’re doing so well for me.” He pushed “I can feel you clenching sweetheart. I can’t wait to feel you around my dick.” Kol looked on as you struggled to keep your orgasm at bay. “Imagine how good it’ll feel when I fill you up.” Your hands shot up to grip at the sheets above his shoulder, your eyes clenching shut as you unsuccessfully tried not to scream out in frustration. Taking pity on you, Kol rubbed at your g-spot while his thumb carried on with it’s lazy circles “Let go for me.”

You didn’t need to be told twice, your back arched as you gripped at Kol’s body as a means to anchor yourself as you finally let go, you had given up trying to support yourself. You could hear him talking you through it making out words like “good girl” and “so good for me” but they sounded so distant. You could feel him pull his fingers out of you, however that didn’t stop as you contracted around nothing. Your skin felt like it was on fire as you came down, Kol studied your face, making sure you were still grounded for him. You weakly smiled at him as he slipped his two fingers in between his lips, moaning out as he tasted you. You weakly grasped at his wrist moving his hands from his mouth, you couldn’t stop yourself from pecking his lips. Your tongue met his, sucking on it causing Kol to slightly thrust up. You felt yourself still trembling slightly as you fought off a giddy haze trying to take over. 

Kissing love bites onto Kol’s chest you breathed out “Can I ride you?”

[inhuman-obey-me]

Deadly Envy

Word Count: 1.8k Description: Perhaps directing insults directly to the Avatar of Envy's face is a mistake -- or, Leviathan reminds some demons of their place. Part of the A Demon's Nature series. Finally got back to continuing this, so here's Leviathan! Apologies for the delay, hope this is okay;; Note: Vepar is a demon associated with the sea and is one of the 72 demons that Solomon has a pact with, mentioned in the Ars Goetia. They were often depicted as a merman. Lassal is a minor demon named in the Liber de Angelis and is associated with the moon. Can also be found on AO3 here. content warning: blood, brute force violence, mild gore, use of hallucinogens

The Avatar of Envy was not one to find comfort in being alone with his thoughts, but there were times where he would wander to a certain cove by the oceanside, a place just for him where he found a sense of peace, a sense of belonging. The taste of salt in the air, the gentle spray of ocean mist, the sound of the waves crashing into the surrounding rocks -- yes, this was another home for him, one he dearly missed.

Leviathan closed his eyes, basking in the light of the Devildom moon as he debated going into the water tonight. It would be nice to go for a swim, but he was also itching to get back home and watch the latest episode of the anime he had recently gotten into.

“Well, well, who do we have here?”

Leviathan’s eyes snapped open, his body tense as he recognized the voice of the demon who unceremoniously interrupted him.

“Vepar,” the name left the sea serpent’s lips in a near hiss. “What are you doing here?”

“Why, enjoying the view this fine evening. I assume you’re doing the same? What a surprise, to see you actually outside! I thought you loved the computer screen more these days.” They laughed, a ripple of malice present in what should have been a joyous sound.

Of all demons, why did it have to be Vepar that had found his sanctuary? Every time Leviathan looked at them, or thought about them, envy bubbled in his chest and filled every fiber of his being.

Vepar had been one of the angels who fell alongside the brothers in the Great Celestial War - one of the few survivors outside of his family - and had been a rather high-ranking officer in the army at the time. After becoming a demon, they managed to become a Captain in Hell’s Royal Navy, following Leviathan as his subordinate. Or, that’s how it would have appeared, if it wasn’t for the fact that Vepar had seemingly lost all respect for their superior.

Their relationship was practically non-existent these days, as the Royal Navy hadn’t been active in centuries. They were never terribly close to begin with, but a great chasm seemed to have opened up between them as the years passed and Leviathan watched Vepar be so … successful.

How was it that this demon who ranked beneath him had managed to climb up so much higher in the social sphere? In true normie fashion, they had no issue conversing with strangers and seemed to make friends wherever they went. They were smooth with their words, charming with their smile, and always knew the right thing to say.

Except when it came to Leviathan.

“What’s with that look? I was just speaking the truth, wasn’t I?” Vepar grins, their mockery obvious. They brush a long lock of hair from their face before looking over their shoulder. “Oh, Lassal, look who I found!” They call out behind them, and soon another demon appears from the dark, his wispy white hair reflecting the moonlight. He was one of the lesser demons who seemed to cling to Vepar whenever they were together.

“Ah, Lord Leviathan..!” Lassal starts a bit nervously, unsure how to act in this situation. After all, he often joined in on the endless ribbing of the Avatar of Envy. The Greater Demon was never around to hear it, so what was the harm? “It’s, uh, nice to see you.”

“I was just telling him how strange it was to see him here. After all, I don’t think there’s a video game store anywhere near this area.” Vepar continues, the deriding smile still on his face. “Such a rare sighting of the ever-elusive demon. And all alone, too … but, I suppose it’s true that you don’t have any friends.”

Leviathan glares at the long-haired demon, his hands now curled into fists as they continue their jabs. Has he really become such a joke? Of course, a worthless otaku like me doesn’t deserve any respect, he thinks, They only care about my position when they have to…

“I would offer you to join us, but… hmm, you’d honestly just kill the mood.” Vepar shrugs, turning to Lassal, and attempts to get him to join in. “Isn’t that right? I mean, we all know how pathetic he is!”

The jealous thoughts continue to invade his mind. They only care because of my brothers. I’m obviously the weakest link, huh? Even Solomon liked Vepar enough to make a pact with them … they might be even better friends than we are …

“R-right!” Lassal easily bends to the other demon’s will. “Sorry, Leviathan, but you’re not really fun to have around.”

And then they feel comfortable enough to talk like this to me, to my face?! They have all the qualities I lack, everything is so much easier for them, and I’m just a laughing stock who only deserves mockery, huh? Is that it..?

“Oh, so polite. Come now, weren’t we talking earlier of how sad of a demon he is?”

“Yeah,” All nervousness is gone from Lassal, a rather smug expression taking over his features instead. “It’s hard to believe that he’s one of the demons ruling over us...it’s funny because even he knows how depressing he is, isn’t that right?”

They really think they’re so much better than me?!

“And to think, he’s Grand Admiral -- ”

“SHUT UP!” Leviathan finally speaks, his envy burning hot and turning into rage as he lunges at Vepar, his claws digging into their throat. “You actually think you can just talk to me like that?” His eyes shift, turning more snake-like while ink spreads through his sclera. His horns grow larger, his tail longer, and his teeth look a bit too sharp when he growls at them. “May I remind you that YOU serve under ME?”

A gargled choke manages to leave the caught demon’s mouth, their eyes wide in surprise. Lassal, who let out a squeak of terror when the third-born attacked, was trying to scurry away from the scene -- only to be caught by Leviathan’s tail in a tight grip.

“And where do you think you’re going?” The sea serpent shot a deadly glare at the lower-level demon, hoisting him up into the air to dangle upside-down. Leviathan turns his attention back to the other demon, trying to stop himself from ripping their head off right then and there.

“I might not be the most sociable guy, or the most popular, or the coolest, or … whatever! But if you really think you can just talk shit to my face and get away with it, you’ve got another thing coming.” His forked tongue slips through his lips with a menacing hiss. “It seems you both need a reminder that I’m the Third Demon Lord, your superior, your Greater, your ruler.”

“I-I’m sorry…” Vepar manages to get out, their previous haughty air vanishing as dread sunk in, a heaviness sinking into their bones. “I--”

“Oh, save your fucking apologies, Vepar!” Leviathan spits at their face. “If it wasn’t for your little pact with Solomon, I would kill you this instant.” He momentarily digs his claws further into their skin. “Your little friend, on the other hand…”

Lassal whimpers, trying to shake his head furiously. “P-please Lord Leviathan! I-I only said such things b-because Vepar made me! They -- “ His words are cut off with a choke as the Avatar’s tail tightens around their neck as Leviathan brings him close to his own face.

“Wow, throwing them under the bus? I guess I can’t expect anything more from the likes of you.” Leviathan sneers, the claws of his free hand going to drag down along Lassal’s face, venom leaving their tips and entering his bloodstream. With a flick of his tail he slams Lassal into the ground head-first, the jagged rock they were upon cracking slightly from the force. “If you thought I was going to go cry in my room because of your taunting, you were sadly mistaken.”

Lassal’s skull was fractured, blood dripping from the head wound caused by impact. If he was trying to say anything more, it came out in incoherent words and sounds, which soon turned into struggling screams. The venom that now coursed through his veins had a hallucinogenic quality that made the victim feel as if they were drowning, and it seemed to be working rather well. Leviathan thrashed him about again, making sure to smash his skull against the rock over and over and over and over and --

“Leviathan, stop! He’s dead!” Vepar screams, managing to get some more words out as the grip on their throat had slightly loosened while the Avatar was preoccupied with the other demon. Leviathan makes sure to deliver one more whack for good measure before dropping Lassal to the ground, his head smashed to bits and nothing more than a messy pile of bone, blood, and flesh.

“So he is.” His voice is cold, distant. His orange-purple eyes are glowing as he turns his attention back to the still living demon. “Now, as for you, Vepar… what was it that you wanted to say earlier? Something about how you couldn’t believe I could still be called the Grand Admiral of Hell’s Navy?”

“I-I didn’t say that, I just … look, I’m sorry, okay? You just a-appeared to have become so weak, you -- “

“...became an easy target?” Leviathan finishes their thought. “Well, let this be a lesson, Vepar. Think you’re better than me all you want, think you have so much more than I do, but at the end of the day…” He drags his claws down Vepar’s chest, sharp points sinking into their flesh and creating several large gashes that spurt dark ichor. They bite their lip in an attempt to hold back their cries of pain, tears streaming down their cheeks. “...I am at the top. I have more power than you do, and I will make sure that your existence will be a miserable one if you dare challenge me again.”

Mumbled words left Vepar’s lips, soon followed by a sharp cry when Leviathan sank his claws into their torso once more.

“What was that?”

“Y-yes Grand Admiral, sir. N-never again, sir!” The words tumbled out without a second thought, the demon trying not to let his body tremble too much from the mix of fear and pain.

“Good.” Leviathan retracts his claws and lets Vepar slump to the ground to their knees, his cold gaze lingering on them for a moment before looking over to the mangled corpse of Lassal. Turning away from the scene, Leviathan begins to walk away, raising a hand in the air.

“Clean that mess up.” He pauses, looking over his shoulder to fix the fellow sea demon a menacing glare. “And that’s an order.”

[tv-g1r-l]

as it was.

will solace.

pairing: will solace & clarisse la rue (friendship)

description: clarisse knew everything about everyone. except one of her closest friends: will solace.

warnings: heavy angst, dr*g ab*se, s3lf h4rm (implied), death

date posted: 13/04/2022

dts: @zechaosapple @fiftyshadesofdumbassery @lacedesol

~⏰️~

Clarisse La Rue was a person who knew everything about everyone.

I mean, as a child of Ares, you should know what one's weaknesses and strengths are, right? But the strange thing was- in all the years of knowing one of her closest friends- Will Solace;

She hadn't known a thing about him.

Of course, she knew his strengths and weaknesses, but other than that? Nothing. It was all blank. The other campers were pretty open about their upbringing and past but when it came to Will, Will laughed and shrugged it off, saying it was nothing and going on about his day.

But Clarisse was never one to back down and leave it at nothing. She was going to find out.

☀️

"Hey, Will." Clarisse spoke, sitting beside him near the lake. "You've never really told me about your upbringing and we've been friends for like- a long time now. Mind telling me what's up?"

Will looked at her, before raising an eyebrow and chuckling. "Why are you asking for my upbringing so suddenly? Anyway, I already told you- it's nothi-" "Don't give me that bullshit, Solace." Will paused. "..what do you mean?"

"Whenever someone asks you, you shrug it off and say it's nothing even though it's kinda obvious it IS something. So tell me. I won't tell anyone, swear." She spoke, and Will's smile dropped, slowly. He looked down at his lap. "..fine- you see-"

🌤

William Andrew Solace was 10 years old.

Will looked on at the kitten who he had been taking care of a few minutes ago.

The kids around it jumping, stomping and kicking it- he screamed at them to stop, but they didn't- they only held him back, kicking him around like a football as well, everything hurt- he felt as if his ears were ringing, he wanted it all to stop.

Stop. Stop. Stop. Stop.

But time never moves as you want it to, does it?

Soon enough, the kids went away, laughing to themselves as they talked about what had just happened, and Will stumbled toward the kitten.

He held it in his hands as it breathed shallowly. He felt tears stinging his eyes- it was only a few weeks old, how and why could people be so cruel? To an animal, no less?

Soon. The breathing stopped.

But hey, Will wanted everything to stop, right?

From then on, death just became a common occurrence, especially when it came to those whom he was close to.

☁️

William Andrew Solace was 12.

Will loved his step dad, really, he did.

But when he was high and on drugs- that's when Will found it difficult to like him.

For years now, Will and his mom were trying to get his stepfather, Danny, off drugs. But he always relapsed and whenever he didn't get his usual fix? That's when things got messy.

That's when his mom told him to lock himself in his room. That's when he heard shouting. That's when he heard glass shattering.

He hated it, despised it more than anything in the world.

And that's why he thought it was a good idea to throw them away.

He sat on the couch- reading his book, his mom was away on some gig she had. So he was alone with Danny. Danny, who relapsed. Great.

"Good weather, huh, William?" Danny spoke, with a smile.

'Don't call me William.' Will thought before nodding. "Yeah." He spoke. He flipped a page in his book.

"..when do you reckon that your mother will be back? I.. couldn't find my... substances today." Will rolled his eyes. "Substances? Just call them drugs, for Zeus' sake." A distant thunderclap could be heard. "Besides, I threw them away." He muttered, Danny's eyes widened.

"YOU WHAT?" Danny bellowed. Will flinched. "You heard me. I threw them away." Will spoke. Danny started screaming incoherent swears and insults, throwing stuff around. A book flying next to his head, as if to intimidate him, which it did- he flinched violently. He should be used to this by now. But he wasn't, he couldn't be. He genuinely loved Danny and even though he wanted to act cold and distant. He couldn't. He was still his dad.

"S- scott- I'm sorry but-" "SHUT THE FUCK UP WILL, YOU DO THIS EVERY TIME. YOU MESS SHIT UP FOR BOTH NAOMI AND I." Will felt the tears now stream down his face, as he looked down at his lap. "YOU'RE SO FUCKING USELESS, AND SELF DISRESPECTFUL-" "I know." "AND SO IS YOUR FUCKING MOM." Now, Will was angry.

"DON'T YOU EVER INSULT MOM LIKE THAT, YOU FUCKING HEATHEN" He screamed at Danny. Danny paused, genuinely feeling bad for a second before being angry again. "I'm leaving the house." Will let out a small whimper. "Fine. Go on. Take the car. It's faster." He spoke, a tone of sadness and anger in his voice, he hoped he wouldn't do it but if he did- he didn't want to see it, he got up and bolted toward his room. Danny sighed as he said something, Will didn't hear anything as he slammed the door behind him, before leaning against it as he slowly slid down, finally sitting as his knees were close to his chest.

He wrapped his arms around his knees as he buried his face in them, letting out small sobs as he prayed to his biological father, Apollo. He didn't want Danny to leave, but he couldn't really talk to him either, so he decided to pray to Apollo. All he could do was that. And he hoped it worked, that was until he heard a car in the driveway drive away. He let out a pitiful sob, now crying in his room alone as there was only silence, an unsettling feeling filling the room. He slapped himself as if to make himself wake up from this nightmare.

He didn't wake up from the nightmare at all.

After a few more hours of crying, he walked over to his bed sluggishly, crashing onto his bed as he buried his face into the pillows. He felt exhausted as soon as he hit the bed, slowly falling asleep. He didn't want to wake up.

But then he did.

His mom was home, crying and sobbing as hospital and police sirens screamed out in the background, adding to the uncomfortable atmosphere.

"Mom- what's wrong?"

"..Danny's dead."

🌦

William Andrew Solace had just turned 14.

He unlocked the door as he heard laughing and talking from inside the house.

Another party.

He sighed as he walked in, his mom sitting at a table, drunk out of her mind. "Ah, Will!" A random guy said, "Happy birthday!" Another one said. "Wait, it's his birthday?" "I didn't know-" they discussed amongst themselves. "Will, welcome home!"

"Hey." Will spoke, his voice uninterested. "Will, don't forget your birthday cake!" Naomi spoke, he ignored her, instead going inside his room as the living room erupted in laughter. Most likely at the situation.

He sighed, tired, as he got out of his clothes and into comfortable ones. He hummed, content as he sat down on the floor, boxcutter in hand. "Yeah, drop dead." He whispered- echoing the words he had heard earlier in the day.

He brought it to his forearm, looking at the old wounds he had inflicted upon himself. He felt tears in his eyes once again.

"I can't. I cant- I can't i-"

He felt two paws on his lap, and he looked down. "Hey, Neeks." He whispered at the black cat, putting away the boxcutter, instead, picking up the cat.

"You're the only thing preventing me besides camp."

🌧

Clarisse was speechless.

Will didn't deserve that.

Not someone like him.

He was too good for that.

"..will-" "you can laugh. I know how stupid it sounds." Will spoke, Clarisse's eyebrows furrowed. "Stupid? Will, that isn't stupid- if anything that's the saddest shit I've ever heard, you don't deserve that, not someone like you-" "I do deserve it." "Fucking listen to me, Will. You. Do. Not. Deserve that. Kay?"

Clarisse spoke, and Will looked close to tears, he nodded.

"And you know what? I think you might be the strongest person in camp for going through that and coming out alive."

[gingeraleluke]

𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗯𝗼𝘅𝗲𝗿 ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ꜰɪᴠᴇ

𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: underground boxer!vinnie hacker x fem!influencer!reader

𝘀𝘆𝗻𝗼𝗽𝘀𝗶𝘀: a good time turned bad…turned badder

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: mentions of violence, swearing, crying, some fluff, enemies to lovers tingz

𝗔/𝗡: aw shit, here we go again 🌀

series masterlist

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

she sat up, putting her bowl of fruit on the ground next to her. she had never heard vinnie sound so worried before, and it was scaring her. they hadn’t spoken on the phone before but she never pictured their first phone call quite like this.

“wait, what?” her face lightend as zach splashed out of the pool, the worry evident on his face. y/n’s friends new something was wrong and it snapped them out of whatever they were doing previously.

“i… shit, wait… hold on.” she could hear vinnies footsteps walking on stairs, voices commuting in the background. one of the voices stood out to her, sounding just like her brother.

“vinnie?” she looked up to see three half naked friends of her, all of them dripping wet, standing around her. vinnie was silent on the other end.

“guys, is this really necessary?” y/n spat, more bitchy sounding than she wanted it to come out. thankfully, her friends knew she didn’t mean it and were used to her snapping whenever stuff was going down.

she put her ladybug iphone back up to her ear, hearing more incoherent noises. “vinnie? why are you calling me, what’s going on?”

“hey, sorry, i heard you scream and i wanted to make sure you were okay. bruno is checking out blue right now, but i think he’s gonna be okay, and i don’t know where roman went.”

what the fuck is he talking about?

“wait, heard me scream? vinnie, i’m in a different state right now, i’m not at the gym.”

the line went quiet, the distant sound of cars driving by was all she could here.

“wait- i’m… you..” vinnie was embarrassed and couldn’t even make his words out.

“where are you?”

“i’m sitting by a pool with my friends! i have no idea what you are talking about!” y/n’s eyes were bulging out of her head and mo sat on the ground beside her, staring up at her mouthing ‘what?’

“so.. if it wasn’t you screaming than who was it because you are the only girl i’ve seen come in this gy-“ he stopped himself as he realized the obvious. “that blonde girl, would she be here today?”

“katie? yeah, i guess. she stops by the gym all the time, why? is she okay?”

y/n honestly didn’t care if katie was hurt, she just wanted to make sure her brother wasnt.

“yeah, she’s fine, i think she was just scared.” he sighed.

“scared of what?”

“roman attacked blue and split his nose open.”

“what?! what the fuck, why?!”

“apparently blue slept with his sister or something, i don’t know honestly, but there was blood everywhere and they are both suspended from the gym. well, not roman because apparently it’s his birthday and bruno’s fucking biased but, yeah, blue is suspended for no fucking reason.”

her head started pounding at every word that left vinnies lips. there hadn’t been a fight at the gym for a long time.

thank god i wasn’t there.

“so you called me because…”

“i wanted to let you know that everything is fine and i wanted to make sure you were okay.”

aww.

“aww, so you care about me!”

“what? ew, no. i just figured your brother would kill me if i didn’t check on you and i didn’t want you to spread around some false info.”

y/n wasn’t expecting his words to hurt her as much as they did. one heart was now slowly splitting into two and she tried to hide her discomfort from her friends.

“okay, well, i won’t say anything. and vinnie?”

“yeah?”

“please don’t ever call me again.”

“wasn’t planning to.”

what a fucking asshole.

she quickly pressed the end call button and dropped her phone on the chair she was on. it was difficult understanding her feelings, but she really did think she was over him. after seeing those pictures in the girls bedroom, she was ready to move on. but after that phone call, she felt so unloved. so ugly. so guilty.

she didn’t even notice her eyes start to water as she zoned out, her eyes centered on the lights reflecting off of the pool water.

“what happened?” mo lulled, placing a hand on y/n’s bare knee.

zach and his fiancé kept their distance from the two, both of them waiting for y/n to explain the situation to them.

“vinnie-“ she sucked in a breath, almost choking from the feeling that pained her chest. y/n couldn’t make out a sentence without the unbearable stinging she felt inside. a few seconds passed, y/n realizing how stupid she must have looked for not speaking. she couldn’t control the short sob that left her mouth.

that small break, led to her wall crashing down. her body shaking as she began to cry silently, the only noise being her sniffles and the reassurance of her friends.

she laid herself down on her back and spoke the words that she had been dying to say, staring at the stars above her, thinking, i wish i never met him.

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

after expressing and letting out her emotions to her friends, they decided to go back to the hotel and have a movie night.

y/n changed into a saint laurent lounge set and grabbed a few blankets. mo wore a tank top and some sweatpants and was in charge of making the popcorn. “okay, i picked them out, now hurry your cute ass up!” quinn yelled from the floor where him and zach sat. they set up a fort of pillows to sit on, giving the two girls the couch like the gentlemen they are.

“alright, boys.” y/n dropped onto the couch, “what’s the lineup for tonight?”

she was in a much better mood after talking it through with her friends and looking at funny tiktoks that zach saved to his phone. now, all she wanted was to enjoy the night with them.

“okay, so, for comedy, we picked clueless.”

“ugh, a classic!” mo yelled from the kitchen, pressing buttons on the microwave.

“mmhmm, and we know y/n loves horror movies so it was only fair that we chose the shining!”

“ugh, yes! thank you zach, you are the best.” she grinned ear to ear.

“and then, finally, our movie. the movie that defies our whole friendship, mean girls.”

“of course, why am i suprised?” she looked at the two boys who were cuddled up on the floor. she wanted someone to cuddle with.

mo must have read her mind because she suddenly spoke up. “hey, don’t worry, i will cuddle with you!”

y/n smiled, grabbing the bowl of popcorn being handed to her. the boys grabbed their bowl before mo ran off to grab something.

“oh, mo! i almost forgot… i got you something.” the girl quickly entered the room, hiding something behind her back while y/n grabbed her gift bag.

“me too! oh my god.” the two girls smiled at one another as the boys watched.

“aww, soulmate tingz!” zach said.

“yeah, yeah, okay here. you open mine first!” y/n handed the girl the bag and watched her pull out the wrapping paper.

mo gasped as she hung out the blanket in front of her body. “y/n! no way, oh my goodness!”

“do you like it?” she couldn’t contain her happiness as the girl quickly stepped into the mermaid tail.

“yes! and it fits, how?!”

“well, i contacted a lady and had it specially made for you.. check the tag.”

mo continued gushing over the gift while y/n waited for hers. the brunette placed a small black box into her hand.

“oh- mo are you proposing to me?” the group laughed.

“no, just open it!”

“okay! greedy..”

when y/n snapped open the box, she immediately gasped. two necklaces forming a heart sat on a small cushion inside the box. when put together, the two hearts said ‘partner in crime’ on them. the silver jewelry glistened as she picked them up.

“no way.”

small charms with their initials dangled at the top of the pendant. “this is stunning mo, holy crap!”

the boys got up to see it as the two put them on their necks.

“do you like it?!”

“are you kidding?! i love it, mo! thank you, wow. my gift looks so dumb now…”

mo embraced her, the warmth enclosing her body. “no, what? y/n, you got a custom mermaid blanket for me, what is there not to like?!”

after obsessing over their gifts, they sat down on the couch and started watching clueless. y/n felt safe with them and slowly forgot about everything happening in the world, including a certain boxer.

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

it was a cruel drive back to y/n’s place. the roads were swarmed with traffic and her head had been killing her the whole drive. quinn wanted to listen to some country music the whole drive that made the girl want to jump off of a cliff. she needed a day for herself, knowing that that was what she deserved.

although she had only woken up at 9am, she felt like she had been awake since 1am. she had barely slept last night, her mind racing with countless thoughts of the inconveniences in her life. as soon as she got home, she made some eggs for breakfast and slipped on some gym wear. drake wasn’t home, meaning that he was probably training. she wore a black tank top and matching tight black shorts. slipping on her leather jacket, she sprayed on some perfume and headed out the door.

y/n didn’t work out that often, but when she did, it always made her feel better. she’d usually hook up her phone to the speaker and run laps on the treadmill. there was a spot on the right wing of the gym that was always super quiet and empty. flloyd and drake would work there sometimes and y/n would join them, making them listen to whatever song she had stuck in her head in that moment.

she hoped that none of vinnies crew found out about it.

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

“why are you eating my peanuts? who gave you that?!” ru ran a hand over his curly hair as he tightened his jaw, looking y/n over as she continued taking handfuls of his peanuts.

“flloyd did. i don’t even like peanuts i’m just starving.” she laughed, as flloyd continued doing pull ups across from her. she was currently scrolling through her music library, trying to find a song to play. apparently, some of vinnies team did find her secret hideout, but thankfully ru wasn’t being a total ass to her so she was fine with it.

ru dropped back down and continued his bench presses. y/n clicked play on a song and began jogging again. she slowed down at the sound of footsteps behind her.

“hey! i didn’t know you were in today.” ru spoke to duncan who had just walked in, wearing shorts and a tank top. he sat on the bench next to her jacket and began to talk to ru, before turning to you.

“hey, i don’t think i have properly introduced myself.” she stopped the treadmill to be polite and smiled at him.

he’s cute.

“i’m duncan.”

“hi, i’m y/n. drakes sister.”

“nice to meet you, y/n.”

he shook her hand and walked back over to his bench, leaving the girl standing their flustered. she couldn’t remember the last time she had a proper handshake with someone. it felt nice, the way duncan treated her.

“where’s vinnie?” ru asked, drinking from a plastic water bottle.

“he’s dropping off hazel, he should be here any minute.”

who the fuck is hazel?

y/n cursed herself for getting possessive over a guy who clearly didn’t feel the same way back. all of the flirty messages, the comforting comments, it was all clearly nothing to him. she didn’t know why her first instinct was to freeze up at the name of him with another girl, but surprisingly, she fought the feeling and began to genuinely not give a fuck.

y/n’s playlist continued playing through the bluetooth speakers, loud enough to drone out the talking but quiet enough to hear someone when you need to.

the treadmill came to a flagrant stop, y/n almost tripping over herself. she looked over to see flloyd walking out of the room.

“flloyd!” she shouted. he yelled a quick sorry before walking to the bathroom. she got up and plugged the machine back in. she could hear faint talking but couldn’t make anything out from the song playing. she tried to get used to walking on flat ground, the tingling sensation still evident in her legs as she wiggled like jello.

she turned around to walk back to the treadmill, only for her knee to buckle out. she was expecting the impact of the hard floor, but instead, clashed into someone and brought them with her on the floor.

the two fell over, laying there groaning. “shit, i’m sorry.”

while y/n expected it to be flloyd, she was met with vinnie hacker laying on the ground below her.

i just fucking fell on top of vinnie hacker

i thought that only happened in love stories.

“it’s fine.” he muttered, before his eyes flickered up to meet hers. the two of them looked at eachother and it felt like time stopped. that same feeling she got the moment she first met him, came rushing back into her body. only this time, she was pressed up against him.

she could hear her heartbeat in her ears, swapping her focus from one of his eyes to the other. his mouth was only inches away from hers, the two of them looking through eachother.

as she started to notice the feeling of him laying beneath her, her whole body started to burn. a minty friction that was skin deep, clouded all of her senses. the energy she felt in that moment, seemed like enough to cause a power outage.

she pulled herself away from him, embarrassingly. “i’m sorry, again.” her feet wobbled as she did her best to plant them into the ground. “it’s fine, just check where you are going next time.” he smiled slightly and made his way over to his two friends.

the song changed, a small moment of silence that hit her like a thousand knives, before music could take the pain away. making her way back onto the treadmill, she continued her laps and sang along to the music, not caring what anyone, including vinnie, thought about her.

♫ now playing: 2 on by tinashe and schoolboy q

give me all that you’ve got now

make you want me cause i’m hot now

i’m gone, too faded, i’m off one

bang, bang, pop off like a long gun

vinnie walked over to the bench that sat diagonally to y/n, slowly sauntering over there, watching y/n as she sang. her eyes were closed for a second and she was running as a relaxing pace. he smiled cockily at her before grabbing some weights and seating himself down, facing her.

we can mob all in the whip

make the money, make a grip

i be stunting with my clique

getting faded till we trip

her phone buzzed and she picked it up, seeing a message from her brother reminding her about the trip to katie’s house.

y/n promised katie that she would come visit her family with drake. she hated the girl and hated her family, but didn’t trust drake alone with her, especially so far away from y/n.

she rolled her eyes and continued singing, hearing vinnies grunts as he lifted the weights.

yeah we can get active

and all my bitches attractive

we go, you know who we are now

get high, hotboxing the car now

she slowed down the speed on the treadmill, looking up to see vinnie looking back at her. normally, she would get insecure having him watch her like that, but after what he said to her last night, she really didn’t care.

vinnie sat up and grabbed a water, water-falling it into his mouth. he began to sing along to the song.

“i didn’t think you would like this kind of music.” he spoke up. she was slowly stepping as he spoke.

“what can i say, i’m full of surprises, hacker.” she shot a sarcastic smile his way as he scoffed.

“ooh, this is my favorite part. do you know it?”

“yes, of course i do.” he said in a duh tone.

“prove it.”

“fine, i will.” he shook his hair, before straightening up and looking at her as schoolboy q’s verse approached.

“uh, pull your panties down from under you.” she sang.

“beat that pussy up, make you wanna holla Q.” vinnie sang back, standing up and walking towards the girl on the treadmill.

“drunker than a bitch, high on that mary jane.”

he smiled before completing the lyric, “pussy in my mouth, pussy on my pinky ring.”

“ooh!! shit!!” ru yelled, walking over and shaking vinnies shoulders. “he told you!”

the girl nodded, smiling at the interaction. it was rare for her to get a reaction from her music, a positive one at that.

“well played, hacker. i must say you have good taste.”

“i know i do.” he smirked before backing away from her.

slowly stopping the treadmill, y/n heard her phone buzz.

katie 👹

can’t wait to see you tomorrow!

oh, for fucks sake.

━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━

@justalostgirl @obliviatevamps @ixxbella @letsjustbeourselves @starslcve @itskoushi @punzcanrailme @stephdolan @bakerkells @vinnieslut @queenyamimarrero @mrs-woodwesleyobrien @isabelleforest73@clowneryluv @radioblah-blah @morganwilliams @creepytoes88 @wrldofspice @friendly-neighborhood-spideyman @lovenoughton @soapiaa @radioblah-blah

[jenojaemssss]

good to me (l.jn)

pairing: jeno x gn!reader

category/theme: angst LOL someone help me

warnings: mentions of cheating, mild cussing

jeno walks into every lonely room and does a double take. the once lively apartment is now empty, practically a ghost-house. he glances over all the bare walls and takes in the stale color of the paint you’d chosen all those months ago when the two of you first moved in. the silence is deafening.

it was the same room where he watched the love of his life pack up their belongings into a small backpack, not even sparing a look in his direction. he watched you cry in silence, your sniffles and rushed movements shattering his heart to pieces.

he couldn’t even muster up the confidence to apologize after telling you what had happened that night.

he still remembers how you kept your habit, even during a time where your mind was most likely running miles a minute. before you exited the room, leaving jeno alone, you carefully shut the door behind you.

he didn’t mean to hurt you that night. he didn’t mean to come home with the scent of someone else tangled in his hair. he didn’t intend to have someone else’s marks on his neck. he never had the intention of breaking you and your heart.

but he was dumb enough to let it happen.

he remembers your heavy footsteps as you made your way to the front door.

jeno’s mind was racing; brain consumed with the images of himself entangled with someone else. he felt his stomach churn, his dinner threatening to escape as the memories continued to consume his entire existence. regret flooded his brain.

jeno always assured that you were the one for him. he always made sure you knew that he loved you, although he never spoke the words. he was never one to be affectionate, not one to express his feelings, but his actions meant a thousand-or maybe even more- of the words he didn’t say.

the man in charge of keeping your heart safe ended up being the one to completely destroy it.

when jeno hears the sound of keys jangling from his standstill position, he can’t help but think about how the sound of your own set of clanking keys reached his ears that night.

and how something inside of him snapped.

the thought of you leaving made his knees weak, him knowing well enough that he couldn’t fathom a life without you in it. jeno dashed to the living room before you could place your hand on the doorknob, knocking down a few things when he exited the room.

his eyes were wide, brimmed with tears that were threatening to spill. it was as if he was trying to get the message across to you, screaming at you to stay. to not go. pleading you to not step out of the door. telling you that he needs you.

the way his eyes glimmered with a hint of hope when you stopped dead in your tracks to turn your head towards him. eyes so desperate that a small part of you wanted to stop and let him explain; to let him apologize.

you shook your head, simultaneously shaking yourself of the foolish thoughts. he immediately shrunk. he knew what he did was something unforgivable. but it was worth a shot.

“y/n, i’m sorry,” he breathed out before you could twist the lock.

your sniffles were turning into quiet sobs and it took almost everything in jeno to not envelope you in his arms. he knew it would have only made things worse. so he stood there, feet planted in the ground, his hands clenched into fists so tight he drew blood.

“i know,” you managed to let out before opening the door completely and letting yourself out. from the corner of your eye, you caught a glimpse of defeat rush over jeno’s face. he was trying to get a last glimpse of the love of his life before the two of you would become strangers.

the sound of jaemin’s voice brought jeno back to the current day, and he looks up from his distant stare at the wall.

“ready to go?” his friend taps his shoulder.

jeno’s shoulders tense up for a second before they begin shaking vigorously. jaemin doesn’t hesitate to pull him into his arms, rubbing small circles onto his best friend’s back. he whispers words of encouragement and reassurance into the shaking boy’s ears, causing his shoulders to shake even more.

“i closed every door, you know,” jeno mumbled into jaemin’s embrace. his friend nods, saying nothing, only continuing to rub small circles onto jeno’s back.

jaemin knew that if any more words were exchanged, it would only make things worse.

old habits die hard, and yours of closing doors before exiting a room rubbed onto jeno. the littlest things reminded him of you, but taking the step of moving out of your shared apartment only pushed jeno further off the edge.

“i miss y/n, jaemin, i miss y/n so fucking much it hurts.”

jaemin nods again, humming at jeno and letting him spill more tears onto his sweater.

mark and donghyuck enter the apartment, calling out for the two boys. they’re incoherently yelling for jaemin and jeno to hurry; that the movers were about to leave and renjun was doing his best to stall them for jeno to do a double check of the items. jaemin slowly lets go of jeno right before the two louder boys enter the room. he gives them a look, as if telling them to let jeno have another minute to himself.

as the three boys slowly exit the room, they leave the door open for jeno, who takes one last look around the bedroom before he’s closing every door, leaving all memories of you behind.

[mssirey]

Maybe... 1 and 88?

Historic AU and Erotic Dreams

Lena blinked in the glare of morning— no, midafternoon light, the rays flooding through the towering windows that climbed towards over-tall ceilings. The light itself drew her gaze towards a singular throne, stone rooted in the platform that rose above the rest of the hall, positioned to look down upon the masses.

The throne itself was accented with delicate gold, laid into the stone itself, and the seat and back were padded with plush leather and fine furs. She was close enough to touch, unable to help herself, fingers tracing the etchings, following the curling gold, slow and careful in her marvel. She felt the pull of the dark fur, her fingers itching to bury within it, to know if it was as soft as it appeared.

Lena had never seen anything like it, and yet recognized that throne; knew its power; understood that she was beneath the station it represented.

“Do you long to sit upon it?”

The words materialized around her, the orientation not registering until she felt a hand fit itself against her lower back, so suddenly present, but the pressure not enough to push her forward. It chased a heated shiver up her spine.

Lena tore her gaze away from the throne, her own hand retreating as she swung around. She knew the voice before she had turned, but she still failed to avert eyes, instead looking upon the easy smirk and stormy blue that weighed down upon her.

The knowledge that she had misstepped struck her in the gut, the impact had her stumbling a step back, putting enough distance to sink to her knees, but her company was faster, catching her elbow, keeping her from dipping. Her gaze still lowered, sweeping past the brilliant red cape that was pinned to broad shoulders by twin crests—belonging to The House of El—bridged by a low arching chain across an armored chest, the plating more ceremonial than practical. She tried to skip past the leather that clung to heavily muscled thighs, to eventually land on boots, but there was the sense that she had lingered a touch too long.

Lena’s breath caught in her chest—just as she had been caught touching the throne and her elbow was still gripped in the royal’s hand. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Shh,” those boots stepped forward, a different hand moving into her vision, approaching faster than she knew how to respond to, taking hold of her chin, tipping it up with a gentle tug. Her gaze lifted with it, and she was greeted by nothing but mirth. “I don’t mind.”

The protest tumbled from her lips before Lena could think it through properly. “But it’s—”

The rise of the sharp brow silenced her, made her swallow the words. “It’s mine.” The reminder shouldn’t have been necessary and Lena felt compelled to apologize, but the swirl of amusement in the depths of that piercing gaze held her tongue. “You see? I can do as I please with my throne.”

Lena nodded—not in confirmation, as the royal was the only one with that authority, but out of understanding. “And what would you do with me?”

The smirk that had captured her curled into a crooked little grin. “I would have you lift your skirts and sit upon it,” the hand from beneath her chin motioned towards the throne, but that time Lena did not look away, her cheeks warmed by the proclamation.

The thunder in her ears was her own heart, drowning out her voice as it rose in her throat, and she didn’t even hear herself speak. “I can be yours, too,” she said, and it felt hoarse as it left her lips, gravelly and heavy, heated by the warmth in her veins.

“I would like that.”

Lena moved without thought, fingers fumbling in her urgency, tugging her skirts up until they were bunched at her belly, held there, her breath trapped while she waited to be appraised. A rumbling hum of approval crashed up her spine, jarred the thoughts from her head, made her thighs weak enough to tremble.

“No undergarments?” A dark chuckle drew her to check, and indeed she wasn’t wearing anything, a realization that had her shivering in the rising heat. Steadier hands than hers slid into place at her hips, directed her to pivot, and one step back was all it took for her the backs of her knees to meet the seat of the throne. “Good girl.”

The praise shuddered through her and Lena sat heavily, having no power to continue standing.

The throne might have given her more reason to hold herself tall, but beneath the watchful stare of the royal, Lena’s only thought was to offer everything. And when knees dropped at her feet, her own fell wide, her hands tightening in the fabric of her dress.

“That’s it.” The purr rose above the tide that climbed around her, the waters that churned around her, the pull of currents that would eventually drag her under. “Get comfortable.”

Lena scooted her ass forward without question, leaned back into the furs. Her lungs emptied just in time for her to gasp when fingers ghosted up her thighs, tugging her body to arch forward, chasing more contact—any pressure to relieve the fast building tension.

Thumbs traced the little divots at her hips and the wash of warm breath made her acutely aware of how slick she was, but the royal kept frustratingly distant. “Please,” she groaned, lifting into those hands, only to be pressed back into the seat.

“Patience, love.”

There was nothing harsh about the words, but still she whimpered at the denial, squirmed in the unyielding grip, the itch for more—for anything—scattering her thoughts.

A kiss was pressed to the inside of her thigh, met with a jerk of her hips, kept still by those heavy hands despite the franticness that raced through her veins. The kiss promised care, but as it trailed closer, following the jumping tendon that disappeared into the patch of coarse hair between her legs, she couldn’t help but want something less gentle.  

“Please,” she tried again, the word falling heavy, and her head tipped back with it.

Something nudged against her clit and her chest squeezed sharply, forcing a new gasp from her, her spine tightening, her shoulders pressing hard into the fur, glad for the padding they offered. She realized a moment later that the royal was breathing her in, enjoying how aroused she was, more than content to tease her.

“Fuck,” she exhaled, earning a rumble of amusement.

“Be as loud as you like.” The permission hadn’t quite sunk in when lips eased closer, soft at first, but growing heavy, working in tandem with a writhing, wet tongue to spread her open, and she was lost in the sharp descent into pleasure.

Lena’s moans echoed through the hall, but she had little mind to care, letting them pitch high and clip off as bursts of heat seared her nerves, sparks skittering across her skin. All she knew was the throb, leaden and consuming and met by the slick heat of a heavy tongue. There was a tug at her gut, coiling and warming, building inside her.

One hand slipped forward without thought; fingers buried in short cropped hair, and she anchored herself in her desperation. She didn’t dare meet the gaze beneath, knowing she would lose herself in it, the last of her awareness understanding that danger.

But that did nothing to save her as lips latched tight around her swollen clit, the confident tongue finding it peeking from its hood, but giving little other attention, instead sucking until her begging was incoherent—wet and sputtering. Only then was she offered relief, fingers sinking into her, giving her something to squeeze as deliberate pressure unraveled her.

Lena screamed through her orgasm, unabashedly filling the hall with her gratitude.

The last thing she saw—through the haze of her release—was the cocky smirk pointed up at her, and then she was blinking awake, glancing to find her hero at her side, nestled with her in their shared bed.

[silverstarlightlion]

the final entry in the team seven dies on the bridge au - this one got way away from me but oh well, I’m not editing it because that’s not how this chain works

Team Seven take the mission to the Land of Waves. On the bridge, they fight Zabuza and Haku.

On the bridge, Kakashi dies.

It happens in a flash, a shout and a burst of chakra and blood. The ice mirrors trapping Sasuke and Naruto in with Haku crack and break, and there's a high-pitched electric whine that lasts for a moment longer than the voices, before everything turns eerily, horribly silent.

In the ghostly silence, the mirrors collapse and smash into the half-finished Bridge, shattering, and Team Seven comes apart and shatters with them. Kakashi drops to one knee – thud – as the lightning in his palm winks out, and Zabuza steps back with a sneer. At his side, Haku lowers their hands, ignores the streak of blood across their side, and relaxes their stance. They move into Zabuza’s wake, following him as he strides past. Towards Sakura.

Towards Tazuna.

Naruto shouts, incoherent, and all at once he's wreathed once more in the strange and sticky red chakra, and throwing himself at Zabuza. Sakura is struck dumb, frozen, unblinking, watching Zabuza approach with sightless eyes, her kunai still held before her – her grip is textbook and too tight, and wavers when the Kiri-nin get too close.

She doesn't move, as Haku lashes out to stop Naruto's descent, flings him back. She doesn't move when Zabuza walks past her. She doesn't move as Sasuke snarls and jumps after Haku as well, as their fight re-engages. She doesn't move when Tazuna cries out behind her, she doesn't move when her name rings in her ears, she doesn't move when it ends with a whimper and a gurgle. Sakura doesn't move as Zabuza sets his sword on her shoulder.

She thinks, for a minute that lasts her whole lifetime, that Zabuza’s going to kill her too. She's not sure that she minds.

It's only when Zabuza grunts, dismissive, and turns on his heel – taking his sword with him, leaving a nick in her collar so shallow it doesn't even hurt – that Sakura finds the will to move. Gasps in a deep breath, like she's been drowning. Naruto and Sasuke are still fighting around her, flashing back and forth as Haku fends them off, but it all just sounds like echoes as she remembers how to walk and starts creeping towards Kakashi-sensei.

He's sprawled gracelessly, and his head is turned just a little too far to the side. He's half on his stomach, shoulders flat to the concrete, with one leg crumpled up underneath him. The grim, grey light of overcast morning winter is reflecting in his eyes, a glimmer that feels like a lie.

"Kakashi-sensei…?" she hears herself ask, her voice absolutely tiny, and her knees give way to drop her at Kakashi's side. Naruto is shouting something behind her, getting distant, and Sakura can't tell if he's moving away from her or if she just can't trust her senses anymore, but she can't bring herself to try figure it out. Her ears are ringing. Kakashi doesn't respond – doesn't move, doesn't blink, doesn't lift his gaze to her. His pupils don't respond to the light, too dilated. His mismatched irises are almost eclipsed. "... Kakashi… sensei…?" Her voice is a ghost in her own throat. When she reaches out, it feels like watching someone else do it; her hand is shaking violently, numb and cold, and her very skin feels like it doesn't belong to her, clingy and fuzzy and tingling all at once, like she's both trying to crawl out of herself and is the thing trying to be climbed out of.

Kakashi's face is warm when she touches him. It's a struggle to roll him over, the effort a blur of sound and nauseating breathlessness as she grips his shoulder and pushes. He's limp, utterly so, and his limbs drag and twist when she manages to get him more on his side. There's no movement in his chest or stomach.

He doesn't blink. He's not breathing.

The blood is pooling underneath him where Haku had torn a hole in his side, from all the cuts Zabuza gave him. When Sakura touches his face again, tries to turn his head even though she doesn't even know why, she can feel the broken bones in his neck grind.

Her tears taste like bitter acid as she collapses, each sob into Kakashi's unbreathing chest torn out of her as if she's turning inside out. Sakura can feel each beat of her own heart, like being kicked, a thunderous stomping in her ears, and it's a betrayal of the highest order when she can't feel Kakashi's under her hands. She thinks she screams, maybe. She's not sure.

It's not real. It can't be real. If she can just cry hard enough, if she can get out the huge, heavy, writhing thing that's crawling up her throat, if she can just make it all stop for just a moment, she can make it stop being real. Because it has to be a lie.

Kakashi is one of the strongest shinobi in Konoha. He's their teacher. He's improper and lazy and grouchy, and he's fought so hard to get this mission done, and he can't be dead. There's so much more he still has to teach them.

She thinks that one of them touches her, maybe, but it registers only as searing pain and she cries out between choking sobs, and it's only when she eventually has to pull back from Kakashi— From Kakashi's… body… from Kakashi that she remembers she's got the incredible misfortune to exist, and that there's still a solid world around her. It's revolting. That the world dares to continue being when it should be shattered.

But she pulls back, because her sobs are getting caught in her throat and she's gagging on them, stomach convulsing as the force of her crying slides into violent coughing, until she jolts and vomits.

Naruto, returned from the fruitless chase, keeps at Sakura's side and rubs her back, and tries to figure out what to say. How it could have possibly gone so wrong. They should have won. They were supposed to win – they were supposed to save Inari and prove that goodness meant something and make sure that Waves would be okay.

But there's nothing but the cold wind and the grey sky and blood on all sides, and the smell of death and salt and bile while Sakura struggles to breathe through her tears and retching.

Sasuke hasn't made a sound. He stands a few feet away, eyes dark, staring at Kakashi with hatred and icy anger. His hands are clenched. He knows too well that Kakashi is dead and they failed and it doesn't mean a damn thing. Because life is cheap and death is worthless. Sasuke is seven years old again, and trying to figure out how to say goodbye to the corpses that are no longer his parents, and Kakashi will never even know if they mourn him or not. He can't find the will to care or fight or cry. It doesn't matter. None of it matters. Nobody matters.

Death comes for all. Why should it mean anything if it found Kakashi now, or later? It would find everyone eventually.

Sasuke would make sure of it.

And across the countries, far beyond the knowledge of the now-lost genin, Konoha is split apart with the howls of eight ninken.

It's the ninken who find them first, in the end. They haven't moved from the bridge, half-completed, when the ninken arrive. It's late afternoon, and they've huddled together and done not much else. Sakura is in a small ball, curled up on the ground and holding onto Kakashi's body like he might still wake up at any moment and give her something to do. Sasuke stands nearby, arms folded, silent. He's watching, guarding, perhaps, except that he spots the ninken incoming and says nothing and moves neither to block their approach or welcome it. There are several Narutos milling about, one sitting with Sakura, hand still rubbing her back, while the others do… something. Even they're not really sure. But Naruto is a creature of action, and he can neither figure out what it is he's supposed to do nor tolerate the prospect of doing nothing.

There are Anbu on the ninken's tails, and they quickly take charge of the situation, and everything blurs together into noise and colour and pain.

When they arrive back at Konoha, the Anbu have to drag Sasuke up to the Hokage Tower with them. Naruto trudges alongside voluntarily, his gaze straying constantly to Kakashi – pale and still and cold and stiff in the Anbu's arms – and he silently prays that Grandpa Hokage will know what to do, because everything… seems a lot less simple than it did before, suddenly. Sakura offers no resistance, tucked against another Anbu's chest as she has been since they first picked her up in Waves Country. She's still shaking, each breath shallow and rattling, her gaze distant and empty. Putting her down isn't an option. Naruto is pretty sure she would simply stay curled on the ground where she was set, if the Anbu was to put her down.

Hirizen is unusually serious, when they're taken into his office, but that makes sense, Naruto supposes. The death of a Konoha jōnin is a big deal. Orders are given over their heads, and Naruto stays quiet despite the endless questions clawing at the inside of his ribcage, because Hiruzen does know what to do, obviously, because of course he would, so Naruto just has to wait until he tells them what they're supposed to do.

Right?

And it'll be okay? Like it's supposed to be?

… 

Sasuke fights. He snarls, and then shouts, and then draws a kunai. The Anbu who'd dragged him up here in the first place knocks him unconscious, somehow, too fast for the genin to track, and carries him out. Sakura doesn't even ask where they're taking him.

And she… quits. Not on the spot, it's not until they attend Kakashi's funeral – and Sasuke attends too, shackled to an Anbu member, and it's the first time they've seen him since Hiruzen's office – but at the end of the day, when almost everyone else has gone, when Sasuke's gone (and he didn't even acknowledge them, didn't say a word to them, ignored Naruto's shouting after him when the Anbu walked him away), she finally finally finds her voice to speak. She's been silent since the bridge.

"I'm… I'm quitting," she whispers to him, while her parents stand just a teeny bit back to give them space. Her eyes, dull and hollow green, are fixed on Kakashi's headstone. "I can't do this. I can't do anything."

She sets her hitai-ite on Kakashi's grave, and Naruto never sees her in training again.

He finds out where Sasuke is, through a combination of stubborn defiance and reckless rule-breaking. Hiruzen allows him into what can only be a secret Anbu facility, and takes him down endless stairs until finally he sees the torchlit cage that Sasuke is in. He's doing pushups when they arrive.

It isn't until Naruto appeals to him as a friend that Sasuke finally stops, gets to his feet, storms up to the bars. "We are not friends," he hisses.

"What are you going to do?" Naruto can't think of anything else to ask him. What can he possibly be doing? How can he be okay down here?

"I'm going to kill the people who deserve it."

Naruto visits Sasuke six more times, and six more times he's almost fully ignored while Sasuke ceaselessly trains, alone in the dark, as if he doesn't even care that he's locked up like some kind of criminal. Naruto dares once to ask Hiruzen to let Sasuke go, and he learns that day just why the Kage's are so respected and so feared. It's the first time he's ever been scared of Hiruzen, and no amount of apologies or make-up ramen afterwards can undo it.

If this is what being Hokage really means, Naruto's no longer sure that he wants it.

The seventh time, Sasuke is gone, and no one will tell Naruto where he's gone.

When, months later, Iruka takes Naruto to meet Jiraiya, Naruto leaps on the offer of training. He's been… not wallowing, but his team has disintegrated and his training has gotten spotty. He needs a teacher, someone incredibly strong like Jiraiya, because Naruto has to get stronger. He needs to get strong enough to protect the people who matter. He needs to be strong to make sure that nobody else dies because he couldn't stop it – he needs to, because maybe if he can get there, if he can promise safety, then he can earn back his family. Sasuke and Sakura had been, pretty much, for the short time they'd been a team.

His team was everything. How could he protect Konoha if he can't even protect his teammates?

And so Naruto leaves with Jiraiya, single-minded and dogged, and if he pushes too hard too fast then it's all Jiraiya can do to try and keep up with Naruto's pathological need to chase strength.

…

Sasuke relinquishes freedom. He has no use for it. In the dead of night, he's whisked out of the Anbu Red Vault and into a silent promise of power and revenge. He allows the Seal to be placed on his tongue without resistance. He's called upon, eventually, to murder the other child he's been trained alongside, and he does so without hesitation or mercy. He dons the black uniform and the pale mask and he carves himself into nothing more than a blade, and he lays himself in Danzō's hand. One day, he is promised, he'll be the weapon wielded to end Itachi's life.

…

And Sakura leaves. She does it out of mercy, she thinks at first. It's her fault, after all, that Kakashi is dead. That Sasuke is gone. That Naruto is alone. She knows nothing of their fates, and she dares not ask after them, because if she involves herself then, she's sure, she's just going to get in their way.

And it’s a guilt that she's finally realised she isn't strong enough to carry. She stood by, on the bridge, and she did nothing. It doesn't matter that she was Tazuna's last line of defence; Tazuna is dead. It doesn't matter that she was told to guard him; the man who gave that order is dead, too.

It's her fault, it's her fault, it's her fault, it's HER FAULT.

So she sneaks out, and she means it to be mercy, because the only way she can think of to make sure she never does it again – does nothing – is… if she's not around to. And it's mercy, really, if she doesn't force her parents to be the ones who find her. She's never been able to scrub her own skin free of the way Kakashi's had felt. Warm and faintly damp with sweat and smooth between the endless minute scars, cooling into tacky rigidity. He'd still looked like himself, when the ninken had got there, but he'd felt like stone under her hands. Like he wasn't real.

Like none of it was real.

Sakura decides, in the dead of night, that she's willing to give anything to make it not real.

And, in the end, someone extends mercy to her parents but it's not her. The first moment of freefall, when she jumps off the edge of the Hokage monument, is exhilarating. Freedom. Safety. She's going to escape, and she won't have to take down anyone else with her ever again.

The next few seconds overwhelm her with terror, and Sakura loses her grip on reality as it suddenly registers what her freedom really means, and as the ground hurtles up towards her, all Sakura can think is that she's afraid. Like she was on the bridge. Like maybe that's all there is, after all. Fear.

So when a pair of arms wraps around her and snatch her out of the air, Sakura clings on and sobs without knowing who it is that's saved her, or if it’s even real, and it feels like being on the bridge all over again. But the arms stay close, hold on tight, and eventually Sakura manages to remember how her senses work.

"... Gai-sensei?"

He's still dressed in his signature green jumpsuit, but there's a grimness to him that's unfamiliar. Holding her entire meagre weight close to his chest with just one arm, Gai brushes her hair back out of her face, sticky and matted with snot and tears. "It's going to be okay, Sakura." She can't wrap her head around why Gai's here. How is he here? But Gai glances at her at the same moment Sakura realises he's walking, and she can't get the whine in her throat to make any more words, but Gai seems to understand. "If you were to die now, then Kakashi died to protect you for no reason. And I know you don't want to squander that."

Her fault. But Gai says it differently. Like for her isn't the same as her fault. Was it for her? Sakura isn't sure of anything, anymore. If anyone knows, it must be Gai-sensei. A shudder goes through her, and she buries her face in Gai's shoulder. Her senses are screaming at her, her heart still wild and painful in her chest. It seems to think she's still falling to her death.

"... What can I do?" It was already squandered. Wasn't it? Sakura couldn't do anything. She'd stood by and watched.

But Gai grunts, pets her back. "It's never too late to stop giving up. Get strong. Protect the things Kakashi can't anymore. Protect yourself. Protect Konoha."

And it’s pathetic, but Sakura is pretty sure she's pathetic no matter what, so she scrunches up her hands in Gai's shirt, and wishes they would stop shaking so bad, and shakes her head. "I can't. I'm not strong. I'm… I'm not strong."

"You're here." She almost wasn't.

And the whine breaks out. "I'm here bec-cause I'm weak. B-because he was— was strong."

Gai hums. She can't tell if it's agreement or not. "So do him proud. I'll show you how." Gai loosens his grip, just a little, and picks up Sakura's head. Forces her to meet his gaze. His face is oddly shadowed in the moon- and lamplight. "It's not easy. It's never easy. But it's worth it. You're strong – let me show you just how strong you are."

They're on the other side of the village, Sakura thinks, now that she's looking around. Still shaking – shivering, really – but they're in a residential area, closer to the outskirts, where the houses have little gardens and families and—

Gai carries her to a house. Lee is on the porch, watching anxiously.

"Why are you doing this?" Sakura manages to ask, while Gai brings her inside, and carefully deposits her on a couch. Lee appears at his side a moment later, and he offers Sakura a glass of water. Automatically, she takes it, and Gai steadies her hands so she doesn't drop it. Their faces are blurry through her tears. "Why…?"

It's Lee who speaks up, and he's quieter than usual but no less intense. "Because when we lose a family member, we should come together to support each other." Gai nods, beams at Lee proudly. "Kakashi-sensei was Gai-sensei's family, so he was my family. And you're Kakashi-sensei's family, so you're our family."

The water tastes like adrenaline and steel when Sakura makes herself sip it, but the gentle chill of it diffuses in her chest and something she doesn't have words for eases slightly.

"I couldn't have said it better myself, Lee," Gai says, pulling Lee down into a hug with his free arm. "So. Let us help you be strong, like Kakashi wanted."

It's surreal. So many things have happened in so little time; a few minutes ago, Sakura had been convincing herself to jump from the top of the Hokage monument. How can this feel so different, so quickly? She's in— Is she in Gai-sensei's house? And it can't fucking be real – but nothing feels real anymore, hasn't for a while now, and… if anyone knows what Kakashi wanted, then it's Gai.

And it’s Gai.

… Can he really teach her strength? Does it matter?

"He's not totally gone while we remember him," Lee says quietly, and he lays a hand on Sakura's knee. "So if we do what he wanted, then it's like he accomplished his goals."

It doesn't make a lot of sense to Sakura, because Kakashi-sensei is definitely gone, but… Well, she can always jump off a high place later. Maybe they're right? Would Kakashi want her to learn strength from Gai?

Sakura drinks the rest of the water.

"Okay."

[samstree]

hi dear!! what about 37 for the pining prompts?? only if you feel like it 💞💞

37. "Characters cannot touch for plot reasons." Thanks for the prompt Chrysa!! Here's more empath!Jaskier!

Unfinished Story

Empath!Jaskier, 2.4k, soft geraskier, ciri has a nightmare, hurt/comfort, mentions of past violence

Part of the Empath AU 

Read on AO3

Ciri’s scream pulls Geralt out of his doze.

He springs up immediately, knocking Jaskier’s arm out of the way. The bard grumbles something incoherent on the bedroll before fully waking. “G’ralt, what is… Oh, shit.”

The scream continues, Geralt’s medallion thrumming because of the chaos carried by the sound. The ember is dying but the moon provides enough light for him to see Cir in a fetal position, her face buried in the crook of her elbow. Her ashen-colored curls obscure the view.

Geralt half-scrambles to her side, familiar panic seizing his heart. It’s been so long since she had a nightmare this bad, so long that it’s taking him a second to react.

“Ciri.” He shakes her shoulder gently, but she flinches away. The smell of fear rolls off of her in waves. “Ciri, wake up. You are dreaming.”

The sharp wail trails off to a quieter one, but her eyes stay shut, her brows agonizingly knitted tight. Geralt tries to soothe her by stroking her hair, only to have her snatch his hand and holding onto it for dear life. He squeezes, hoping it’s a comforting gesture.

Each of Ciri’s cries sends a pang of regret in Geralt’s chest. If only he could go back in time. If only he had found her earlier, before the horrors of Nilfgaard—

“Hey, let me help.”

A hand falls to Geralt’s shoulder, and Jaskier meets his gaze in the dim light, the bleariness in his eyes completely gone.

Please, he wants to say. The word gets interrupted by the girl’s writhing.

Jaskier takes over Ciri’s hand, despite her reluctance to let go of Geralt. She clings to him during bad dreams, even when she can’t properly wake up, but the witcher knows it’s important not to touch either of them right now. The wolf medallion vibrates more as the empath works, calming her through the touch.

“It’s okay…” Geralt murmurs helplessly to the girl still asleep. “It’s okay, cub. We are here.”

The empty space around Geralt is excruciating. Under the clear night sky, his witcher senses allow him to see the two of them basked in the silver moonlight—Jaskier kneeling at Ciri’s side, one hand clasped around her wrist and the other carding through her curls. The girl’s pained expression eases slowly.

“Oh… Don’t be afraid, sweet girl,” Jaskier shushes her, the flow of chaos buzzing in the air. “Let me take your fear away, all right? Don’t fight me. Let me in, so you won’t be scared anymore…”

The bard continues to murmur sweet nothings to the girl, easing her resistance to his empathetic powers. At this point, Jaskier’s magic is like a second layer of skin to Geralt, gentle and warm and weaving around their hearts. Even when it’s not directly used on him, he feels somehow pulled to their connection.

To Jaskier and Ciri.

His empath bard and his child surprise.

Two halves of his world.

Jaskier’s eyes are closed to concentration, taming the waves of Ciri’s distress. The action exerts him, Geralt can tell from his elevated heartbeat and the slight slump in his shoulders. The witcher catches himself before he reaches out subconsciously. The gnawing urge to help almost makes him scowl in frustration.

Inaction has never been Geralt’s strong suit.

Finally, finally, Ciri’s eyes flutter open. She’s holding back the tears, as always, even when she’s confused from these dreams, even when she’s reliving her past and desperately searching for her family in the present.

“Geralt?”

Her voice is so small and he has to lean in to hear.

A relieved sigh escapes Jaskier’s lips as he lets go of the girl’s hand. With the magic dissipating, so does the stench of fear. The air settles. As soon as the medallion stills, Geralt surges forward to put a hand on her arm, so she knows he’s here.

On Geralt’s periphery, he senses bard stand and walk to the other side of the campfire—the empath usually needs a moment to collect himself after absorbing someone’s emotions—but right now Geralt’s focus is on his child.

“It’s okay. You are safe, Ciri,” Geralt whispers.

“I dreamed—”

“You are not there anymore.”

“It was burning…I—there was fire… and the man.” She sniffles, stubbornly refusing to cry. His child is tough, probably too tough for her own good.

“It wasn’t real.”

“Because you found me?” There’s a sliver of doubt in her voice that Geralt wishes more than anything to remove.

“Because I found you, Ciri,” he reassures. She’ll need reminding tonight. “You are my destiny and more. I’m here so you’ll never have to be lost again.”

A tiny smile tugs at the corner of her mouth. Geralt tucks away a strand of hair on her face and watches her eyelids droop heavily.

“I’m not. Not now that I’m awake.”

He returns the smile, although she can’t see it that well in the shadows. “That’s because of Jaskier.”

“Oh.” She searches for the bard. When Geralt looks back at the empath’s silhouette, he’s leaning against a tree, a few paces away from camp. “Thank you, Jaskier. Again,” she says.

“Of course, princess,” Jaskier says softly, “I know how scary nightmares can be, no matter how long it’s been. Those things may have happened a long time ago, but sometimes…they come back and haunt when you least expect it.” He pauses, looking to the distance for a moment. “I’d chase them away for you any time.”

She murmurs another thanks before her eyes close with exhaustion.

“Go back to sleep,” Geralt tucks Ciri’s blanket in, before taking her hand again, his thumb tracing a little circle on her skin. “Sleep, cub. We’ll be here. Both of us.”

It doesn’t take long for her to fall into a deep slumber, peacefully this time. Geralt sits next to her for a while longer just to be sure. When he finally leaves Ciri’s side to see to his bard, Jaskier is still standing with his back against the tree. He seems to be miles away, his expression hidden in the shadows, distant and inscrutable.

“Jask?” They are far enough from the girl but Geralt keeps his voice low.

With a surprised gasp, the bard notices him approaching and almost flinches. “Don’t—”

“Don’t touch you, I know.”

Jaskier rests his head on the tree bark. “Just for now.”

Geralt’s fists clench and unclench at his sides. Using those powers takes a lot out of Jaskier, and it leaves him unbalanced. The empath is so wary of hurting him by accident when he’s like this, with raw energy still rippling under his skin.

But in truth, Geralt doesn’t care. He wishes Jaskier could let him in, let him share the burden. Right now, with the space between them, he’ll have to rely on words instead of action.

It really isn’t his strong suit.

“Another nightmare… ” he decides to distract the bard while he recovers. “It’s been too long since Ciri had an episode. I thought it was all over.”

“Time doesn’t heal all wounds, Geralt,” Jaskier breathes. “We should all know better.”

Geralt frowns at the haunted look on his bard’s face. The tips of his fingers reach forward again, but he quickly hides the movement by crossing his arms before his chest.

“You sound like you are speaking from experience, Jask.”

“Do I?”

“Hmm.” Geralt’s stomach turns at the way Jaskier speaks about the girl’s trauma. “You know if you want to talk about it, I’m here.”

Jaskier squirms, chewing on his lower lip. Now he’s truly nervous, tense even. The witcher sees the way his posture stiffens and quickly adds, “Or not. Uh—it’s okay if you don’t—"

“No,” Jaskier interrupts him, shaking his head, “No, I want to tell you. I should tell you everything, at this point.”

Silence hangs between them as the bard adjusts his breathing. In and out, like he would before a performance.

“Years ago, when you first identified my powers” Jaskier chooses his words cautiously, the moon shining in his eyes. “I asked if you would use silver on me.”

Geralt’s heart sinks. “I would never, Jaskier. I—How could you ever think that?”

“Oh, relax, my love. I know.” the bard chuckles tightly. “Even back then, I knew you to be a decent man under all the gruffness. You wouldn’t even harm those confused monsters who drifted to human territory on accident, remember? You claimed that your life was just coin and contracts, but to me, it was clear that you were so much more.”

“You are not a monster,” Geralt argues.

“No, but someone else might think differently.”

The leaves rustle in the breeze, the air cooling as the night stretches on. Without the blanket, Jaskier shivers with only a thin chemise on his back. Geralt’s body gravitates toward him of its own volition. Fuck it, if he can just hold Jaskier right now…

“I was thirteen.” The bard is lost in memory. “This man, a magic user, came to our door. It was just me and my mother. He somehow knew about our identities and asked for her help. You see, she had been keeping it a secret for so long, so she couldn’t trust this man, this mage, who somehow just knew that we were empaths.”

He lets out a shuddering breath before continuing.

“His request was… weird. Something about a king or a royal court. I remember thinking that whatever he said sounded so sinister, it couldn’t have been any good. Mum sent him away on the spot, but afterwards she got so scared, like he’d come back again or something. That night, she barred the door and told me to hide in a storage chest. I refused, so she made me. She kept me obedient the entire time.”

Geralt frowns. “Her powers were the same as yours?”

“Stronger.” Jaskier starts pacing, a few twigs snapping under his feet. “She didn’t need contact to manipulate someone’s emotions like me, and she could influence many at the same time. I’m not as powerful—my father was human.”

“What happened next?” Somehow, Geralt knows the story will not end well. A mage usually means trouble. Or in this case, the shadow hidden behind Jaskier’s bright smiles and chirpy songs.

“She kept me calm the whole night, even when she wasn’t with me, but I could feel her fear. It’s was like an undercurrent beneath my skin. I could feel her emotions change. Then I heard the sound of fighting, but I couldn’t get out. I couldn’t go and help her…”

The salty tang of tears assaults Geralt’s nose, but they don’t fall. Jaskier looks up to the sky to hold back the grief that makes his hands tremble.

“Everything got fuzzy after that, but I still remember the pain and the despair. It was like a part of me was hurting with her. Part of me still does, during some nights.” Jaskier closes his eyes in agony. “When I got out the next morning, no one was there. Our home was wrecked, ruined. There was… There was so much blood, Geralt. I—I couldn’t…”

“Oh, Jaskier.” Geralt watches as Jaskier’s shoulders shake, whimpers choking in his throat. Under the night sky, the bard retreats into himself, making his frame look so much smaller. He sways a little and Geralt extends his hands again, hovering by his elbow. “Can I please touch you now?” he pleads.

With a sniffle, the bard composes himself. He flexes his hands to see if his magic is in check. “I think so, yes—oh.”

Geralt pulls Jaskier in for the tightest hug, his arms wrapping around the bard’s frame protectively. Through the thin fabric of the shirt, he can feel another shiver running down Jaskier’s spine, so he rubs small circles into his back to get some heat back in.

He breathes in Jaskier’s scent, not knowing if the lingering stench of fear is from Ciri or the bard.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Jask…” Geralt keeps murmuring into the soft hair by Jaskier’s temple. Gradually, the bard sags against his shoulder, letting himself be soothed and supported. Geralt then places his lips to the skin under Jaskier’s ear, and then his cheek, his chin, all the while holding him impossibly close. He’s ready to help the empath restore his energy with all the brimming love in his chest. “Do you want me to…”

“No,” the bard shakes his head. “I’m good. For now.”

They stand there for so long, swaying gently while the world sleeps, before the bard speaks up again.

“I looked for her, and him, at so many courts.” Jaskier’s slightly colder fingers rest on the nape of Geralt’s neck, buried into the hair there. “No mage fit his description. No trace of her either. I think that deep down, I already knew that she was gone, even back then. Otherwise, I would have felt her in there somehow. No matter how far away she was, but all I had was just this emptiness. I was alone since then.”

“You are not. Not anymore.”

“No,” Jaskier pulls away, the tears have dried. Geralt brings the pad of his thumb to trace those streaks anyway. Under his touch, Jaskier smiles. “You see, back in Posada, I met this witcher, a dashing and heroic one. He fell for me so hard that he couldn’t bear the thought of leaving without me, so he begged me to become his travel companion.”

“And you agreed?” Geralt chuckles.

“Not at first, but he wore me down eventually.”

The bard is the most ridiculous man Geralt knows, and yet here they are. Shaking his head in amusement, the witcher steers his bard back to their bedrolls. As they settle back into their usual position, Geralt can’t help but pull him closer, making sure they are touching from head to toe.

The cover sets heavily over Jaskier's body, slowly warming up his skin. His heart beats against Geralt’s ribcage steadily, showing with solid proof that the empath has survived those horrors.

“I found you too, Jask,” he says, pressing a chaste kiss between Jaskier’s brows.

“Good.” The bard's reply is muffled by Geralt's skin. Not far from them, Ciri is still breathing evenly, sound asleep. Geralt has everyone he needs to protect right here with him, tucked away from their separate demons.

And yet, his mind drifts to Jaskier's story. It’s a tragedy with no end and no closure. There was never a body to bury, no vengeance to seek either.

Somehow, he doubts that an unfinished story will stay unfinished.

---

Tagging: @rockysstupidity​ @flowercrown-bard​ @alllthequeenshorses​ @mothmanismyuncle​ @theultimatenerdd​ @percy-jackson-is-sexy-​

Please feel free to tell me if you want to be removed or added to the list <3

[cripple-punk-dad]

Lighthouse on a Distant Shore

TW: Stabbing, blood, child abuse. Just angst in general buddy

Summary: It’s Ed’s turn to bleed out and hallucinate.

Night had fallen by the time Ed came to. Or, not really. His eyes opened, but that glazed-over look felt all too familiar to Stede. He swallows hard and gently takes Ed’s limp hand, squeezing it so he knows he’s not alone. 

    “That was a real rough one, huh Ed? Maybe next time we’ll just be a little quicker.” Stede forces a smile, though his lips tremble. He quickly blinks away the tears pooling in his eyes.

    “I’ll be a bit quicker next time. I promise.” Stede’s voice breaks slightly. He knew it was his fault Ed had been stabbed so brutally. If only he’d paid better attention, or perhaps studied his sword-work a little more. He’d been distracting Ed in the middle of battle or something, that must have been it. 

    Frankly, the battle was a bit of a blur to him now. His clearest memories consisted of invading the boat, watching Edward get stabbed, and the frantic scramble back to the Revenge afterwards. Everything else seemed like a distant dream.

    Izzy had been furious of course, and even if Stede did his best to ignore it, his words still hurt.

    You’re a fucking idiot, Stede, he’s going to die because of you, Stede. Even HE can’t come back from your fucking incompetency!

    The rest of the crew had locked him in the brig, out of fear that he might hurt Stede; now that Ed was out of commission, who knew what Izzy might do?

    “Well,” Stede mutters “It’s not about me, is it? It’s about you getting better.” With his free hand he brushes the hair out of Ed’s face, never letting go of his hand.

    Ed doesn’t react much, though he continues to stare at his co-captain with those same half-closed, slightly glazed over eyes. Occasionally he’ll twitch, or mutter something incoherent.

    While Stede wrestles with the guilt of his mistake, Edward wrestles with the demons produced by his feverish mind. 

    His father towered over the weak and sickly Ed, so tall that he blocked out any light. Giant hands rained down, narrowly avoiding Ed’s terrified form. He could hear someone screaming. 

All he could do was crawl away, digging his hands into the dirt and pulling his body forward. But every time he thought he’d made it, thought he might be free, a slimy tentacle erupted from the ground and dragged him back. They held him down, refusing to let go until he gave up.

Over and over he’d try to get away; and over and over the Kraken would drag him back. Until one of his father’s hands finally makes contact. Everything in his mindscape slows down. He watches as the giant fist punches through his abdomen, and Ed suddenly remembers what it means to hurt.

Twisting, writing pain rips and tears through his chest. He thrashes weakly in his bed, no longer caressed by the sweet ignorance that sleep provides. The hulking monster of his father slowly fades away, replaced by a tortuous landscape of the ghosts he’d created. 

MONSTER

Someone screams at him.

YOU DESERVE THIS

Another voice yells.

All while his fever burns hotter, his blood continues to spill, the voices grow louder and angrier, swirling around his spinning mind, dragging him deeper and deeper until;

His hand twitches.

Someone is…holding me…

Ed gasps, forcing himself to blink away the tears pooling in his eyes.

Blonde curls come into focus, along with a sweet smile. 

“St-Stede…?” He rasps. 

The shades of his mistakes fade away, outshone by the voice of a golden-haired angel.

“I’m here, Ed.”

“I’m here.”

[s1ut4harrypotter]

savior complex

George Weasley x Fem!reader

this is based on savior complex by phoebe bridgers, my favorite song. it’s not my best work or anything but i sorta liked writing it. I haven’t been able to figure out endings on any of my wip’s so i might put a bunch of stuff out this week but idk. yet another without a happy ending because as usual i’m a piece of shit.

Warnings: sad, angst, mentions of canon character death, not proofread. If there’s anything wrong with it let me know lolz

word count: 2.5k

lyrics in italics/bold

tags: @amourtentiaa

Emotional affair, overly sincere

It’s been almost a year and a half since Fred died. George seems to be getting better, but also more distant. He is happy and joking around again, but he has been going to see Angelina more often. You and George had been dating since your 6th year at Hogwarts, you were going to be together forever. But now, as the days go by, he is getting farther and farther away from you. 

Smoking in the car, windows up. Crocodile tears

You were there for George, through everything. You didn’t shy away from any of it, the nightmares, the rage, the sadness, you were there. You helped him, he had started smoking, you’d find him in his dad's old Ford Anglia, smoking a cigarette, sobbing. you got in, rolled up the windows, took the cigarette, and took him on a drive.

Run the tap til its clear

 We pulled up to a small cliff we used to hang out at during the summer and held him while he cried. We had talked for the whole night, we only left when the sun started to come up. 

Drift off on the floor

You tried to keep him involved with the rest of the world, so you started having monthly movie nights with the rest of his siblings. One night a month, everyone would go to one person’s flat and watch a movie or two. One month, it was your turn to have everyone at your flat, the two of you lived alone in the flat now, since Fred was gone. George hadn’t been sleeping well and ended up falling asleep halfway through the movie. Once everyone was gone, you cleaned up and decided not to wake him. 

I drag you to the shore

Just as you were about to walk into your bedroom, you heard him. George had been having nightmares since Fred died. Some nights you’d make him a potion for dreamless sleep, but tonight the two of you forgot. You sighed and walked back to the living room,

You’re gonna drown in your sleep, for sure

“Georgie” you whispered. “Georgie it’s me, y/n you gotta wake up darling.” he was sweating buckets and breathing heavily. You gently coaxed him awake and walked him back to your bedroom, he started to cry. “I’m so sorry darling” you cooed, as you stroked his hair, trying to get him to fall back asleep.

Wake up and start a big fire, in our one room apartment

He wouldn’t stop crying now, he was hiccuping and mumbling incoherent things into your chest. You were so tired, you were the only one with a job at this point, not that minded, you had just had a long day and needed to go to sleep. 

But i’m too tired, to have a pissing contest.

“George, darling, you need to breathe, take deep breaths, you’re going to throw up if you don’t calm down Georgie.” he had a bad habit of crying until he threw up, then passing out and falling asleep. 

“He’s gone. It’s my fault. I should’ve been there. It should’ve been me.” He hiccupped out, crying harder now. You were on the verge of tears too, you hated how sad he was. 

“No George. You can’t think like that, it wasn’t your fault. Fred wouldn’t want you to feel this way.” you spoke softly into his ear. 

“Don’t tell me what he would’ve wanted y/n” he suddenly got serious. “You didn’t know him like I did.”

“Of course I didn’t know him like you did George, but I like to think that I knew him pretty well, and I don’t think he was the kind of person to want you wallowing in your bed, wishing it had been you instead of him.”

“God y/n can you just go? Please? I want to be alone tonight.” he said, you scoffed. He couldn’t be serious, but you were tired and you didn’t want to upset him more. You slept on the couch that night.

All the bad dreams that you hide.

You were grieving too, you had met Fred first at Hogwarts, then he introduced you to George. You felt like you had been really good friends with Fred, so it really hurt when George said things like that, but you knew he didn’t really mean it. Sometimes he just said things like that when he was upset, you understood, he was hurting. Sometimes he wouldn’t tell you about his dreams, he would just change the subject whenever you asked, you had dreams about Fred’s death sometimes too. You were with him and Percy when it happened, you’d constantly beat yourself up for it, all the things you could have done differently to save George from this pain, but what’s done is done. 

Show me yours and i’ll show you mine

You wished that George would tell you what was going on with him. He had been going through different stages over the past year, at first he didn’t talk at all. You’d walk by his room at night and he’d be mumbling things to himself, never anything you could make out. Then he started telling you how he was feeling, anything and everything that he felt, he’d tell you. You liked it then, even if he was sad and there wasn’t much you could do about it, at least you could be sad together. Now he didn’t tell you anything, he just brushed you off.

Call me when you land, i’ll drive around again.

You loved him so much, there wasn’t much he could do that you wouldn’t take. You were willing to wait for him to get better. You knew he was hurting, you knew it would take time for him to get back to the ‘old George’, if there was even any of him left. You’d never say it out loud, but you knew everyone else was thinking it. When Fred died, he took a big piece of George with him. It brought you so much heartache that he was in pain. You wished you could just bring Fred back, then maybe you could get your George back. But you were willing to wait.

One hand on the wheel, one in your mouth. Turn me on, and turn me down.

You and him hadn’t been intimate in months, you knew George was hurt, and he would only ever think about it on his good days, which were now few and far between. But it was ok, you were willing to wait for him. You loved him. 

Baby you’re a vampire, you want blood and I promised. I’m a bad liar.

Lately you felt as though you never saw the happy side of George. He’d go out during the day, to meet friends from school he said. He’d never say who it was if you asked, but you figured it was just Lee Jordan or someone else he had been close friends with. He was physically and emotionally exhausted when he got home. It was like he used up any energy he had to be happy wherever he was during the day, then when he got home, you were left to pick up the pieces when he shattered.

With a savior complex

You were beginning to get burned out. You had finally gotten some time for yourself to meet up with some friends, and they suggested you break up with George. You simply couldn’t do that. It may be slightly exhausting to keep up with him, but you knew the old George was still in there. They kept telling you it seemed like you had a savior complex, and that George was a lost cause. Deep down, you knew you were probably the only one still holding on to the relationship, but you still loved him so much. You wouldn’t know what to do without him, even if you knew it was practically already over.

George had been getting further and further away, figuratively and literally. He was almost never home, and when he was, he was back to barely talking, occasionally giving you one or two word answers. You’d ask him how his day was and he’d reply with just “good” not even bothering to ask about your day. 

You were fed up with how things were, you wanted to know if at least he was back to his joking self around his friends. You knew it was wrong, but you followed him one day. Turns out he had just been going to the Leaky Cauldron, at first you were worried he just spent the day drinking. But, you waited a few minutes and went in, only to see him kiss Angelina Johnson on the cheek. 

Ok, maybe they were just catching up, they were good friends at school, you knew that. But the longer you watched, the more you realized you weren’t watching two friends catching up. You were watching your boyfriend, the man you had spent the last 5 years of your life with, with another girl. Deep down, you knew your relationship was over, it had been for months, you were just dragging it out because you didn’t want it to end yet. But you didn’t want it to end like this. 

You wanted to scream, cry, hit him, do something. You had thrown away the last year of your life, devoting yourself to helping George feel better. You spent long nights rubbing his back, whispering comforting things in his ears as he cried into your chest. YOU did that, not her. How could he do this to you? After everything you’ve been through together, everything you had done for him. He threw it all away. 

You were distraught. You were thinking irrationally, sending yourself into a spiral. You called in sick for work and walked back to your flat in a daze. You needed to think about this. For a few minutes, you contemplated obliviating yourself, maybe if you just forgot you saw it, went about your relationship as it was before this morning, it’d be ok. But you knew that wasn’t the right thing to do. So you did the only other thing you thought you could do, you conjured some boxes and started packing. 

You spent the day packing every last trace of your belongings, you called one of your friends and told her something happened with George. You didn’t give her any specifics because the optimistic, or stupid, side of you was holding on to hope that you were overreacting, maybe you saw wrong. Maybe, this was a big huge misunderstanding and you could unpack your stuff with George when he got home and live happily ever after. But you knew that wasn’t the case, so you told her you’d tell her when you got there. You finished packing the last of your stuff a few minutes before George got home, it was later than usual. You didn’t want to face him, you thought about leaving him a letter, telling him you saw what he did and not to contact you ever again. But you needed to hear it from him.

He walked in and saw the boxes, confused he walked into the living room and saw you sitting on the couch, just staring off into the distance. 

“Y/n darling? Are you alright.” he asked, confused.

“No Georgie, but I will be.” you whispered back, sadly.

“What’s with all the boxes? What happened?” he asked again. It was like you were a ghost, or someone else. You were there but not really, he could see you’d been crying. 

“What did I do wrong Georgie? What could I have done differently?” you asked, you could feel the tears starting again.

“Darling I don’t know what you’re talking about, did something happen at work?” he said, he was worried maybe you got fired.

You scoffed. “No George, nothing happened at work. I have been so worried about you lately, you seemed to be getting worse and worse. Coming home from god knows where, in a mess of tears. Just coming home for me to clean up, then going out again the next day.”

When he didn’t reply you continued, “I have spent the last 5 years of my life with you George. Completely devoted to you, through everything I supported you.” you laughed bitterly, “I spent all day packing today, trying desperately to figure out where I went wrong. What I did to you, what I could’ve done differently, to make you love me enough. But it wasn’t me was it?” 

“What are you talking about dear? Why were you packing.” he replied.

“God George you’re just not seeing it are you?” You looked at him, bewildered. “I saw you. You and Angelina.”

“Oh” he whispered.

“OH! THATS ALL YOU HAVE TO SAY GEORGE? OH?” You shouted, he could feel himself starting to cry now too. 

“I have spent so much of my time cleaning up after you, taking care of you, loving you. I can’t believe I’ve been so stupid. I should’ve known. When you started going out more, I told myself, maybe you were just out with friends, when you came home after a long day with Angelina, using up any happiness that you did have with her, who was there to pick up the pieces? ME!” you yelled. 

“I just can't do it anymore George. We’ve been over for a long time, and I need to let you go now.” you trailed off, the last part coming out in a mix between a whimper and a whisper.

“No, darling please let's talk about this!” he begged.

“What is there to talk about George? I saw you, with my own two eyes.” you replied.

“Please baby it was a mistake. I love you so much, please please don’t leave me.” he was begging you, he needed you.

“I can’t George. I’ve spent so much time caring for you, I need time to care for me. I need to get better too. I just can’t do this anymore, there won’t be anything left of me if I keep giving it all to you.”

He broke down next to you, crying. You stood up, ready to disapparate with your things, but he ran up to you and hugged you.

“Please don’t leave me y/n. I’m so sorry! It was a mistake I love you so much.”

“You need to let me go Georgie, I'm sorry. I need to go.” you whispered, calmly removing his arms from their tight hold around your waist.

You whispered a quiet, final goodbye, before disapparating from his flat and to your friends home, you both needed to move on.

[alpacaparkaseok]

Mine

13. Agust D

Genre: Min Yoongi x oc

Warnings: none

Word Count: 4.2k

I have a surprise for you guys in this chapter!!! 😊😊 Aaaaand we’re all set up and ready to go for the finale! 

2 Months Later

Anacortes, Washington, USA

The distant sound of a bell pulls me back to reality, and I turn to face the wind. Waves are pushing their way onto the shore, the choppy water fighting for my attention.

I watch as the ferry grows ever closer before putting my earbuds into my ears to answer my incoming phone call.

“Funny, I was just thinking about you,” I smile as I close my eyes.

“Really? What a coincidence. What are you up to right now?”

“Just about to board the ferry. You?”

“I’m going to head to bed soon.”

“Wow, so early. You’ve become so disciplined!”

Yoongi’s breathy laugh fills my ears and I can almost picture him rolling his eyes if I close my eyes tightly enough. “I’m assuming you’re not available to facetime?”

Frowning, I shake my head even though he can’t see me. “No, too many people around. You’ll just have to deal with the beautiful sound of my voice.”

“That’s what I was afraid of.”

It’s been two months since I last saw Yoongi outside of Bong-cha’s apartment. The chill that comes with currently residing in the northwestern United States is almost the same as I felt that morning when we said goodbye.

‘Young Rising’ came out just over a month ago, and it’s received a lot of success. Thankfully it was just enough to help me land a role that is already receiving speculation for possibly being a critically acclaimed role.

It wasn’t the one I originally wanted, that role went to Bryce Dallas Howard. I suppose I’ll have to try for a 1700’s romance some other time. This time around I get to play the daughter of one of the first lighthouse keepers in the United States and all the crazy events that unfold. It’s fun, and getting to take the ferry out to the San Juan islands here in the state of Washington is an added bonus.

My favorite part of the role? Every morning I get to sit here and watch the ocean and talk to Yoongi.

“Rude, but I’m not surprised. Isn’t it barely midnight there? You really are heading off to bed early.”

“Yeah, it’s midnight. What can I say? It was a long day and I’m exhausted.”

Now that I listen closer, I notice the hint of tiredness in his tone. “Why? What happened today?”

Yoongi sighs as I get up to board the ferry. Another great thing about being here in Washington? It’s cold and rainy enough that nobody bats an eye at me. I’m decked out in my raincoat and my beanie is pulled down low. During this time of year there aren’t many tourists either, so most mornings it’s just the ferryman and I. Today there are a couple of small groups milling about, though.

All the better. It gives me an excuse to not facetime Yoongi and have him laugh at my bundled up state. Which, for the record, he finds hilarious.

“Promise not to laugh?”

“Promise.”

There’s a second hesitation before he speaks up again. “I miss you.”

It’s a blow straight to the heart, and I cling to the railing so as to not fall overboard. We try not to dwell on our current state too much, things are complicated enough. Still, it’s nice to know that I’m not the only one struggling with this.

“Why would I laugh at that?”

“I don’t know, you like making fun of me and how weirdly sentimental I can get-”

“Soft. That’s the word you’re looking for.”

“...right. How could I forget.”

“I miss you too, Yoongs. A lot.”

It’s silent on the other end of the phone for a little while, so I just lean up against the railing and watch as the ferry begins to edge out to sea. Once again I close my eyes against the crashing waves and try to convince myself that I’m sitting in the genius lab or making a mess of things in the kitchen.

How could a span of less than a week affect me so much? It’s a question that I’ve come back to many times over the past couple of weeks. Occasionally I get a moment of understanding. Sometimes that understanding comes late at night as I cuddle up in bed, propping my phone up to chat with Yoongi as he sits at his desk in the genius lab and tells me about what he’s working on.

Just watching him mumble incoherent things under his breath and seeing his eyes flit back to his phone to check that I’m still there makes me realize that there’s so much going on here. So much going on whilst being so far apart.

At least the media frenzy has died down a bit. Sure, there’s still a lot of theories tumbling around, but the mobs of heartbroken fans seems to have lessened significantly.

“Are you sure that’s everything, though? What else have you got going on?”

“What, me missing you is not enough?”

I chuckle into the phone. “Nope.”

“Fine, you caught me. We’re finishing up the final touches on the mixtape and I always just get really stressed before a release, you know? Like you did the night before ‘Young Rising’ premiered?”

Shuddering at the memory I groan. “Ugh, don’t remind me. But what is it exactly about this mixtape that has you so nervous? I mean, this isn’t the first time you’ve released one. Maybe whatever helped you de-stress last time will help you this time around, too.”

There’s a long pause but I wait patiently for him to speak. The island is just coming into view now, I’ve probably got about fifteen more minutes before I’m officially on the clock and have to hang up.

I hate that part.

“I’m not so sure...it’s different this time around.”

I frown. “What’s so different? You’re even more loved?”

A wry laugh on his part. “No, not that. It’s just...this mixtape, these songs...they’re even more personal this time around. Sure, I’ve talked about some pretty personal things on my previous mixtapes, but this time around the entire mixtape is personal.”

That’s news to me. Ever since Yoongi changed the concept of the album he’s kept everything under lock and key. He told me he kept most of the tracks, ‘My First Mistake’ obviously being one of them. Other than that, though, I have no idea what to expect.

“Yoongs...I think that will make this mixtape your best one yet. Really. People will be able to relate to it, and they’ll love you even more for it. Just, get some sleep tonight. You’ve worked your hardest - don’t try to brush it all off, you’ve nearly worked yourself to the ground over this mixtape! - and that’s all you can do. I’m absolutely positive it’ll be great.”

“Thanks, Car. So what scenes are you doing today?”

We get lost in the conversation for the remainder of the ferry ride before suddenly the ferry is coming to a stop. I hurry off the boat, the tell-tale change of tone tipping Yoongi off to what I need to do.

“Talk to you later?”

“Yeah, sounds great. Get some sleep!”

Yoongi chuckles. “Will do. Have a great day.”

I sign off the phone and roll my shoulders. One of the producers, Melissa, is waiting for me in a little golf cart.

“Hey Cara, ready for the day?”

Grinning at her, I jump into the passenger seat. “Definitely.”

🌙

It’s the middle of the night when I’m awoken from my slumber, and I groan as I contemplate just turning my phone off. It was a late night, I’ve probably only been asleep for a couple of hours at this point.

When I see who’s calling, though, I pick up.

“Bong-cha?” I ask blearily. “What’s up?”

“Have you listened to it yet?!”

I hiss as Bong-cha screams into my ear. “What are you talking about? Did you and Jimin finally kiss or something?”

“No, you idiot. Yoongi’s mixtape!”

My eyes widen and suddenly I’m completely awake. “His mixtape? I-it’s out? When?”

“It just dropped like an hour ago! Didn’t he tell you? I mean, I get that he wanted to surprise everybody, but I thought he’d at least tell you.”

I’m already on my music app, searching for Agust D. When I finally hit search, I scream involuntarily.

“That little punk! He didn’t even tell me!”

“Wait, Cara!”

“What?”

“Just, listen to it.”

“That’s what I’m trying to do, weirdo.”

“No, but really listen to it. I mean, it’s about you.”

My chest stops rising as my air gets cut off. “What do you mean it’s about me? We already knew about ‘My First Mistake’-”

“No, not just that track. I mean it’s all about you. Just look at the name of it! Isn’t it a little weird that he didn’t stick to his m.o. and title it ‘D-3’?”

I was in such a rush to click on his profile that I didn’t even bother to look at the title. When I do, I come gasping up for air.

Mine.

Written there in big, bold letters is the word mine.

“That doesn’t mean any-”

“Nuh-uh, you listen to the mixtape and then we’ll hash out the details. Got it?”

“Fine. Call you in the morning?”

“Isn’t it already morning for you?”

“Yeah, 4!”

“Right. Yeah, call me later.”

Clicking off the call, I take a deep breath to steel myself before clicking on the album. 8 tracks stare back up at me, most of them I recognize from that first night in the genius lab. The leading track is ‘My First Mistake’, which makes me smile. When my eyes trail down to the final song, I can’t help but click on it.

My Last Mistake. Turning the volume up, I sit back against my headboard and listen. And then, note by note, I fall under his spell.

Yoongi’s heartbroken voice talks about details of his life, how he goes by many names. The world knows him by Suga. His true fans know his other name, August D. Min Yoongi controls the strings of those two personas. A heavy beat pounds out the words alongside him.

Then the music slows, becomes calmer. Clearer.

In the most tormented voice he can manage, Yoongi talks about a girl that called him Yoongs. He talks about a girl driving under the stars that called him Yoongs and how in that moment, he decided that none of the other names mattered anymore, just so long as he could hear her say it one more time.

As the song falls from its crescendo, Yoongi brings up his last mistake.

“What’s your last mistake, Yoongs?” I whisper, hoping for an answer.

He answers it a moment later, the same melody from ‘My First Mistake’ being played out, only this time it’s on the guitar rather than the piano.

He’s reminded of his last mistake every time a plane flies overhead and he can’t run fast enough to catch it.

🌙

The entire mixtape is hauntingly beautiful.

As I finish listening to “Naksan”, a song set Naksan park, and what I assume to be the gazebo that overlooked Seoul, I lean my head back and sigh.

There is so much we don’t say. There is so much that Yoongi has never said, but now I’m beginning to realize why he was so nervous about this mixtape.

Here, crammed into these eight songs that talk about everything from t-shirts to being oceans apart, Yoongi says everything he never could before. It’s obvious, painfully so. He didn’t try to cover anything up.

I am so dead.

Yet, I can’t find it in myself to care. The only thing I wish I could do right now is show up at his apartment and sit down on his couch. Maybe eat some food, and watch as he fumbles for an explanation to this mixtape that is no longer a mixtape but more a cry out into the void.

And of course, don’t even get me started on the title track. The song that the album is named after, “Mine”.

In it Yoongi recalls his dreams of having a big car and house, and how he gets to call all those things his now. He has it all, essentially. And yet, the one thing he wants more than anything is far from him.

‘I have it all, I hear them say it. I have it all, they chant over again. When will they realize that it means nothing to me, if I can’t call you mine?’

Dragging myself to check Twitter, I see what the number one trending topic is right now.

#Mine

And in second place?

#CaraisMine

Somehow, I can never quite make it to first place. How disappointing.

Groaning as I realize that the sun is about to come up, I linger over Yoongi’s contact information.

One call. That’s all it would take. A single phone call, and maybe everything would change. But what would I even say?

Hi, it’s the girl that’s ridiculously in love with you. Do you feel the same way? Great! Let’s end our careers and live in Fiji!

As enticing as that sounds as I watch the rain pouring down, I know that it’s unrealistic. I’m here, caught up in some strange, long-distance relationship that’s technically not a relationship.

And Yoongi’s there, hopefully receiving all the praise he deserves for coming out with yet another great mixtape.

So I just let the dim light from my phone fade out before slipping back down under the covers. I know what Yoong is thinking now.

Ball’s in my court. But how on earth do I return it?

🌙

Seoul, South Korea

“And she still hasn’t said anything about it?”

Yoongi knows that Taehyung is trying really hard to understand his current predicament, but if he asks him if he’s heard from Cara one more time, he’s going to lose his mind.

“No.”

“Have you reached out to her?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

Sighing, Yoongi rubs his hands over his face. “First, because it’s only 8 o’clock in the morning over there. Second, I basically just told the world about my feelings for her, I think I can give her a little space to breathe before jumping on her.”

Taehyung plops down beside Yoongi, his eyes wide. “You’re really stressed, aren’t you?”

Somehow the question makes Yoongi laugh. “You think?” He feels restless; he has for the past two months. He thought releasing the mixtape would diminish that feeling, but instead it’s been heightened to the point that he can’t hardly sit still anymore.

Which is saying a lot, because Yoongi loves sitting still.

“Hyung?”

“Hm.”

“I think you should borrow my car and go for a drive or something. Just get out for a while. You’ve been cooped up in this studio for weeks; it’s messing with your head.”

Sometimes Yoongi forgets how much everyone cares about him. It’s in times like these that he remembers. Without saying much else he takes Taehyung’s keys that he extends to him and heads out.

When he gets into the car, he doesn’t know where he’s going. His mind is filled with worry and doubts and worst of all, regret. Was he too blind in his feelings that he overlooked Cara’s? After all, maybe she’s listening to the mixtape right this very moment and wondering why he would write something like this.

Maybe she hasn’t called him yet because she’s trying to come up with a way to let him down easy.

Yoongi drives and drives, turning up the music so as to drown out the thoughts in his head. He drives on and on, clueless to the fact that it’s the middle of the night and he should really be heading back to the apartment now.

When he parks before a lit path that leads up, Yoongi realizes that his body knew this entire time where he was going.

Without questioning it further, he hops out of the car and shrugs on his coat and mask. It’s late enough that hopefully most people will have had the sense to go home.

As Yoongi climbs up the path he only passes a couple of people; a couple that are too tangled up in each other’s embrace to even notice him. The path continues ever upward until he’s panting, but he’s grateful for the burn in his lungs. For a brief moment, his mind isn’t consumed by the what ifs of his current situation.

As Yoongi clears the final steps, his gaze immediately turns to the gazebo just down a ways. It’s the same as before, the night a similar one to that night when he watched Cara from afar before mustering up the courage to go talk to her.

Tonight there is one major difference. As Yoongi edges closer, there’s a tightness in his chest. There’s some part of him that half-expects Cara to appear, leaning up against one of the pillars and looking out at the city.

As Yoongi steps into the gazebo, that wish vanishes into thin air.

It’s empty.

Cara is not here. Yoongi is, though. Which has proved to be the most miserable thing in the world over the past two months. Cara is gone, but somehow Yoongi is still here and seeing her everywhere he goes.

The songwriting and production process is enough to make anyone go a little insane. Usually, once the project is finished, Yoongi feels like he can finally breathe again. He’s able to enjoy the fruits of his labors.

Not tonight.

At first he laughed at himself, back when he’d first started learning about Cara from Bong-cha and curiosity overcame him. He thought it was silly of him to want to learn everything about her and what it was that made her tick. There was just something about her that made Yoongi dive right in.

Of course, the boys had noticed. Even Bong-cha, who hadn’t known him for very long, had noticed the difference Cara had made. That was before they even met. Before any of this had even started.

Yoongi knows his place. His place as one of the most famous stars in the world, his place in the group’s dynamic, his place among his family. His place among ARMY. Yet, when he met Cara, it was like the ground disappeared under his feet and he’s been falling ever since.

He used to come to Naksan park often and just think. He’s not one for hiking around outdoors, but something about the view and the beautiful architecture of the gazebo and old city walls that line the path have helped him think.

He used to stand where Cara stood, and think about everything. However there was one topic that he tried to avoid at all costs: love. It wasn’t because he didn’t believe in love or didn't want it; if he’s learned anything from his time with ARMY he’s learned about love. But there was always this giant, impenetrable wall that stood between him and love.

Yoongi knows his place, and because of that clear role he has also always known that him falling in love with someone other than his fans was off the table.

That night when he came to meet Cara, he was coming to tell her just that. He was coming to tell her that he was a horrible human being that was dangerously close to breaking that unspoken rule, and he needed to mark a clear line in the sand. Friends, he had thought We can still be friends.

Yet, as he’d watched Cara head to the same spot; the same pillar he had frequented so many times, his words had gotten caught in his throat. She’d looked out over the city and Yoongi would have given anything to know what she was thinking.

Instead, he’d just asked for what so many people had been unable to give him throughout his career.

Just someone to sit in silence with.

No demands, no questions, just be together.

And as Yoongi sat swimming in his feelings, Cara’s head resting on his shoulder, he learned something about himself.

Yoongi had avoided the topic of love for so long not because he didn’t think it was appropriate for his lifestyle, but because he’d known deep down that the chances of him finding someone he was willing give everything up for were nearly nonexistent.

Cara’s hand was wrapped up in his, sharing his pocket. Quiet breathing, feeling warm despite the oppressing chill. No demanding answers, just sitting together.

He had realized that while he was looking for someone to convince him to leave everything behind, he was sitting beside someone that already understood. Someone that would never tell him to abandon it all just to be together.

He was sitting beside someone that might just be open to the possibility of being together, and would be open to the chaos that would ensue. There was no need to change everything to be together, but there would be the need to fight for that privilege of calling Cara his.

As Yoongi now steps into the gazebo and rests on the bench opposite from where they had sat, he remembers when it all started.

The night after he’d watched ‘Under Nine’, he’d felt restless and wandered up here. It was the first time in over a year that he’d come here. He knew why he didn’t bother to anymore; he didn’t feel inspired anymore when he looked out over the city.

Yoongi had seen the world, and he’d fallen out of love with it.

It was a horrible, lying, cheating thing. He’d seen too much suffering, fought so hard against it just to see evil rise up again and again.

Yet when he came up here that night after watching Cara on screen and seeing that humanity can be beautiful even in all its flaws, something amazing had happened.  

He looked out over the city, and a little spark had jumped up in his heart. That night, Yoongi looked out over the world, and began to fall in love again.

Yoongi has never been very confrontational. Some may think he is simply due to his status as a rapper, but that’s never been the case. However, he is known for his undeniable work ethic. For his unending effort to obtain what he thinks he deserves.

When Yoongi placed a letter into the mail a few days ago, he was reminded of why he was going to do everything in his power to make this work.

When he looked at Cara, he thought that she deserved a chance at love, too.

Giving one last look out at the city, Yoongi gets up and stretches. There are a lot of uncertainties swirling about right now, but there is one thing he is completely certain of.

He is going to do everything in his power to give him and Cara a chance.

🌙

Anacortes, Washington, USA

I have mail.

It’s the first time in a long time that I’ve gotten mail, but I can’t fight the feeling of dread as I wonder if the awkward pleas from fans are about to start up again. There’s a single envelope addressed to me sitting on the ground in front of my hotel door, which I scoop up before heading back inside.

No work today; we’ll be taking a two week break to wait out the rainy season before picking things back up again. I’m grateful for the small reprieve, I would much rather stay cuddled up in my blankets today while I try to wrap my mind around everything.

I haven’t reached out to Yoongi yet. Granted, it’s only 10 am, but I still feel a little guilty. I just want to make sure I have my thoughts in order before I freak out, you know? After all, there’s still a chance the mixtape being about me is just a coincidence...right?

Stacey, my PR rep, just got off the phone with me. Nobody really knows where I am right now, which is good. There are perks to being holed up in a small town in the northwestern United States.

She gave me an earful on how many calls she’s received over the course of the last few hours from various magazines and gossip collectors. When she asked me if there was a statement she would like for me to relay, I blanked. Stacey just laughed and said she’d come up with some vague for the time being.

My attention returns to the item in my hand. Cautiously opening up the letter, my brows furrow as I take out a small slip of paper and a piece of thick cardstock.

Cara,

Hopefully this gets to you when it’s supposed to. I thought of just sending you an email but that seemed to detract from what I was going for. You understand, don’t you? When you told me about your break from work, I managed to pull some strings. Follow the directions on the back of this letter, I’ll be waiting for you. And no, I can’t do this over the phone. It’s an ‘in-person’ kind of thing.

Yours,

Yoongs

Flipping the letter over I frown when the directions are in French. Then, scrambling for the cardstock, my mouth drops open as I see just what Yoongi is talking about.

One boarding ticket for tomorrow morning, leaving at 10am.

Destination?

Paris.

Previous - Next

only one chapter left! 💛💛

taglist: @eusticenatalie @agustneeds​ @prdshobi​ @oceandeep​ @taylorroe3​ @dreamcatcherjiah​

[youralternantpersonality]

Mating Season

Seth x reader: Mating Season

WARNING: Smut, male aggression (kind of), and a whole new Seth. 

***

Monday, August 12th, 2019

It was the first day of school and Y/n was at the library during lunch (as always) catching up on some homework while sneaking some chips occasionally. Seth, Embry, Quil, and Jake were passing through when Seth noticed his long-time crush. Even before his shift, Seth always daydreamed about the quiet and shy girl. They had a few classes together, but he could never get the courage to talk to her. Now that he has shifted, He craved her more than before.

“Yo! Seth! You okay their little guy?” Embry laughed, waving his hand in front of his face.

“What? Yeah, I’m good.” He says, slapping his brothers’ hand away.

“Look over their guys. Hey Seth, why don’t you go talk to your girl.” Quil nudges him towards the library door.

“Shut up Quil,” Seth pushed back and started walking away. Jake and Embry shared a look and grabbed Seth towards the library.

“Let me go! What the fuck is wrong with you guys!” Seth says, trying to not start something with his brothers, while also not causing a scene. Too late.

“What the-?” Y/n looked up from her English homework to see Embry, Seth, Jake, and Quil playing tug-of-war with each other. Y/n shrugged her shoulders and goes back to work as the boys run off elsewhere.

Friday, September 20th, 2019

Seth sat directly behind Y/n and could do nothing but attempt his way to be closer to her as possible. He had finally gotten the courage to talk to her a couple of days after the library incident; in the midst of it, to everyone’s relief, he imprinted on her. Since then, he has calmly entered her into the pack world. She took it well. She was shocked and hesitant at first, but she accepted what it was.

When he told her about the imprinting, she was happy. Seth has never seen Y/n big e/c eyes light up and smile as if she was seeing the sun for the first time. She was ecstatic by it because she had feelings for Seth since she first saw him in gym class a few years back. He was smaller, lanky, and had baby-like features. Now, he was buffer and broader, taller, with child-like features. Even as a giant, he wasn’t intimidating. Seth was the definition of a teddy bear or more like a cub. Man, on the outside, a child on the inside.

Wednesday, November 13th, 2019

It had been a little over two months of Y/n and Seth being together. Emotions grew stronger and hormones became wilder. It didn’t help Seth when Paul would think obscure things. It also didn’t help that Seth would think of those things while being with Y/n. She knew something was up and decided to confront him about it.

“Seth, are you ok? You seem…on edge lately.” Y/n said, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m fine,” he says abruptly moving away from her hand. “I have to go,” Seth said walking past Y/n and towards the front door. He is stopped by an arm grabbing his.

“Did I do something wrong? You’ve been avoiding me…” Y/n said with tears in her eyes. Seth turned to his imprint and regretted everything he did to her. He grabs her, pulling them close, and kiss them as hard as he could. Allowing to let Y/n feel why Seth has been acting the way he has. She hesitates and looks up at him.

“That’s why I have been distant. I don’t want to force you into doing anything you don’t want to do. I love and care about you too much.” Seth says with emotions in his eyes. Y/n smiles looking down. She takes a deep breath, closes her eyes, looks up at him, and she allows him in. When he looks at her, he sees it. He sees a mutual feeling. Love, passion, and lust. Without a word, they embrace one another for a wild night to remember.

Friday, January 3rd, 2020

“Alright! Let’s move, move, move!” Sam screamed. The pack has been running drills all day. Anger and tension started to build between the guys. During this time, Leah had to be dismissed for her safety (Sue and Billy’s demand) but did drills later when it would just be her, Jake (maybe), and Seth. Sam and Paul were stricter on everyone, we fought more, and became irrationally aggressive at times. All for one small reason.

It was mating season. A time where, if the option was available, we’d all go to our corners of La Push and stay with our imprints and fulfill the moment (while using protection of course). Thus, the reason for Leah not being here. For wolves in general, guys become aggressive as the women go into heat. It’s not like anything would come of anything if Leah was there. It would just be better if she wasn’t.

Seth had warned Y/n of this time of year. It happens randomly from January to March. No warning when it does happen. This year just so happened to be at the start of January. A great way to start a new year.

Seth ran to Y/n house after practicing drills in the cold rain. He climbed up the side of her house and in through her window and sought her out. He growled at the sight of her. She had just gotten out of the shower, wrapped in a towel with her h/t (hair type) wrapped in a towel. She jumped at the sound he made and tried to catch her breath.

“Jesus Seth! You scared the shit out of me. What are you doing here? I thought you said Sam was going to have you guys run drills until later tonight?” She asked, oblivious to his stance and demeanor. When he said nothing, she walked up to him slowly, then stopped. The moment she looked into his eyes; she knew that she wasn’t going to leave this room for the rest of the afternoon (when her parents come back from work).

“Fuck.” She drops her towel, and without a second thought, Seth grabs her by the waist, pulling her closer to him, grabbing her face, and pulling her into a deep needing kiss. She wrapped her arms around him and just gave into him. Seth was always gentle, calm, and sweet when they had sex. She knew that this wouldn’t be one of those times. She was about to see, feel, taste, and experience a whole different side of her boyfriend.

“Mine.” He growled in Y/n ear as he picked her up and pushed her against the wall. He pushed his member to her center and grind slowly as moisture starts to pool in between her legs.

“Yes, fuck, Seth. Yours…” She wrapped her legs harder around him breathing hard against his neck. He undid his pants and pulled his boxers down, kicking them somewhere in the room. He kisses her roughly and begins to play with her clit. She moans against his mouth, throwing her head back at the much-needed pressure where she needed it the most. Seth bends down and starts leaving marks all along her neck, shoulder, and breast before sliding her up against the wall, throwing her legs over his shoulder and eats her out.

“Oh, dear god, Seth! Fuck baby, right there…” Y/n grabbed onto his hair with one hand and balanced the other one against the ceiling, so she doesn’t fall.

“Mine. All mine!” He growled against her pussy, causing a violet vibration that traveled through her body. Incoherent words falling from her mouth as he worked her until she couldn’t go any longer. When she finished, and he got his fill, he slid her down, wrapping her legs around his waist, and thrust into her without warning.

“Fuck...” both said in unison. He waited with his eyes closed, forehead pressed against hers, easing his breath. She thought for a moment, just for a moment, that he was going to go back to their other way of sex. Until his eyes shot open and stared back into hers. Never, has she ever, seen this animalistic side of Seth.

“Fuck.” He went for it. Deep hard and fast thrusts entered her as soon as she braced herself against him. She squeezed her legs around his waist at the surprise impact.

“No! Mine!” Seth lifted her legs to his forearm, pressing her against the wall while his hands supported her back. She could look down and see him entering and exiting her. Making her wetter and wetter as she watched. Her head flew back against the wall, trying to grab onto anything she could reach as he took her in the most pleasurable way.

“More, Seth. Please…d-don’t stop Daddy.” Seth stopped shortly, rose his head up slowly at her, and gave her a grin.

“Say it again.” He growled.

“Daddy…” He thrust into her hard.

“Again”

“Daddy.” Another thrust.

“Again”

“Daddy…” She whined this time. It was enough for him because he went back to fucking her. Only this time, he held eye contact with her, watching her facial expressions. His pace became uneven and she knew he was about to finish.

“Cum in my mouth daddy.” I breathed in his ear. A few more pumps afterward, he slips himself out, I slide to my knees and begin taking him in my hands and pumping him.

“Ah, Fuck Y/n!” He grabs a wad of my hair and shoves my mouth on him. He releases inside of my mouth and I sucked him off as he continued to cum. His hips thrusting towards me, only making me suck and pump harder.

“Shit, baby, no. Fuck Y/n.” He slips himself out of my mouth and looks down at me. I spit the leftover in my mouth in my trash can next to me and look back up at him. He gives me a grin, reaches for me to pull me up, and kisses me softly.

“Sorry about that. Didn’t mean to hurt or scare you.” He said quietly with a grin on his face.

“No complaints from me, sir.” I smiled. And the second I said sir, his eyes became dark again and I knew I was going to have to brace myself for the rest of the evening. If little words like sir are going to get to him. I can only imagine what else might.

[bakubaewritings]

Home

Bakugo x reader angst/fluff

warning - broken down Bakugo, mental breakdown, sleeping pills, trigger warning, and language

word count 2,541

Love is the feeling of being home when you're not.

That's how you felt when you and Bakugo started dating. Everything was great. You were head over heels in love with the explosive pro hero. After your school years at UA, you and Bakugo finally decided to make it official. Since the beginning, Bakugo had made it clear to you his ambitions, and you respected that his hero work came first. You supported him fully; you told your career was important to you as well. You were a hero, too, though you were a rescue hero. You worked in more in the day time; your quirk involved socking up rays of the sun to heal.

You broke all your walls for him, but Bakugo never did the same, despite you being together for a year. You got close to getting him to tell you that he loved you, but he couldn't say it, and you understood why. Bakugo was very reserved, and you respected that. The most intimate thing you two had ever done was move in together since his apartment was close to both your agencies. Since you were often home before Bakugo, your quirk not being very useful after sundown, you always made dinner for him to eat when he came home later from patrols. Sometimes you'd wake up to help him care for him. In the morning as well, you'd wake up extra early to make him breakfast and kiss him good morning before going to work.

However, the relationship began to become very strained. You were never demanding that Bakugo take a break from his hero work, never asked him to stay home with you. However, when Bakugo began trading breakfast for morning gym workouts was when you decided to tell him how you felt. You were never the confrontational type, but you only ever saw Bakugo when you woke up in the middle of the night to see him sleeping next to you. He had also been growing increasingly distant from you in the last few months. When you had found the time to talk, Bakugo just gave you the cold shoulder, telling you to stop nagging him. You sought out advice from Kirishima and Izuku, feeling like you had no one else to turn to.

"You have to talk to him Y/n, tell him how you miss him. Be honest, I've known Kacchan for years, and he may be mean, but he loves you if you tell him how you feel he'll listen." Midoriya's words of advice encouraged you.

"Bakugo's just really hard at getting close to people, but he does love you." Were Kirishima's words

The Alarm rang at 5 am, and Bakugo groggily stood from the bed. You woke up with after him grabbing his wrist before he could get up. The sun was barely even up yet, "Suki." You called out, tugging him towards you. He looked over his shoulder; his face was far from happy. A scowl formed on his face, eyebrows sunk over his vermillion eyes.

"What? I have to get to the gym." You rose from bed slowly, your eyes glossy at his harsh tone.

"Suki, I miss you, can we please talk." His face contorted as he let out a scoff. You looked at him confused, why was he acting so cold? You asked yourself.

"I wouldn't expect you to understand since your a C class hero, but I have to be at my best to beat that fucking Deku and Shoto and become number 1." He was now facing away from you; he pulled his wrist away roughly from your grasp.

"C- Class Hero?" You raised an eyebrow, your hands balled into fists, collecting the sheets over you.

"Yeah, a C- class hero! Unlike you, I'm important, I have a job to do, and I have to be in the best shape for it." He turned around his face so close to yours as he yelled in your face. Your lip quivered, how could he be so heartless. Tears began to stream down your face.

"I don't have time for this shit."

You looked at him"I can't believe you, I wanted to talk to you, to fix what was wrong in our relationship because I love you and I want to make us work, but you're just an asshole."

"You're what's wrong."

Your eyebrows arched in confusion, "excuse me?"

"You are what's wrong; you come into my life bringing all your shit feelings with you expecting me to fix your problems, you move in here filling my space with your shit. Then you fucking expect me to say I love you, well I don't, and I never will, you're a nuisance." Tears streamed down your face like waterfalls.

"Then I'm sorry for wasting your fucking time." You stood up, "I'm sorry I ever fell in love with you." You screamed at him. Bakugo jut stood up grabbed his gym bag and left, and when he came home, you and your things were gone.

.

.

.

That was two months ago, you had moved out and found yourself staying in your old apartment. You stayed away from Bakugo, who made no effort to contact you. After a year of being together, you couldn't believe it had ended this way. There were many times where you find yourself crying on Mina's couch or during girls night at Ochaco's, but after a while, you realized how strong you were strong, and no matter how much Bakugo hurt you, you knew how good it would feel to see him swallow his words when he saw you again. You were not going to let his words hurt you because you knew you were no C class hero. You spent those two months working on yourself because for the first time in a year you were putting your own needs first. Now you did miss Bakugo extremely, you had gotten so used to him. Sure the last few months were tough, but you missed the good times. "let's go out tonight, Y/N; we can go can you karaoke bar!" Mina's excitement was prominent in her voice. "Yeah, and wear your matching UA Sweater!" Sero's voice called from the background. You giggled. "Alright, I'll catch you guys later." You hung up the phone, placing it down on your kitchen counter. You bit your lip, trying to remember where the sweater was. You looked all over your small apartment, even searching the old boxes of stuff you had from UA you had stuffed into the back of the closet, but with no luck. Sighing you groaned, the sweater was probably at Bakugo's.

Bakugo wouldn't be home this early you sighed as you turned the key in the hole hearing the click. You opened the door gently, feeling the cold air. Bakugo always kept his ac on even in the winter. You placed your key on the coffee table after today. You wouldn't need it. You started to look around for your sweater, carful not to leave a trace. When you opened the bedroom door, you heard the running water of the bathtub.

'That's weird, Bakugo hates baths.' You didn't hear anything except the running water, so you began to get a little worried, you looked onto the dresser and found bottles of prescription sleeping pills. You jiggled the doorknob of the bathroom aggressively, the door flying open. Bakugo's head fell slowly into the water, and he was fully submerged.

"Bakugo!" You rushed towards the bathtub shutting on the water. You pulled Bakugo's head from under the water, and out of the bath, the floor was covered in water from the overflowing tub. He looked awful, deep dark purple bags under his sunken puffy eyes, stubble on his face. You grabbed pulled him close to your neck, your fingers feeling for a pulse. It was weak, but it was there. Bakugo started coughing up water; his eyes opened slowly. Everything was blurry at first, then he saw you, you held him in your arms the bathroom light above you made it look like a halo.

He saw your leaking from your eyes; they ran down your cheeks. "Y/n?" He whispered, bringing his hands to pull his hair. He wiggled out of your grasp, falling to his knees on the floor.

"Wake up, Katsuki! Wake up! You're not real, this just another hallucination; it's a fucking dream." Bakugo was now the one crying. His fist beat down on the wet bathroom tiles, the water splashing everywhere. You grabbed his wrists tightly, pulling his towards you. "Katsuki, stop." You pulled his chest to yours, not caring that your clothes were soaked. "It's me; I'm real." You whispered.

Bakugo broke down in your arms, letting out painful sobs as his body shook violently. His words were almost incoherent as he let out heart-wrenching practically screams of pain. He clung onto you his arms around your waist, face buried in your neck. Your hands tangled themselves in his hair; his heartbeat was pounding against his rib cage.

"Please don't leave." He whimpered, his breath was shakey. "Please, Y/N, I didn't mean anything of that shit that I said." His arms gripped you even tighter. He looked at you, his vermillion eyes wide, face red. "I won't Bakugo, I promise," Bakugo let out a wince, "No, I'm not Bakugo; I'm Katsuki, your Katsuki." He cried even more. You had never seen him like this, not in a million years would you have thought you would see Katsuki Bakugo so broken.

You helped him stand up slowly; he clutched onto you, afraid if he let go, you would disappear right before his eyes. You helped him onto the bedroom and laid him onto the bed. "I'm gonna clean up ok; I'll be back." You reassured him, but he didn't let go. "Please, Y/N, I need to know you're real." He swallowed, pulling you onto the bed. You laid in front of him, your arms around his broad shoulders.

"I missed you so much I-" Bakugo started stuttering, "Y/n, I'm so fucking sorry. I didn't mean anything of those awful things I said to you," He was crying hysterically, "I, I wanted to." You shushed him, gently playing with his hair. "Don't talk, for right now, just relax, ok." You felt his head nod against your neck. Several minutes passed, and you began to hear small little snores against your neck. The bed under you was soaked. You processed that Bakugo was fully bare clinging onto you, his eyes red and puffy from crying. You pulled away from Bakugo and covered him with the duvet covers, moving to the bathroom to clean up. You drained the tub and begun to mop up every couple of moments, checking up on Bakugo to see he was still sleeping. You were picking up all the scattered clothes and towels, throwing them into the washing machine along with your wet clothes. You were putting on one of Bakugo's shirts when you hear him start to thrash around in bed. You raced into the room to find him sitting up his head buried in his hands. You climbed onto the bed, moving towards him, in between his legs.

"Katsuki, I'm here, baby. I'm right here." Bakugo wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his chest.

"It's always the same whenever I close my eyes." He breathed raggedly

"Months back, I was fighting this Villian, and I got hit with this quirk and, and I saw you. You died in my arms; I couldn't get to you in time." He closed his eyes tightly, and tears slipped out. "When I became distant, I was trying to get stronger, stronger to protect you. I would wake up early because every time I closed my eyes, I saw you in my arms bleeding out."

"Oh, Katsuki, why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I'm an asshole, I'm awful at expressing and sharing my feelings, I'm supposed to be your hero, but instead I became a villain to you. The dreams started getting worse, and I said that because I thought If you weren't with me, you would be safer. I'm so fucking sorry, Y/N; I should have just told you, I should have told you." Bakugo clutched his chest tightly, "After you left, they got so much worse, I can't sleep. Every time I close my eyes, I see you leaving again and again, and it always ends the same, you dead in my arms. I even tried taking those stupid sleeping pills to try and get some rest, but nothing worked. I even tried a bath, a fucking bath because I remembered how much you use to love them, how you said it made you so relaxed before bed, and when I did shit that you did, it felt like you were there., Like I could hear your voice giggling and laughing happily. I missed you. Is still miss you, Y/N I miss you." You looked into his eyes; he was so broken. The man you loved, you admired, was crying, completely broken in front of you. You cupped his wet cheeks connecting your lips. His hands caressed your naked waist pulling you towards him.

When you kissed him, it felt like nothing had changed. The butterflies fluttered in your stomach, and fireworks went off. Everything around you faded away, and it was only you and Bakugo. You felt like you were finally home again. Bakugo pulled away, looking into your gorgeous e/c eyes.

"Y/n I love you, I fucking love you. I've loved you since I met you in UA, but I was too dense to fucking say anything. I should have said it a long time ago; please forgive me."

"Of course I forgive you, Idiot," you cried, kissing him again.

"I said such horrible things, baby; I'm so sorry. You're the strongest woman I know, you're stronger than me, or fucking Deku or that half and half bastard. Stronger than any of us could ever be." His words were shaky, but you knew he meant every single word, he was just trying not to cry again.

"I love you, Katsuki, my katsuki."

"With you, Y/n, I feel safe. I feel like I'm home, and I promise I will always keep you safe, and I'll never let go.

bonus  “Bakugo! You look like a shit dude.” Kaminari laughed as you and Bakugo walked in hand and hand into the bar.  “You guys are back together?” Izuku smiled excitedly, his eyes sparkling. You and Bakugo shared a loving glance at one another. “You bet your ass we are Deku.” He smirked, sitting down inside the booth with your old classmates, pulling you down onto his lap.  “For the long haul.” Your classmates erupted in cheers, Kirishima even states drinks were on him to celebrate.  

[pandoraborn]

I dunno if your taking prompts/ideas, but I keep seeing things in Techno's streams and keep connecting them to Tommy (like little reminders of Tommy) so maybe Techno reacting to these sort of things? (Cobblestone towers, the hole to tommy's basement [if it's still there idk], little things like that)

Part one || Part two word counter: 1537 words triggers: suicide mention, abuse mention, violence, hearing voices, anxiety, panic attack

Techno hates being here. For some reason, his own home feels wrong, like something is amiss. Nothing feels safe right now; he barely feels safe in his own skin.

He rubs his arms as he wanders about, trying to fight back a panic attack. He’s Techno, he doesn’t panic. He doesn’t lose his cool, he doesn’t... he doesn’t need to feel like this. Yet, everything feels wrong, nothing feels comforting.

Maybe it’s the remnants of that stupid cobblestone tower that still exists by his house. Phil had missed a few chunks in his haste to mine it away, but there’s enough of a reminder that sends Techno into flashbacks. He remembers joking around with Tommy while he built it, Techno remembers playing around with the scaffolding to scare Tommy.

At the time, it had been fun. The tower only became harmful after Tommy left.

Techno heads inside the house, wanting to erase that particular memory. He can’t afford to think about Tommy right now. He still wants to recover from the earlier visit, not wanting to focus on how much Dream had terrified him.

The humming from the villagers down below startles him. Techno’s hearing is far too keen, and he’s letting out a panicked yell in response. When he settles, he hears nothing but the blood rushing in his ears, accompanied by the faint, distant sound of the voices. They’re still screaming Tommy, and he doesn’t know why. For a second, he wonders if Tommy is hiding in his house again, so he heads down the ladder to check.

The first basement is skipped over. Techno goes even deeper, landing in what should have been Tommy’s hole. It’s no longer the raccoon basement. Techno stands there for a second, caught in yet another memory. He vividly recalls Tommy sassing him, throwing potions and giggling. At the time, Techno would have given anything to throw Tommy out into the snow, but now, he misses having Tommy around.

He hates missing Tommy. Techno hates remembering all the silly little moments that had won him over in spite of himself. He hates remembering how he tried his hardest to help, even if his intentions hadn’t been the best. He remembers hiding Tommy in a box, with Tommy eating gapples the whole time, peeking out to glance closer at Dream.

A new wave of panic washes over Techno. Dream. He’d fucked up bad enough to the point he’d isolated the teenager who was clearly crying for help, turning him away in favor of the entity who’d abused him. All because of one stupid debt Techno felt he owed.

Oh gods, he really did fuck up.

The voices are screaming louder. Some yelling Tommy’s name, some yelling at his stupidity, and some yelling incoherent nonsense that he can’t decipher. Amid the cacophony, there is something hushed, whispered, barely carrying through above the din.

Intruder.

The blood drains out of his face. The word is not repeated. All Techno hears now is the sound of screaming, blood rushing through his ears and drowning out the sound of the villagers. He crawls back up the ladder, trying to slow his rapidly beating heart. It’s too soon for another fight, it’s too soon for him to get into another scuffle. If it’s Dream-

No, it shouldn’t be. He would have heard over the comms by now if Dream had escaped. It’s not Dream, it’s someone else who isn’t supposed to be here.

On the first floor, Techno grabs the axe Ranboo made for him. It just makes him think about how Tommy still has the axe of peace, and for a brief second, the thought fills him with comfort. Tommy has his axe, Tommy’s keeping it safe. Techno doesn’t even want it back at this point, it’s enough to know that it’s in good hands.

The thought is gone once again when Techno moves outside, seeing a dark figure in the distance move closer. It’s someone who’d come through the portal, but Techno recognizes the silhouette almost immediately.

The panic gives way to anger when he lunges for Quackity, rushing through the snow and closing the distance between them. He knows Quackity is doing the same thing, running headfirst for him, with a sword in his hands. Quackity looks just as pissed as Techno feels.

“If it’s death you want, then you should have told me at my own execution,” Techno snarls. He swings his axe hard, but Quackity parries him with a strength that Techno doesn’t remember him having. He’s almost impressed. But he swings again, hoping to actually chop off a limb this time.

Quackity dodges out of the way, letting out a furious snarl. “I’m surprised you haven’t dropped dead yet,” he snaps. “I wanna know why you visited Dream.”

“What?” Techno pauses momentarily. He’s surprised people had seen him near the prison. Had word gotten out already?

“You’re such a piece of shit Techno, it’s bad enough that you helped Dream blow up L’Manburg, now you’re still in contact with him? What are you planning? What are you up to? I swear to god, if it involves any of my friends-”

Quackity interrupts himself to swings at Techno again, aiming for his midsection. Techno’s eyes widen as he blocks the blow, pushing back against the sword with renewed panic. He knows exactly who Quackity means by ‘friends’.

“I went to ask him why, idiot!”

“Why, what? Don’t play innocent here,” Quackity snaps. “You’re just as guilty as he is.”

“Why he tried to kill Tommy and Tubbo! Jesus Quackity, do you really think everyone who doesn’t automatically side with you is a card-carrying villain?” There’s no actual point in fighting, not if they’re just going to keep going around in circles. He pulls back and wipes snow off his axe with his pants. “Not that it’s any of your business.”

“It is my business. Tommy used your stupid axe to hold me at knife point because I told him I hated you. So naturally I had to come see why he’s so suicidally attached to you. I still don’t get it.”

“That’s because everyone else is too stupid to figure out what Tommy was fighting for.” Techno turns to leave. He knows he sounds hypocritical, but right now he’s not in the mood for anyone’s bullshit, especially Quackity’s.

“You’re a hypocrite then. Because you knew Tommy was fighting for L’Manburg, and you turned against him anyway. If I remember correctly, you helped blow it up.”

“If you want accuracy, Dream blew it up. I stood by and watched, just like literally everyone else did. I remember Tommy and Tubbo trying to talk me down, and I heard Tommy was the only one who did anything when you all confronted Dream. So we’re all hypocrites here, letting a teenager do all the work for us. Congratulations Quackity, you’re a villain too.”

“That’s not true,” Quackity protests. “I’ve always put my friends first. I always tried to do what’s right.”

“Did you? I can’t remember details, exactly. But when Tommy was at his lowest, he ran to someone for help. Who was it he turned to...? I really don’t think it was L’Manburg.”

Techno glances at the still-standing mailbox. He has no room to talk here. It’s not like he treated Tommy the best during their brief time together, but he likes to think he tried.

“Oh, so now you’re some glorified savior because Tommy ran to the nearest location for help? Remember how Tommy was exiled from L’Manburg? It’s not like he could run home.” Quackity sheathes his sword and glares. “Don’t pretend you know what’s best for anyone, because you’re still a tyrant.”

“Think of me as whatever you want,” Techno mutters. “Dream’s the one in prison, not me. You don’t have any power anymore, so any delusions of grandeur you might have about arresting and executing me are just that: delusions. Now if you don’t mind, get the fuck off my property before I decide to add your teeth to my collection, officially.”

“What is Tommy to you? Why is the kid so attached to you, and why are you so attached to him? What’s going on between you two?”

Techno pauses. He doesn’t know what is going on between he and Tommy. He doesn’t know if he considers Tommy his brother; they certainly don’t act like it. Some sort of bizarre family? Definitely not his best friend, that would be Phil.

It’s something strange, something deeper. Whatever it is, Techno doesn’t want to let it go.

“He’s my Theseus,” he finally mutters. “He’s always been my Theseus, and I’m going to protect him.”

“What did Dream tell you?”

“It doesn’t matter. What matters is that Tommy’s safe, alright? Will you please leave?”

Quackity doesn’t respond. Techno can hear him trudging off through the snow, hopefully going back through the portal. Maybe he’s taking the long way home, but it doesn’t matter. The blood lust is no longer driving him to madness, the voices are finally quelled for now. He’s left feeling tired and exhausted, ready to rest, finally.

This time when he enters his house, the memories don’t hurt as much. Theseus once lived here, and that’s okay.

@mysterio-is-the-truth @egopocalypse @lilsprout-exe @dragonsight9