#this one is supposed to just drop blood throughout the day and just need a refill every morning

[baebeyza]

I had a dream a few days ago in which humans enslaved vampires and used a feeding vial to keep them fed with blood. My dream was weirdly specific about this aspect, can you tell I work in Health Care?

[azsazz]

Evening Roost

ACOTAR Omegaverse Week Day 1: Cassian x Reader [Nesting]

Summary: This was supposed to be for omegaverse x acotar day 1 but now it just is. Prompt was: Surely there’s a perfectly normal, completely unsuspicious reason they’re feeling an irresistible urge to arrange and rearrange the blankets and pillows…. right?

Anon Req: for omegaverse day 1, I could so see reader spending AGES every year to make a nest, only for cassian to destroy it within like two minutes every heat cycle bc he's too distracted by his mate and excited to pay attention to little things like that ... and one year reader gets mad and is like "you're not f*cking me in here until you're not a threat to its structural integrity" and cassian is very regretful & apologizes & makes it up to her by making her cum until she can't think straight ...? (if you don't like this prompt feel free to ignore it this was just an idea ... also I'm a big fan of your work & I'm excited you're writing more!!) 🩷🩷

And also fulfills anon reqs : Not sure if you’re taking requests but could you write an omega/alpha fic with Cassian where reader is in heat? Love your writing! —and—Heyyyy! Once your requests might be free, can you do a Omegaverse heat fic but with Cassian, something with both angst and some spicy smut?

Warnings: Smut, dom/sub dynamics, light breeding kink.

Word Count: 2640

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“And…perfect,” you sigh, smiling contently to yourself as you shift the last pillow into place. Sitting back on your haunches, you admire the nest you spent the entirety of the week building, piled high and far away from where anyone can see it. Or touch it. 

Namely, your mate.

Yes, Cassian is everything you want in an alpha and more: muscle upon muscle that he uses unabashedly to carry you around, to throw you over his shoulder when you’re pouting and grumbling when you should really be riding his cock. Or when he smacks your ass with that rough, calloused hand of his, the one you’d like stuck right between your legs right now.

You shift, biting your lip as you rub your thighs together, eliciting a sensation you know all too well, a flood of warmth pooling deeply between them.

Your heat has been building for a few days now, as if waiting for the perfect moment to appear. Your body must have sensed that Cassian’s rut was on its way as well, forcing your body to respond to your alpha’s scent. You’ve been feeling the familiar discomfort of your oncoming cycle, irritable to anyone who wasn’t Cassian, sensitive to sounds and smells, especially blood, and feeling like your body is always just a little bit too hot. 

Which is why you’ve been patiently awaiting the other paw to drop, busying yourself by building the perfect nest. It has taken careful meandering and pawning of objects from throughout your home: a cord of leather that Cassian had taken out of his damp hair before climbing into the tub with you last night, the worn scabbard of one of his knives, a day old shirt that hadn’t been used for sparring, and another one that had.

In the corner of your closet, you sit, burrowing deeply into the fabrics and reveling in the scents of your mate. The mead he drank until he was dizzy still lingers from where he’d sweat it out the night after. The lingering scent of his soap, brash and heady and all male. The faint tinge of your juices from where they’d gotten on the sheets, the ones you hadn’t allowed anyone to clean, to touch when he fucked you into them two nights prior.

It feels like a secret, you think as you smile into the dark. All the way at the back of the expansive closet, nestled between hanging clothes and boots, nestled beside training boots and hidden weapons should you ever need them. It’s the perfect place, the perfect size for someone like you, an omega blissfully waiting for her alpha to fall into the throes of his rut.

“Little omega,” Cassian sing-songs. You hear the door to your bedroom opening and closing with a quick snap and your anticipation spikes. The heat between your thighs grows as your body goes hot. There’s a keen alertness to his voice that makes your stomach fill with butterflies, your cunt drench with need.

His rut is here.

“Where are you?” He wonders aloud, and a bolt of thrill zips up your spine at the thought of this game you have the chance to play. Hunter and prey. How he’s going to sniff you out like the depraved man he is, capture you and bend you over this pile of goods to take you long and hard and hot, just the way you both need. You know that within minutes you’ll be succumbing to the full effects of your heat, your body attuned so beautifully to his rut.

You eagerly await your mate's arrival.

You can hear it the moment he catches a whiff of your scent. The low growl has you clenching your thighs, sending your heartbeat galloping. What follows is what makes you want to moan, to give your spot away to him, to bare yourself to your alpha and have him claim you over and over and over again.

The bite mark on your throat pulses as the sound of his belt hits the floor, his weapons soon following. The dull thud of their sheaths are each a throb to your clit. You don’t need to imagine how perfect his body moves as he prowls closer to the door, already knowing that each muscle of his is coiled tight with the same anticipation you’re feeling. It zips down the bond, flooding your body with a pleasurable feeling. 

The closet door cracks wider and you only get a glimpse of those hazel eyes—all pupils with the untamed actions of a rut—before he lunges inside.

It’s tight with the both of you in here. Cassian’s fingers claw at your clothes, and it’s not a tear that can be sewed up like new to be worn another day. No, this is Cassian shredding your clothes into strips, buttons flying off of fabric and clicking against the walls. It’s the delicate lace of your panties he tears off with his teeth, wrapping the remnants around his wrist like he’s won himself a new bracelet. You love that he’s so desperate for you, but he’s being careless, dislodging items in your nest that were perfectly built while he scrambles to expose your body, more than ready to ravage you for this week-long cycle. 

You cry out at the feeling of Cassian’s sharp teeth nipping at your shoulder when you try to shove him off. You’re all too aware of how he’s displacing your pristine nest, the one you hadn’t hardly wanted him in in the first place because of this very reason.

He always destroys it.

“Cassian!” You shout, and only then does it seem to cut through the haze he’s already giving into. He pulls back quicker than an asp, fear a dark ring around his eyes as he stares down at you.

“Did I hurt you, mate?” He questions, frantically looking you over. His fingers trace your skin and your body buzzes in response. But as you look at your nest, now a mere mess of twisted blankets and skewed knick-knacks, your heart plummets and your brows draw together, your eyes prickling with tears.

“No, you didn’t hurt me physically,” you say, throat tight. Cassian frowns, not quite understanding until you gesture to the mess around you. “I know what it’s like to submit to the rut grating through your bones right now,” you speak quietly, enough for him to grasp your feelings. “But you wreck my nest every time you have a rut. Even during my heats. A burrow that is sacred to me, and should be to you too. It’s one of the only places I feel safe—” The other being in his arms.  “—When I’m going through a heat. And I want you there, mate, I need you there, but not if you’re going to ruin my hard work.”

You watch the regret lance his eyes, but before he can say anything, you’re continuing, fighting through the wetness coating your throat, ignoring the wetness coating your thighs.

“I’m sorry, my love,” Cassian leans forward, caressing your cheek. You allow it, lean into it even, but you will not continue with this rut until you feel fully at peace and comfortable to do so. “Please, what can I do?”

“Fix it,” you murmur, almost helplessly. There’s a hollowness to your chest that may be heightened by the effects of your oncoming heat, but right now it feels like you’ve lost something greater than a pile of blankets. You’d feel embarrassed, almost, if you were more clear-minded. “You won’t be fucking me in here until you’re not a threat to its structural integrity.” 

You watch Cassian’s throat bob, his cock twitch at your demands, a pretty pearl of precum making its presence known. You quirk an eyebrow, trying very carefully to keep your face stern, shoving back the teary sensations as you tear your gaze from the sight of his leaking cock.

He likes it when you make demands of him? 

You tuck that thought away for later.

“Of course,” Cassian agrees vehemently, already reaching for the first blanket.

You shuffle out of the way. It’s difficult in the space of the closet, now that you’re trapped inside with your behemoth of an alpha who trapezes around as he begins his work. The air is hot and thick already, your forehead is dewey with sweat. You might be regretting building your nest in the closet sooner rather than later. 

You find yourself wondering if you can convince Cassian to move the entire nest later, if he’ll make it just as perfect as this one.

“And Cassian?” You ask, waiting for him to turn. When you have his full attention, you allow your fingers to drift up your bare stomach to your peaked nipples, pinching and rubbing at them. Cassian growls in response and your cunt clenches at the sound. You nearly tell him to forget it and take you up against the racks of clothes instead. “For every item you perfectly fix, is the number of times we’re going to cum together.”

It’s a futile promise at best. Once the both of you succumb to your respective heat and rut, there will be no counting. There won’t be anything but the primal urge to fuck and breed, the both of you cumming more times than you could even imagine. There have been times when the lust was so consuming, you hardly remember anything besides the pleasure Cassian stoked into you, pumping you so full of his seed your stomach bloated with it. How he fucked you on his knot again and again until he fucked himself into a blacking out.

Your mate growls and nods eagerly. The breath whooshes out of his chest as he turns away, snatching a pillow that had fallen from the pile. You know that he’ll never get your nest back to how you had it, that he hadn’t taken a single glance at your work before crashing into it like a bull in a china shop, but you’re more distracted by the curve of that toned ass on display, his cock hanging heavy between those glorious thighs, dragging over one of the blankets and leaving a line of precum in its wake. You watch, entranced by his strong shoulders and wings, how they glide under his tan skin like butter.

“A little to the left,” you advise when Cassian turns to look at you after placing a discarded sheath in place, an expectant look on his face. You bite your lip to hold in the delightful purr that rages in your veins as he follows your command.

“Like this?”

“Perfect, mate,” you agree, taking one step closer. Your fingers smooth down your body, dipping between your legs because with the way he’s perched on his knees for you, you need some sort of stimulation or you’re going to pounce on him. Cassian’s eyes zero in on the movement, iris’ consumed by the black of his pupil. His nostrils flare at the scent leaking from your thighs.

Cassian begins to work even faster.

“Cassian?” You question when your body plunges right over the edge into want. Your heat slams into you full force, and all you crave is to be laid in that nest of yours, built by both of your hands, and give yourself to your alpha.

He hums, peeking over at you. He’s almost done, almost has it perfect, and then he’s going to be mounting you so fast that you won’t even know what hit you. His cock is leaking all over your nest, eager for your cunt to bury itself home in. All he can think about is how he hopes you don’t mind the mess he’s leaving behind while trying to clean up his other one. 

Every muscle in his body reacts to the scent that’s emanating from you. His cock is thick and hard, swollen and ready. He’s going to knot you within the first two strokes, he can already feel it, can imagine the way your cunt will swallow him eagerly, milking him desperately, latching for a pup. He’ll make it up to you though, he can promise that, because Cassian has days and he can be a very inventive male when he wants to be.

When he blinks the haze from his eyes, pupils finally settling their attention on you, you breathe, “It’s great, alpha. But one thing is missing.” 

Cassian frowns, his thick brows pulling tight in confusion. “What’s that, love?”

“It’s missing me.”

That’s all the invitation he needs. You shriek at his speed, the strength that he uses, wrapping an arm around your waist and hauling you back into the nest. 

You land with a breathless laugh that melts into a needy keen when Cassian splays your legs wide for him and licks a fat stripe up your cunt. You both shiver, you at the feeling of his wet tongue, and him at your taste.

“I won’t last,” he admits, but neither of you care when he pumps himself into you in one long stroke. Your body melts into the blankets and pillows beneath you, feeling so full. You could live like this forever, you think, Cassian’s cock buried deep inside of you, the warmth it provides, the pleasure, it’s all too much.

“Me…neither,” you pant, crying out when he hits your cervix. Fuck, he’s going to put a pup in you by the end of the week. Maybe a whole litter. You can feel it this time. “Fuck, Cassian! You feel so good!”

“You feel like heaven, mate,” he growls back. His breath is hot on your throat, his sharp teeth grazing your skin. It lights your body up like a star and your eyes roll into the back of your head, nails scratching down his back as the feeling builds. “You are my heaven. The stars in my sky and the breath in my lungs. You’re—fuck,” he chokes, quickening his thrusts. “You’re fucking mine.”

Cassian’s fingers slide between your bodies as he slams his mouth against yours. He’s devouring you in more ways than one, and when he starts circling his fingers against your throbbing clit—not too hard and not too soft, just fucking perfect like he always does, even when he’s lost in the throes of his heat—you cum.

You gush, even, and then Cassian’s cumming too, releasing with a growl that shakes the house built into the mountain. You wouldn’t be surprised if the noise causes a landslide.

He pulses inside of you, thick, hot ribbons of cum filling you. His knot grows with each pump, with each spurt, until you’re whimpering with overstimulation, writhing against his body. Cassian doesn’t let up, he’s still going, grinding down on you until there are tears in your eyes, until his incessant rubbing onto your clit turns from sensitive to all out wanting again. You chase that orgasm, jerking your hips against his until you’re drowning in the sensations of it again, until you’re drowning in the feeling of his cum stuffing you full.

Cassian watches you with rapt attention. Waits until you’ve calmed. Opened those pretty eyes. Then, does he cradle you in his arms and roll onto his back, letting you rest against his chest to catch your breath. He wipes the hair from your face, brushes the dampness across your forehead and kisses it tenderly, before dipping down to capture your lips sweetly. This is only the first of the orgasms you’ll both share, and it might not have lasted long, but it rocked your world entirely.

You blink up at him sleepily, moan a little when you feel his cock throb with another squirt of cum. 

“Rest now, mate,” he says gently, and the rumble of his voice is a lullaby all its own. “I’ll be keeping you up for many nights to come.”

[lonesome-sometimes]

up on the bookshelf

wheels on the bus 2 and it’s completely different because there is no bus or any form of transport at all really and matty is a librarian but it’s still wheels on the bus 2 (in the brat remix album cover format)

that was until a certain someone sitting behind the librarian desk caused you to drop them abruptly, sending a loud echo throughout the near silent building.

“matty?” you say in disbelief.

matty healy x female reader

content warnings: public sex, sweet service top matty, age gap, oral (female receiving), slight blood kink when you squint, lovey dovey stuff because I miss matty I’m genuinely a trainwreck right now

minors do not interact!

with your reading list in one hand, you huff in annoyance as you fail to find the last few textbooks you needed for the rest of the semester. admitting your defeat, you carry the rest of your books towards the front desk, already dreading the walk back to campus on the other side of town.

that was until a certain someone sitting behind the librarian desk caused you to drop them abruptly, sending a loud echo throughout the near silent building.

“matty?” you say in disbelief.

he looks up from the book he was engrossed in, startled by the loud thud. he takes a second to register who you were, scrambling to push his bookmark into place before turning his full attention towards you. “y/n? oh my go- hey! hey, how are you? god, I haven’t seen you since-”

“since the really, really long and awkward bus ride home with your wife in our presence after you-” you explain nonchalantly, causing the older to choke on his own spit as you remind him of your rest stop bathroom antics, not that he had ever forgotten.

he laughs nervously, pushing a hand through his shorter curls. “I mean, I guess? anyway, what are you doing here?”

“oh, I go to college here.” you say like its obvious, gesturing to nothing as you look around the empty room. “I just hate our campus library, or just our campus in general I suppose, so I come here to study and take my books out. It’s much quieter here, campus is too…studenty?”

he laughs with you, chuckling softly at how ridiculous it sounded. “I get your point, but aren’t you meant to like, enjoy all of that?” he thinks for a moment, shaking his head softly. “nevermind, that’s not the point. this is crazy, what a nice surprise I-”

“you have a moustache now.” you observe out loud, your tongue working quicker than your brain as your eyes lingered on his upper lip and the new strip of hair there, moving down towards the tight sleeves of his grey tshirt and admiring the way it hugged his frame perfectly. “...and you look like you’ve been working out…don’t tell me you…”

his cheeks tinge pink, swinging his chair slightly away from you as he lets out a nervous breath. “I told he, I mean, not about us! not exactly, I just told her how I felt and here I now am, working day shifts at the local library, waiting for my whole music thing to take off, while she vacates on some island somewhere with her neeew husband.” he draws out the new, politely taking a book from an older lady and wishing her a nice day, turning back towards you. “I’m happy here though, the people are nice and well, you’re here.”

It’s your turn to blush at his words, forgetting how sweet he had been with you in the bathroom moments after he had fucked your throat raw. “oh, come on matty, it’s not like you sat and dreamt about me everyday like a fairytale princess waiting for her prince to come…” you half joke half admit about yourself, causing his cheeks to turn a darker shade of pink at the comparison, his secrets spilling without having even said anything.

“oh I seeee.” you singsong as you lean forward, putting your hands on the desk so that you were leaning over him, letting your oversized tshirt fall off your shoulder slightly and revealing your collarbone. not the most flattering outfit you could have worn, but you weren’t exactly expecting your random one bus stand to show up anytime soon. “been thinking about me, matty?”

he visibly swallows, opening his mouth to answer but instead his eyes widen as a mother and daughter approach the desk. you stand up straight again, slightly embarrassed as you pull your tshirt centre again. you watch the exchange, matty smiling ever so sweetly as he hands the young girl her picture book and again wishes them a lovely day. he turns to you once more, sighing softly. “darling, I don’t think now is a good time, I’m working and-”

“matty, I managed to seduce you into fucking my throat with enough time for small talk afterwards inside the bathroom of a service station during a twenty minute rest stop, all while your wife-”

“-ex wife.” he corrects, smiling softly.

“...ex wife, was sitting back on the bus unaware of how her sweet little husband was crying for me and asking me about my favourite radiohead album, and you’re gonna sit here and tell me you can’t have a private conversation with me because you’re at work?”

theres a moment of silence as he looks between you and the empty room, standing up suddenly and grabbing your hand as he pulls you back towards an abandoned section of the library. smiling wide, you expect him to push you up against one of the old bookcases and start kissing you like a man starved as he pulls you in front of him, but it never comes.

Instead, he pulls you in. hands coming up around your waist, he hugs you. unexpected and unsure of what to do at first, you let your arms come up around his shoulders, pulling him in closer as you stroke the hair on the back of his neck softly, letting him breathe you in as you stay silent for a moment.

he pulls away, the both of you laughing as you realise how ridiculous this is, not having shared more than ten minutes alone together that didn’t include a quickie in a restroom. “everything okay, matty?” you ask, pushing his hair away from his face and letting your hand rest against his cheekbones as he nods.

“I wanted to erm, thank you, for helping me realise things about my life and marriage, I might not look like anything special at the moment but since meeting you I’ve been able to find my own place, I have a kitten who I adore, and I actually get to work on my music I-” he stops. “I’m really happy y/n, and I owe that to you.”

for a second you’re worried he’s being completely serious. “m-matty, you surely can’t fully believe I’m to blame for all that, you barely even know me I-”

he starts kissing down your collarbone, letting your tshirt fall again as he sinks down down down till he’s almost kneeling in front of you, his hands coming up towards your tshirt, breathing heavy. “no really darling, thank you so, so much.” he breaths, punctuating each so with a wet kiss to your stomach, kissing and licking at each expanse of skin he can reach. your hand comes up to cover your mouth, the other moving to hold the back of hid head through the fabric of your shirt. somehow this felt much more intimate, more naughty, than the restroom ever did.

he reappears from under your shirt, staring up at you with complete adoration as his fingers dance up your thighs and hooking themselves into the waistband of your leggings. “can I please?” he asks ever so politely, although your pants are already being pulled down low enough so that he can access where he wanted before you had chance to answer. your face was on fire.

“been thinking about doing this since I met you, wanted to taste you so bad darling.” he breaths out against you sending goosebumps across your skin, lips so close to you as he teases before finally settling on your core.

you desperately try to stay quiet, the fact that you were both in a library being some sick torture and punishment for engaging in infidelity beforehand because good god was he good with his tongue, licking and sucking at your clit like he was desperate. his large hands almost enveloped your waist, holding you in place as he began to fuck you on his tongue up against the shelf behind you. you thread your fingers through his salt and pepper locks, frowning when it was a little too short to pull. still, you let your fingers stay where they were, your lips bitten red as you tried to conceal your noises.

suddenly he stops, pulling away from you with only a trail of spit connecting the two of you, lips glistening with your wetness. you look down, brows furrowed in confusion as you try and catch your breathe. “w-why’d you stop?”

he giggles before diving in again like a teenager, his hands moving to hook around the backs of your thighs now. you moan around your fist, desperatly trying to stay as quiet as you can but failing miserably. he shushes you, the vibration from his vocal chords not helping your situation as you feel yourself quickly approaching the edge. “m-matty I-”

he pulls away for a small second, eyes wide and hungry. “please cum for me darling, need to feel you cum on my tongue-” he begs, quickly diving back in as he licks you through your orgasm, groaning softly as he feels you clench around his tongue, lapping at your folds as he cleans up your orgasm.

“fuck-” you bring a finger up towards your lip, blood pooling on your tongue from where you had to bite to keep quiet unless you wanted the whole library to hear you. he pulls your leggings back up and over your thighs, the both of you silently thanking somebody for the fact that nobody was looking for cooking books. he smiles up at you dopily, allowing himself to catch his breath before standing back up.

“good?” he breaths out, pulling your bloodied finger to his lips to lick it clean. You couldn’t find the words to answer, nodding as you watch his lips sucking your fingers entranced. He pulls off them with a pop, smiling at the way he left you speechless.

you both forget where you are until an older male comes around the corner, causing you both to jump away from each other. he doesn’t suspect much, why would he? shooting you both a small smile before turning and going back the way he came, sending you both laughing.

“so…” he begins as your giggles come to a stop, shuffling from foot to foot nervously. “I don’t actually finish up in here for another hour, but I could drive you back to campus? your books seemed heavy, and I’m guessing you don’t have a car…”

god, you were so smitten for him and you had only spent less than an hour with him alone at most. “...or I could come to yours?”

he smiles, thinking for a moment as you two start walking back towards the desk, to no surprise the place was still pretty much empty. “wanna see a picture of lilah?”

you squeal at the idea of singing his kitten, sending apologies to nobody at the sudden loud noise coming from you once again. “yes please.” you nod and whisper, the idea of seeing both matty and lilah filling you with warmth.

you were right, the local library was definitely better than the campus library.

[intriq]

Daffodil

Part of my Hanahaki series

Character: Jason Todd

Theme: Angst

Daffodil: regard, unequalled love

‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎┏━•❃°•°❀°•°❃•━┓

You've known Jason for awhile. You've been friends for a few years at this point.

You've seen him change and grow. Grieved him when he died, welcomed him back when he returned. Supported him when he needed it, because truthfully? He did need it. Even if he was a stubborn asshole about it.

But you also loved him throughout those years. Through all those changes.

You loved him when he died, loved him when you visited his headstone, and you loved him even when he came back. You just always did.

But you also knew he never loved you back. He was never quite capable of seeing of just how head over heels you were for him, even though his family could. To him, you were always just his "best friend".

You thought you could be happy like that, you truly did. You thought you could be content loving him from the sidelines, even if it was suffocating knowing he would never love you back. You thought you'd be okay.

Until you coughed up those flower petals.

You remember the exact day you first discovered you had Hanahaki Disease, too.

It'd been a cloudless night, the first one in a few days. Maybe weeks. Either way, for once Gotham was not shrouded by storm clouds. It was at most, calm. Peaceful. But perhaps that in of itself should have been an omen.

Because Gotham was never peaceful.

You don't remember exactly what was said that night, but you just remember how you'd started coughing the moment Jason was distracted. Had you two been on a stakeout that night? You were almost sure that you were.

You remember so vividly clutching those flower petals in your hands, staring at them before crushing them in your palm, letting them drift in the wind when Jason asks you if you were alright.

And now here you were, months later. Over time Jason would give you suspicious looks when you'd tried to hide your coughing fits, would always double check if you were really okay. But you always said you were.

Until today.

You and Jason are doing the last of your stakeout mission, gathering the last tiniest bits of intel to feed to the others so that way they could take out this newly fledged gang from right under their nose. It's cold, but that's fine. Gotham is always cold, especially in the autumn months.

"How much longer are we supposed to be out here for?"

You pause to think for a minute as your eyes scan the outside of the warehouse the gang had turned into their main base of operations. Taking in every detail, hoping it’d help piece together some of their behavior.

“Not that much longe—“ Your words are cut off by that feeling in your throat, hand flying up reflexively as you scramble to remove your mask just in time to violently begin coughing into the palm of your hand.

You hunch into yourself as you cough, your free hand clutching your mask desperately so you could put it back on at a moments notice. Next to you, Jason is concerned. Behind the red helmet he wears his face is a mixture of concern.

It takes awhile for you to stop coughing. The raw creeping pain that fills your throat and makes your lungs burn is something you’ve grown used to.

You pull your hand away when you feel that same familiar feeling of blood in your hands, wet and hot as it pairs with your spit and the flowers. You try to hide it from Jason, you really do. You try to clench your fist and let it drop to your side.

But Jason is faster. He’s got your hand snagged by the wrist the moment it drops. And he pries your hand open while he remains quiet. And when he sees the flowers and blood in your hands he knows he should’ve done so sooner.

You’d been hiding behind the coughing fits for awhile. Pulling excuses out of the air for each one. Making up reasons for your dwindling strength and stamina, for how your skin got progressively more sickly and pale.

Excuses each and every time that Jason now regrets not looking deeper into.

“Fucking Hanahaki Disease? Seriously?” Jason doesn’t hesitate to say your name in that same tone. He’s angry, but he’s worried. An angry kind of concerned and worried, because for months you’ve probably been suffering alone. And to him, he doesn’t want his best friend to suffer alone. He’s had to do that already, he knows it’s shitty.

“Why didn’t you tell me? Who is it?”

“It’s not important, Red. Doesn’t matter—“

Jason stops you, the grip on your wrist tightening for a moment as he seems to be trying at least a little bit to regulate his emotions.

“Screw that. It’s Jason your talking to right now, not Red Hood.”

“Jason—“

“No! It does fucking matter, okay? Your.. Fuck, you’re my friend, okay? I care about what’s happening to you.”

Your heart aches at the word friend, makes the suffocating feeling in your throat grow tighter. Friend. Of course. That was all you’d ever be to him.

“It’s just a little one sided love, Jason.”

“Little? You call coughing up blood and flowers little? Your dying!”

Your face scrunches up as you begin sputtering again, coughing as more specks of blood fly past your lips.

“If it’s one sided, you need to get the surgery. It’s the only option.”

Immediately your shaking your head, trying to refuse, but Jason’s already picking you up. He’s already died once, brought back by chance because of the Lazarus Pit. He’s not gonna have you die, because you matter to him.

He ignores your protesting pleas as you eventually fall unconscious from the lack of air you are able to get into your lungs because of the flowers growing there.

And Jason brings you to Gotham General.

But when you awaken from that lifesaving surgery, preventing you from dying on the operating table as you were seconds from death, Jason noticed your different with him.

He can see just how different you look at him. You aren’t the same you that he remembers growing up with. The look in your eyes is different, as is your smile.

You aren’t quite as warm, not quite that same ball of sunshine with him as you used to be. At first he thinks it’s because your mad at him for bringing you to the hospital against your wishes, but..

Even when months pass and you still don’t get that same energy you used to back is when he understands. It hits him when your suddenly looking at someone else the way you used to look at him and it hits him hard, like a smack to the face.

Oh. He thinks. He was the one you loved.

And that regret hits Jason hard, especially when he coughs up flower petals of his own.

‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎┗━•❃°•°❀°•°❃•━┛

[mxdarling]

[first years]

INFORMATION:

-> the lovely batch of first-year students, their appearances scream youthful glow and rebellious nature. as you get to know them throughout your school year, you'll start to realize that, they all share the same inexperienced approach towards love.

(masterlist) - (second years | third years)

INTRODUCTIONS:

MARCH 7TH | TOUR GUIDE & PHOTOGRAPHER

-> she is a cheerful girl who has the honor of serving as your tour guide on your first day. from what you can gather from your classmates, she's an overly friendly and cute girl who's part of the photography club and is considered one of the best of the best in the club. plus her association with the organization "astral express" as a member, her name has reached many ears. she's one of the members that people consider to be the most approachable.

[ "hello, new student! it is i, march 7th, your lovely tour guide for today! i'll make sure your first day will be a blast!" ]

CAELUS | TWO RACOONS IN A POD

-> an awkward guy who doesn't say much, but he's definitely a chaotic fellow who tends to go head first, then think. he isn't exactly related to stelle, his friend and classmate, but many people have already assumed they were twins. not just because of their similar appearances but because of their personalities too. both he and stelle have a strange behavior of rummaging through many trash cans on the school grounds. working alongside march 7th and stelle in the organization "astral express,"  people say he, stelle, march, and dan heng are inseparable.

[ "awh.. nothing good in this one.. oh- hi! would you like to join me in trash hunt finding?" ]

STELLE | TWO RACOONS IN THE POD

-> also an awkward gal who doesn't say much, but she's much more sassier—perhaps even a bit easier to provoke than her supposed "twin." time and time again, she's told people that she and caelus aren't blood related whatsoever, but they never really drop it; both she and caelus have a strange behavior of rummaging through many trash cans on the school grounds. working alongside march 7th and caelus in the organization "astral express,"  people say she, caelus, march, and dan heng are inseparable.

[ "hey! caelus and i had a bet who's better at this game, wanna help me beat his ass?" ]

ASTA | HEAD OF THE ASTRONOMY CLUB

-> one of the more popular freshmen, her sweet personality and pretty appearance have put her in quite the spotlight among her peers, plus her family's pockets are deeper than your debts. lots of people have speculated about her relationship with arlan, but she insists nothing is ever beyond friends between them (which some have a hard time believing). due to her diligent and serious nature towards astronomy, she has been appointed as the head of the astronomy club. as of now, she and arlan are working under the name of "herta's research station".

[ "i need this thesis done by tonight and after that i- oh! hello there! i apologize for the mess, i haven't got the time to clean up..." ]

ARLAN | HEAD OF THE SECURITY DEPARTMENT

-> the quiet, intimidating looking guy who sits at the back of the class. you could say he's the exact opposite of his friend, asta, who's popular and friendly-looking to their peers. some were even surprised that he was a friend of hers and started speculating about the status of their "friendship," and like asta, he too has denied anything that went beyond platonic. he was tasked with being the head of the security department because of his excellent fighting skills and his hypervigilance towards his surroundings. as of now, he and asta are working under the name of "herta's research station".

[ "please.. be careful around this parts, it's better to have a friend or someone from the security department go with you..." ]

LI SUSHANG | CLUMSY SWORDFIGHTER

-> an enthusiastic and naive girl who firmly believes in the philosophy of "be eager to help those in need." her swordsmanship skills reflect her title as a newcomer to the swordfighting club, but there's still a long way to go before she can truly perfect her skills and capabilities and maybe get a spot in the "clouds knights". many have pointed out that she and guinaifen are often seen trying out one of guinaifen's performing arts and going on a trip to the nurse's office. sometimes it's her who's in bad shape, sometimes it's guinaifen who's in bad shape, or sometimes even both are in bad shape!

[ "one day, my name will go down in history as a legend from the cloud knights! you'll be there when i reach my goal, right?" ]

GUINAIFEN | SWORD ARTS PERFORMER

-> described as a passionate and vivacious young girl, and just in her first year alone, she's gained a high number of fans and followers due to being a street performer. usually, after classes, she can be seen at the back of the academy performing stunts and tricks for students and teachers alike. on special occasions, she collabs with her best friend, sushang, during her performances. though, it seems nearly impossible to not see at least one of them injured after performing. they probably spend more time in the nurse's office than all their classes combined.

[ "hello! hello! welcome all to little gui's performance and lucky you, i've chosen you to be my little guest for today!" ]

SILVER WOLF | THE LONE GAMER

-> the one who skips classes the most, the few times she does attend classes, is if the other "stellaron hunters" are present, and the other three also rarely ever attend their own classes. many have attempted to try and find her when they were tasked with fetching the little troublemaker, yet give up each time. it's like she's always just out of the reach of everyone in the academy, and when they do actually get a hold of her, she completely ignores them in favor of her video games.

[ "can't you see i'm in the middle of a game? this boss fight is particularly difficult and i need to fight it in peace." ]

PLEASE DO NOT COPY, REPOST, SHARE, TRANSLATE OR REUPLOAD ANY OF MY WORKS TO OTHER SITES WITHOUT MY PERMISSION + REBLOGS AND COMMENTS ARE APPRECIATED.

[badgerbl00d]

yes, your highness

☆ characters: vinsmoke sanji

☆ up next: smoke sesh: stoner!law x reader

☆ summary: sanji has been your loyally devoted knight for over a year now, he knows you like the back of his hand and would risk his life for you without second thought... just how deep does his loyalty run?

You sat at your window sill, the thin cotton fabric of your dress draped over your body and pooled at your ankles. There was a heavy fog outside, leaving a generous layer of dew drops covering the glass window in your room. The quiet peace of midnight air slowly dragging your eyelids back down.

Knock. Knock.

A gentle knocking on your bedroom door snapped you out of your sleepy lull. Your feet stepped against the cold stone of your floor.

“Hello, Sanji,” you said.

“Ready for our walk? It’s already nearly two hours past our usual time,” Sanji’s warm voice woke you up.

“Oh! Yes! Yes! I’m ready, I just need a few moments to, uh..” you scrambled to your feet, throwing on your white linen undergown and frantically brushing your hair out, “To… get pretty!”

“Doubt you need to change anything,” he mumbled to himself.

After a glance in the mirror, you decided it was good enough. 

It was highly inappropriate for you to be alone with a man in only an underdress, but Sanji was your personal guard. He’d seen you in your undergarments before- albeit accidentally, but you were sure he’d have no issues with it. You paused for a moment, considering the risk, but your father was away on business for the week, so against your better judgment, you slipped out the door to greet your guard. 

When you stepped out Sanji had to physically calm himself. The sight of something as delicate, as beautiful, as kind as you in such… such improper clothing was more than he could handle.

“Y/n- Are you out of your mind?!” 

You giggled, “What?”

He felt himself getting lightheaded as blood rushed to his face. 

“Y-you’re barely wearing anything! The things people would say- What if someone sees you dressed like that?!”

“Someone already has,” you pointed out, grabbing his arm and starting to make your way toward the gardens. He sighed, praying you wouldn’t notice his more lewd physical disturbances tightening his pants, and desperately hoping no one else would be awake this late.

“And I’m not the only one dressed improperly,” you commented, gesturing towards his outfit made up of a white undershirt and cotton pants, and of course, a weapon or two just in case.

He usually wore his armor, which he kept perfectly polished, ready to defend you at a moment’s notice, but you both knew that it was an unnecessary formality and that even without armor there was not a person alive who would get past him. 

“Forgive me— I did not think metal armor would be necessary for our evening stroll.” 

“I like this look better,” you said, “It suits you more.” 

A bright pink blush flushed his cheeks, “I suppose I cannot say that I dislike your clothing. It looks- very.. very pretty.” 

You smiled, and kept walking, asking him which of your flowers he thought would be ready for picking, what he wanted for breakfast tomorrow, and if he wanted to go into town on the weekend. 

He’d been your royal guard for over a year now. 

His name was feared throughout the country before he’d taken employment in your castle- he was known across seas as a bringer of death, a terror with a blade, an unfeeling barbarian. 

You never quite understood why he- a man of such ferocity and dignity- agreed to your father’s offer, the relatively easy job of guarding a princess. 

A generous paycheck? A desire to settle down? You decided it didn’t really matter but you still couldn’t help that sometimes you felt bad that the most you could offer him were flower gardens and afternoons spent reading. 

Sanji had always assured you that he was perfectly content in his position. 

He accompanied you everywhere. Every day from the moment you woke up to the moment you’d slept he was by your side. You’d had a very liberated childhood, but it was lonely. Your older brothers were too preoccupied with their studies and training, and your father was far too busy to pay you any attention. 

When you finally came to appreciate your isolation, you were handed a companion. A man you’d never met to watch your every move and monitor you like a guard dog.

He was a paid companion whose job had nothing to do with being your friend, but still. Company was company. But it felt like too little too late. And it didn’t help that the premise of this companionship was supervision.

The first few weeks, you’d made clear that you didn’t appreciate his presence. Any efforts he made at conversation were ignored or belittled, and he spent most of his time trying to get you to at least acknowledge his presence. 

One night, he’d been instructed not to let you leave castle grounds and informed you that you’d stay put in your room for the night. What were you- a child with no ability to defend yourself or make your own decisions? You still remember the suffocating frustration you felt, pacing back and forth around your room while your knight attempted to talk to you as he guarded your closed door. 

You’d finally tired yourself out and decided to sit by the window when you had an idea. 

It took at least twenty minutes before Sanji noticed that the shuffling and whining coming from the room had stopped. 

“Your highness?” he’d called. When you didn’t answer he knocked, “I’m coming in- Make yourself decent if you aren’t already.”

A cool breeze hit him as he opened the door, panic spreading through his body as he saw a trail of tied sheets leading down through your opened window. 

He’d found you nearly two miles from the castle, sitting by a stream. You were shivering from the cold, not having bothered to put on shoes or a jacket. 

He put a hand on your shoulder, which you jerked forward. 

Hot, angry tears poured down your cheeks. 

“Leave! I can defend myself!”

He stepped back, not wanting to further upset you. 

You turned to face him, “I don’t need a chaperone! I am not a child.” 

You had started to yell, and a worried look crept onto his face. He raised his hands, trying to urge you to be quiet. 

You scoffed, “You’re telling me to be quiet? How dare you- I am a princess-”

A branch snapped and Sanji’s blade was drawn within seconds. 

Fear froze you in place, the hairs on your neck raising. 

“Get behind me.”

You obeyed without a second thought. 

“Stay here. Don’t move.”

He walked in the direction of the sound, leaving you where you stood. 

Your breathing quickened. Thick forest surrounded the castle and countless animals lived there- it was probably just a bear, you’d told yourself. Yet, a persistent nagging feeling had you looking around, nervous something was going to pop out at any moment. 

Another moment of unbearable silence passed. And another. 

You wanted to call out for him but you knew better. 

Suddenly the sound of metal against metal echoed out from where Sanji had disappeared. 

Your breath hitched and you felt your stomach sink- you knew he was strong but… what if? 

The struggle continued for a few moments and you stayed put, not daring to move. 

Murmuring silent prayers under your breath you waited for him to reemerge from the wood. 

From behind you, another sound rang out. The crunching of leaves under a heavy boot. 

Your breathing was quick and erratic, as goosebumps flared up on your skin. 

You felt a hand wrap around your mouth and pull you back- your scream getting cut midway. 

You were jolted around roughly, but felt your captor’s strength falter when he bent down to reach for a bag. 

You bit his hand- hard, feeling your teeth break the skin. He let out a cry of pain, but before you could make it far something heavy hit the back of your head. 

The last thing you remembered was the sight of a bloodied Sanji, running toward you. 

He’d stayed with you for the entire process of your recovery, refusing to leave your side.

When you finally mustered up the strength to ask him what had happened, he simply said that it wasn’t anything for you to worry about and he was happy you were okay. 

After you’d fully recovered a few days he apologized for his behavior, “I realize how belittling it must feel to be constantly supervised. If I am ever overbearing, please don’t hesitate to tell me. I wish only for your happiness and well-being.”

You felt immense guilt and frantically responded, “No! No! It was my fault completely I was being childish and immature- You- you saved me. I am forever indebted to you.”

You became more appreciative of your time together after that incident and realized how much you enjoyed his company.

He didn’t speak down to you the way men normally did. He treated you, not just like a princess or a pretty girl with nothing of note to offer to a conversation, but as a friend. You felt valued and seen. He even shared secret information with you and asked for your opinion on his battle strategies. 

You became inseparably close.

You’d always been a fan of evening walks, it was your favorite time to pick flowers and the castle’s inhabitants would be asleep until morning.

It helped that you also loved being alone with him. You could speak freely and honestly. There was no pressure to look or act properly. The longer you’d known him, the more you yearned for uninterrupted time with him. To be around him, to talk to him, and be with him was a reward like none other. 

He held your arm in his, walking with you toward the greenhouse. 

You noticed he was quieter tonight than usual.

It wasn’t uncommon for Sanji to listen to you talk and only offer some insight when asked, but something seemed to be augmenting his silence.

It had been a long day for the both of you, as it always is when your father goes away on business. Leaving things in your brothers’ hands was always a risk he was hesitant to take, and therefore he had begun to include Sanji in the daily responsibilities when he was gone. 

He’d been running around all day making sure that everything was in order and exactly as the king had left it. 

“Miss Y/n,” Sanji’s voice snapped you out of your daze. He spoke your name with an odd sincerity like he was savoring the way it sounded on his tongue.

“Hm?” You looked up at him, leaving your arm hooked onto his, “You know you don’t need the ‘Miss’. You already speak my name so sweetly, it needs no titles attached when coming from your mouth.” 

He ignored your comment entirely. Perhaps you shouldn’t have said that. Did it sound too forward?  

“There is something I’ve been meaning to tell you, though I am hesitant to do so.” 

You giggled, “You know that you can tell me anything. I am more than happy to listen. It is the least I can do for you after you’ve endured months of my rambling.” He seemed more tense than usual and was avoiding responding or laughing at any of your comments. Your stomach turned, something was wrong. 

“Your father- His Majesty has offered me the position of Grand Commander.”  

You froze and let his arm go, unnoticed by your guard who continued forward for several steps before noting your absence. 

Grand Commander? So soon? But your father easily had over three hundred men to choose from… Why yours? Would he be leaving soon? Who would replace him? The very thought of him leaving made you sick-

“Oh! Has he?!” The disappointment in your voice was evident.

“Erm, yes. I was notified of the opportunity yesterday morning.”

An inexplicable hurt ebbed in your chest. You’d barely see him anymore. It was the highest position a royal guard could be offered, and the greatest honor imaginable. If you ever saw him it would likely only be at ceremonies but even then, he’d be on duty. Aside from a quick glance, you wouldn’t be able to even acknowledge one another.  All the mornings you’d spent picking flowers, the afternoons spent reading and napping with him… Would he remember them?

“That’s fantastic,” You fought back the painful lump in your throat, “Anything less would really be a demotion.”

Sanji lightly laughed. 

You couldn’t hold this against him. He was your friend, and should one not want the best for their companions? He had been hand-selected for the Royal Guard and once he’d become a member he had always had his heart set on this position. To achieve it in so little time… You should be proud. A slight pang of guilt spread through your chest at your jealousy.

Was it normal to hurt like this over the loss of a friend? 

“I have a week to decide if I’d like the position,” his voice was quieter than usual, more monotone, “His Majesty has allowed time for.. accommodations and such.” 

“I see,” you stated. 

“I don’t-” he started, seemingly unable to get the words out, “I don’t want to be inconsiderate of your feelings.” 

At this, you let out a bitter laugh. By now your contempt was no secret.

“My feelings? I don’t quite understand what importance I have in this decision. 

Though I suppose I don’t understand what good an inexperienced knight who spent most of his time in the company of a princess would do.” 

Sanji inhaled sharply, turning back to look at you with an unexpected venom in his stare, “You think it was by choice? Do you truly think that I assigned myself to flower picking every morning? That I want to spend my time reading? I am the strongest man in this castle- by far. And to think I’ve spent my time with a girl who’s never had to worry about a single thing in her life!” He spat his words out at you. 

Every word he said left a bruise on your heart. But your sadness had long given way to anger.

You walked faster, passing him and ducking beneath vines to step onto the gazebo, but he followed in close pursuit. 

“I came here with the sole intention of rising through the ranks. I’ve worked for years, trained for years, and given everything! My entire life has been dedicated to the refinement of skills necessary for the very position I’ve been offered. Do you think that I serve only as an idle companion? That I am only good for accompanying you as you lounge and fret around all day?” 

“Then go,” your vision was entirely blurred by tears that you were fighting to keep where they were. You would not cry in front of a man who had wounded you the way Sanji had. 

“Go and never let me hear of you again.” 

Silence hung in the air, still and heavy. 

You bit back sobs, inhaling and exhaling through your nose, trying to keep the flood at bay. 

Still, no sound. Sanji stayed put in place. 

You whipped your head around to look at him. 

“Do not torture me like this. This is what you’ve always wanted!” You raised your voice, anxious and increasingly mad at your confusion, your inability to understand him.

“It has always been what I’ve wanted. But I cannot accept it.”

“Why?! Why not?! Why would you force yourself to stay and suffer with me? Since you have such adamant hatred for your current position?!”

“Because! Is it not obvious?!”

You said nothing. Sanji continued, “ If you are not feigning innocence and truly mean that you do not know then you are a bigger fool than I previously believed.”

You both were quiet. And tears ran freely down your face. 

“I have- Y/N, since the first time we met I have felt for you things I’ve felt for no other.

I have loved y-” 

“Don’t!  Do not- Do not say that,” you spit the command out with more intensity than intended.

Sanji quickly closed his mouth. He held onto eye contact for another minute before turning his gaze down. 

Fuck. You’d hurt him.

No pain was worse than interrupting that sentence, but if someone knew, if anyone found out? You’d never recover from the scandal. A young lady and her knight? You’d be sent to one side of the country and Sanji to the other. You’d really never see him again.

“If I may speak freely,” he started, speaking barely above a whisper, scared that if he spoke any louder he might be stopped, “I never want to leave your side.”

He paused, letting the sound of night fill the closing space existing between you. Somewhere distant there was laughter. The wind picked up, as if on cue, and petals littered the ground. Chills were sent up your spine. The silence was suffocating.

“Every day I would wake you up with tea. 

Every night, kiss you to sleep. 

I will care for you.

I will make you soup when you are ill and I’ll blow out the candles in the evening so you mustn't waste your pretty breath. 

I would forsake my name, my title, and my home.

I will gladly take yours- and, and if you refuse to have me then we can create new ones. 

To be yours, to have you-” Sanji paused only for a second, carefully reading your expression. He saw the sadness on your face, the surprise, the regret.

“Please do not ask me to stop now, you know I will heed your every command. 

If this is- If this is truly my last chance to tell you how I feel then let me say it all.” 

You nodded, allowing him to continue. Your heart tugged wildly in your chest and the pools of tears resting on your eyes began pouring down your face.

“From the day I met you, the minute I took your hand to my lips, the second that I swore my oath to protect you… You have been nothing less than my entire purpose.

To see you laugh, hell, to even have the tiniest chance of seeing you smile, is compensation more than any salary, any honor, any position your father could offer me.

I have thought of nothing, of no one, but you. 

Most beautiful, most kind, most loving Y/n. 

I love you.”

Your tears poured freely and you ran into his arms, sinking into his embrace when he hugged you. He sat down, bringing you with him. 

“S-Sanji, I love you too-” you gasped between sobs, “B-but what if s-someone finds out? We’ll never see one another again!”

He placed countless kisses on the top of your head and rubbed your back.

“It will be perfectly fine,” he said, his voice immediately calming you, “Do you trust me?”

You buried your head in his chest, covering his shirt with tears, and nodded.

He pulled your face up to look at him, wiping the tears from your face. 

“I love you,” you sniffled. 

He laughed and kissed your forehead. 

You crossed your legs and sat between his, bringing your hands to either side of his face. 

“I only wish we’d done this sooner,” you said softly, “Then I wouldn’t have had to wait so long for this.”

You kissed him, wrapping your hands around his neck. 

His lips were soft and he tasted like rain. 

He wrapped his arms tighter around your waist, pulling you into him.

You pulled away slightly, a string of saliva connecting your lips. A soft moan escaped you, driving Sanji absolutely insane. 

Your half-lidded eyes and puffy lips had him seeing stars. 

Once more he pressed his lips to yours, lightly running his tongue over your bottom lip and slipping it into your mouth. 

You moaned into the kiss, sending blood rushing directly to his cock. 

He pulled away before it escalated any further, much to your (very obvious) disappointment.

“Shall we return? It is late,” he said, pressing kisses to your cheeks, still holding you. 

You nodded, accepting his hand as he helped you up. 

He placed a kiss on your hand and trailed them up your arm.

He stood back up and you reached towards his lips one more time, standing on the tips of your toes to be able to reach him.

The walk back was lovely. The air was cool and Sanji held your hand in his for the first half, sneakily adjusting so that he could wrap an arm around your waist.

You talked carelessly with one another. 

“And just so you know,” he said, laughing, “Being your guard is no easy work.”

“Oh, I’m sure! Nothing is more strenuous than picking flowers for me,” you responded.

“I’m referring more to the four kidnapping attempts and the singular, dreadfully planned assassination attempt. Aside from the one I saved you from.” 

“What!? So it was a kidnapping!” 

Sanji laughed, teasing you about your obliviousness, and you simply argued that he must be good at his job because you truly had no idea. 

You arrived back at your room and stood at the door. Sanji, leaning against the wall, was silent. 

You’d stayed out much later than expected. The background noise of the town had died down, and it felt like the entire world was sleeping. It was cold and the stone floor was like ice under your bare feet. 

You both were under the influence of nighttime boldness- that feeling of courage that lets you speak freely so long as it is dark out and you are alone.

“I-,” Sanji spoke.

“I’m quite t-,”

“My apologies, go ahead,”

“N-no you spoke first,” 

Sanji continued, “I do really, truly love you.” 

“I love you,” you avoided his gaze, hiding the furious blush on your face, “I- I wish I had told you sooner…..” Your voice trailed off.

“It is past midnight,” he mused, “And though I love you, I still have the responsibility of seeing that you are in bed at a sensible hour.” 

You laughed, opening your door. 

But you didn’t want to leave him. Not tonight. 

You walked into your room, lingering at the entrance.

“Stay,” you whispered, “Sleep with me.” 

In an instant you felt his arms around you, he was pressing warm, fervent kisses to your neck and cheeks- still in disbelief that it was your soft skin, he felt against his palms. 

“You do not know how long or how desperately I have wished to hear those words.”

You blushed and walked him towards your bed.

He sat, looking up towards you, his hands resting on your waist. He looked at you with a flattering adoration, enamored with your presence, wanting to take you in, your smell, your voice, your presence. 

“I’d pray to you, you know.”

“And I’d answer your prayer,” you bent down, softly kissing his lips, running a hand through his hair.

Sanji removed his shoes, as well as his shirt, slowly peeling it up and over his head. Your heart skipped a beat, seeing how sculpted he was.

This was to be expected of a man of his skill, but his armor hid it so well that you felt shocked by his form. 

You’d never before seen him so exposed. Scars littered his arms and chest, markings of his experience. 

You took a seat on his lap, lightly tracing the bigger ones, and pressing kisses to his neck.

His hands ran up and down your back filling you with an eagerness for more.  

Silence fell upon you again, though this time the tension within it was different. 

This time, neither of you was hiding resentment or yearning for the other. It was a warmer, more indulgent tension. One that you were both desperate to break. 

His lips were parted, and his half-lidded eyes looked up at yours with anticipation you had started to feel yourself. 

Arousal pooled between your thighs, the sight before you was too much to handle. You bit your bottom lip and looked at Sanji.

“Untie my dress,” you whispered. 

He stayed silent but he turned you around on his lap, his strong hands easily picking you up so that your back was toward him. 

You savored the feeling of his calloused fingers digging into your flesh. 

You were shaped divinely, and he felt pressure start to build in his pants. 

He pulled at the bow, letting the string come loose. He pulled the corset backing open and slipped his fingers under your sleeves. 

You pulled the dress down and let it fall to your waist, the cool air let in by your open window snapping you out of your dreamlike state. 

You were suddenly very aware of your position.

Sanji brought his hands around to your exposed breasts, softly circling his fingers around your hard buds. 

You gasped and melted into his lap, softly panting as he created new sensations you’d never experienced. Your skin felt electric, his hot, quick touches blurring your thoughts. 

“S-Sanji….,” you whispered.

“Take off the dress.” 

His voice had dropped an octave and there was a neediness in his tone that had you melting.

You slowly stood up, letting your clothing fall to the floor, and turned to look at him. You were blushing uncontrollably, the warmth in your body spreading to your cheeks. 

You were entirely exposed to him.

He brought your hand to his lips, “Now your panties.” 

Your brain nearly burst from the overwhelm this request brought. 

Never had you taken orders from him- not unless you were in danger. “I-...,” you did not know what to say, “Could you? F-for me, I mean.”

Sanji nodded, slipping his index finger under the waistband. You stepped out of your undergarments, giggling when he slipped them into his pocket with a wink. 

He pulled you closer to him, kissing your lower stomach and thighs, circling just around your dripping heat.

Never in your life had you felt such desperation. He was so close to touching where you wanted, but it wasn’t enough. You let out a whine, earning a chuckle from your knight.

“What commands does the princess have for me tonight?” he asked, looking up with a sly grin on his face.

“Only to do as you please.” 

Softly, and so, so slowly, Sanji licked a stripe up from your belly button to your sternum, closing his eyes as he savored how you tasted, how sweet your warm skin tasted on his tongue. You gasped, taking a handful of dirty blonde hair into your fist, not-so-gently trying to urge him downward.

A light laugh escaped his throat as he finally relented. 

“Lie down, your highness.”

Sanji guided you down to your bed, leaving his wide hand on the back of your head until it was comfortably rested on a pillow. 

He sank to the floor, every so softly parting your legs. 

A moan slid past his lips at his view. Your pussy was as hypnotizing as you were, so wet that you were dripping onto the sheets. He watched your hole tighten at the mere anticipation of being touched.

Unable to play the patient lover any longer, Sanji pressed his tongue to your hole, moaning again at your taste.

He ran his tongue up and down your soft folds, savoring your wetness.

You let out an angelic whimper, grabbing a fistful of his hair.

The knight slowly slid his tongue up, covering your cunt in your arousal. 

Your grip tightened against his scalp when he reached your clit, it was aching for some kind of stimulation, which Sanji gladly provided.

He lapped at it, simultaneously sliding a thin finger into your hole. 

You were already a moaning panting mess under his touch, unable to form a solid thought, only wanting more. 

Gradually, he picked up his pace, lewd, wet, slurping noises filling the room, clouding your thoughts. He slid in another finger, feeling your pussy tighten around him even more. 

His tongue swirled in lazy circles around your clit, and your stomach started to twist most deliciously. You saw stars. Sanji’s moans and whimpers blending with your own. 

“S-Sanji,” you panted, interrupting yourself with your moans, “More.” 

He curled his fingers, hitting a spot inside of you that set you on fire from the inside out.

Your back arched against the bed, the coil in your stomach tightening. 

His pace picked up, he gave you no time to adjust as you blinked back tears and took everything he was giving you. 

In an instant you gushed onto his fingers, soaking your sheets, moaning his name.

Sanji slowly removed his fingers, sucking the liquid from your thighs and hole. He stood up, leaning over you, pressing chaste kisses to your lips.

“Satisfactory?” he hummed.

You nodded, out of breath, and unable to form words. He tasted like you, a tart, salty flavor spreading on your tongue.

“Can you continue? Would you like more?” 

Sanji’s own desperation began to slip through his tone, the slight whimper in his voice gave away his bluff.

Eagerly you nodded, “Please, Sanji.”

You watched as he pulled his pants off. 

You gasped at the sight, unsure you’d be able to fit him anywhere in you.

Sanji laughed at your amusement, “How flattering, Princess. Don’t worry, my love, we’ll go slowly.” 

He rubbed his head against your clit, ever so lightly, so as to only tease you. 

You nodded, placing your hands on his shoulders as he lined his length up with your slick-covered pussy. 

He bent down to kiss you as he slowly pushed past your puffy lips, his tip slipping in. 

You whined as he slid more of himself in, needing a moment to adjust with every inch he slid in.

His muscled tensed and flexed as he used all his self-control to not slam into you. 

You bit your lip, nails digging into the muscle of his shoulders, as he picked up his pace, as you took deep breaths and fit more and more of him into you. 

He finally bottomed out, a low groan escaping him as his entire length felt you throbbing and pulsing around him. 

“T-taking it so well,” he praised, “So tight.”

He started to thrust in and out of you, the firm tug of your pussy leaving him dizzy.

You blushed, the pleasure intensifying as he stared hungrily at you, going fast enough now that every time his hips slammed into yours a loud smack resonated throughout the room.

You writhed around Sanji, moaning into his mouth as he brought his lips to yours, gladly swallowing the delicious sounds you were giving him. 

A thin layer of sweat covered his forehead as he neared his climax, his hips starting to falter in their steady rhythm. 

He sucked harshly against your neck, leaving your mind hazy.

“Sanji!” you cried.

The sound of his name coming from your honeyed voice pushed him to the edge and with a strained moan of your name he finished. 

He gushed inside of you, feeling his seed pouring out and onto your ass and thighs snapped the coil in your stomach and you pulled him against you as you came a second time. 

Sanji struggled to hold himself up, not wanting to put all his weight onto you. 

He slowly pulled out, watching as your cunt leaked onto the bed. With one finger he pushed it back in. 

“How is my pretty girl?”

You were breathless and exhausted. Your hair was messy and your chest was marked with wine red spots all over. 

He helped you sit up and pressed a kiss to your forehead. 

“Let me know you’re okay, sweetness,” he asked, his thumb resting on your chin. 

Your eyes were half closed and your chest rose and fell with deep breaths. 

“‘m okay,” you said. 

“Wait here.” 

You nodded, feeling sleep spread over your body.

Within a few minutes, he was back with a damp washcloth, a glass of water, and a new blanket. 

He let you drink as he knelt in front of you, parting your legs and cleaning you up, pressing soft, loving kisses up and down your worn-out body. 

“You really are as stunning as they all say you are,” he commented, kissing your thighs, while rubbing your back, “Your beauty is every bit as heart-stopping as everyone believes it to be…”

You laughed, running your fingers through his hair, bringing a band underneath his chin, and bringing his gaze up to meet yours, “So are you.”

Sanji helped you into a new nightgown, carrying you to your window seat while he changed out the blankets.

“We’ll have someone clean that in the morning,” he said, a sly smile on his face.

He carried you back to bed, placing you gently onto the mattress, and bringing the blanket over your tired form.

Crawling into bed next to you, he pulled you into his chest, spooning you. 

He kissed the back of your head, relishing in your hums of satisfaction. 

A warm silence filled the room, neither of you felt a pressing need to say anything. 

“How is my Princess?” he asked. 

“Tired…,” you mumbled.

Sanji laughed.

“And in love,” you finished. 

Sanji turned to blow out the candles.

Darkness enveloped the room, but Sanji's firm grasp on your body never faltered. 

Closing your eyes, you heard soft snores coming from the man behind you.

Perhaps tomorrow morning you’d have croissants with him.

Tired and in love, you slept.

[little-annie]

In This Lifetime

---

Vecna's dead and the gates are closed and life is finally back to normal.

Well except for one thing.

Eddie's entire view of Steve Harrington has been tipped on its axis, shattered, booted off a fucking cliff. Whatever you want to call it. Because, well, the guy's not an asshole. He's strong and passionate and so goddamn caring. He's probably the kindest, most giving person Eddie's ever met and although he'd like to say he doesn't know what to think of it, we'll he does. And he thinks he's in love.

Steve Harrington is like fucking sunshine and unfortunately for Eddie's fragile heart, that glow of light doesn't fade.

They become friends. Best Friends. Nearly inseparable. Attached at the hip throughout the years.

They move to Chicago together, rent a shitty two bedroom apartment that maybe as well be one because they still have nightmares and being plastered next to one another seems to calm those terrors.

They laugh and they sing and they dance around the kitchen while they smile and cook and inevitably burn whatever meal they had planned, opting to order pizza instead.

Eddie's in a band and Steve never misses a show.

Steve's in school, planning to become a Guidance Counselor and Eddie's by his side quizzing him with the reward of candy in hand.

It's perfect, living life together in domestic bliss. Even if all they are is only just friends.

But it's still perfect all the same and if it was up to Eddie, he'd spend the rest of his life in these years. Repeat them again and again, if only to fall asleep at Steve's side and wake up to honey-brown eyes every morning.

But he knows it can't always be like this and that's why this is the hardest thing he's ever done.

This is the hardest thing he's ever done, and he's done some difficult shit. Like surviving a near death experience in literal hell being the main contender. But sitting across from Steve Harrington as he turns a little golden ring between his fingers and goes over his proposal plan, yeah that's pretty fucking difficult.

And it shouldn't be, he should be excited, he should be cheering for his friend but there's a gnawing feeling in his gut that's telling him it should be him. It should be him that Steve drops to a knee for, it should be him that Steve professes his undying love to, it should be him that'll one day get to call this man his husband.

But it's not. It's not because even though he's known this ragtag group of monster hunters for years now he's never been able to come to terms with telling them that he's gay and he sure as shit hasn't come to terms with telling Steve Harrington that he loves him and loves him in a very much not 'just friends' kind of way.

So that's why when Steve asks him what he should say to this woman [Becky, who quite frankly could double as Eddie's twin] he spills the beans. In a very subtle way he supposes. He doesn't come out, doesn't outright tell Steve he loves him, but as he's telling Steve what to say to his future fiancé, he's letting his emotions come out like word vomit, only wishing Steve knew he was talking about him.

"I don't know man." Eddie huffs, shuffling uncomfortably in his chair, eyes avoiding Steve's as he contemplates his words.

But it's hardly more than a few seconds before they come tumbling out, Eddie sucking in shaky breath before he stares into the carpet and begins to speak, "Tell her she's like sunshine, beautiful and bold and the source of life. That she's like the blood in your veins, forever present in the most beautiful way and the only thing that keeps your heart beating. Tell her that even on the most difficult days that she's the one you want to see, the one you want to hold, the one that makes you take the breath you need and steady your heart when it's beating out of control."

It's a building thing, slowly growing out of control, he can feel his pulse thrumming in his veins and he's beginning to think he might just do something crazy. He pauses for a moment, gauging Steve's expression. He'd gone to get them beer and hasn't bothered to sit back down since Eddie began talking. There's an indecipherable expression on his face and he's stood still, in front of the couch, beers on the coffee table and he's silent, waiting for Eddie to continue.

And you know, if Eddie was a normal man he'd stay in his chair, talk to his friend from an acceptable distance away and not profess his love, but he's not. He's a showman and as his acting skills get the best of him, he's moving, shuffling across the carpet, taking Steve's hand in his own and kneeling before him. Because why not make this a harder interaction for himself. Christ, it nearly feels like the real thing as he looks into Steve's eyes and shuffles the littlest amount closer.

Eddie shudders a breath, taking a single second to appreciate this moment, even if it'll never truly be real and then he continues, "You get down on your goddamn knee Steve Harrington and you say, ' Sweetheart you're the only thing that keeps me alive in this crazy fucked up world. Having you in my arms and my heart keeps me steady and breathing. I've been through some shit, but I'd go through it all again to find you in the end. The blood, the sweat, the tears, nearly fucking dying to be by your side for the rest of my life. I want to grow old with you Darling, I want us to grey and weather together. To find ourselves fifty years from now watching our kids and our grandkids; all the life we've brought into this world. All the love our life together has brought into existence."

Eddie's crying now, because of course he is, he's confessing his love to someone he knows will never hold the same emotions for him, but through a watery laugh and a sniffle he carries on, tightening his grip on Steve's hands.

"I want you in this lifetime and the next, in any way that you'll have me. I can't bear the thought of a single day without you let alone an entire lifetime. I'll find you, I promise I will Sweetheart, but for this lifetime, I ask that you spend the remainder of it with me."

It's cheesy, he knows, but it seems to take effect because as he looks into the eyes of the man above him he sees the swell of tears gathering along thick dark lashes.

The room's suddenly silent, save for the pounding of Eddie's pulse in his ears and the hope that Steve didn't see through his actions or words. That all he saw was his rather expressive friend acting out as per usual.

But a tear finally escapes and rolls down Steve's tanned cheek and a rather aggressive sob breaks past his lips.

Eddie's to his feet in seconds pulling Steve to his chest, one arm firmly around his waist while another wraps around his shoulders and cradles a head of mousy hair as close as he can. Steve's sobbing, short shaky breaths and surely there's snot and tears staining Eddie's shirt, but it's not like he can say much, what with silent tears streaming down his own cheeks and dripping to Steve's hair.

Steve hiccups around a sob, voice shaky and muffled against Eddie's shoulder, "I can't do this."

God, that's not what Eddie wanted to do, he didn't mean to scare Steve away from his impending engagement. No matter how much he wished it was him. He loves Steve, but if he can't have him, he just wants him to be happy. He deserves happiness. He deserves love.

Even if it's not with him.

Eddie cards his fingers soothingly through Steve's hair as he speaks, "Yes you can. I know you can. Steve, you love her, you're just scared. You can do this."

Another sob heaves against Eddie's chest while Steve continues to shake in his arms, "I can't Eddie."

"Why not Sweetheart?"

Steve's knees give out as a pained nose escapes his throat, dropping to the floor, taking Eddie with him, he doesn't answer, only continues to cry and burrow into Eddie's chest upon settling into their new position on the ground.

He's verging on a panic attack, Eddie knows this, he's seen it many times before. The way Steve's fists clench in his shirt and his breaths are short and sudden, gasping for air that's not filling his lungs, he's flushed white and Eddie knows it's only a matter of time before he gets sick.

"Stevie, come on, you gotta settle down. I'm sorry if I said anything wrong, I didn't mean to if I did. We can talk about it later. But right now you just gotta breathe for me okay." Eddie grabs Steve's hand, tight fist and all and holds it against his chest, allowing Steve to feel his steady breaths, "Breathe in with me, come on Big Guy. Take a deep breath in." Eddie takes a large lungful and holds it for a second, waiting for Steve to do the same and even though it's shaky and raspy he manages.

They repeat this process ten times over, Steve's head and hand now resting against Eddie's chest, their backs to the couch, the rooms fallen silent enough that only muffled sniffles are audible aside from the hum of electricity and the joyous screams of children outside.

After a moment, Steve wiggles himself closer, if even possible and again states, "Eddie, I can't do this."

He's not quite sure how to answer, really. Should he push or should he allow Steve to call off the engagement before it even happens. Lord knows where his own wishes lie. "You wanna tell me why you think you can't do this?"

Steve's breathing picks up again, but before he can reach hysterics Eddie's fingers card through his hair and he soothes Steve back to baseline.

"You," Steve whispers after quite some time of Eddie waiting for a response. It's a quiet thing, Eddie wouldn't have even heard it if he wasn't intentionally listening for Steve to say something.

It's a pain in the chest to know he may be the reason for Steve not to propose, sure he wished it wouldn't happen, but not like this. For him to say something so stupid that makes Steve call the whole thing off, "I'm sorry if I-"

He doesn't have time to finish his sentence before Steve's speaking, "No, not like that, you have nothing to be sorry for Eds. Its just- fuck- I wish I could tell you."

Combing his fingers through Steve's hair, Eddie reassures, "Steve, you can tell me. Please. I want to help."

Steve shakes his head, wrapping an arm tight around Eddie's waist, tucking his head in close, "It's nothing you can help with Eddie."

Nosing against the side of Steve's head, hair tickling his nose, Eddie whispers, soft, gentle, scared to frighten Steve off, "Try me."

And then it's silent. Dead quiet and for quite a long while. He knows Steve will answer, he knows he's just gathering his words, sorting things out before he speaks. It's obviously something big, something important to have warranted such a reaction from such a strong man.

It's with a sudden movement that Steve's sitting upright, turning to face Eddie with the appearance of confidence and sheer fear on his face. He looks fucking terrified. Working his jaw, eyes darting all over Eddie's face before he finally settles on his eyes and speaks, "I love you, okay." The words are far from gentle, they're sharp, rushed, sudden, like if he didn't get them out they'd burn a hole in his throat, but before Eddie has a second to even process those few words, Steve's barreling on.

"And when you were down on your knee infront of me, I wanted nothing more than for that to be the real thing, for those words to actually be directed towards me because I love you so fucking much it hurts. And I get it, I do. I know you're straight and we can never be a thing or really even get married but Eds, fuck, I love you so much and I can't marry Becky knowing I feel that way about you. I was going to try because I knew this could ne-"

He knows what Steve was meaning to say, but Eddie had to cut him off before those words could be spoken into existence because they're wrong. It can happen. Holy fucking Christ, Steve's loves him. It can all happen.

"I love you too," he says with such haste, taking Steve's face into his hands as he speaks with so much passion it nearly hurts, "-so much."

Cheeks squished in Eddie's grasp, Steve's eyes begin to well with tears once again, but now, now a smile is fighting its way to his lips, only growing with utter disbelief as Eddie quietly says, "and I meant every word of it. Every fucking word Sweetheart."

Steve's eyes search Eddie's own for only half a second before their lips crash together. It's a feverish thing, years of pent up love and need crammed into a single embrace, but their lips move as if they've met a million times before. And maybe they have. Maybe through the thousands of years this little rock in space has been turning, they've never left one another's side. Maybe they do find each other in every lifetime. Maybe they fall in love against all odds. Maybe this lifetime is no different.

Many Years Later

Turns out, it's not different at all.

When the time comes, so does the real proposal. It's been planned for years and when word of legalisation reaches Eddie's ears he's running to Steve. Dashing through streets, shouldering past strangers and dropping with a painful thud to the hardwood of Steve's office floor. In those few short moments to follow, the life he wished to have so many years ago becomes a reality.

Steve's his fiancé.

Soon to be his husband.

In this lifetime and the next.

---

[moonlightazriel]

Mask Off /// Ghostface!Azriel X F!Reader

Summary: "can i please request one where azriel is ghostface and he terrorizes bad people, and he has a rival ghostface who interrupts his missions/steal his targets and it pisses him off so he plans to kill the rival, he has the ghostface pinned and takes the mask off, plotwist it’s his mate who is just as confused as him."

Warnings: Mentions of murder and blood.

Word Count: 2,2K

Notes: I'm completely obsessed with Scream for a really long time, so this request was so fun to do. Also, thank you @fieldofdaisiies for this amazing little Moodboard for this fic. Happy Halloween guys!

Main Masterlist

The lights flickered, and the sound of his boots against the wet floor contributed to the eerie atmosphere, the slight splash of water whenever he stepped on a puddle. Azriel felt his blood run hotter as anger spread throughout his being, pinned against a wall, throat slit open, was his target, a well-known rapist, the male he was supposed to kill tonight. 

On the wall behind him, written with the man’s blood:

“Too late, Mr.Ghostface! Maybe next time..” 

Consumed by rage, Azriel let his fist connect with the corpse’s face, the impact breaking the nose, but he wouldn’t mind, would he? 

He walked away, removing his mask and the cloak, revealing equally black pants and a t-shirt. He shoved everything inside his backpack and walked to where he had his motorcycle parked. He sat on top of it, mind still rushing with anger as yet another target was getting killed before he had the chance to do the job. 

Azriel knew that he was wrong on a certain level, but Velaris needed him, needed this. He was paid by someone named R to get rid of the bad people in the city, corrupt politicians, rapists, murderers, drug dealers, and all the scum that composed the underworld of Velaris. 

It was Cassian, his ex-military best friend who had suggested this to him, R paid well, and he was unemployed for a whole year, depending solely on the income from his wonderful mate, Y/N was the sweetest woman alive, she always helped him a and she was the light of his life. 

But her work in an office was barely enough for her to finish her college degree and for them to get going, with the Increasing of their rent, and everything else. He had to watch her work hard while his applications were denied, one after the other. So in a desperate measure, he accepted. And as much as he hated it and hated to lie to her even more, he was happy to be helping and keeping her safe from people who would harm her. 

At least like that, soon enough he would have enough for her to drop that awful job of hers, her boss would hit on her and make her life hell whenever she denied him, Azriel had to contain himself many times, how he wanted to get rid of him, for even thinking about laying a finger on his mate. 

He headed home, where Y/N was resting, trying to forget about his rival that was trying really hard to get him pissed. About two months ago he started to get where his targets were supposed to be, just to find them killed, dripping in blood and with their throats open. Pretty much like he did whenever he got to actually finish it. He was trying really hard to find who this was, cuz not finishing a job meant not getting paid. 

He slowly climbed into bed, his warm mate turning to his side, hugging him, kissing his arm in her sleep, her fresh scent as she had just walked out of the shower, relaxed him enough to fall asleep fast. The tiredness of the day weighed on him. 

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

“What about your trip?” Azriel asked, shoving a handful of cereals in his mouth as he watched Y/N sip on a cup of tea, her working clothes doing wonders to her body, he watched her up and down, stopping at her blushing cheeks, this woman would be the death of him. 

“He got a new secretary, I pity her, but at least he left me alone and I don’t have to travel with him anymore.” She said with a relaxed smile and he nodded. 

“Good, I hated when he took my mate away.” Which, to be fair, was quite often, not long trips, but often enough to annoy Azriel. 

“Not anymore, love.” She said, finishing her tea, and rushing to kiss him, before getting her keys and leaving for work. 

His phone buzzed on the countertop, a message from R telling him that his next target was chosen and he should be found at a party in two days. 

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

Y/N tapped her nails against the desk, feeling the anger creep up in the form of a cold shiver in her spine. Her boss was particularly annoying today, she closed her eyes. The image of the lifeless body, his blood warm on her made her squeeze the mouse between her left hand. She killed criminals, not really annoying men who didn’t know their places. Her phone buzzed. 

“The black party. In two days. Y. Slater.” It was all that said, she sighed. The money was good, another rich person trying to get rid of their enemies, it didn’t hurt that each one of her targets were bad people, someone who had done terrible things to others for their own gain. 

She had never killed before this, but as she saw the innocent hiring proposal for a bodyguard, and the really good amount of money they promised, she applied. She had a very vast knowledge of martial arts, and she could easily get rid of someone, so when the handsome male said what he really wanted, she agreed. The chance of a better life for her and her mate was beyond her morals. 

Not having to struggle with rent, college debt, and everything else. The thought of not living in that crappy place anymore, not needing to count every penny at the end of the month, and wanting to take him out and shower him with gifts made all the wrong things about the job useless. 

So she took a deep breath, deleted the message, and went about with her day, mind focusing on the amount of money she would have if she kept saving it. The only difficult part was to explain this to Azriel. 

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

Everyone wore black, and the masks also were present, so no one minded the masked figure lurking in every corner. Azriel kept a close eye on his target, the man was surrounded by people and a half-naked woman squirming on his lap. 

From the corner of his eyes, another hooded figure caught his attention, same clothes and the same mask, but significantly smaller. Azriel narrowed his eyes, looking like his second target arrived just in time. 

The party went on, and the other Ghostface remained rooted in place just like him, it didn’t seem like they saw him, which was good for him. The woman still squirming in the male's lap whispered something in his ear, he nodded eagerly and they got up, heading for a more secluded place in the luxurious nightclub. 

Y/N had spotted her rival as soon as she arrived, but her target was the main focus, annoying them was just a bonus. Rhys would send her on missions in another city, which led her to pretend to travel a lot for work, but as her targets got killed and Velaris was on a growing spree of bad people, he moved her here. 

She was always a step ahead of the other one, and this made her proud. She would linger a little longer sometimes, just to see them burning with rage, then she would rush home and pretend to be asleep, always the nice, dutiful mate. 

The woman who escorted the target yelled something about getting more champagne and left the room. As she passed by Y/N, the latter tapped her shoulder and warned. 

“Don’t come back.” She placed her indicator finger in the mask's mouth and the woman swallowed dryly, a shiver down her spine. She nodded, rushing away from the scene.

The room was big, a bed was placed in the center and mirrors filled the ceiling. Rich people really liked to show off. The door to the bathroom swung open and the male stepped out again, heading for the bed. Azriel opened the door, and the male jumped in his seat. 

“I think you have the wrong room dude.” Azriel walked closer in silence, blade in hand, shining in the dim light, the male’s breath got stuck in his throat and a tickle of sweat ran down his forehead. “Is it money that you want?” Azriel shook his head in denial. “I can pay whatever your price is, just leave me alone.” The male tried to get up but Azriel rushed, his knife sunk in the pale skin as the man tried to dodge. “WHAT THE HELL?” 

Azriel turned around, and the other Ghostface dared to show up, closing the door, only one of them would get out of this room, and most certainly would be him. He removed his knife, stabbing the man three more times before he turned to the other one, the male fell to the floor in a puddle of blood and agony, whining like a pig as he tried to crawl away from them. 

He launched for them, his big body overpowering their smaller one, they were sent with their back to the door, the air getting knocked out of their lungs, Azriel threw a punch, hitting the wooden door as they spun, getting out of the way, the other one kicked his stomach, making him curl as they darted towards him, circulating him and jumping on their back. 

The small arms wrapped around his neck as they tried to knock him out, the man kept crawling and agonizing towards the bathroom, his cries annoying both of the killers. Azriel stumbled backward, knocking them on the wall two times before they let go of him, he turned to them, punching them in the nose, this made Y/N dizzy and she used her knife, making an ugly slash across his forearm. Azriel hissed in pain and anger and his hands grabbed the small and very soft waist, tackling the other one to the ground. 

He sat on their stomach, pinning their hands to the ground with his right hand while the other one reached for the mask. A million scenarios passed through his mind, but in neither of them, the face of his mate would be bleeding behind that damned mask. 

Azriel didn’t say a thing, just watching the blood drip from her nose. From the punch he had given her. Her eyebrows scrunched in confusion as he didn’t fulfil his plans, instead, he reached for his own mask, her eyes widened as his flushed face was revealed to her. 

“Well, this is new.” She said, and it felt like he was awake from a trance, blinking, he took a deep breath. 

“I must say, I wasn’t expecting this.” He retorted, feeling the urge to laugh at the whole situation, while he was sneaking out to do his job, she was doing the very same. “Out of all people, I’d never thought it was you. Maybe Cassian or someone else.” 

“Cassian is in this too?” She asked in disbelief. 

“He introduced me to this.” He winked. “But you? Never you.”

“I’m not as sweet and innocent as you think, handsome.” She giggled and Azriel leaned in, kissing her forehead. 

“I see that sweetheart.” She scrunched her face in pain. 

“Can you get up? My head is pounding.” He quickly got up, pulling her with him, more blood dripping from her nose. 

“I’m so sorry, love.” He apologized. 

“It’s okay, we should probably see your arm, it’s pretty bad.” Azriel brushed her off. The male kept crying, trying to close the bathroom door. 

“Do you want to team up instead?” She asked, knife in hand as she walked towards the bathroom, Azriel watched as she stepped on top of the man, grabbing a handful of hair, pulling his head backwards as she lowered and slashed his throat, blood splashing on the white floor. “I was planning on actually killing you but I’m glad it’s you Azzie.” She winked and Azriel laughed at the similarities. 

“That’s funny, I was planning on killing you too, I’m glad I didn't do it, baby.” He pulled her closer. “We’re teaming up for sure, but only if you tell me how you tricked me last week.” He said, pulling her with him as they weren’t leaving a crime scene but rather a nice restaurant. 

“Of course love, if you show me how you tackled me down to the ground.” She turned to him, winking. “It was kinda hot.” 

Azriel laughed, they both got their masks back and he led the way back to his motorcycle. As they removed their clothes and masks he looked at her. 

“How did you get here?” He inquired. 

“Nah, got an Uber, rather easy to leave a crime scene like this.” She said with a laugh, looking at the mask in her hands before shoving it inside his backpack. “Do you think R would mind us using the uniform in bed?”

“What?” He asked, climbing the bike, she got up behind him, leaning closer to his ear. 

“You look so good in that mask, it would be such a waste not to use it, Mr.Ghostface.” She purred in his ear and he shivered, smirking as she got his helmet on her head, starting to drive home. 

“You’re such a temptation.” He barked and she giggled.

“Only for you, handsome.”

[shinjisdone]

𝑇𝜎 𝑆𝜎𝑓𝜏𝜀𝜋 𝛼 𝑊𝛼𝑟𝑟𝜄𝜎𝑟’𝑠 𝐻𝜀𝛼𝑟𝜏 (Vinland Saga; Thorfinn - 𝑺𝒍𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝑨𝒓𝒄, 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕 3)

In which you have joined Askeladd’s band…and grow closer to the Son of Thors - though as your future seemed promising, his thirst for revenge devastated all that you had left.

[Headcanons of how it would be like to meet Thorfinn again after he shattered your heart (based on season 2; both platonic and romantic)

Sᴇᴀsᴏɴ ₁ ﹙Wᴀʀ Aʀᴄ﹚ is here

Part 1: - (Thorfinn as a slave and his struggles) Part 2: - (Thorfinn trying to accept your existence as a slave)

Tag list:

@luopenis , @jinsecho , @mitsureigen , @theknightssecrets , @lana-del-stan , @theghostofanficpresent , @night-shadowblood-writes2

[Mentions of murder, death, war, slave trade, harrasment against women and whatever awful things happened in the viking era. Slavery will be a main subject throughout the entire arc. Mostly gender-neutral examples but female-leaning ones are there, too.]

[This part will specifically mention: nightmares bby, attempted murder, violence, su*cidal thoughts and behavior, blood, paranoia, small panic attack]

Water Running Stronger, Rougher...

Another morning, another time where Einar wonders.

The farm, the Master, the way they are supposed to buy themselves back...

It's still a good while before fall, but the forest is dense and huge. They probably won't be able to sow anything this year, and plowing the earth in winter won't do it any good. So, they'd probably be just cutting down trees and removing roots and rocks now, huh...

The workers are a pain and running to Pater and Master Ketil feels like being a helpless child...well, there is beautiful Arnheid and her laughter...ah, she called his face lovely, would she still agree if he grew a beard-

A booming and startling scream yanked him out of his daydreams, as the brunette rushed towards the barn and rocking a yelling Thorfinn. His arms wailed in the air for something or to get away...

Einar still doesn't know what on earth could cause such nightmares.

"Thorfinn! It's just a dream!"

Breath caught in his throat, Einar stepped back as the short man shot up, clinging on his abdomen and heart. He panted like a dog as his eyes wildly stared into the back of the barn. "Hey...it was just a dream. Nothing's here." Einar muttered, dusting himself off.

"A dream?" Thorfinn repeated, "Just a dream...?"

No, it wasn't.

It wasn't just a dream. If only.

Einar already suggested they might be nightmares, nightmares best to forget if you cannot even remember them properly, but it doesn't feel like that to Thorfinn.

It's hazy but there as it runs and drops from his fingers, like water. There, but hard to catch and grasp.

It's there.

You are there, in the daylight of the farm, and you are there in the visions of his clustered mind.

Why? Why? Again and again he tried to prove to himself that it isn't you - that the slave getting water, cutting wood, feeding the pigs, hanging the laundry, carrying the hay, scrubbing the floor - that isn't you.

You carried weapons. You led the horses to the rivers. You sew his clothes. You cooked hares. You held his dagger for him. You cut down people.

He left you there in York. So you should still be there.

But just as he stared at your figure from afar and just the tiniest bit of hope of you being a stranger settles in his mind, you do something that proves otherwise.

It is you. It makes sense, he mused, as he saw you more frequently in his nightmares.

Holding Onto Any, Any, Anything...

The days pass by as the aftereffects of work thumps in his muscles, leaving aches and scars. Everyday he wakes up screaming, having Einar wake him before speaking to Arnheid and washing his face. Everyday, without missing a beat, he marches straight to the forest, or the field, or the beach - wherever work might need to be done, he goes. It keeps the rampaging thoughts away.

Everday, he stares blankly, eyes hazy as the axe cuts and cuts and cuts. At times you appear, working tiressly as well on orders of the Master, as his murky, brown eyes immediately leave the tree barks and focus on you.

Silently he observes your form, either far away or close to the touch - but all he does is watch. From the familiar color of your hair to the scars you bear. Old ones he knew from the wars and new ones earned from the draining and harsh work. Thorfinn watched your hunched back, the old, torn clothes you wore everday, the way your arms shook at another muscle cramp, when you sigh heavily when all alone.

Sometimes, your gazes would meet.

You would not respond. Whether it was a brief exchange or studying each other for long, it always felt like an eternity to Thorfinn.

It always felt like he was miles away, on the other side of a river as all that he could do was watch you be on the other side. If he dared take a step, the stream would sweep him away to the unknown. Further and further away from you.

This is the closest he can get.

Seeing you everyday...felt like gaining a clearer vision of you killing him in his nightmares.

All I Want Is To Survive It...

For once, he did not see you the whole day.

It began with getting an invitation from the guests, mercenaries who protect the farm from thieves and wild animals. Though Thorfinn and Einar were not theirs, they had little say in where they could go and stay. 'W're just gonna borrow ya for a bit, no worries,' The bodyguards ushered them to climb up the hill as they follow with their horses. Arnheid stayed behind as she watched.

Einar certainly wasn't pleased. The day is busy and has just begun but here they were, getting sand in their shoes as they march up the hill to the guest's abode. A big acommodation with wood fences sloppily dug into the cliffside as a defense and the snickers he could make out when entering did not soothe his worries. Glancing to his side, Thorfinn seemed unbothered.

It was the sight of the Master's youngest son, Master Olmar, shaking in his boots with a trembling sword in his hand that made his heart drop to his stomach. The guests cackled as the man who led them there, a lanky but muscular fellow - Fox he was called - sauntered over to the young man.

"Just as we explained it to you, Young Master," Fox threw an arm around the ginger's shoulder, snapping his other up and down. "Swoosh! Slash! Horizontally a bit higher over the shoulder!" Closing one eye, he mimicked the gesture towards Einar's neck.

"W-Wait a moment," Einar blurted out, "What is the meaning of this?" "Ah, of course you slave wouldn't know what's going on. Ya wouldn't understand anyway."

With a vigor bow, Fox pointed to Olmar. "This is a ritual for the Young Master to reach manhood! It's time for him to become a real man and have his father's respect already! And you will help us."

The men laughed as Fox playfully rose again and could not help but sneer himself. "Die for us, yes?"

...If I Let Go, Will It Be The End Of Me?

"When one wants to be an adult, a real man...they must set aside their fear." Fox twirled about, pointing to the young Olmar and his own men. "When you realize how fragile, how soft a human body is...how easy it is to slash through it, you stop being so afraid. You realize how much power you can hold with one blade alone."

Feigning a heavy sigh, he gestured to the ginger, "So honestly - be good property and do what you're told to do for the Young Master. His family owns you and he needs to grow a spine for his father to listen to him!" More laughter errupted and Olmar meekly ordered him to be quiet.

Einar's face instantly morphed into rage. "Are you serious?! We - We just started working for our freedom! Why do we deserve to die?!"

"Eh? Weren't you listening? You are a slave. A man should be able to do anything he pleases with his property. You don't need to do anything wrong to be killed for. If anything, it's an honor that you help ascend he Young Master into a real man!"

The cackling of the mercenaries boomed, surrounding the two of them, Einar wildly looking around himself. Olmar found the strength to keep his stuttering under control. "They're not mine, Fox. If I kill them...I'll have to pay my father back." "Oh, he has to pay his father back~! Do you hear that, Badger?! After all that we've done-!"

Fox sprung back as Olmar was tackled to the ground. The cackling quickly turned into cheers as Einar tried to wrestle the sword out of the man's hand. "Run, Thorfinn! Run back and tell the Master!"

Fox stared down at the small, almost pathetic match by his feet, his eyes whipping forward to Thorfinn, who stood idly by, blades at his neck. He barely blinked as he watched the commotion, his chest barely rising, his eyes ever so hazy.

Huh. This is almost too good. The Young Master could really have the chance to kill two people today.

The two men wrestled in the dirt, Einar pressing down on Olmar's arm and wrist, shoving the sword into the ground. One knee on his stomach to keep him there and let him breath. If he did anything too fatal, it surely would be over for him and the Master would be all too happy to have him killed. Nevertheless, it was enough to have Olmar's heart racing, gritting his teeth like a beast, scared for his life and defending it. This is a mere slave and yet he is stronger than him, stronger to withold all his might. How on earth is ever supposed to become a man, ever be apart of the king's army-

"You can kill me."

Olmar squeezed his head to the right, making out the blonde, short man standing there - almost bored. With lidded eyes, he looked down on him. "Young Master Olmar can kill me."

Einar followed his wide gaze and whipped his head to him. "You idiot, what are you saying?! I told you to run-!" The brunette choked out, falling to his side as the ginger kicked him off and the other guests keeping him tamed and on the ground. He just was able to get his vision straight, his head pulled up by his hair and stare with squinted eyes as Fox approached Thorfinn.

The man sauntered over to him, hands on his hips. "Now...let me catch that again. What did you say?" He hunched down to stare into the blonde's eyes. Without hesitation, he repeated himself with the same monotony. "I said he can kill me. You only need one, right? I suffice, so please let Einar go back to work. There's a lot to do."

Fox huffed as the men whispered among each other. If Einar tried to intervene, they'd have his face shoved into the ground. "Woah...now, now, Thorfinn. You are sure talking big. Are you aware of what you are saying? You will die here and there's nothing you can do about it. No one to save you."

"I know." The blonde replied, his eyes not meeting Fox's.

"...Don't tell me you want to die." His hand went from his hip to the handle of his sword, pulling it out and pointing it at him. The sheer force brought a brief gait against his rough skin. "'Cause that's just a brave act. Everyone is afraid to die and you're telling me you wholeheartedly welcome it for farm work?"

The tip of the blade dances ever so closely to his neck and chin. Left and right as it grazes his flesh. Olmar feels a shiver run down his spine. "Ah, little Thorfinn...saying that makes our work seem like nothing, you know? Our ware is death and just casually throwing it around while we earn our daily bread with it just isn't right. I can't just stand here and believe you. I mean," Fox snorted, "Even the Young Master here is afriad of other people's death!" Many laughed along as the young man attempted meekly to defend his honor.

"So, do me a favor and be honest in the last moments of your meager life," With a carefree move, he brought the tip of his sword down, slashing Thorfinn's chest, "And be afraid."

Got To Move On, Held On Too Long...

The chest, the shoulder, the leg, hip, and his face...

Einar watched with darting eyes and held breath as blood seeped into his clothes and ran down his limbs. The cuts were shallow, not enough to be deadly, but the mere sight, the way the sword cut through him so effortlessly and the cheers of the men...it made him sick. Made him felt so helpless.

These people could do as they please with them as if they were toys meant to be broken.

"C'mon, lil' Thorfinn! Yell out in pain and beg for your life before your small body becomes even smaller!" Fox chuckles as he slashes more and more. Thorfinn barely bats an eye, he could feel the burn, feel the way it all runs down but still, he feels so empty.

"...Why?" He uttered, "Why should I be afraid of death?"

The guest tilted his head and lowered his weapon.

"Are we living because we fear death? Is there something good to be found while being alive?"

Einar and Fox watched, not noticing the silhouette around the corner of the house. Though, the first was wondering, questions running in his head.

What on earth is he saying? Why is he saying this?

Thorfinn lowered his head, his murky gaze darkening. The earth was nothing but dirt, splattered by his blood.

"Not for me."

"In all my years of living, not a single good thing has happened to me."

The howling wind and the cold ocean below. The salt that would fall on his face, the screams that enter his ears, the insults. The blood on his dagger would feel heavy, the faces of those he saw - allies and enemies alike - nothing but shadows. The warmth he felt from arson, fire burning with pride along the trees and villages, along the people. Gratitude was not found in anyone, lest by him of every day he woke up on that ship.

What good has he ever done or received from being alive and on that ship?

'You're strange.'

He sucked in breath, cold and cruel as if it was his first, and his eyes shot open. Mouth agape, he whispered nonsense to himself. What was that? What...now? Why now?

'You're really strange.'

It halled in his mind, like an echo he couldn't catch. He could not catch and silence it, it came back louder and louder to the point Fox had to shove him back into reality.

'I don't mind helping as long as it's you.'

Not even the cut aimed at his neck fazed him as it leaned to the right and cut off the shell of his ear. The bloodflow was stronger.

"Your eye is next." Fox growled and aimed for it. "Be. Afraid."

"Stop it, Fox!"

Thorfinn's eyey went up to see an older man, clad in a purple tunic, well-groomed with dark hair. His drooped, green eyes observed the sight before him and he appraoched the two. He, as well, had a sword on his hip.

"Fox." His voice was low but demanding. "Y-Yes, boss?" Fox turned his head, immediately lowered his sword and followed the man's movements with halting breath. The steel in his hand trembled. He was afraid.

Just as he called for Fox to come closer, his fist collided with his face - the lanky man fell alongside his teeth. Einar reckoned that sharp nose was now broken. "Now, Badger," He called to another mercenary, "You will now explain yourselves to me."

Sweep Me Away...

The way things took a turn was more than baffling to Einar. It was the most frightening thing he had faced today.

The way this 'Snake' laughed so heartily was like day and night compared to his soldiers who snickered at just the thought of slaves being mauled like pigs. He ordered Thorfinn to be bandaged up, properly, and gave him back his shirt. The men stood in an immaculate line like little children.

"Sorry for all this. My men are real idiots. I hope they didn't keep you from your work for too long."

His smile was bright, Einar noted, but it didn't reach his eyes. Those green, piercing eyes that wandered up and down Thorfinn's wounds. His hands barely moved but in an blink of an eye, he took out his sword, rose it up and quickly blocked the blonde's kick.

Did he see that right? Did Thorfinn just kick this guy, defended himself?

It was so fast, he could barely catch how he jumped back and brought his fists up in a fighting stance.

"Not bad." Snake seathed his sword just as quickly. Not bad?! What are these people talking about?!

"You see that, Thorfinn? Your body defended itself - it doesn't want to die."

Another shock ran through him - the realization, if it was true - and the gnawing, insistent echo in his head.

'I don't want you to die.'

Truly? Why does everything on this earth plan to kill him but never goes through with it? Mocks him with the idea of being stabbed, beaten, having his skull smashed in? Not the slave traders, not the Master, not Snake, not even his own body or Askeladd...

Not even you in his dreams.

"Alright - you useless lot better bring these two back to where they belong. I don't wanna hear having fights or insults thrown around while I'm gone or ya can eat your dinner tonight without any teeth."

"Sir, yes, sir!"

If nothing wants to kill him...then for what will he live? For the farm, for the forest? For what should he keep breathing?

"...Thorfinn...what are you..." Einar appraoched gingerly, finally able to feel and move his wrists again. The way he moved, the way he looked down at his scarred, wounded hand...the look in his eye.

Live...for what?

He looked like a beast.

...Out Into The Ocean...

Pater was kind and Einar couldn't understand it.

Thorfinn sat on the crate, hands between his legs like a guilty child being scolded. He stared to the ground though, as expressionless as ever, as Pater patched him up. "Don't go along with them next time but come to me instead. It's my duty to take care of you, after all. The Master has more than enough trouble with the guests, pranking the slaves like that."

"It wasn't a prank! They really attempted to kill us!" The brunette shouted out, adamant about their nature - of how they viewed them as they looked down on them like cattle. "These people don't care about our lives...killing us would just help them pass the time."

"It can't be helped." Thorfinn lowly joined the conversation - briefly and monotonely, "The strong kill the weak. That's just how things are."

Einar couldn't find any more words to that.

The older man didn't answer. He talked about the open wound on the ear, smearing a balm on it - which he quickly reassured Einar of that it didn't cost a coin. "You should thank Arnheid as well. She- oh? Is that her? No..." Straightening his back, he squinted his eyes at the figure running towards them. He could make out flailing arms and heavy panting.

Einar couldn't help but notice, the breathing loud and clear and choking as he turned around, raising a brow. "Hey...isn't that...?"

Thorfinn followed his gaze and his eyes shot up wide.

The same hair, the same eyes, the same scars, the same look on your face...

His arms snapped up around his abdomen in a hug. Have you come to kill him?

Will you kill him now? End him? Finally fulfill that promise, that purpose in his nightmares so he can finally, finally stop dreaming?

His mouth is agape and only a moment later does he take a deep breath - again and again as it became labored, gaining the attention of both men as you rushed closer.

Making you out clearly, you opened your arms, your grimace as terrified as his.

Catching his breath, he choked and instinctively leaned back, far, far away from you as you were only a step away and threw your arms around him, pressing his face to your chest.

Like on command your panting was cut short and a choked sob escaped. You could finally allow yourself to cry now that you got him. Your voice cracked as you ever so awkwardly shoved him to you, your head on top of his. He could feel your hot tears drop down onto his dull hair.

"...I'm so glad you are okay...Thorfinn...!"

Thorfinn's eyes widened as you sobbed quietly. What...?

What did you say?

Wasn't that...?

This isn't another nightmare, is it? Will you lie, turn away and hurt him? Why...why were you here..? Here, with him, holding him again as you did that winter day?

What if he wakes up? How could he live with it if he were to remember this nightmare?

Swiftly though you leaned back and grabbed his face. Yours was still tear-streaked. "What were you thinking just tagging along?!" You screamed out and his face hung. Eyes wide, chin dropped, mouth open. To Einar and Pater, it looked like a mother scolding her child.

Without missing a beat, you examined his open injures, briskly pushing his head down and gritting your teeth in sheer worry at the sight of his ear. "Your ear! You idiot, you wanna go deaf?! It could get infected and you'd lose it, Thorfinn!" A shaky sigh left you. Your hands on his face, warm and calloused, his big, brown eyes staring at something unfathomable and the way as if nothing had changed. You two are back from once you were, years back when it was just you and Thorfinn.

As if you weren't here, on the farm - but somewhere, far away, just the two of you and nothing else.

Ever so hesitantly your hands slid off his face. He kept on staring, gawk hard to read, both of you holding your breath until Pater cleared his throat. "...How good to know that you talk. I believe there's a lot to discuss."

[aaaah this took too long thoug ive written longer things;;; this one i am not soooo satisfied with or confident but i am so tired rn and dont think i could add anything even if i was full of energy now haaah

still, as pumped as i was for tsawh and go nyooooo on writing it im pooped now and will prbly not post the next part as quickly haha. though this arc is quite demure, it has a lot of quiet action in it with characters making one decision after another and writing all of that is tricky.

still, i am glad i got this out. reader will now begin to actually be a part of the story properly and part of thorfinns life yippie! i really hope you liked this, i know how daunting and scary everything is right now even when i am a non-american and barely talked about everything going on until now. still, i hope everyone keeps on going forward and can find enjoyment in this silly story (that is totally not catering to myself at the same time huehue) even if its just for a moment. i hope i can see you again as i continue this fic and with everything else my brainrot produces :) ]

[sterlingsilver-starlight]

Talk Too Much 💘

Pairing: Park Seonghwa x Female Reader

Genres: Hurt/comfort, angst, drama, fluff, romance

Content Warnings: flashbacks of emotional abuse (reader has emotionally abusive mother), self-harm (briefly graphic), implied suicidal thoughts, brief strong language (mild throughout), intimate moments (very steamy makeout session, but nothing further)

Word Count: 3195 words

Summary: When Reader excuses herself to the bathroom, Seonghwa begins to grow suspicious as minutes turn into an unusually long absence. Can he unravel the truth behind her melancholy, and perhaps something deeper?

Inspirations: During the sadder parts, “Kamihitoe” by Uru and this slowed/reverbed version of Lolo Zouaï’s “Desert Rose” were my comfort. And then for the cute parts, BLACKSWAN’s “Cat & Mouse” :)

(I love the title GIF for this 🤭 but I also am still recovering from the Arriba one…I swear, I will not be the same when the full song drops in a week 😩🥵) I had something like an epiphany while writing this…the comforting words resonate on many levels, and I had to remind myself that people like that do exist out there. Even if there is someone in your life who throws harsh words or vibes your way, that’s not to say someone who does the exact opposite might not cross paths with you, too ✨🫶🏼

Also please note: This is in no way supposed to represent or depict the actual Park Seonghwa; this is just created for storytelling/entertainment purposes only :D

A hard swallow, followed by the relentless jab of another burgeoning stomachache. You set your fork down again, barely scraping the potatoes at the edge of your plate. 

“Hwa, I…I don’t feel too good. I can’t eat this right now.”

He gave you a sympathetic smile as you got up from your seat. “It’s alright. Just…let me know if you need something. Okay?”

You offered a small smile, biting your lip. “Y-yeah. Okay.”

The bite dug deep enough to draw blood, but you tasted nothing like iron on your tongue. It was a flavor you had become all too accustomed to, one too bittersweet to fully enjoy or shy away from.

As soon as you were out of your friend’s line of sight, you bolted down the hall for the bathroom, only slowing down once you’d gone inside and shut the door. 

A click at the knob. A snap of the fingers, idiosyncratically, to distract yourself from the sudden echo the lock gave. Did he hear that?

You hoped to God not. 

Seonghwa was your most trusted confidant, but even the strongest of bonds could harbor skeletons in the closet, so as far as you were concerned, it would need to stay that way until you were able to get over this on your own.

Slumping against the door, you let yourself slide down to the ground, hugging your knees as they bunched up against your chest. 

You didn’t know what you would ever do if he found out. About the thoughts, about the self-hatred…

Heck, let alone the self-harm.

Seonghwa was the twinkling star in your life, lighting up any room he entered, constantly finding ways to make you crack a smile from absolutely nothing. He was too precious for this world, you were sure of it.

Which is why, on this otherwise fine and calm evening, you found yourself yet again questioning why in the hell he put up with you as much as he did.

What if you were just fooling yourself? What if this persona you felt from your very core was nothing more than an act, masquerading from the demon that had hidden inside you from years long past?

A silent cry threatened to surface. You took a sharp breath and reached in your pocket, fumbling around until you felt what you had been looking for: a rusted metal nail file.

The lump in your throat made you feel guiltier. It’d been mere days since you’d promised yourself that this wasn’t going to be an option…

Again.

But though time could heal wounds, it could only erase so many still embedded within your subconscious, still playing like a broken record during your moments of uncertainty and vulnerability.

“Do you ever shut up?! I swear, one more word and I’ll rip your tongue off!”

You bit your lip harder, genuinely wanting to taste the pain. What did it matter anymore?

“Sure, keep doing that shit. So we can all feel sorry for you and tiptoe around your stupid feelings? I don’t think so!”

You gasped with every memory, tears blinding and blurring your bearings, the file now slashing oh-so elegantly through your flesh like a knife through butter. 

“Slam your door again and I’ll make sure your head is the next thing that slams against the wall!”

You almost didn’t notice the crimson streaming down your arm, or the way it cascaded onto your other hand, dyeing the creases of your palm in a heartbeat, while numbness continued feeding your indifference.

Maybe there is no purpose to my life. Maybe I’m just meant to be a casualty and —

“Y/n?” You jolted, the three knocks on the door vibrating through your skull.

But you said nothing, afraid even a single syllable would give away your current state of mind.

“Y/n?” Seonghwa repeated, the worry carrying in his voice.

Panic kicked in and you started hyperventilating. Much to your chagrin, however, that only alerted him more.

“Okay, I-I’m coming in.” You heard the twists and click of the knob — darn it, I forgot he has keys for the place — and hastily shuffled over to the adjacent wall as he squeezed his way into the bathroom. 

A sharp gasp hushed within the small room. His eyes widened in shock as he took in the scene before him: the rusted nail file still in your hand, the blood-stained arm, the haunted look on your face — it broke your heart, to have him see you like this.

What you didn’t realize, though, was just how much his heart was breaking.

“Hwa, I…I’m sorry.” You hugged yourself tighter, wanting nothing more than to be a turtle hidden inside its shell. 

“Y/n…what happened?” His voice was laced with worry as he carefully approached you.

You tried to conceal the evidence, quickly slipping the file back into your pocket and attempting to wipe away the blood with the hem of your sleeve. But the damage had already been done. “I…I just had a little accident, is all. N-no big deal,” you stammered, furrowing your eyebrows as you looked away. 

He crouched down in front of you, gently lifting your chin to meet his eyes. “Y/n, don’t lie to me. What’s going on?”

A lump formed in your throat, and for a moment, you debated whether to spill your darkest secrets or to continue this facade. But when you saw the hurt in his eyes, you knew what your answer must be.

“I…I’ve been struggling, Hwa. There’s this darkness inside of me that just won’t go away,” you whispered finally, trying not to cry mid-sentence.

His expression softened, and he pulled you into an embrace. “You don’t have to face it alone, Y/n. I’m right here for you, always.”

The warmth of his hug felt like a lifeline, a tether grounding you in this moment of many that felt overwhelmingly chaotic. Tears streamed down your face as you clung to him tightly, slowly but surely releasing the weight that you had been carrying alone for far too long.

Seonghwa pulled away slowly, his hands holding yours gently. “Let’s get you cleaned up, okay? And then we can talk about this, together.”

You nodded, rubbing your thumbs against his in return. “Okay.”

He helped you to a standing position, and from there you both walked over to the medicine cabinet: you leaning slightly on the sink countertop, him removing a roll of gauze, bandages, and a few creams. Grabbing a nearby cloth to run it under warm water, you inhaled nervously. As he began tending to the wounds on your arm, still streaked in raw red, you hesitated, grappling with the storm of emotions brewing deep down. The bathroom felt like a fragile sanctuary, and you were on the verge of shattering its peace with the weight of your confessions.

“Hwa,” you began hesitantly, “I’ve…heard things. About myself. Terrible things that echo in my mind every day.”

He looked up at you, eyes brimming with a warm understanding. “It’s okay. Tell me as much or as little as you need to.”

With a shaky breath, you started to unravel the web of painful words that had been haunting you, from the cruel insults and relentless belittlement at home to the internalized hatred that had since taken root in your heart.

“I’m a failure. That’s what she says. My own blood mother.” You shuddered. “That I’m a disappointment, a burden…that her life would have been better if not for the presence of such an ungrateful bitch like me…t-that I ruin everything around me.” Your voice wavered as you stopped to catch a breath.

Seonghwa’s expression tightened with anger. “Y/n, believe me when I say you are none, and I mean absolutely none, of those things. You are strong, kind, and worthy of love. Don’t believe those lies. Please.”

You just shook your head. “I can’t accept your kind pity, though, Hwa.” Tears welled and clouded your vision as you continued. “She said I should be grateful that anyone tolerates me at all, that I’m lucky to have friends because I don’t deserve them…that I’m not good enough for anyone out there.”

His eyes softened with empathy. “Y/n, you’re more than good enough. You’re fucking incredible, and I…I care about you deeply.”

Your eyes widened at his choice of words, confusion and hope written all over your face. “Why, Hwa? Why would you care about someone like me?”

He sighed, setting aside the cloth, and cupped your face with his hands. “Because you’re not just someone, Y/n. You’re a remarkable person. Your strength, your kindness — it shines through even in your darkest moments. And…” He chuckled slightly. “I like you. More than just as a friend.”

A gasp caught in your throat, and time became still within the room as his confession hung in the air. Seonghwa’s eyes searched yours for a response, but you remained silent, the weight of his words sinking in. 

A spark of worry flickered across his face. “I-I-I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said —”

You placed a gentle hand on his cheek. “No, Hwa. I’m honestly really glad you did. I just…I need a moment to process everything. It’s a lot, but I really appreciate your courage to tell me that.”

His shoulders relaxed, a relieved smile breaking through. “I understand. Take all the time you need.”

He resumed cleaning your cuts, all the while as you couldn’t shake the startling but exciting realization that maybe, just maybe, someone as wonderful as Hwa could see past these insecurities, could see you for you.

An almost eerie silence hung between you two, broken only by the sound of running water as you rinsed off spots of leftover blood. Hwa glanced at you, debating whether or not to break the ice.

“To be honest,” you admitted in a voice barely above a whisper, “I don’t know if I’ve ever felt good enough for someone like you.”

He scoffed lightly, covering your hand with his. “Y/n, you’re more than enough. You’re perfect just the way you are.” 

His words lingered in the air, a poignant moment of vulnerability shared in the dimly lit bathroom.

And then something shifted.

With a playful smirk, you couldn’t help but bring up your insecurities, caught in a suddenly desperate vying to test the waters and see how he would take it. “Come on, don’t be silly, Hwa. I mean, look at me!” You raised an eyebrow at him, the hint of a smile teasing at your lips.

He took the bait. “Okay, and? What about it?”

Now it was your turn to scoff. “You gotta be kidding. I mean, for starters, I’m not even skinny, my face is rounder than the boba in that milk tea you were swirling around the other day” — he broke into a fit of laughter at this, prompting you to punch him gently on the arm (“Hwa, I’m being serious!”) before resuming your, he thought, rather dramatic speech — “and my body is far from what’s considered attractive these days.” You sighed, clenching and unclenching your fists before inspecting yourself through the bathroom mirror. “Especially with these…” You gestured vaguely to your rounded backside and thick thighs.

Hwa’s low, throaty chuckle reverberated in the bathroom, his eyes never leaving yours. “Y/n, you really think any of that matters to me?” He shook his head, his gaze intense. “You’re focusing on things that turn me on more than you could possibly know.”

To say you were surprised — curious, even — was an understatement. “W-what do you mean?” you dared to ask.

He leaned in, his lips dangerously close to your ear. “Your curves, the roundness of your face, that body you seem to underestimate so much — they’re all things I fantasize about more when I’m around you.” His words sent a thrill down your spine, and you felt a warmth pooling in the pit of your stomach.

“But why?” you managed to stutter out, genuinely baffled.

Hwa pulled back slightly, his eyes scanning you up and down. “Because, Y/n, it’s those very things that make you uniquely you. There’s…an allure throughout, if I’m being honest…and your body is nothing short of perfection in my eyes.”

He paused, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “And let me tell you,” he continued, snaking his fingers across one of your thighs, massaging it with his thumb, “these parts of you aren’t just attractive. They’re downright irresistible.”

Your breath caught in your throat, desire rushing through your veins as he leaned in again, his fingers tracing patterns that left your skin tingling. “I think about you in ways that would make you blush,” he admitted, his voice a low murmur. “You’re beautiful, Y/n. In every way imaginable.”

With that, he closed the distance between your lips, initiating a kiss that held the weight of his confession. The bathroom seemed to vanish into the distance as Hwa’s lips kept meeting yours in a slow, tantalizing dance, each kiss a revelation of shared desire. His hands, warm and possessive, explored the curves of your body with a deliberate sensuality. Fingers traced the contours of your back, leaving a trail of trickling sensations in their wake. As the kiss deepened, his touch became more fervent, a silent promise of passion yet to unfold.

Your hands found their way into his soft, tousled hair, fingers threading through the strands as you pulled him closer. His tongue prodded your bottom lip playfully until you indulged him, allowing the sensation of his tongue to slide against and around yours, igniting a fervor that sent electrical currents through every nerve ending.

The room seemed to get hotter and hotter, but nothing could have curbed the chill in your spine by this point. Hwa’s touch was both gentle and confident, a melody of desire that crescendoed as his kisses lingered longer and he began sucking your tongue slowly, making you moan ever so softly into his mouth.

Your own hands mirrored his movements, traveling across the edges and ridges of his chest, feeling the rhythmic beat of his heart beneath your touch. The bathroom echoed with intertwined breaths and whispered promises.

As the intensity built, you couldn’t help but straddle his lap, your bodies pressing together with an urgency that mirrored the passion between you. Hwa’s lips trailed from your mouth to your neck, leaving a trail of heated kisses. Moans continued escaping your lips as you felt his teeth grazing gently down the side of your neck. You clung to him, lost in the intoxication of the moment.

Your heartbeats all but synchronized as his lips found their way to your collarbone, his whispers of passion mingling with your soft gasps. He pulled back slightly, eyes looking deep into yours.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice a velvet caress that sent shivers down your spine. He leaned in to place gentle kisses on your earlobe, his breath sending a flutter of anticipation through you. “I want you to feel cherished, desired, and free from any doubt about your body,” he whispered finally, his tone laced with sensual liberation.

His hands, like flames against your skin, caressed the small of your back. The room was filled with the harmony of your shared desire, moans and breaths alike embellishing the melody sounding strong.

As sweat dripped down your foreheads, the intensity reached its peak, and with a shared understanding, you both began to ease out of the fervent exchange. Hwa’s lips lingered on yours for a moment, a final note in the passionate composition.

His arms wrapped around you, nestling you within the sweet scent of his aroma, heaving heavily, slowly, as you both took a moment to catch your breath. You could spot the glimpse of a tender smile dancing on his lips. “See, Y/n, you talk too much,” he teased, his eyes alight with affection.

You chuckled finally, feeling a warmth enveloping you. “Maybe I do,” you agreed, “but I think I like it that way.”

Hwa’s eyes sparkled with mischief as he smirked at you playfully. “Well, you better, because I enjoy every word,” he smiled, leaning in to peck you briefly on the lips.

As you both settled into a cuddle, an air of contentment permeated within your space. Hwa’s fingers traced soothing patterns on your back as he spoke. “You know…I think we should have a date tomorrow. I want to take you out. Just the two of us.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the idea. “A date, huh? Where are we going?”

Hwa’s playful grin widened. “Somewhere nice, but you better promise me you won’t just order a small appetizer. I want you to enjoy the food, Y/n.”

You laughed, rolling your eyes. “Alright, alright. No small appetizers. Got it. But you’ll have to deal with me talking your ear off about how delicious everything is.”

Hwa leaned in, stealing another quick kiss. “I can’t wait. And besides, I enjoy every word, remember?”

The banter continued as you both playfully argued about your plans. Hwa grinned mischievously, glad that you were cutting loose for a change and genuinely enjoying yourself now. “And promise me, no salads as the main course. We’re going for the good stuff if this is a date.”

You raised an eyebrow, feigning offense. “Excuse me? Salads are healthy and delicious.”

He chuckled. “Healthy? Yes. Delicious? Debatable. We’re going for flavor explosions, Y/n, not the world’s best landscape on a plate.”

You countered with a smirk. “Okay, first of all, tabbouleh is to die for. And maybe I like my explosions with a side of greens.”

Hwa pretended to gasp, placing a hand over his heart dramatically. “You’re breaking my heart. And here I thought we had a connection.”

You burst into laughter, eyes watering within seconds. “Oh, we have a connection, alright, but my connection with tasty salads might just outdo it this time.”

He pouted. “Fine, have it your way. But if that’s how it’s gonna be, I’m ordering the biggest, heartiest dish on the menu just to torture you.”

You grinned. “Challenge dutifully accepted. I’ll enjoy my dish while you tackle your food mountain. We’ll see who’s satisfied in the end.”

Hwa leaned in, whispering. “Well, just so you know, if you end up trying a bite of mine, you might never go back to salads again.”

You smirked at him. “We’ll see about that. You can’t deprive me of my greens forever, you know.” You pretended to think hard for a moment. “I know, I’ll revolt! I’ll revolt and you won’t know what’s coming to —”

He pressed his lips against yours in a sudden, actually sweet kiss. When he finally pulled back, he was grinning slyly from ear to ear.

“You were saying?” he teased.

You snorted. “Well, I was going to say that no matter how tempting your ‘food mountain’ may be, my love for salads will endure. Just like my love for you, even if you try to sabotage it with impeccably irresistible dishes.”

He tried and failed to suppress another laugh. “You talk too much.” You grinned in satisfaction.

“Maybe I do, but you love it.”

[2demondogs]

Heartbreaking Charthur angst. Like a "What if..." Charles never left to help Rains fall and was there for Arthurs' end (high honor, help John ending)?

Anon I see ur vision, I respect your smoke, you are real for this, etc ad nauseam.

Any incorrect details um... blame it on the alternate timeline. I'll be honest I didn't proofread cuz this shit made me sad.

Words: 1.7k Tags: sickfic... :), character death, stream of consciousness, a lot of nondenominational religious Thoughts, major spoilers

Arthur had realized, since his first and last doctor's office visit, just how much time there was in a day.

Job after job after job and all that precious time he had never realized was slipping by. He wished he had never slept, for one; he hoped in the afterlife, if there was one, he might never sleep, because all things must end eventually, as he is still learning, and he'd hate to make the same mistakes twice.

He thought the Devil would look like Dutch, God save his soul — does he, here, mean himself, Satan, or Dutch? Arthur still doesn't know, supposes that they all need saved just as badly — and that he'd be worker of the month down there, too.

Turning tricks, maybe, wouldn't that be funny, workhorse to company pony, he thought recently, and then the pains started in earnest because workhorse wasn't always his middle name and it hurt badly to think of the days before.

Arthur still wants to go back.

It's been nearly an hour since Micah kicked him in the ribs. He knows, because he has become good at telling time, as if the universe is letting him on all those preternatural secrets a little early. It hurts so badly that it has ceased hurting at all— wouldn't he be sad to know it, if Charles had not shot him once Dutch had discarded him, too.

So many emotions on the matter of Dutch, yet no time to feel them. It's a good thing he began grieving him when Hosea died.

Instead of the sharp, white-hotness that he had worried was a rib puncturing his already squeezed lungs, there is now a constant ache throughout his body, maybe his very soul; he had used all of his breath screaming when Charles tried to move him, has not gotten one good one in since, and he thinks they both know the truth.

It's all up to one cough.

One last kick in the ass and it's lights out for old Mister Morgan, because that rattling in his breath can only mean one thing.

Charles kneels before where he lays on his side, looks down at him the way he had looked at that gored horse they came across while hunting, months ago— the way he looked at it before he told Arthur to put it out of its misery. He couldn't pull the trigger, even if he knew it was the kind thing to do. There is something meaningful in that memory which Arthur cannot think of words for, but he understands it the way men understand things when they are dying: silently, and completely.

Why is Charles so quiet, now? Arthur's eyes fall shut, and he cannot find the strength to open them for a long time.

He wouldn't be greedy if God came to him and said sure, son, you all look like ants from here, I'll drop you back into seventy-eight. Blood is seeping into his lungs, has to be, and every drop makes Heaven and Hell sound a whole lot more real.

In a perfect world, he might have left and made house with Eliza or made himself suitable for Mary, swallowed that boring life the happy way most men do. Because he would know. He would work in a mine and he would be happy to breathe in the coal, because he would know.

His wedding ring, he would know that, too, and suddenly this split-second daydream becomes a nightmare all over again.

I need to move on, Arthur, she wrote. It was one less thing to leave behind.

Sometimes he wished that Charles went, too, that he had chosen the type of belonging he'd grieved so often or that he had chosen Dutch, never to be on this mountain in the first place. That he had spat on Arthur and left him without a trace of his mortal life as he lay here dying, none except the familiarity of the sun breaking the sky and the grass dancing in the valley below — dancing, what a funny word for it, or maybe he's just hallucinating as his consciousness begins to slip to—

Well, wherever it's going to go.

No matter what, Arthur wishes that Charles did not look at him that way when he decided to stick around. They both knew it was because of Arthur, and they both knew it was temporary. He's been giving him the same look. Something like love, and grief.

I'm not dead, he wants to tell him, but Arthur knows there's no difference now and Charles doesn't deserve any more lies, anyways.

He lied to everyone, and selfishly.

How many of them will die? Hosea was coughin' more. Was I contagious before...?

That day, Arthur had realized just what all those science folks mean when they say humans are brief, in the grand scheme of things even if he was not egotistical enough to believe life begins and ends with himself— but men are temporary, and there's only been so many of them, and there only will be so many of them. He had marveled at the huge, ancient bones he found for that odd little critter of a lady, months ago.

Just yesterday, he entertained the idea that God had been real even before he needed Him most, and that He was telling him something by crossing their paths: Life before you, life after you. Don't get comfortable.

Rest assured, Big Man, he thinks, I am not.

But somehow, he almost is.

Death is certain, now. There is no guessing here, no waiting without knowing.

Some divine intervention, he's sure all dead men receive it as a consolation prize of sorts for completing the great big task of living. Charles' large, warm hand is on his shoulder, light as a feather. He tries to speak, even though he can barely think in words, and all he manages is a groan that comes from deep in his gut.

Arthur wishes he would crush him, that he'd hold him even if it made him scream in agony. He wishes Charles was—

Was—

No, he doesn't. He doesn't want Charles to give him the mercy execution.

Arthur just wishes he were not giving Charles his own form of execution. He is laying still, grimacing hard each time the shallow raise and fall of his chest makes his body scream. Charles has no idea what he is feeling, but he must be able to see on Arthur's face that he's feeling things inside his body which should not be happening: the sac of his lung ripping further open, his bowels threatening to let go, his sternum pressed tight to the skin above from a week of near-starvation because there is no amount of food that could feed the disease that is eating him alive.

He knows how it feels to watch a man you love die, even if his had been his father and he's certain that it's harder at their present age, and when you've chosen to love someone. No hands of blood had pushed them together.

Arthur wishes he had known it sooner.

He doesn't know if he ever wants to hear it from Charles' mouth, but he blinks his eyes open as the vague, misty image of that day finally fades for good. The sky is breaking hard beyond the shadow of Charles' form. It is glorious as sunrises always are. He feels his bones grinding on one another. He is clenching his teeth so hard, his molars are about to be pushed through the gums and into his mandible.

Never one for making his own decisions, Arthur wonders again if God is real or if he is coping with this horribleness in the only way he knows how: relying on someone else.

Again, he wants Charles to crush him. Even if it stabs the broken rib through his lung and out his back, even if it kills him before he can use his last breath to find out how his throat smells— he wants Charles to be the one to hold him.

Hosea is gone. So is Dutch. Arthur would long for Charles even if they were both here, although alarmingly he feels as though Hosea is somewhere around him — he cannot see, smell, or hear him but he knows it silently, and completely.

I love him, Arthur is thinking, has no time to study how selfish he would have felt just one month ago for his desires in this moment. Dead men cannot regret any longer, or maybe regret becomes like the pain when you are dead, grows so big that it blocks out the sun of peace. He made me feel safe, he thinks, already in the past tense, as if he is rehearsing what he will tell all the fellow skeletons.

He squints through the morning light and finds Charles' face, drawn tight in an expression he has never, ever seen before.

His eyes are open sores. He's never looked more like an angel.

With the last of his breath, Arthur opens his mouth and finds it suddenly very hard to draw in air. His throat itches, and if he swallows this cough he will simply choke on his own vomit instead— so he begins to hack, feels his lungs decompressing and the violent convulsions through his abdominal wall as things that are not meant to touch it touch it.

He gets his wish, because Charles is curling around him. He wants to shove him away, but then he doesn't; if Charles is going to get sick, he already has, and this is all he could have ever wanted in this moment. Charles is warm, and his chest presses over Arthur's jolting side as if holding him still, and he realizes the man has been talking but he has no time to regret not listening.

He's forgotten English, anyways, doesn't think in words anymore but feels everything. His throat thickens with the metallic taste of blood and his body squeezes, squeezes— Arthur goes stiff in panic and shock, fingers of both hands clawing into Charles' arm, and if either of them were sober the blood his nails draw would be felt.

In the moments before he can no longer breathe, he sees — with that nonmaterial eye that shows men dreams, nightmares, the best novels — something like peace.

Yes, Hosea feels very close now, and Charles, very far away.

[a-dose-of-comatose]

What Adam does for lute when she’s mad at him

How Mad is She?

***

Lute was in the zone. There were only three minutes left until the end of Extermination Day and she was plowing through Sinners with as much vigor as if only three minutes had passed.

She was surrounded by ten or so Sinners, nothing she couldn’t handle on her own, but Adam had kept his axe fairly clean that day - so why wouldn’t he hop in to help?

As he sliced through five of them with one large swing Lute screamed, “Adam! What the fuck are you doing?!”

He scoffed, “I’m picking fucking dandelions - what the fuck does it look like I’m doing?”

She ripped her sword out from the last Sinner’s chest with an angry huff, “Go find your own!” She stomped. “God-fucking-damnit!” She stabbed her sword through the Sinner’s chest once more.

“I think you got him, Tits-”

She frantically looked down at her watch before letting out a long screech. She sounded like a tantruming toddler.

“Dude - what’s your fucking problem?” Adam questioned.

“There’s only one minute left in the Extermination and I still need to kill two more sinners to beat my record from last year!” She yanked her helmet off her head and threw it at the pile of bodies bleeding red onto the surrounding brimstone. “And by my calculations you just stole fucking five from me, you dipshit!”

His jaw dropped as she continued to stop through the puddles of blood to retrieve her stained helmet. “Bitch! That’s not fair!” he protested, “how was I supposed to know-”

“I had them!” Her knuckles clenched shut. “I fucking had them!”

At that moment their watches began to chime, signaling the end of another Extermination.

“I cannot fucking believe you!” She groaned, slinging the helmet back on, not so much as wincing as it flung still warm blood over both herself and Adam. 

He opened the portal back to Heaven and watched as the Exorcists took to the sky. 

Looking back to Lute, he rolled his eyes, and reminded her, “There’s always next year.”

That was a mistake.

“Did you just roll your fucking-” she cut herself off, taking a deep breath before spitting between clenched teeth, “Y’know what? Fuck you.” 

“Lute, can we please just talk about this?” 

She grabbed her sword and took flight without so much as looking back down at him.

“Fucking women.” He grumbled as he followed suit.

***

“Lute, babe for real?” He banged his forehead against the bathroom door, grimacing as the shower turned on. “We always shower together after the Extermination!”

“I’m mad at you!” She shouted back. “Go shower somewhere else!”

He groaned, “But Lute!”

“I don’t want to fucking hear it, Adam!”

“Does this mean no head?”

From beyond the closed door she threw something hard and fast his direction. The shockwave of its impact went through the thin door and directly into his skull. “Ow! Fuck!” He jumped back. “Okay, maybe I deserved that one-”

He could hear the venom dripping from her voice as she screamed again, “What part of ‘I don’t want to hear it’ are you not getting? Go the fuck away!”

Adam ran a hand through his matted helmet hair. The next Extermination wasn’t for another year - and Lute could hold a grudge longer than anyone he had ever met - and he was the first man, he had met a lot of people throughout his long afterlife. 

He begrudgingly pulled out his phone, typing into the search engine 

‘How to apologize to my angry girlfriend’

He mindlessly scrolled through options that simply wouldn’t work for Lute. Bullshit like ‘speak to her rationally’ and ‘admit your wrongdoings’ before he found the perfect option.

‘Buy her flowers’

He quickly ducked out through the front door, and even faster opened a portal to the nearest flower shop. Adam had passed it hundreds of times but never set foot inside - he had never had a reason to. 

Until now.

“Hello!” A chipper voice called from the back. “I will be right with you!”

“All good!” Adam called back, realizing just how out of his element he was, surrounded with all the blooming plants in every imaginable shape and color. 

The Winner waltzed to the counter, tying an apron around his waist. “Hi sir, I’m David. How can I help - woah. You, uh,” he stuttered, “you have a little something on your robes, sir.”

Adam looked back down at his robes. The ones he hadn’t had a chance to change out of since getting home from Hell. “Oh shit-” he muttered, “yeah. I was - uh - baking.”

“You were baking?”

“Yeah.” Adam reaffirmed, trying to convince himself it was a believable excuse just as much as he tried to convince the shopkeeper. “Yeah, that’s why I’m here. I kinda fucked up with my girlfriend and she’s pretty pissed.”

“How mad is she?” He asked.

Fuck. How was he supposed to explain that his psychotic girlfriend was mad that he killed off what would have been lucky numbers two hundred and thirty-six through two hundred and forty-one? 

“Well-” He exhaled. “We were baking - and my girl, she’s one of those real competitive types - y’know how it is.” He waved his hand. “We were on the last few - um - cupcakes before a deadline, and I may have tried to help her when she didn’t want it - and I guess it messed up some goal she had so she got pissed and threw,” he looked down to the blood on his robe, “jelly at me.”

“No. How mad is she?” The florist rolled his eyes before pointing up at a sign directly above his head. 

The letters read:

‘How Mad Is She?’ followed by pictures of three bouquets ranging in size - A being the smallest, and C being the largest.

“Based on the fact that you’re covered with-” he paused to look Adam up and down, “-jelly, I’m thinking you might need a C.”

“Yeah.” He nodded. “Definitely a fucking C.”

“Let’s ring you up and then get you outta here.” David reassured. “That’ll be one hundred and twenty heaven bucks.”

“Oh you gotta be fucking kidding me.”

***

Adam tentatively knocked at the bedroom door when he got home. “Hey, Lute-” he drew out her name, “can I come in?”

“Fine,” she grumbled, “but I’m still mad at you.”

He opened the door, and was greeted by her mouth dropping open in shock. “You got me flowers?”

He smirked. “I did.”

“I was mad - so you got me flowers?”

Uh oh. That wasn’t the intended reaction. 

“Surprise?” He offered, approaching the bed.

Her angry eyebrows softened as she struggled to contain a laugh, her gorgeous grin spreading across her cheeks as she finally cracked. “You fucking dork.”

“I’m sorry for fucking up your kill count today.”

“It’s alright,” she sighed. “I’m sorry for snapping at you like I did. The flowers are sweet, thank you.”

 He grinned, leaning in for a kiss. “Nothing but the best for you.”

She pushed him back playfully. “Nuh uh. Not until we get you cleaned up.” She hopped out of the bed.

Taking his hand she pulled him towards the bathroom. “Wait - does that mean?”

“It’s not a post Extermination shower if we don’t do it together.” She relented.

Adam looked to the ceiling and whispered a silent thank you, to god, to the internet, and to fucking David at the flowershop. 

The flowers fucking worked.

[writing-rat]

Hold On (I still Need You)

Pairings: Sam Carpenter and Tara Carpenter, Sam Carpenter and Gale Weathers, Sam Carpenter and Sidney Prescott

Content Warning: Attempted Suicide, Self Harm, Angst with a happy ending, Hanging, Soft Sam Carpenter

Summary: Tara feels depressed so she does something about it. Little does Tara know that Sam would walk in...

WC: 1558

Sam knew something was wrong immediately when she walked into the apartment she shared with Quinn and Tara. Quinn was away on a family trip with her dad and Tara was home. Except it was too quiet…

-

Sam was supposed to be away most of the day, leaving Tara to her own devices. There were promises of how Tara would be careful (little did Sam know what would happen), and to call her if something happened. 

It had been 4 hours after, 2 hours until Sam would come back. Tara had everything ready. She had the knife, the stool and the noose. Expertly tying it around her light, she ensured it wouldn’t fall. It took about an hour however to make sure but finally, she did it. She was on a time crunch now, however. Sam would be home in about an hour and Tara was starting to panic. She didn’t need Sam to see her trying, she’d rather not see her reaction.

She wanted to be with Amber again after all…

Breathing heavily, she grabbed the knife and looked at it, hesitating a little but she knew she had to. This was her only chance to do it. Eventually, she slit her wrists. They were deep. It was going to lead to blood loss, it was going as planned. She gripped the knife in her other hand, causing another cut that was just as deep. She finally stood on the stool, putting her head inside the hole. She could feel the blood dripping down her hands, even her fucked up hand. She smiled happily.

She was going to be free. ‘I’m free’ she thought as she kicked the stool away, closing her eyes in peace.

That was when the door opened, Tara opened her eyes again, wide-eyed. She heard Sam calling out but she was already unable to speak and she couldn’t get down. She was caught, and she was panicking, causing her to thrash quietly.

“Tara?” Sam called out, nervously grabbing her taser and knife, looking all around and being cautious. The first room she checked was Tara’s however the sight caused her to drop what she had. Tara was there, that was for sure. She was wide-eyed, staring at Sam, blood dripping down her arms. After a second or 2 Sam went into action. “Fuck fuck fuck,” she cursed as she was immediately getting her down, but she wouldn’t be able to stop the bleeding fully. It was too deep, she knew already. 

She took off her tank top anyway and put Tara’s wrists together, putting pressure on both with one hand, the phone shaking in her other hand as she was calling someone. “911, yes. My sister tried to kill herself, she’s bleeding badly, I got her down,” Sam panicked, Tara watching her. She looked pale, and there was nervousness in her eyes before she closed them. “No! Stay awake for me!” Sam begged, slapping her all over while screaming their address on the phone. She barely heard the operator say that there was help coming and to stay on the phone. Sam’s sobs continued throughout the phone call, time going slowly as the tank top became fully red. That’s when Sam grabbed the bedsheets, using them instead.

In about 5 minutes, paramedics were coming in, and Tara had a puddle of blood around her. “Samantha, your sister is in safe hands. Can you please move away?” one of them asked. Sam was reluctant to move but knew she had to. Tara was at risk now, the blood spreading into the carpet. 

“We’re gonna need a stretcher,” one demanded. That’s when one appeared, one that could be held as they would be running down the stairs after all. 

“We’re losing her,” another announced, stressed. Sam gasped, tears running down her face before she was taken out of the room by another paramedic. She would help Sam. 

“It’s ok, I’m safe. Breathe with me,” the woman said, looking at her and doing a breathing exercise. Soon enough Sam could breathe but she was still sobbing. “That’s good. Very good,” she spoke. She was about to say something when a male voice was heard.

“Clear!” the man spoke before electricity was heard. Immediately Sam went to see and the paramedic didn’t stop her, knowing it would be impossible. Tara was on the stretcher at least. 

They did it about 2 more times before they looked at each other. “There’s a pulse. We have to hurry to the hospital. Let’s go,” they spoke, soon rushing out while being careful with Tara, who had her eyes fully closed, and shallow breathing. 

“You can go into the ambulance as well, don’t worry,” the paramedic who helped her spoke. Sam nodded, rushing with them. She wouldn’t let her sister out of her sight anyway, especially when she was like this. She quickly sat down, holding her sister’s hand.

-

It had been hours since the incident and they were finally starting to stitch up the wounds. The doctors had wanted to make sure the bleeding had stopped before they started it and it finally did. Meanwhile, Sam was getting some of her blood taken for Tara as she had lost too much, so Sam offered her blood. She knew she was the same blood type as Tara and the medical sheets also proved it. She took a while to lay down after her blood was taken before she was pacing. 

This time she had people around her. Gale and Sidney. They arrived an hour previous due to Sam forgetting about their planned dinner that night. “She’s stable now, you came at a good time. If you hadn’t…” the doctor spoke. Sam’s heart dropped as she immediately walked into the room, thankful to see her baby sister was alright. That’s when she sat down, seeing how Gale and Sidney who were talked to the doctor. She held her sister’s hand gently wanting to know why she did it. For now, she decided to sleep, exhaustion seeping into her bones. She needed it also to not worry about her sister.

-

It took her about an hour before she woke up to a gentle nudge from her left side. Usually, she was aware of touch and was quick to reveal a knife, but not now. She just glanced over, her vision blurry. She just saw a red outfit. “Hey honey, me and Sid got you some food,” Gale spoke quietly, handing it over. It was a hand sandwich with a protein drink next to it. Sam nodded. “Thanks, mom,” she spoke quietly, starting to eat, staring at Tara. “They said she was on painkillers so she might be sleeping more, she is stable now though and she hasn’t taken pills,” Sidney explained, who was on Sam’s right side. Gale nodded to agree. Sam nodded, still feeling bad. She was meant to love and care for her sister after all and she hadn’t been able to today.

Soon enough Tara was waking up. She let out a groan, covering her eyes before she looked around blearily. “Sam? Gale? Sidney?” she asked, her voice croaky. Sam was quick to grab the water and put it to Tara’s lips. “Yes. It’s us, baby, how are you?” Sam asked, making sure Tara drank some water. 

“I feel like hell… I didn’t die did I?” Tara asked. Sam shook her head. “Thankfully not,” Gale responded. 

“Close though but now you will be constantly checked in on,” Sidney added. Tara groaned but stopped when she saw Sam’s broken look. That’s when Sam let out tears and hugged her sister. 

“Please talk to me when you feel like this… please! I want to know what’s going on and if I can help. Just please…” she practically begged out. Tara looked down, feeling guilty before she stared at Gale and Sidney. “Can you leave for a moment?” she asked weakly. Gale and Sidney looked at each other before they were nodding and left. That’s when Tara sighed once they were out the door. “I just… I felt weak after all the attacks. I thought you would be better off without me. I mean… you take care of me and work for me… I thought you would be better off and you could have more free time. I also miss Amber. She was my first lover and she’s left a huge hole in my heart. I just wish she was here,” Tara started, crying softly and starting to sob. That’s when Sam hugged her. 

“I always care for you, I wouldn’t be able to live without you. And we can talk about Amber if you want, hell we can go to a therapist. I can join you. I just want you to be ok! Please tell me, please,” she cried out as well. Tara nodded.

“I will, I promise Sam. I will. I will do anything to get better. Therapy, psych ward, whatever,” she promised, still crying. Sam knew it would take a long time to heal but this was a start.

She looked at Tara and hugged her. “I love you,” she spoke gently. 

“I love you too,” Tara responded, hugging her back as tight as she could, wincing in pain. She knew she would get better with her sister and her adopted moms by her side. She had to… for them.

[forestkniight]

Hey! Could you do a Loona x Human Demon Hunter Reader? Sort of like an enemies to lovers type of deal?

Like the reader isn't attached to any sort of organization but they typically hunt demons that reach Earth and even have fought with I.M.P. before but a common enemy or problem brings then together?

If not that's perfectly okay! Regardless, hope you have a wonderful day/night and hope something good happens to you today :)

Haven't Had Enough

Once again, thank you for the request and the patience! The little addition at the end always makes me smile. You guys are so sweet!

When I saw this request, I was super excited to work on it! As I kept writing, though, I was like, what am I yapping about? I don't know how I feel about it, but I hope you enjoy it anon!

Pairing: Loona x Human Demon Hunter Reader

Warnings: Character death, Violence, Mention of Blood, Religious Talk/Prayer

Word Count: 7.1K

The room is almost silent. Your incessant pen clicking is the only noise traveling throughout the room. Your leg is bouncing up and down as you look down at your files. Pictures of all sorts of demons are spread out all over your desk. You sigh as you sort through the finished jobs and those you still need to get done. 

You had made a name for yourself among those who knew what you did. You were the person to call if you had a demon problem on Earth. If you had asked yourself what you wanted to do when you grew up, you would have said something like a teacher or a doctor, but life and death had a funny way of changing things. The first time you killed a demon was when you were 17. 

You were walking back “home” from school when you heard a cry for help. Typically, you would have minded your business, but whoever it was sounded frightened. You suppose the human in you made you look for the scream.

You walked down an alley, and you saw something that was not from Earth. Luckily for you, its back was facing you. Your eyes met the last person you expected, your dad. He was on the floor, and you watched as his eyes shifted to something on the floor by you. You looked down to see a revolver right by your foot. You slowly reached for it. It felt like an eternity before your hand finally made contact with the handgun. You lifted it to aim for whatever that thing was, but you had never shot anything before. Still, you couldn’t just turn away. It could hurt you, and you would be in a worse situation.

You took a breath before pulling down on the trigger. Your eyes widened as the thing dropped to the floor. Your dad laughed hysterically as he got up quickly before walking to the body. He looked back up to you, and you met his stare with wide eyes. He walked over slowly with his hands raised before he stretched out his hand, signaling you to give him the gun. You looked down at the weapon in your hand before handing it over. He sighed as he stayed close by you.

“Nice shot, kid.” He took out a cigarette and lit it. “That has to be the fourth one this month.”

Your head snapped to your dad. 

“Fourth one?! Dad, what was that? Why was it coming for you?” you asked as you tried to steady your shaking hands.

“Demon,” he responded calmly. 

He took another drag of his cigarette before dropping it on the floor and putting it out with his foot. 

“Like from Hell?”

He turned to look at you before laughing. 

“Well, sweetie, they’re not from Heaven.”

Your eyebrows furrowed as you watched him turn the demon’s body over. You slowly walked over as you tried to see what he was doing.

“How have you gotten four demons to come after you?” 

He turned to look at you for a while, trying to decide whether you should know the information he had somehow gathered. 

“The line of work I do puts me in a lot of danger, and some demons downstairs don’t like it,” he explains.

He lifts the body as he moves to hide it somewhere less exposed. 

“What do you do, dad?” 

You always thought your dad worked in a cubicle somewhere for some wealthy CEO. You followed behind him and picked up any belongings that fell from the demon. He turned around when he heard you ask for a match. He walked over to the can you were standing at and realized you had thrown the belongings inside. He nodded as he lit it and threw it in the can.

“Demon hunter. I hunt those fuckers that decide to come to Earth and mess with humans. Our lives are shitty enough without some asshole demon coming over and killing us or influencing us,” he said, staring at the fire.

He looked over at you thoughtfully.

“Look, honey, I’d go if I were you. It’s not safe here now. Thanks for saving my skin, but you don’t want to get mixed up in this.”

You nodded as you began turning away, but you stopped. 

“You’re right, though,” you admitted as you turned around. 

He looked at you, confused.

“That demon almost killed you. That’s not fair. Do you think…do you think they can influence people from down there?”

He takes you in as he ponders your question.

“What are you getting at, sweetie?”

“Mom…she died when I was young. I heard rumors that she lived a life led by sin. Drug addict. She didn’t know when to stop. But grandma said momma would never. She said that she would have never left her only child behind. Her husband, neither. She said you’re a good man, Dad. But she said it was like a demon was whispering in her ears, and no one could save her,” you whisper. 

Your dad looked at you with a strange expression. 

“Don’t look at me that way! Could it be that Mom was influenced by a demon?” Your eyes had tears pooled in them.

He looked back into the fire before looking back up at you. 

“Maybe. But sometimes humans don’t need demons to make their lives worse.”

“But like you said, humans don’t need any more problems.” You paused. “I want to do what you do.”

Your dad looks at you before he barks out a laugh. 

“I like your moxie, hon, but I don’t think this will give you what you want.”

You walked up to your dad.

“What are you looking for, Dad? Because I’m not looking for anything. I just want to save someone from a demon whispering in their ear.”

He stares at you for a long time before reaching into his pocket and handing the revolver back to you. 

“Then, you’ll need this.”

You sigh as you finally reach the end of the files. You look up at the picture on your desk, and your eyes land on the framed image of you and your dad. He taught you everything he knew about demons and Hell. He showed you the ropes on how to track down demons and how to dispose of them so no one could tie them back to you. You only wished he had had more time. You glance back at the remaining files, and you groan. Truthfully, you only have to close these last few before leaving the job. 

You lean in, and the sound of pen clicking fills the room again. These demons were going to be the death of you. 

One. Two. Three. Four.

You lay them down from left to right. How could four demons be causing you so much trouble? It should be so simple to take them out, but every time you encounter them, they find a way to evade you. You have to take them down.

It was their fault for making it so personal.

The heavens had opened up today. You couldn’t remember the last time the sky had looked this grey. You wondered if the sky was this grey when your mom died. Or were you the cause of it? Was your love for the man who taught you everything you knew today so great that not even the heavens could handle the sheer strength of your sadness?

“Rest eternal grant unto him, O Lord.

And let light perpetual shine upon him.

May his soul, and the souls of all the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in piece.

Amen.”

You looked up at the priest and nodded to thank him before he walked away, leaving you alone with the tombstone. He taught you so much. You always thought the job would kill him, but it’s funny how life works—taken by a heart attack. 

“Damn old man,” you mutter as you let out a mirthless laugh before letting yourself fall to the floor. 

“Why did you have to leave me?” 

You stared blankly at the tombstone. You felt guilty, but you were angry that something like a heart attack could take someone away so easily. He had fought demons for so long, and he didn’t even get a fighting chance. It crept up on him. He never even saw it coming. Your fists tighten as you glare up at the sky. 

What was the fucking point?

You take a deep breath and push off the floor to get up. You glance at the tombstone one last time before turning away. You take a couple of steps before you hear a strange noise. The hairs on the back of your neck raise. You see a bench nearby and take off, running towards it to hide behind just in time to see someone stepping out of a portal.

“Alright! This should be easy. This guy is old as shit, so it should be easy to take him out.”

Your eyes widened as you realized that you were looking at a demon. Out of all days. You watched as three more figures stepped out. Your eyebrows furrowed as you watched a human step out with them. You look closely to figure out what is happening but notice their eyes are red. 

You suppress a surprised laugh. The old man was right. They CAN camouflage among humans. But what’s the point if the other three are not disguised? You didn’t have anything with you except a combat blade, but there was no way you could take all four of them on your own. The demons were smaller compared to other demons that you faced, and you were slightly scared that they could do damage to your lower half. The only tall demon was the one who looked human. You strain your ears to try to listen to what they are saying. What were they after?

“Why the hell are we in a cemetery?” 

The same demon that first spoke. Judging by how everyone seemed to follow him, you assumed he had to be in charge. 

“I don’t know, sir. Maybe if you had gotten more information about-”

“Oh, shut up, Moxxie. We didn’t need his whole life story.”

“Loonie’s right. Besides, the grimoire always teleports us close by to the client.”

“Maybe he works here!”

“Exactly, Millie. I’m glad one of you has brains.”

Not a well-oiled machine, it seems. But they did give you what you needed. Names. Moxxie. White hair. White freckles. Millie. Charcoal hair. White markings on arms and tail. Loonie. Can transform to look like a human. You were just missing the first demon’s name. You repeat the information in your head. You were so stuck in your memorization that you almost missed why they were here. 

“Alright, this is going to take forever. It's time to sniff him out, Loona,” the unnamed demons say. 

Alright. Is Loonie a nickname?

“What’s his name again?” Loona asked as she got close to the floor.

What the hell? Almost like a dog. You think back to your lessons. Hellhound? You had never encountered them. Your dad had said it was rare for them to come earthside. 

“Alexander, something. Causing a lot of trouble with some big names or some shit like that,” the demon explained while taking out his phone.

Your entire body goes rigid. You move before you can stop yourself.

“Too little, too late,” you snarled at them.

All four demons turn quickly while brandishing weapons at you.

“Who the fuck are you,” the unnamed demon speaks to you. 

“None of your business, demon.” 

The rain hadn’t stopped. You hoped it masked the tears that were falling down your face. But one look at the demon named Moxxie, and you knew they saw the weakness. You pointed towards the tombstone.

“Is that who you’re looking for?” You asked, a hint of rage peeking through. 

Moxxie is the first to look at the group before walking to the tombstone. You watched as his face read the death date, and he turned to look at you with what you almost believed was sympathy. 

“So we made the trip here to kill some asshole who’s already dead? Nice going, Blitz.” Loona rolls her eyes. 

Your eyes snapped over to her.

“How the hell was I supposed to know he was dead?” 

Blitz. Now you had all their names. 

“He wasn’t an asshole. My father saved so many people by ridding the world of demons like you,” you spit out. 

“Oh shit, your daddy was a demon hunter. He caused quite a stir downstairs, toots,” Blitz says, not even looking a tiny bit interested. 

“He wasn’t the only one.” You bend downwards quickly and remove the combat knife from your ankle sheath.

“Do you think that’s the best idea? We don’t have to kill you,” Loona says while she rolls her eyes at you when you aim the knife at her.

“You were going to kill him had he not been dead. No remorse. No mercy. Why should I give you that?”

Your voice breaks on the last word. Damn these tears. 

“Sir, maybe we should head ba-“

“No, no. I want to see what they plan to do here, Mox. Supposed to be a tough little demon hunter, and all I see  is a spineless-“

“B, Mox is right. The client is dead,” Millie says while walking over to Loona. 

“No! You’re all dying here, even if it kills me.” You yell. 

“Do we, though?” Loona asks, opening the book in her hand.

“Yes,” you take a step forward. “It was sin that took my momma away. I saw it too late, but my dad was right. Vengeance consumed us. And it didn’t fix the broken in me. It didn’t help anyone. Instead, everyone saw my downfall. A straight-A student who wouldn’t amount to anything because no one could know what I would grow up to be. A lonely child that grew up in a home that was empty because their father lost his damn mind trying to punish what he believed took his wife away. I don’t have anything anymore. No one will mourn for me.” 

You take a breath and a moment to look at all of them. Their eyes are wide before they glance at each other. Loona looked lost in thought. 

“I’m sorry,” Moxxie says first.

“I’m surprised you can feel sorry, hellspawn,” you force out.

“Alright, well, now that we’re done with that melodrama, we can go back,” Blitz says, walking towards a purple portal.

When the hell did that open? You couldn’t let them leave. You instinctively lift your hand and throw the combat blade directly at Blitz. It all happens so fast. Loona manages to yank him out of the way, and they all turn to look at you. 

“Well, I was going to be nice and let you go, but now you’ve pissed me off,” Blitz says, reaching into his coat. 

You had no weapons. Nothing. You didn’t wait to see what he would take out. You run. You dodge when you hear shots. It goes on for a while. But one thing you learned was how to evade them. They’re on your turf. 

No one would be dying today. 

You groan as you lean back in your chair. Why didn’t you have more on you that day? You live such a dangerous life. You should have known that something would come the day you were mourning your dad. 

You learned a bit more about them after the funeral. You knew they were imps. Your dad had mentioned them before, but he had never seen them. Just like hellhounds, they weren’t seen topside. You figured they were born in hell, but getting the confirmation was good for your library of information. 

You learned a lot from running into them more times after the funeral. You’d almost leave the exchange on death's door some days. On other days, one of theirs would. It was becoming a game, and you hated it. This had to end. 

You look at the file at the end of the table. Loona. Your fist clenches. Her attitude whenever you would find them again was enough for the rage to build up. The audacity she had to look and behave like a human was absurd. She passed the part. She might get the occasional stare because of the goth look, but she wasn’t bad-looking…for a demon. Because that’s what she was. The thing you hunt. Because she’s a demon. Not a human. 

You shake your head as you slam her file closed. You weren’t going to get any work done. Out of the entire group, she got your blood boiling the fastest. You shove all the files for this group in the top cabinet of your desk before slamming it shut. 

You get up to stretch before walking out of the office. Luckily, you work from home, so you just had to walk a few steps to relax. You look outside the window, and the sky is filled with hues of pink. It’ll be dark soon. You yawn and decide that your earlier meal (which was pretty heavy) would suffice until tomorrow morning. You walk to your front door and ensure it’s locked, as well as all the windows. 

You head to your bedroom and let yourself fall onto your bed. It only takes a couple of minutes before sleep overtakes you.

~~

You jolt awake. Your hand rests on top of your heart. What the hell? You blink tiredly as you look at the time—3:00 AM. You roll your eyes. You relax as you look around your room. Nothing is out of the ordinary. What the hell woke you up? 

You strain your ears, but you don’t hear anything. You shake your head before lying down when you hear something. You sit up quickly. There was someone in your house. How did they get in? You slowly get up and walk towards your window. 

You have options. You could jump out the window or face the intruder. You peek over the window and see someone you didn’t want to see—your ex. 

Why the fuck is he-? 

You turn back to your door. It’s locked. You take quick breaths as you realize he must be tracking something down. You remember the day you broke up with him. You never thought you would, and you still didn’t fully comprehend what led you to do what you did that day.

You hide behind a pillar of the abandoned mall. You make eye contact with your boyfriend, who is a couple of feet away, hiding behind another pillar.

“Mal, give me the signal, and we’ll go in fast,” you whisper to him. 

He nods at you before counting down with his fingers. You reach for your gun, and you await for all his fingers to go down. When he does, you leave to find the demons you were hunting cornered. 

You let Mal walk ahead as he smiles at the demons before him. It’s two of them. You hadn’t gotten a good look at them, but you knew you shot one of them before the chase started. 

“Please, we were here by mistake. We don’t mean to harm you. We fell into a portal,” the demon facing us exclaimed.

“Right, 'cause a demon like you doesn’t want to hurt us,” your boyfriend mocks. 

“I swear it, I-“ 

The demon next to him falls to the floor, and he follows him down.

“Please, I can’t lose him. We know where the portal is. We’ll get it closed. Please just let us go,” the demon spoke. 

Your hands lower slightly. Was this sympathy? 

“Aww, is the little demon scared of losing his demon boyfriend? It’s not like you can love,” your boyfriend says, walking menacingly around them.

The demon turns to look at you. Your eyes widen. Sadness. His eyes. You look down at the demon in his arms and see him struggling to keep his eyes open.

“You’ll never see us again. We won’t ever come back to Earth. Just please.” He begs.

You hesitate. 

“Please,” he sobs.

“Alright, enough of this. Time to kill these demon scum. We have a reservation,” your boyfriend says while winking at you.

He raises his gun. Suddenly, it’s like your voice no longer belongs to you. No longer controlled by logic. Only sympathy.

“Wait!” you yell as you step in front of the gun. 

“What? Did you want to do it?” your boyfriend asks.

You look back at the demons hidden behind you—their protection from impending doom. 

“No, I-“ you clear your throat. “Let’s let them go.”

Your boyfriend barks out a laugh. 

“You’re kidding, right?” He reaches out for your shoulders. “Babe, they’re from Hell. They don’t actually give a fuck about each other. They only know evil. They took away your mom. Hell, they took away your dad in a way. Your dad wanted revenge, so he took it out on every demon in his path, and he brought you along for the ride, but he didn’t care about you.” 

Your eyes tear up as you contemplate his words before you feel a hand grabbing yours. You turn to look at the demon.

“I’m so sorry you’re in pain—more than anything. We're from Hell because we were born there, but it doesn’t mean we can’t love, that we can’t feel. And you know what I feel right now? Fear. Love. Sympathy. Demon hunters killed my parents. But they did wrong. They hurt humans. I loved my parents, but I couldn’t do what they did. You don’t have to do what you think you have to do. You don’t have to let it consume you.”

You sob as you harshly pull your hand away from the demon. He widens his eyes as he leans away from you. You turn to look at your boyfriend, who is smirking.

“See, babe? They just wasted our time. He’ll say anything to get out of this situation.” 

You had to make a choice soon. The other demon didn’t seem to be doing too well. You turn to look at your boyfriend.

“We’re letting them leave. We hunt demons who intentionally hurt people. We saw them fall through that portal. We shot on sight.” 

“Yeah, because they would have killed people if we didn’t. What is going on with you? Where is the cold-blooded demon hunter that your dad raised? If he loved anyone, it was that version of you.”

You clench your fist.

“My dad was a heartbroken man, but he loved me. He didn’t want me to do this with my life, but I was angry. I blamed everyone for my life, but he was right. Humans don’t need demons to fuck up their lives. We do it ourselves. I could have walked away. He allowed me to walk away. And I’m taking it today. I hope we both do.” 

Your boyfriend stares at you for a while.

“So this is it? I’m going to have to take you down?” He raises his gun slightly. 

“Are you serious?” You stare at the gun before looking back up at him.

“I know what’s right, and I can’t let someone stop me from completing it. Even you.” He says as he walks closer to the demons.

You shift, so you protect them with your body.

“You act as if you don’t do terrible things, Malvolio. You’ve broken my heart way more times than I wish to admit. But you’ve also lied, and you’ve stolen, and you’ve killed. And you always blame it on demons. When does it become your fault?” 

His stare hardens. 

“Move,” he snarls. 

“No,” you stand upright.

“You bitch, I will fucking-“ 

You push him hard, and his head collides with the wall behind him. You gasp as you quickly place two fingers on his neck. A heartbeat. He’s just knocked out. You turn to the demons.

“We have to hurry. I’ll carry him to the portal, but you must do the rest after, okay?” 

The demon looks hesitantly at you before nodding. You pick the demon up, and you run back to the portal. Once you get there, you hand the demon back to his partner.

“Thank you. For believing me,” the demon says before walking into the portal. It instantly closes. Strange. 

There was so much anger in his eyes. Was that the same anger in yours? Your head snaps back to your bedroom door as you hear rushed whispers. You have to see what he’s hunting. You get up, and you grab the bat by your door. You started using a lot less permanent approaches to your weapons. Just enough to harm but not necessarily kill right away. Still, you had your gun on you, just in case.

You open the door, and you see a light in your office. Damn it. You walk slowly and shove open the door, ready to hit something, only to find the room in disarray. There’s a lot of blood on the floor, and you recognize the demons in the room. You stare at each one of them.

Blitz.

Millie.

And Loona.

“Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you say as you raise your bat.

“Damn it, Blitz,” you hear Millie cry before you realize that she’s holding someone in her lap.

Moxxie.

You feel your arm falter a bit. 

“Take one step closer bitch, and I won’t hesitate to- “ A whine is heard, and Blitz turns to look at Loona. “Loonie, maybe you should sit.”

You turn to look at Loona, and you realize she’s bleeding.

“Ugh, I’m fine, Blitz. We need to get out of here.” Loona tries to attack you, but you easily dodge.

You realize she will fall forward and instinctively reach for her hand to pull her back. You end up face to face before you push her towards Blitz’s direction.

“Watch it,” Blitz snarls as Loona lands in his arms. 

You raise your arms in surrender before your eyebrows furrow. What are you doing? You could take them out right now. But this was all too familiar. You hear a loud noise come from outside, and you turn to look at Blitz and Millie. 

How could someone look at them and think love doesn’t exist? Loona isn’t as badly hurt, but Blitz holds onto her as if she might perish in the next moment, which might be true for Moxxie—damn having a heart. 

Sorry dad. 

You rush to a secret pad in your office and quickly type in numbers.

“As much as I would fucking love to end this right now and have one of us die, that guy out there is more ruthless than I am. He might kill me, too.” You walk over to get their files from the drawer. “So, let's go.” 

A door in your office opens—a panic room. 

“Why the fuck should we trust you?” Blitz questions. 

When the hell did he take his gun out?

“Don’t. I don’t care. Shoot me right now. It won’t stop him. Try to use me as a pawn. It won’t matter. You’re dying if you stay here.”

You walk over to Millie and Moxxie. Millie gets defensive as she clenches her fist. You stop walking before dropping down. You make eye contact with Moxxie. 

“You looked at me with sympathy the day my father died. You told Blitz you should leave. Both of you did. And I was blinded by my hatred and my sadness. ” You look at Millie, who lowers her guard a bit. “Let me carry him. I’ll put him down the moment we enter the room. A truce. For now.” 

You extend your hand to Millie, who looks afraid to take it. She looks down at Moxxie, but he’s staring at you. He reaches out and takes your hand. You glance at Millie, and she nods at you. You quickly take Moxxie in your arms before turning to Blitz and Loona.

“Are you good to walk?” 

Loona looks away angrily. You roll your eyes.  

“Hell, can you lose the attitude for one fucking minute? You were shot in the leg. I was able to dodge you. That’s not normal for our usual fights.” 

“Well, when I have to keep up the disguise during a stressful moment for a long time, it takes a lot out of me.”

You’re about to respond before you hear your door being kicked in. 

“Shit,” you whisper before tugging Loona off the floor. 

Blitz gets defensive, and he looks like he might attack.

“Fucking chill and close the door softly,” you say as you put Loona’s arm around your neck so she can lean on you. 

When he sees that you only plan to help, he quickly hurries to the door and lightly closes it, but it still makes a noise. Loona winces beside you. 

“Let’s go!” 

You all try to run into the panic room and quickly hand Moxxie over to Millie. You carefully remove Loona’s hand before walking to the door and pushing it closed. You look up before closing it entirely and make eye contact with your ex. He immediately shoots, and you gasp as it misses you by a bit. You shove the door closed before falling backward. 

You shake your head as you hear Millie’s cries—first aid. You walk to the corner of the room, grabbing materials. You hope this works on demons. 

“Blitz,” you turn around to toss first aid materials. “Do you know how to use those?” 

He looks at you before nodding. You nod back before heading over to Moxxie. Millie is a lot more willing to have you close to them. 

“Alright. Considering we're different, I’m unsure if this will help you, but I can at least stop the bleeding.”

After a while, you manage to stop the bleeding and get Moxxie to sit upright with Millie beside him, holding his hand. You’re about to walk away to check on Loona and Blitz when Millie speaks.

“Thank you for saving him. You could have killed us when our guards were down, but you didn’t,” Millie says as she gives you a soft smile.

You awkwardly give one back before looking at Moxxie. He still looks like shit, but he seems better.

“You said we’re not the same, but here we are,” Moxxie touches his heart. 

You cough as you back away and turn to look at Blitz, sitting by the door as if guarding it. You look at Loona and realize she’s reading the files you grabbed from the room.

You sit next to her and grab the file closest to you, Moxxie’s. You look back at him before ripping the file in half. Loona stares at you as you reach for the following file: Millie. You rip it into two. You hesitate on Blitz, which gets a chuckle out of her. You give her a lopsided smile before ripping it. You look at the file in her hands—her own.

“How did you know I was a hellhound?”

Loona asked, looking away. She sounded angry, but there was a lingering emotion there. Embarrassment.

“You sniffed the ground the first time I saw you. I just figured, though the confirmation is appreciated,” you chuckle.

She snarls at you before she goes back to reading.

“Hot but in like an annoying way?” Loona reads aloud, and your head snaps to the file.

You feel your face flush. Loona laughs at your reaction. 

“Got something over you now,” she smirks.

“Alright, what human wouldn’t drool over you like this,” you ask defensively. 

You notice a shift in her as the smirk drops. 

“If only other demons thought that about what I actually look like,” she mutters.

Her face turns red. 

“I mean because demons aren’t fans of the goth look. Yeah, the goth look,” she rambles. 

You raise your eyebrows. You realize that in all the time you’ve been chasing them, she’s always been in her human form.

“You don’t have to keep appearances in here.”

She laughs mirthlessly.

“Right, because a human like you isn’t going to judge.” 

You both awkwardly sit in the silence as it stretches. How badly assumptions can hurt. And if you’re only ever around people who share those same assumptions, like your dad or your ex, then it might as well be your reality. 

“I won’t. Do what you want. I won’t force you to. I’m just giving you the option,” you say as you stand up. 

You look over to see Blitz by Moxxie and Millie. Moxxie seems much better, and you feel a weight on your shoulder lift. You hear a slight whoosh and turn your head back to Loona to see her in hellhound form. You’re about to comment when you hear a beep. Your head snaps to the green light by the door, and you can’t do anything as it slams open. 

Your ex walks in, and he looks crazed. It’s slightly terrifying. He spoke of it consuming you, but it seemed you weren’t the one who had to worry.

“We used to share our lives. Didn’t you know I would guess your password eventually? Didn’t dear daddy tell you not to be so sentimental when you’re a demon hunter,” your ex says, venom laced in his words.

“Oh, but if only dear dead daddy could see you now. Protecting the very thing that took your mom away. The thing he swore to kill on sight,” he says as he takes slow steps into the room.

It was menacing.

“But he didn’t,” you whisper. 

“What was that?”

“He never swore that. He would have stopped if he felt sympathy for them like I did. I am my dad’s daughter. I know he would have shown mercy, too.” 

“What the fuck is wrong with you? They are demons. You threw us away for two of them. Me! Who you had known for a year. All of it is down the drain. But it’s okay. I’m stronger without your emotional bullshit. Your pity or whatever the fuck it is you feel for them. And now I’ll be the one to end you all.”

He raises his gun facing Loona, and he pulls the trigger. You don’t even think. You just do. You hear another gunshot as your body jerks back. You watch as your ex falls to the floor, a bullet hole on his forehead. 

You clutch your heart before pulling away and seeing blood. You cough, and more blood comes out. You fall, and you feel someone catch you. 

You close your eyes as breathing starts getting tricky. You feel warmth dripping out of your mouth. You open your eyes to see everyone around you, their lips moving, but you can’t hear clearly. It’s all muted, like a movie. You feel pressure on your chest. God, it hurts. You cough on a particular push, and blood splatters a bit.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper.

“Shut the hell up,” Loona barks.

Why is she so angry?

“I’m sorry for chasing you for so long.” 

“Damn it, stop talking! You’re using energy,” Loona says before attempting to cover your mouth, but you cough up more blood.

“Was I evil?” You pause. “I never wanted to become evil,” you cry as tears blind you.

It’s silent for a long time. You blink away the tears to the best of your ability to see that everyone’s stopped. It was all in vain, after all. A gunshot to the heart does that to you. 

You feel a pair of hands on your own and see Millie and Moxxie there. 

“No,” you hear Loona say. 

You slowly look up at her. What was it you wanted to tell her? 

“You were just human,” she says a bit harshly. 

You laugh, and you see her smile slightly before it turns to concern as you begin choking on the blood rising. You spit out as much as possible, but you feel your vision darkening. 

“Where now,” you whisper.

“This isn’t over, dumbass,” you hear before darkness envelops you.

~~

It’s been a week since you died. It really shouldn’t have surprised you that you would end up in Hell, but it was. You thought killing demons would surely get you into Heaven, but after reflecting, you had done other sketchy stuff along the way. 

Still, you aren’t sure if you want to stay. You have seen commercials of a location that focuses on rehabbing sinners and are heavily considering visiting. You wondered if your being here meant that your dad was as well. Or had you taken a darker path?

You sigh as you walk down the street. Truthfully, it feels like being alive. Sure, some people are a bit more malicious, but for the most part, you just have to watch yourself and what’s happening around you. You can’t lie, though. When you first opened your eyes to a red sky, you became terrified at the idea of demons knowing who you were or what you did while you were alive. But you hadn’t encountered that. 

You look down at your new phone as you try to figure out all the apps Hell offers. Similar to Earth. You continue to walk while looking down at your phone before you almost fall over someone. You shift slightly so you don’t fall on top of them, making you fall hard on the floor.  

“Ow, fuck.” You realize you scraped your elbow. 

You pay no attention to the stranger since you don’t want to start a conflict, but they call your attention.

“You’re here?” 

Your eyes snap up to the demon before you, only to be met with Moxxie. You look down at the ground, suddenly feeling ashamed, so many years hunting down demons only to end up in the same place. 

“Uh, yeah. I have to go,” you say as you quickly get up. 

Before you can get too far, Moxxie stops you.

“Wait, can you come with me? Your skills might work for something.”

You look at him, confused, and you want to bolt. What did he mean by that?

“How far away do you want to take me?”

You look up as he points at the building you are currently next to. Huh. You had passed by this building so many times. 

“Fine,” you sigh as he smiles and leads you inside. 

You enter the building, and the ride up the elevator is silent before he speaks again.

“Thanks again. For saving me. I don’t know why you did it, but Millie and I are grateful,” he says while he holds the elevator door open for you.

You nod as you step out and follow him to a door. 

“IMP Headquarters?” 

You stop to study the sign on the door. Moxxie stands by you.

“It stands for Immediate Murder Professionals, and you know…” Moxxie trails off. 

“You’re an imp,” you chuckle. “Nice.” 

He smiles at you before opening the door. For some reason, you didn’t realize that he was leading you back to the people who watched you die until he opened the door. You freeze at the door as your eyes land on Millie and Loona, who are in the central area. Is it too late to run? 

“You can come in,” Moxxie tells you, alerting the other two to your presence.

Millie looks over at you, confused, before recognition crosses her expression. Her face brightens up. 

“It’s you!” 

You awkwardly rub the back of your neck as you wave. This is so strange. You have been trying to kill them for years, and now, because of one instance, they warmed up to you?  You turn to look at Loona, who is staring at you, before looking back at her phone. 

“Nice to see you, too,” you say to her, only for her to flip you off. 

“What’s all the noise- Oh shit, look who came to visit,” Blitz says as he steps out from the office he is in. 

“I found them outside, and I think they could fit in with their skills,” Moxxie says as he stands beside Millie.

“Uhh, what?” Both you and Blitz say at the same time. 

“I’m sorry, they spent most of their life hunting things from Hell, and now you think they’re going to join our team to go kill people on Earth,” Loona questions while staring at Moxxie. 

“That would make me like the biggest hypocrite,” you say as you ponder what Moxxie said. 

“You’re in hell, toots. That doesn’t matter anymore. You’ll be here forever; you might as well make money from it.” Blitz says, intrigued by the idea of another employee.

You turn to look at Loona and find her already staring at you.

“What do you think?” You ask her. 

“I don’t care,” she responds, rolling her eyes. 

You walk over to her and place one hand on the desk while looking down at her.

“Can I have her job? I can be real friendly.” 

Loona stands, and it becomes her turn to stare down at you.

“Watch it,” she growls. 

You are so close to her. You can see her face is slightly flushed, and you smirk. The blush deepens, and you two continue staring at each other for a moment before Blitz speaks again.

“Uh, no. But you can accept the offer to become an assassin.” 

You look back at Blitz and contemplate the offer. What else is there left to do? There was never a point. You shrug.

“Fuck it, sure.” 

Blitz goes off on a tangent as Millie and Moxxie come up to congratulate you. How quickly their view of you changed. You’re sure it’ll come up someday when they’re angry at you. Everyone splits off as Blitz tells you that you can start tomorrow. He goes back to his office, and you look at Loona. 

“What the fuck do you want,” she asks.

Oh, this is going to be fun. 

“Nothing,” you smirk before turning to head out.

“Whatever,” she says as she turns away from you.

“Oh!” You turn back and lean in slightly as she leans back into her chair. “What was it you said? ‘This isn’t over?’”

Your hand lightly touches her, and she looks down quickly before looking back. You clear your throat as you stand up straight, returning to walk out the door.

You turn back once more to wave goodbye to Millie and Moxxie before you look at Loona again and smirk when you find her in the same position, except she’s staring at you. You know you’re both about to make your jobs another hell based on her hard stare, but you’ve always loved a challenge.

“Can’t wait for my first day on the job.”

I think this is my longest work so far!

[caramel1mochi]

ぐちゃ ! (Splat!) [Yoru x F! Reader] [5]

Guess who's back! And we're SO CLOSE to the finale I can taste it!!! And probably move on to Iso because oh my lord

I've been given much more free time now and I'm gonna try to go back to posting every Friday like I did before. But I can't promise consistency with everything going on, so if I miss a deadline you'll know why!

❤ฺ·。

Yoru x F! Reader

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 4.5 / Part 5 / Part 6

Genre: so much fluff I was blushing while writing this

Words: 8k GUESS WHO HAD TO SPLIT THIS IN 2

Synopsis: Hapless doesn't even begin to describe you. With your life flipped upside down within the span of a day; you're left to rely on your best friend Tala to help you pick up the pieces and build the new one forced upon you. And this 'luck' seems to have caught the attention of one of her friends.

。+❤ฺ·。❤ฺ·。+❤ฺ· +❤·。❤ฺ·。+❤ฺ·

You hadn’t forgotten the sight that befell you once you opened your eyes. Like initials branded on a cattle, it would stick with you.

You coughed and coughed before finally taking in some clean air. Then you waved away the suffocating debris and looked at the pile of cement that imprisoned you. A tinge of fright tugged at you, sure, but it wasn’t until something rich in colour caught your eye. On the left was what looked like a drop of blood. Within a few seconds, it increased, morphing into a pretty pool of vivid crimson, gleaming under the monitor’s bright light. You gagged and clutched your mouth, sweat dripping down your chin.

Raze was killed. And you were the culprit.

Both of you sat silently in the cold seats of the aircraft. And unfortunately for him; you still hadn’t caught on to the poison that still lingered throughout the confined area.

“So, uh…”

You muttered.

“Raze is– she’s, uh, she’s dead. Is that… Is that gonna be a problem?”

…

“No, why?”

“Well, you know, this was supposed to be, a– uh, a no casualty mission…”

Yoru flipped his butterfly comb in silence for a moment. That was never outright stated. All that was said was that this was expected to be a simple one, that’s it. Even your bosses were baffled at the mirrors’ presence.

“I talked to them over the radio. They gave us the go to kill them. You didn’t hear?”

“No– no, I uh, I– I didn’t hear anything.”

You noticed the sudden awkward motion whilst he flicked his blade, but that was the only ‘emotion’ you could go off of, not after he returned back to his normal and repetitive movement.

“That’s fine. We’re done, anyway.”

You weakly nodded, staring at the metal flooring of the vehicle.

You didn’t know whether you should thank him, or not. You didn’t even know what his agenda was, taking so much time to help you like this. Last time he helped you, it was because he didn’t want you to get in his way. 

What was his reason now?

You sighed and instead worked to get the image of the murder out of your head.

❤ฺ·。

The rest of the day was a blur, considering you immediately rushed back to your room and slept it all off, despite your unrelenting thirst. Even with his help, panicking like that alongside how much effort it took from you to produce the poison, your entire arm was incredibly sore. Just moving it a few inches sent a stabbing sensation through your muscles.

Your phone buzzed with a few dozen texts. Some even thought of knocking on your door, but quickly left you alone once they saw the darkness inside.

And with that, you’d spent it all either sleeping, or staring at the ceiling in silence. Your mind was still stuck on that pool of blood. And with how long it took Yoru to arrive at the scene, you watched it coagulate. By god, you still couldn’t forget, no matter how much you tried.

You killed Raze. And to this moment, you still haven’t been able to let that sink in.

Maybe… 

Okay, maybe you just needed some fresh air. Staying cooped up like this shouldn’t be healthy, no matter how much your anxiety tried to convince you to sleep in for another day. Besides, Neon sent you a text earlier. You could spend your time with her and fully calm yourself down. Also, you were still thirsty. Like, unbearably so.

You slid out of bed and cleaned yourself up to look the least bit presentable before leaving.

Just as you took a step forward, you almost tripped on a bag set on the floor; cursing before you caught yourself. You had no idea how you didn't see it, not when every light in your room was turned on. But your anger was curt once the cute logo caught your eye. It was a boutique only you and Neon frequented. Did she put this here whilst you slept? How sweet.

You took the bag and set it on your bed, taking out the items inside. And they were an extremely pleasant surprise. A pair of short black jeans and fishnet stockings. High quality, of course.

Great...

You already felt like you were stepping out of your comfort zone with a choker. Now, the only thing you can pair this with is a black hoodie you brought along. Might as well, huh? Sure, you lacked confidence, but you still considered yourself cute as heck.

Stepping out into the hallways, the air that hit your legs felt like a whip even with the 'protection' of the stockings. You left for one morning, and Neon came back with clothes probably from a fashion runway. But, to be fair, you couldn't really be mad at her, not when every hint of anxiety immediately melted at the sight of her innocent face once you finally arrived at the cafeteria.

She beamed with joy once she saw you. And before you knew it, you were pulled into a painfully tight hug.

“A/N, you made it!”

You placed one hand on her back, struggling to reassure her with a gentle pat on the back.

“M– morning–”

She squeezed, unintentionally forcing the air out of you even further.

“You were gone for a whole day, what happened?”

Gekko piped up from behind. Thankfully, Neon immediately relaxed her firm embrace to give you a chance to speak. Pfft. So she did know what she was doing.

“Didn’t Yoru tell you?”

They shrugged. And surveying the group that sat around the sofa, you couldn’t find any sign of the Japanese. And you felt… disappointed. But also relieved. You didn’t want to hear his opinion on your outfit, especially since you boldly put on the spiked choker today.

“All he said was that you needed a moment. Wasn’t it a scouting mission, something like that?”

You blushed at his comment, turning your gaze away. But thankfully, like the guardian angel that she was, Neon immediately switched the subject as she so lovingly scrutinised you like a cat she was about to purchase.

“You wore the clothes we gave you! You know me and Jett scoured the street for high quality fishnets? You should wear them for tonight when we go out!”

Your face turned white, and you awkwardly laughed.

“Uh– already? Where to?”

“To a Korean barbeque restaurant! There’s this new one that just opened in Insadong, and Jett’s taking us to it to celebrate your first mission! If Gekko wasn’t such a wuss, he’d JOIN US.”

You jumped at the volume of her voice. She threw a dirty look at the Angeleno, who waved her off and went back to scratching Wingman’s armour plates.

“Bite me, I’m not going in this sweater after last time!”

They continued bickering over his sacrilegious decision, but you weren’t focused on it.

Going out so soon when you haven’t even processed your actions sounded horrifying. Damn Yoru. If only he dropped the nice act just this once and told them exactly what had happened, you would have a viable excuse to spend the rest of your day eating crisps in your room. Also, you’d probably yell at him later, but he was a sponge when it came to being scolded… sometimes. 

Without warning, you were pulled aside to the doorway on the other side and forced to practically jog to keep up with Neon’s speed.

“OW–! Chill, my arm!”

Neon immediately let go, but kept walking backwards in order to face you as she spoke.

“Woah, what’s up? Did you get hurt?”

“It’s still sore from yesterday, dummy.”

And today… you spent most of your time struggling to keep the poison under control once you got back. She awkwardly scratched the back of her head, and made the obvious decision; switched to your left so that she can freely rip off your good arm.

“Jett’s still messing around with Raze back in the workshop. I’ll tell her, then we can go. Maybe she can also steal Thrash for us. She’s spunky, you know? I bet she’s a food critic.”

She spoke too many words too quickly for you to keep up, but your mind barely clung onto a quarter of it.

“Who the hell is Thrash?”

“She’s one of Gekko’s buddies! He has, like, three, something like that. And they’re all as cute as Wingman!”

“I haven’t seen Gekko’s yellow pet in a long time. I didn’t know he had– ow!”

She elbowed you, successfully shutting you up.

“Hoy, don’t say pets! He gets offended.”

“What? But they’re animals.”

“Just don’t call them pets, it’s offensive to them. Say buddies, or something. I dunno.”

But… they’re animals.

You didn’t want to question the logic. As they say, fear the anger of a gentle man, even though Gekko looked like he’d struggle killing a fruit fly. But you weren’t one to talk, were you?

“Unrelated, but did you talk to your mom yet?”

You awkwardly fixed the spiked choker on your neck, taking a turn towards the workshop.

“You know, I don’t think she’s noticed I’ve been gone, yet.”

Both of you continued chatting about random topics, the light aura thankfully taking your mind off of the heaviness in your chest.

In fact, your mind wandered to something else. Even Yoru was confused at how the mission went yesterday. And he was the same guy who, you know, called you spineless because he didn’t believe you. No, you still haven’t forgotten. So much so, you started to wonder how today’s dinner-date between you and the two would go wrong.

Maybe the fact you couldn’t eat with your right hand would come to play. Like you’d spill food all over you. Or… maybe they’d mix up the food and give you something wrong. That usually happens.

❤ฺ·。

And until now; the top contender was an option you somehow haven’t considered; your anxiety getting the better of you. The restaurant looked nothing like the ones you were used to. Sure, there were tables, but there were charcoal grills on the centre of each of them.

And the loud chatter of the customers. It drove you mad. It felt like each of them stared at you as you walked.

You practically clung on to Neon until you each found your table. Both of them sat next to each other and you sat on the opposite side, but…

“Wait, there’s an empty seat here, why didn’t Gekko join us?”

You pointed to your right, earning Neon’s attention. Just the mention of his name made her roll her eyes.

“He doesn’t want the smell of the meat to ruin his clothes again, or whatever..”

She mocked. But to you, it sounded like a fair reason.

“Uh… Doesn’t he have like, a plain shirt, or something?”

“Only that black one, and he doesn’t want it ruined, either. Anyway, Yoru wanted to tag along, he’ll be–”

You tuned out the rest of her words. Nevermind, it wasn’t the anxiety thing. Silly you. So, Yoru was going to be sitting right next to you, huh? On the day that you wore this, huh?

Ughhhhhhhhhhh…

“So, what meat do you guys want? I’m thinking some pork briskets! Oh, and, umm…”

“Chicken!”

Neon chimed in in excitement, and Jett matched the vibe with her equally massive grin. 

“Yeah, chicken! Yo, A/N, you should come with, I’ll help you pick out the meat and everything!”

“Uh–”

You couldn’t say no, how could you? Jett’s smile was just so amiable, and to see it immediately fall when you decline would be worse than anything that could ever happen.

And so you stood up, moving to her right so that she would grab your left arm. And grab it she did, excitedly moving you away from the sanctuary that was the table you both sat at.

“Careful, right arm’s not working!”

Neon called out jokingly, earning a chirpy giggle from Jett as you marched towards the butcher. And immediately, she began chatting, sweeping your anxiety off its feet as much as she could. She seemed like she knew what she was doing, right? You could depend on her.

Given that she hadn't visited in almost a year, Jett was delighted once she’d discovered and finally gotten to the new section the butchers’ opened up. With a massive assortment of new meat to pick from, she was overjoyed, and you both picked out whatever sounded good at the moment. Those pork briskets she mentioned, ribeye, shortribs, pork belly, and even squid for the hell of it.

Sure, your left arm was fine, but your right one killed you from carrying the multitude of platters of food. And just as you thought to go back to your table, Jett stopped, finding a new type of beef neither of you have seen.

“Look at that! They have wagyu now!”

Just hearing the name added on to your increasing anxiety.

“Uh, that’s an expensive type of beef, right?”

You both began walking towards your table with your multiple platters of food, already witnessing a waitress setting a few small plates where Neon sat.

“Duh, that’s why I’m letting Neon pay if she wants some. I’m gonna tell her!”

“...Isn’t that blackmail?”

“Pshhh, blackmail, schmackmail. Fade blackmailed everyone and nobody had a problem with it!”

You gave her an odd look; but it wasn’t until your friend’s loud greeting immediately caught her attention. That, coupled with the fact your arm was killing you.

“Neon, guess what? I found wagyu back there! Wanna check it out?”

Just as the both of you approached the table, you immediately caught someone sitting right where you were prior to getting up. Yeah, it was Yoru, working at the fired-up charcoal grill with a monumental amount of disinterest. He moved the mesh with a pair of tongs seemingly set by the waitress, a pair of particularly thick and large scissors also set close-by.

Both of them left to check out the cutlets, leaving you alone with Yoru, and you awkwardly sat down next to him. But thankfully, there was still space between both of you.

And Yoru wasn’t exactly apathetic to your choice of clothing. In fact, he observed it from the corner of his eye. More specifically; your fishnet stockings and the choker. But you didn’t notice it until the last second, and he swiftly turned his gaze back to the food just as you looked at him. What was he doing? You thought to yourself.

After a few seconds, you finally mustered up all of your courage and spoke up, but again, he beat you to it first.

“What’s your style, exactly?”

…

“Uh, what? Like, my outfit?”

“Yeah.” 

He grabbed the tongs you observed earlier and set a few chunks of beef on the mesh, searing them.

“Goth, why?”

“Goth? Huh. Neat.”

Your heart fluttered at this. First he stares, then he compliments you. Did that mission do something to him? You watched him turn the browned beef, despite his expression not changing.

"Hey, also, thanks for, uh, you know, helping me out."

…

"Whatever."

Nevermind. He took the scissors and began cutting them, oblivious to the confusion that overtook you.

"Can't you just accept a thank you for once?"

He set down the tongs and opened a drawer you hadn’t seen, taking out a set of metal chopsticks for two, but both were on his side. And of course, wet wipes, haphazardly tossing one over to you. Then, Yoru took a large piece of lettuce, and a few thinly sliced strips of browned beef.

"I won't accept it for doing my job. You wouldn't thank Sage for healing you, would you?"

"Yes I would!"

"Then that's a you problem."

With an exaggerated roll of your eyes, you sat back and scrutinised him as he worked.

"So, when can I thank you?"

"When I make you a wrap."

You blinked.

"What–"

He neatly wrapped it and set it in front of you, before moving on to something else.

"Eat up."

Your face turned red, and you nervously took it. God, he was just too snarky.

"Oh, thank y– uh, thank you."

"No problem."

You nervously nibbled at a portion of the lettuce that stuck out, your mind running wild like yesterday wasn’t a thing anymore. He just complimented and made you food. And accepted your thank you! What was wrong with him today?!

You had a couple of boyfriends before. Predictably, all ended in a disaster, but none of them made your palpitations go into overdrive just by acknowledging your existence. Was this some sort of manifestation of his radiancy? Like how Neon’s electrifyingly cuteness made sense after you discovered she had powers.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah.”

You watched him ignore the delectable bright red beef and specifically aim for the squid you and Jett brought.

“You said I'm not unlucky, right?”

Just by the way he paused for a nanosecond, you could tell he was aggravated at this topic. Were you trying to start an argument in public?

“Yep.”

“Then how can you explain the last mission? If it’s not luck, then why would the mirrors show up when they’re not supposed to?”

You sat up, a loud crunch nearly drowning out your words as you accidentally clutched the lettuce in your hands with an intense grip. Too intense. The sauce almost dripped out, but you quickly held it over your plate.

Yoru shrugged, dipping his squid in some kind of deep crimson sauce.

“Don’t know about you, but my omamori’s been expired since Neon called me to deal with you.”

…

“What the hell’s an omamori?”

Yoru shook his head, eating the small piece of squid that sat between his metal chopsticks. He forgot how little you stepped out of your comfort zone.

“It’s a good luck charm. You get it from a shrine.”

You watched him take another piece of squid.

“Shrine? Isn’t that a place to pray?”

“It is.”

You paused. And by his unchanging tone, he didn’t sound like he was joking.

“Since when were you religious?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing! Uh– nothing.” 

Yoru couldn't help but smile at your reaction and watch you nervously shrink back to your seat. Was it that hard to believe something like this? You’re the third person who was shocked at this revelation, he thought. But that’s why he was late today. He was getting a new omamori, apparently. Huh. Now that you thought about it, that explained a few… many things about him. 

You slowly took a bite of your lettuce wrap, unsure whether to ask the few dozen questions that popped up. On another note, the wrap he made was unfathomably delicious.

"Hey guys! What were you talking about?"

Jett called out from behind, noticing the food in your hand. And it was a safe bet to say you both got along pretty well. You smiled as they sat down, Neon placing the platter of bright red beef right next to the squid.

"I just found out Yoru's religious. Can you believe it?"

"Really? Wait, didn't Neon tell you? She knew the whole time!"

"Like hell she did. Even I felt bad when I had to tell Sage I wasn't a buddhist."

You raised an eyebrow at Yoru’s interjection, noticing the Filipino rolling her eyes with diva-like exaggeration. Neon grabbed the tongs and began setting her cutlets on the mesh; searing it like Yoru did.

"What-ever. What's the difference between buddhism and shintoism, anyway?"

"At least we practise restraint."

Neon huffed with a red face.

"Hoy! We split the bill!" she mumbled, "And it's– you know, it's good to indulge once in a while! Healthy, even!"

Jett patted Neon on the back, ushering her to sit down. But even she couldn't stifle her laughter as expertly as Yoru did.

He definitely indulged a bit in your outfit, that’s for sure. But should you really be saying that?

"Going out to have fun sometimes is healthy, for your information. You could take a page out of Neon's book."

“I’m already doing too much by being here.”

The Korean waved him off, grabbing the large scissors to cut Neon’s beef once it was cooked properly.

“This? This is nothing. You should come with us next time Sage gets a break, it’s so fun to go to, like, at least seven places before the sun even sets!”

"I don’t have that kind of energy. And pass the jeot."

She complied.

You took a bite of your lettuce wrap as you watched them playfully bicker with each other, Neon and Jett miserably failing at convincing Yoru to go out with them more often. Though you took more of a backseat in this conversation than you normally would, it was hard not to. Watching someone like Yoru interact more calmly with people was just too addicting. He also looked pretty cute when he didn't have the face of someone about to gut you, but I digress.

❤ฺ·。

The night was fun. Super fun. And even though you all smelled like barbeque the moment you left, you were luckily endowed with an empty street to walk down, only a few passerby at this time of the night. Whilst they talked, Jett’s eyes roamed the nearby buildings as she pondered something she seemed keen on not sharing… until now.

“Yo, A/N, I’ve been thinking.”

“What’s up?”

“You ever hear of this one phrase that goes like; ‘fortune favours the bold’?”

You walked in silence for a moment, the sounds of tiny rocks crushed under your weight taking over for a moment.

“Uh, like once on a poster in my boss’s office. Why?” 

Yoru already knew where this was going.

“I’m just saying, things would totally go your way if you were more… outspoken. You know?”

“I, uh, I guess, sure, but that’s kinda out of nowhere.”

“Jett gets philosophical when summer ends.”

Jett waved Yoru off with a smile.

“Come on, it’s good advice, I’m serious! Try it right now. So we’re walking around, yeah? And you suddenly see something. Look at that, uhhh… that building!”

She suddenly pointed to a convenience store across two roads, its bright neon lights shining brilliantly against the black and starless midnight sky.

“Okay, think confidence. You wanna go to that store, so, you tell us confidently. Come on, tell us!”

“I, uh, so… Can we go to that store?”

“No, say it like you mean it! Say it like you’re the boss!”

You cleared your throat and raised your voice higher than what you were comfortable with.

“Let’s go to that store.”

“There we go, that’s the spirit! Come on people, hop to!”

Jett grabbed Neon and your wrists, moving towards the store with a peculiar amount of joy in her movements. Neither you nor your Filipino friend could tell what was up, but unbeknownst to both of you, Yoru already read her like a book.

And with an audible ding that was accentuated by the present stillness of the store, that’s where you and Yoru stopped. 

“You know Jett played you, right?”

“Why?”

“Look at her, she just wanted soda.”

You both watched Jett who, instead of looking around and taking in the atmosphere like you two did, quickly moved towards the fridge aisle. Neon awkwardly followed from behind. But instead of sharing his pessimism; you allowed a smile to paint your features.

“But I got a life lesson out of it! If I don’t want that last mission to happen again, I need to stop being so spineless. And that starts now.”

Oh but when he said it, you got mad. Maybe that mission knocked some sense into you, he thought, but he thought better than to say that out loud.

“Whatever, just don’t do it around me.”

He immediately disappeared to the makeup aisle and left you alone. Classic, sure, but you noticed one awry thing whilst you were both talking; he didn’t even look at you once. Now that you thought about it, he hasn’t been looking at you since he scrutinised you before dinner.

…

You shrugged and decided to move to where the lipsticks were, a fashionable idea suddenly popping up in your head.

❤ฺ·。

The moment the cashier set the lipstick in the palm of your hand, you immediately took it, applied it, and headed over to the nearest mirror. And you were right; you were a stunner with this. It was as if it was the final piece of the puzzle to connect everything together. The black tint of it worked to pleasantly complement your skin, eyelashes, clothes, and… Neon was behind you, excitedly looming over you. Well, she would be if you weren’t the same height.

“Nice, A/N! I always forget how pale you are with those lame conservative jeans you wear.”

“I worked in a bank, not Hot Topic, dummy.”

She playful rolled her eyes in response. But when you went to meet her gaze, you caught a glimpse of Yoru out of the corner of your eye. Just as you moved to look at him, he immediately turned his head, conveniently avoiding you the moment you noticed him. No, he was definitely looking at you.

“Yo, Neon, is it just me, or is Yoru acting weird?”

She looked at him. And to her, he was inconspicuously looking through some makeup.

“Is it because he’s looking through makeup? I’ll have you know, his eyeliner game is on point. Not as good as Reyna’s, though!”

“No, that’s not what I meant. Usually he looks at me like I’m some peasant, or something. But he hasn’t looked at me today. Not even once.”

You were curious about the eyeliner thing, though.

“Maybe the last mission’s still bothering him, whatever happened.”

“But… he was totally normal when we got back.”

Neon began twirling a lock of blue and yellow hair around her index finger as you both stared at him.

“Sounds like you should sort it out with him.”

“No way, I’m not doing that.”

She scoffed and looked at you.

“What happened to ‘fortune favours the bold’? Seriously, just be upfront and clear things up. Maybe it’s not even the mission. Wait! Maybe it’s the outfit?”

Neon pointed at your collarbones as she spoke, but you quickly pushed her hand away with a red face.

“Stop! Isn’t he religious?”

“Ha, religious? He’s no monk. Need I remind you he learned Portuguese just to flirt when we went to Salvador?”

You blinked in surprise. Learned Portuguese just to flirt? That’s actually kinda impressive.

Once they caught up, you stared at Yoru and Jett as they spoke for a moment, before letting out a deep sigh. Just by their postures, you could tell they were ready to check out. But he had no problem looking at Jett right in the eye with that same annoyed expression he always had. So what made you so different?

“I’ll… I’ll deal with him tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow? But that’s so far away!”

“Hey guys! What’s going on?”

You both jumped once Jett and Yoru made their way towards you, a gleeful smile lifting the Korean’s cheeks. But you could tell that they caught wind of your conversation. Pun intended.

“Nothing, we were just talking about the… uh, next mission.”

“Oh yeah! I heard that Cypher caught something. Me and Raze have been trying to butt in, but…”

The conversation was led astray to random nonsense. Nevertheless, you took this chance to confirm your suspicions. And you were right, it looked like he intentionally avoided meeting your gaze. Even when you were so obviously scrutinising him. You started to feel guilty once a few theories formed in your head.

Was it your outburst that day that made him uncomfortable, or the fact he had to take care of you so that you’d both finally go back? Either way, you needed to clear things up.

❤ฺ·。

Until the next morning, Jett’s words ran through your mind and you were more and more convinced that you needed to get a hold of yourself. Sure, you never asked to be in Valorant, but you were. And as Gekko would say, ‘it is what it is.’ So you decided to do what many considered the impossible and confront Yoru about yesterday. If you were going to be working together, the air between you must be cleared. And that’s speaking from a logical business standpoint.

One small issue; you didn't know how. And that's why you spent the entire morning in your bed, brainstorming ideas on how to approach the unapproachable. 

Bursting into his room and demanding an answer to what was going on sounded more like being rude more than it did being confident. And the idea of asking Neon for help made you shrink so much that snails would be jealous. Actually, putting it that way, she’d probably manipulate her way into eating Yoru’s food. So… how?

You hugged your pillow tightly and sifted through the hundreds of ideas you had. And you thought that maybe you should thank him instead of demonising him, right? Sure, he was acting weird, but he helped you out at your worst in that mission. It would be rude not to bring that up. Also, he made you a lettuce wrap.

One tempting idea managed to stand out amongst all of them... one you were too nervous to act on– oh, to hell with it.

You grabbed your phone, opened his DMs and forced yourself to type what was on your mind.

❤ฺ·。

One turn of his wrench evoked a loud squeak that echoed throughout the workshop. Yoru twisted it, and successfully stopped the noise. Then, he straightened his back with a deep sigh, roughly tapping the new tire of his motorcycle a few times to make sure it was in place. And luckily for him, it was.

Yoru stood up and tossed the wrench on the crowded workbench. He successfully added more onto the mess, but it's not like he really cared either. He just replaced the tire of his vehicle, how could he not be excited? Well, as excited as Yoru can be.

He dusted off his hands. But against the silence that enveloped him, the sound of an oncoming message quickly caught his attention. Weird, he thought. He usually set his phone on mute.

Yoru reached for his phone to read the message. And he was definitely surprised.

'Yo'

'Can we talk?'

With a deep sigh, Yoru dusted off his hands once more and began typing his minimalistic response.

'?'

'About the mission'

'I wanted to say thanks lol'

'For helping me out'

He stared at the message for a few seconds. Then, he shook his head. You were just thanking him, that's all. Nothing special. You must've gotten comfortable after what happened yesterday. That was probably the reason for all of this, he thought.

'nw'

'Wouldnt it b fun if i thanked u personally?'

'We should totally go out!'

Yoru felt the remaining energy in his body immediately disperse like a clowder of cats.

'ugh you sound like neon'

'we already went out'

'I mean only us dummy'

He felt himself slightly blush, but immediately let his instincts take over for his next message.

'im good'

You sent an unamused emoji.

'So boring'

'Whatevs ur missing out'

'I had this corset I wanna wear but guess I'll save it for when phoenix treats us next week'

Yoru forced a scoff for himself, but he couldn't hold back the cheeky smile that painted his slightly pink face. He thought about what he should say to that for a few seconds. Then, he began typing the most unrelated response he could think of to throw you off.

'nix? lol'

'Yeah? Why?'

'nothing'

'he just picks the worst restaurants is all'

He noticed a pause in your replies for a moment. It took you a few seconds to begin typing once more.

'Easy for you to say, Gordon Ramsay'

If he had a nickel every time someone called him Gordon Ramsay.

Yoru put the phone down for a moment and thought about the offer. As much as he didn't want to say it; seeing you in a corset sounded really tempting. After all, he didn't expect you to have good taste when it came to fashion. But after yesterday? He might have to ask you for a few tips. Of course, he’d never say that to your face.

He tapped on the flimsy wooden workbench in an attempt to keep himself grounded. Then he simply decided to type out what was on his mind.

'i mean im down only if u can handle "boring" places'

God, why was he allowing this?

'Boring?'

'Neon calls me boring does that count lol'

'Whats the spot'

'was gonna go to a park'

'aslong as you dont run your mouth im cool w bringing you along'

'Pshhh run my mouth? Thats right up my alley count me in'

He had to hold back the urge to punch himself. Why was he allowing this?!

'saturday 9 am'

'Gotcha'

While you hugged your phone on your side with a triumphant grin on your face, Yoru sighed and immediately regretted this decision. He didn't even know why he was going along with all of this. He hated you, didn't want to spend time with you, and thought you were a nuisance. At least, that's what he told himself.

This is gonna be a long day, isn't it?

❤ฺ·。

Considering the fact that it was a Friday, and that meant you only had the rest of the day to prepare mentally and physically for what was basically a DATE, you were fighting an uphill battle with yourself on the decision you have made. In your mind was a maelstrom of anxiety that practically begged you to cancel and sit in bed for the rest of the day. The usual stuff anxiety begged you to do. But in the mirror was a goth bombshell who was about to have the best date of her life. So really, did you have anything to worry about?

That's the thought that roamed through your mind after you'd gotten ready and moved towards the promised spot in the base. But there was one thing that threatened its position; Yoru's scrutiny.

That’s right, you weren’t safe from his judgemental gaze after you’d worn the corset that accentuated your petite figure. He (very obviously) looked you up and down once you'd arrived, before opening his mouth to speak.

"Nice outfit."

You raised an eyebrow, taking note of his monotone voice.

"Why, is it bad?"

"Never said that. I just expected the usual conservative crap."

You rolled your eyes. Neon must've taught him that word.

"Gee, thanks. Jett had a hand in this, you know."

"I was there. Looks like you finally grew a pair. Congratulations."

You crossed your arms with a cheeky smile.

"And you finally got a good look at me without going all red. "

You were already proud of the response you had ready before you even said it. And now, with the subtle shift in his expression that conveyed his surprise; you were even happier. Then, he freely smirked.

"Someone's snappy today."

"I learned from the best. So, are we going yet?"

"Yeah, yeah. Just shut up and follow."

Yoru quickly turned his back on you to move through the nearby doorway before another word could be exchanged. And you swore you saw a slight pink tinge on his cheeks. 

You weren't sure whether or not he was just as nervous as you were. His voice sounded the same, but it was obvious how much he had to work to keep eye contact with you. Even his posture was out of place. Instead of flipping his comb, his hands were in his pockets.

But what was even more embarrassing was how much you knew about Yoru's habits to deduce what was amiss about it.

❤ฺ·。

Nevertheless, the dread still remained throughout the trip.

And you wanted to hate Tokyo just to spite him for having an attitude. You really did. But you just couldn’t; the place he picked was simply too perfect. Contrary to your expectations of a dense and overbearing tourist attraction, he took you somewhere you never would’ve expected in a million years. 

There were a certain amount of people, sure, but the space was so vast that the nearest couple were miles away from you. That wasn’t to mention the foliage, the ruins, serenity and enormous space; it was all so…

“Where are we?”

“The imperial palace.”

More specifically, the east gardens. But I digress. Your eyes landed on the traditional structures you were so enamoured with. 

“No, that’s the Edo castle. That,” He held your chin and directed you towards the ‘modern’ architecture, “is the palace.”

You stopped to observe a massive bridge that held itself above the clear waters. Cradled by the foliage and the delicate structures surrounding it, it took your breath away within a second. The Nijubashi bridge.

“Wow… Can we go there?”

Yoru couldn’t help but chuckle at your naivete.

“It’s not open to the public, A/N. Only on New Years or the emperor’s birthday.”

“Lame.”

You said with a cheeky smile, unintentionally moving closer to Yoru.

Both of you continued down the organised concrete path. You couldn’t help but stare at the bed of colourful flowers laid out on each side. However, while you were enamoured, it seems like Yoru wasn’t; since he let out a wistful sigh as he looked around.

"This place doesn't change, does it?"

"You've been here before?"

"Plenty of times."

"How plenty we talking?"

"No doubt, the emperor knows me by now."

He said with utmost confidence. So much confidence, he took out his comb and promptly began flipping it whilst you walked. Each click almost synchronised with the clicks of your own boots. That's when you knew he was back to his usual self. And you were still embarrassed for knowing.

Nevertheless, a quick giggle escaped you at his joke.

"I get it, because you could sneak in with your dimension powers, right? That would be funny."

You kept smiling, but it slowly fell once you noticed that he didn't bother to refute what you'd said.

"You're not joking, are you?"

"This place is in a good spot too. It's basically surrounded by everything you need."

You raised an eyebrow, but your attention was promptly swept away by a row of organised bushes that paved way for a few benches.

"Why don't you bring the others here, then? That could be a fun activity for the group."

"Tch, I'm good. We could be climbing a mountain and they'd find a way to call it boring."

"Yeah, that checks out... But what about Phoenix? You're his friend."

Yoru rolled his eyes.

"He can't do anything without blasting music in his ears. "

"We're the only normal ones then, right?"

You said with a cheeky grin, and the Japanese couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at this accusation.

"You're calling me normal?"

"Yeah. Right now, you are. You know, I never would've thought someone like you liked peaceful stuff like... parks. And shrines."

He flicked his comb shut.

"Lady, you get scared and shocked at everything. I'm surprised you didn't freak out and came along today."

"Didn't you get shocked when I put on black lipstick?"

Yoru immediately cleared his throat and moved his eyes back to the path.

"No idea what you're talking about."

A laugh involuntarily escaped you.

This was so much fun. And you wanted to scold yourself for never having done this before; standing your ground in the face of an insult. Well, it was clearly banter coming from him, but the point still stands. Screw the bracelet you wielded, it was nothing compared to the new ability you unlocked; confidence! It only took you, what, your entire life? Yeah, sounds about right.

At least you managed to get the hang of it, that's for sure.

Hours flew like minutes as the both of you continued chatting and you explored the area. Surprisingly, talking to him was fun. It was light-hearted, surface-level, and the exact opposite of how confrontational he was the whole time. Yoru was much more relaxed, more talkative, and he even took insults pretty well when it wasn't anything serious.

Besides, he looked so endearing when he'd genuinely smile. In fact, it felt kind of... serene to spend the time with him like this. It was as if you were finally taking a break after years upon years of chaos.

Just you and a guy you thought was cute in a park alone chatting... Yeah, nothing weird about that, right?

Moving down the organised path, you caught yet another stunning view. It somehow triumphed over everything you’ve seen the past few hours. And this time, you couldn't help but pull on Yoru’s sleeve.

“Look at that.”

You suddenly pointed to a nearby river enveloped by a multitude of brilliantly green trees, each leaf gently swayed by the wind. With the flowing water right underneath it, it looked like some sort of fictional setting someone had painted.

Both of you approached the railing that gave you a better view. There, not only could you now breathe in the fresh air, but also see a few rowing… boats. Emphasis on few. There were only two, and combined with the large distance, they were mere specks you had to dig out.

“Are those boats?”

“Yeah. People rent them and row around the river.”

“Is it a part of the cast– uh, palace?”

You made sure to note the difference between the Edo castle and the Imperial palace. Yoru paused for a moment and pocketed his comb.

“You could say that. But it’s Kitanomaru park.” He leaned on the railings just as you did. “It’s another well-known spot here.”

You watched a few more leaves escape the branches and gently fall onto the water.

“This place is so pretty… Imagine living here.”

“You should wait until May. That’s when the cherry trees bloom. I might even take you to the river when that happens.”

May? That’s only a few days away… You looked at him in confusion, before smiling.

“You’d do that?”

Yoru quickly cleared his throat and turned his gaze away.

“Nevermind.”

You stifled a giggle. Must've been a Freudian slip, like the times you caught him staring yesterday. You rested your chin on your hand and thought for a moment; a new bout of anxiety taking control of your thoughts.

Why was he acting nice? Was it because of the way you spoke to him today, or did the discomfort from that mission manifest, or something? It didn't make sense, but you wanted a proper reason as to why he was acting this way. A solid one that your anxiety couldn't exploit.

You sighed and thought for the next few minutes. Then, a giggle escaped you.

"You know, I completely forgot why we even came here."

"Tch. Really?"

"Yeah. I wanted to tell you something... uh, what was it? I wanted to thank you, right? For that mission. I'm still impressed, now that I think about it. You didn't even hesitate, it's like you knew exactly what to do."

You smiled to yourself for a moment, before continuing.

"Say, how'd you know what to do?"

...

"Tch, what kind of question is that?"

You turned to Yoru with your chin still on your hand.

"I'm just saying. I've never met anyone who knows how to deal with stuff like that. It's like you know everything."

Silence settled in the moment you shut your mouth. And only then did you notice the sudden heaviness that slowly befell the two of you. Yoru was uncomfortable; and at this point, that fact was one even you couldn’t deny. Crap, you thought. Did you say something wrong?

It took him a moment. But eventually, he opened his mouth to speak.

"I– I guess it's just something I relate to."

...

"Relate to?"

"You know, the panicking thing. Being cursed, whatever that was. "

You perked up at this, confusion taking over your mind.

"So you've– wait, does that mean you felt the same way I did?"

"Technically. It was a decade ago but... It still would've been a trash move if I just left you to deal with it on your own. Thought I'd try to make it easier."

"Wait..."

Thousands of thoughts took over your mind, and you struggled to spit out just one cohesive sentence.

"Does– so, does that mean– you mean this whole time you've been helping me? Since I joined?"

He stared at the river for a second.

"Well, I only helped because you were helpless... at the start."

"But–"

Yoru seemed embarrassed the more he saw the cogs in your brain turn. You were practically figuring him out, and he really didn't enjoy that. But he couldn't say anything. Not when he laid it out for you; the fact that he used to share your level of anxiety. And helped you.

It was almost the direct opposite of the crab mentality. And coming from Yoru? It was a shock.

"Wow, that makes so much sense... So, you were just like me, huh?"

You couldn't help but grin at this revelation.

"That's so sweet... No offence, I thought it was just my luck we kept getting put together."

"Tch, of course it was. It's not like I was waiting for you every morning."

You giggled. It was undeniable. He was mortified at this point. But just as you wanted to ask one question, another one popped up; one much more important.

"Is that also why you didn't look at me yesterday?"

He was clearly caught off guard by this.

"What–? No, that's– that's unrelated."

"Well? Don't leave me hanging. Tell me."

He rolled his eyes.

"You already got enough out of me. "

"Just this once."

His face turned into a deeper shade of red, but he still refused to look at you.

"I'm not saying anything else."

"Ugh, you're lame."

You crossed your arms with a smile as you processed this newfound information. The fact that Yoru was helping you. Well, not at the start, but it still meant a lot to you. He was basically the reason you managed to get to this point with everything. Of course, some credits to Jett. But more importantly; how can you make him fess up about yesterday?

...

An idea popped up, and you met his gaze with a particularly devious expression.

"Yo, if you tell me, I'll give you a hug."

His eyes widened.

"W– what?"

"Yeah! A hug. Not too much for someone like you."

You crossed your arms with confidence as you spoke.

"Pretty fair offer, right?"

He stared at you with a flustered expression for a few seconds, and all he could muster up were a few words.

"That's– um, that's a reach."

"Neon told me what happened back in Salvador, you know."

He rolled his eyes with a sigh.

"Of course she did. Fine, I'll tell you. But just one... quick hug. Nothing more. I don't want your perfume on me."

You couldn't help but giggle. His words were getting more and more quiet as he went along, and combined with his defensive posture; his crossed arms? He was adorable. And a prude, but that's besides the point.

"You have my word."

He took a deep breath.

"I thought– I just thought you were pretty. That's all."

"Pretty?"

"Yeah. Pretty."

You giggled and fiddled with your bracelet as he spoke.

“I shouldn't be shocked you think goth is pretty, but, you know…”

“Shocked? That's a first."

There he goes again, you thought. You scoffed and decided to take it upon yourself to shut him up.

Just as Yoru blinked, he found your arms wrapped tightly around him. He was forcefully pulled into a tender embrace, and it definitely took him at least a minute to comprehend the fact. He paused and looked down on you with wide eyes, the warmth exuded from you leaving a foreign impact on him. Unfortunately, it just made him flush even more.

You were... hugging him. You. Hugging him. Did he get that right…?

Once the cogs in his brain started moving again, he slowly put both of his hands behind your back and returned it. This detail didn't fly by you. And you couldn't help but chuckle to yourself.

It was only once you pulled away did you really see how much this simple move left a mark on him. He looked like a mess. Yoru quickly cleared his throat, but it didn't help with how raspy his voice had gotten. Thanks to a simple hug, of course.

"Oh wow... you– you actually did it."

"About time someone put you in your place, huh?"

Both of you shared a quick chuckle until he spoke up once more.

"I'm not complaining. Looks like you don't need my help anymore, huh?"

You smiled in triumph. Hopefully not.

"I– I know we have different beliefs, but... just in case."

Yoru slipped something in your hand. But once you pulled away and revealed your palm; it took you a second to recognise what the uniquely designed object was.

It was... an omamori?

"It helped me at my worst, I'm hoping it helps you too. I'm not saying you have to keep it–"

"Are you kidding? I'm totally bringing this for the next mission! In fact, I'll tie it to my Bulldog for extra protection."

You said with a wink. Yoru attempted to cover his red face with his hand; to no avail.

"Thanks..."

Sure, you didn't share the same beliefs, but at this point, did you really have any right to refuse what he gave you? Just saying no to him at this point would shatter your heart to a million pieces. You pocketed the omamori to ensure its safety, before meeting his gaze with a beaming grin.

"So, wanna keep showing me around?"

He nodded.

"Y– yeah, sure. I can do that."

"Great!"

Yoru didn't expect you to link your arm with his. But with a weak smile, he simply went along with it, and you both continued on your path.

Though you confused a few of the passerby on your relationship, this time, however, you definitely looked like a couple. And it's not like you really minded either. You even took his tip and hid the omamori inside your phone case the same way he would do. And until the next mission, it would stay there.

[incandescentlysomething]

Lady of the Ashes: Chapter 8

House of the Dragon Season 1

Aemond x TargaryenOC

Chapter Word Count: 5506

She was his everything… For her…he would do anything.

From the moment of her birth, Aemond Targaryen swore himself to the protection of his niece Aelinor Velaryon. As the two grew up inseparable, they find themselves entangled in the Dance of Dragons, battling to stay together even as their families try to pull them apart.

A/N: Sorry for the delay! Accidentally posted this one to the wrong blog haha Thanks for reading! Cross posted on A03

Let me know what you think!

Masterlist A03

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 P.1 P.2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7

Aelinor was awake even before the sun had appeared through her window. She had not slept well, and was still exhausted from her late night, but she knew that this morning would not be one for leisure.

She wanted nothing more than to remain curled up under her blankets, but she could already hear people moving about in the parlor. Ser Vaemond would make his petition before the king at ten bells, and she had no doubt that courtiers would be flooding the throne room from the early hours, determined to get the best spot.

When she arrived in the parlor her mother was pacing back and forth, one hand on her swollen belly and the other twisting nervously at her side.

“You must rest, Mother,” Aelinor cautioned. “These nerves cannot be good for the baby.”

Rhaenyra held out a hand as her daughter stepped closer, and Aelinor took it in both of her own. “I trust you slept well.”

“As well as can be expected,” Aelinor sighed. “But come, you must sit.”

Rhaenyra shook her head. “I find myself restless. It is best that I stay on my feet.”

Aelinor gave a little smile. “I trust this isn’t a sign of my sibling to come. I could not handle another little boy with Joff’s energy.”

“It could be a girl, you know.” Rhaenyra said. “You could have a sister.”

Aelinor pursed her lips. “I suppose it could. But I shall rejoice all the same. As it is, Baela and Rhaena are all the sisters I need.” She caught her mother’s eye, letting her know just how much she meant that.

Rhaenyra sighed. “Aelinor, if you wish to speak about your father we could—”

“My father,” Aelinor said quickly. “Was Ser Laenor Velaryon. No other.”

“But we could—”

“Today is about Luc, Mother,” Aelinor said. “About his succession. We share a father, and I will stand with him as he claims the seat to which our father’s blood entitles him. As Velaryons.”

Rhaenyra squeezed her hand. “He would be a good father to you, Aelinor. I know it.”

How many times throughout the years had Aelinor wondered the same thing. This was as close as her mother had ever come to just flat out admitting the truth. Daemon Targaryen was her father. She knew it, he knew it, Baela and Rhaena almost certainly knew it. She did not think Jace and Luc were aware, and she wanted to keep it that way. It had not been Daemon Targaryen who had bandaged her bruised knees, who had taken her for her first dragonflight atop Seasmoke. No, that was her true father, a man now nine years in his grave.

But she knew her mother longed for them all to be a family. And she would not jeopardize that for anything. No matter what she suspected, family was the most important thing in the world to her, and she knew Daemon would kill for her mother, possibly even for her and her brothers.

“So long as he is good to you, Mother.” She smiled. “Now, should I begin getting ready?”

Rhaenyra looked as if she wanted to say more, but nodded. “Yes, we should all get ready. I’ll rouse the boys, and I’ll have a maid bring your dress to you.”

“No options for today?” Aelinor asked, recalling the dresses she had tried on for the ball the day before.

Rhaenyra shook her head, giving her daughter’s hand one extra tight squeeze. “It brings me heart, Daughter, to hear you speak of standing together.”

“Of course, Mother.” Aelinor nodded, dropping her mother’s hand. “I am with you, always. Now, you can rouse Luc. Because I love you so, I shall attempt to awaken the beast that is Jace.”

Rhaenyra laughed. “Then I wish you luck. I don’t think he returned to his chambers until well past midnight.”

“I think it was practically morning.” Aelinor forced a laugh. “But I’ll get him. And we shall all make ourselves presentable for you.”

Aelinor waited until her mother was gone before hurrying to Jace’s door, not even knocking before pushing her way inside. 

“Jace?” She hissed. “Are you awake?”

The shape on the bed groaned, so she moved to the window and threw open the curtains. “Let me see. We need to be presentable and I need to see how bad it is.”

Jace protested loudly at the light, pushing himself into a sitting position. Aelinor sat on the edge of his mattress, watching as he stretched both of his arms. He was shirtless, his pale skin unmarred except for a ring of dark bruises around the base of his neck. Bruises that Aemond had put there.

Aelinor clucked her tongue, reaching out to touch the edge of a bruise. “Does it hurt terribly? should I fetch something?”

“It’s fine,” Jace sighed. “My tunic should cover it.”

“And your arm?” She asked worriedly. “I could call a maester.”

“No, I…” Jace blinked sleep from his eyes and studied her. “Gods, Aelinor, why are you fretting so much?”

She punched his leg through the blanket. “Because you’re my brother and you’re hurt, you idiot. Am I not allowed to be worried? Besides, it’s my—”

“Don’t you dare say it’s your fault.” Jace interrupted her.

“You said that last night?”

“Did I?” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry. I’d had a bit to drink. I should never have made you think that this was your fault. This was only Aemond’s doing. No one else’s. Which means you don’t need to be such a mother hen.”

Aelinor sighed. “I just…there has to be more to it, Jace. If I just talked to him.”

“He’s dangerous,” Jace protested. “Do you not see these bruises? This probably would have broken your neck.”

She rolled her eyes. “You aren’t that strong, and I’m not made of glass. Besides, Aemond would never hurt me.”

“Aelinor.”

“Jacaerys.” She crossed her arms. 

They stared at each other for a long moment, before he threw himself back into his pillows. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“I’m right,” She stood, grabbing the covers and dragging them off of him. “This entire thing is supposed to be about bringing the family together. I’m not just going to stop talking to my best friend.”

“Your best friend?” Jace clawed the covers back. “Does he know that that’s what he is? Your friend?”

Aelinor groaned. “Obviously it’s more than that, Jace. Either way, I shall speak with him and find out what reason he had for attacking you. I’m sure it was all a misunderstanding.”

“And I’m sure that the only reason I’m alive is because I’m your brother,” Jace said. “If anyone else had insulted you, he probably would’ve fed them to Vhagar.”

Aelinor faked a gasp. “Are you saying you wouldn’t feed someone to Vermax to defend my honor?”

“Obviously I would,” Jace managed to wrestle the blankets out of her grip. “I would just be more diplomatic about it.”

“So you say,” She laughed. “Just leave it to me, Jace. I’ll sort out this mess. Now, get ready before Mother’s nerves give out.”

She stepped out into the hallway, nearly running into the maid coming from her room. “Your gown is inside, Princess. Will you require assistance dressing?”

Aelinor shook her head. “I’ll shout if I need help with the laces.”

“Certainly, Princess.”

She was just about to step into her room when the door next to hers opened. “Aelinor?”

“What is it, Luc?” She stopped in the doorway.

Her younger brother stepped out of his room, already dressed in his tunic, though he wore mismatched boots. “Which ones should I wear? These ones make me look taller, but these—”

“You don’t need to get any taller, Luc.” She laughed. “I already have to look up at you.”

“That’s because you forgot to grow,” He responded with an old joke, one she used to make all the time before he caught up to her in height. “But alright. Are you not ready?”

“I will get dressed now,” She stepped over to ruffle his hair. “Don’t worry, Little Tidemaster. Everything will go well.”

He batted her hand away, and she was chuckling when she closed her bedroom door behind her.

She would be lying if she said that she was truly confident about this hearing. Since she had been at court, little more than two days, she had heard nothing but rumors of Lucerys’ parentage, which she knew had likely been spread by the Queen. There was every possibility that this trial was simply a chance for Queen Alicent to weaken Rhaenyra’s claim on the throne through her children. 

But, it was a settled succession, and even with the Sea Snake’s injury there could be no good reason to challenge it that did not constitute treason. She just had to pray that everyone stuck to their own honor, and all would be well.

Her mother’s vision for a united family became clear when she saw the gown laid out on her bed. She changed quickly, slipping into the fitted black gown and managing to adjust the laces on her own. The dress was made of a thick material with embroidered dragon scales dotting the shoulders. It clung tightly to her hips before spilling out into a wider skirt, and the neckline fell wide on her collar bones. The sleeves were a deep Targaryen red, hanging nearly to her knees. At least she would not have to wear gloves with this gown, and her mother had not provided her with any.

She was running a brush through her hair when there was a knock on her door.

“Come in, Luc!” She called. “I’m nearly done!”

The door opened, but it wasn’t Luc who stepped inside.

“Prince Daemon,” She turned quickly, dropping the brush on her bed. “Is something the matter?”

The Prince was already dressed, Dark Sister hanging at his side, and he had both hands resting on the pommel as he stepped into her room, closing the door behind him. In nine years, Aelinor could not recall ever being alone with him like this. With her father.

He studied her for a long moment, a glimmer of approval in his eyes. “You’re ready, then?”

“I am.” She clasped her hands in front of her, noting how his gaze caught on her injured hand, She resisted the urge to hide it in her sleeve. “May I help you with something?”

He walked slowly around the room, examining the few meager possessions that she had unpacked. “Today is a very important day for your mother and brother.”

“I know that.” She said, turning as he moved. “And I shall do whatever necessary to help them assert their claims.”

“Will you?” He seemed genuinely surprised. “I spoke to your mother this morning. She told me of your…conversation.”

Aelinor crossed her arms. “Give me some credit, Prince Daemon. Whatever point you are trying to make, make it.”

He stopped, his fingers tapping against the pommel of his sword. “You do not call me Father.”

“No, I do not.”

“Why?”

“Do you want me to?” She scoffed, unable to believe that he was the sentimental type.

He tilted his head, considering it. “It would make your mother happy.”

“And I place my mother’s happiness above all else, except in this.” Aelinor said. “Or are we to pretend you were thinking of my happiness, or Luc or Jace’s, when you murdered the man who had raised us.”

Daemon’s lips curled upwards. “There it is. I knew my daughter was in there somewhere.”

“You have two other daughters, Prince Daemon .” Aelinor glared at him. “I think I have made it exceedingly clear how I feel about you. Now, I ask again. What do you want?”

She did not like how he studied her. Her father — because denying that he was her blood was fruitless — often reminded her of a dragon about to seize its prey. He was still, deathly so, and yet his eyes took everything in with frightening speed. And now that focus was trained on her. It should have been terrifying, but some part of her recognized herself in his gaze, and so she stood her ground.

Finally, he reached into the pocket of his tunic. “I have something for you.”

She blinked. “For me?”

“Did you not understand me the first time?” He held out a hand. “Here.”

Against her better judgement, Aelinor held out her hand, letting him drop a small metal object into her palm. It was surprisingly heavy, but when she held it close to her face, she found it to be nothing more than a hair bauble.

“A hairpin?” She said incredulously. Prince Daemon did not seem the type to give frivolous gifts, and yet that was what this was. She lifted it between two fingers. The metal was a steely silver, with the circle of the pin cast with small dragon scales, and the pin itself sharp as a dagger on one end, and shaped as a dragon’s head on the other, with a deep red gem inset as the eye. It was finely made, that was true, but it was still a hairpin.

“Why have you given me this?” She knew it was rude not to thank him, but she found the entire thing so out of character that it was unsettling.

He was quiet again, considering his words before he spoke. “It’s Valyrian steel. That particular piece came over with the Conqueror. If the rumors are to be believed, it was worn by Queen Rhaenys herself.”

“Truly?” Aelinor gasped, holding it up the light. “It is extraordinary.” Lowering it slightly, she looked at her father. “Why?”

There were a thousand questions wrapped up in that one. Why now? Why this? Have you suddenly decided to try and be a father to me? 

“It belonged to my mother.” Daemon said finally. “And it should belong to my eldest daughter.”

Her lips parted, something like warmth flooding through her. Princess Alyssa was spoken of like a god in their household, the beloved mother of King Viserys and Prince Daemon who had reportedly been a figure of light and love. To be gifted something of hers…Aelinor was without words.

“I…thank you.” She said quietly. “I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t need to say anything,” Daemon said, gripping his sword with one hand. “Wear it. Today. Let everyone see that ours is the line of Old Valyria. Wear it for your mother.”

Aelinor nodded. “I shall.”

Prince Daemon gave a curt nod, and then left without a word.

Aelinor closed her palm of the pin, feeling the metal bite into her skin as she pressed. The pin was sharp enough to puncture flesh. She closed her eyes and tried to imagine this same metal in the hands of Princess Alyssa, or even Queen Rhaenys at the time of the Conquest. She wanted to feel some part of her ancestry sing into her blood through the cold steel.

But at the end, she felt only empty metal, and the only meaning it carried was that of the man who had given it to her. Complicated. Unyielding.

Moving to the large mirror in her chamber, Aelinor swept half of her hair up and away from her face, securing it at the back of her head with the pin. When she turned, the ruby eye glinted through her silver hair. 

She searched for her mother’s face in her reflection, for some hint of familiarity. But the more she looked, the more she settled on just how much she looked like her father. What use was it denying that which was so obvious?

“Aelinor?” Her bedroom door crept open. “Are you ready?”

She sighed, turning to Luc with a smile. “Well, heir to Driftmark? Will I do?”

“Aelinor, you…” He stepped inside, taking her hand in his and giving it a squeeze. “You look like a princess.”

“Don’t I always?” She teased. 

“Of course you do,” He bumped her to the side as they started to walk out of the room. “I just meant…”

“I know what you meant. “She sighed. “Now, let’s get this over with.”

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

As if the entire ordeal weren’t enough of an insult, Princess Rhaenyra and her family were expected to wait in the corridor outside the throne room until it was time for them to be heard. They were forced to stand outside, watching as throngs of nobles made their way into the room ahead of them. Already Aelinor felt a sense of dread building. Whether they achieved the desired result or not, this would be a spectacle. Her family would become a spectacle.

It was enough to have her picking loose threads out of her gown in nervousness.

“You’re going to ruin your beautiful gown, cousin.” Rhaena said.

Aelinor sighed, looking up at her two cousins. “Sorry. I suppose my nerves are getting the better of me.”

Baela reached out to give her arm a squeeze. “With the news of the engagement, surely things must go our way. You should not be so worried.”

“I would not trust that the Hand or the Queen will take your betrothals as enough.” Aelinor said. “They’ve been waiting for this day a long time.”

They all looked to where their parents stood, Rhaenyra pacing back and forth and Daemon tracking her with his eyes, his expression unreadable. She sometimes wondered if Baela and Rhaena knew the truth of her parentage, that her existence meant that their father had been unfaithful to their mother. Sometimes she thought Baela might know, often making a comment about their sisterhood in such a way as to make Aelinor think she knew the truth, but she had not spent enough time with Rhaena to glean whether she knew as well. She did not think either of them would hold it against her, but she also did not want to throw their peculiar family even more out of sorts.

“Speaking of the betrothals,” She said quietly. “My congratulations to you both. I did not have a chance to speak with you last evening.”

“Thank you, Cousin.” Rhaena smiled, but Baela gave Aelinor a look of regret, reaching out to touch her shoulder.

“I am sorry, Aelinor, that it happened that way.” She apologized. “I did not—”

Aelinor shook her head. “I’ve heard enough apologies from my mother, and I know no one wanted me to be surprised in that way. Jace and I were not suited, and I can bear a little court gossip if it guarantees you your happiness.”

She meant it. She loved her cousins, and she loved her brothers, and she truly thought that they were all well matched. If that announcement had come in the form of a breakfast declaration or an intimate family gathering, she likely would have been the first to rejoice. It was only the unfamiliar setting of the ball, and the strangers surrounding her that had dulled her enthusiasm. After having slept on it, she truly was brimming with happiness for her family. 

“Think,” Baela grinned. “Now we shall all be sisters.”

They shared a knowing grin, before schooling their faces into something more dignified as more nobles flooded past.

“I’m going to go wait over there,” Aelinor pointed around the corner, where she would be out of view of her family. 

“Why?” Rhaena asked. “Hiding from us?”

“Hardly,” Aelinor laughed. “I’m just…waiting for someone.”

The girls let her go, and she stepped around the corner and took a deep breath. She did not want to enter this trial without speaking to Aemond, without getting to the truth of what had happened the night before. Despite what Jace said, she knew that there had to be more to it than a simple insult. There had to be.

Her prayers were answered when Aemond strode around the corner, alone and unaccompanied. His eye settled on her and he nearly skipped a step, before catching himself. She could not read the expression on his face, his lips pressed tightly together and his jaw clenched.

“Aemond,” She said quietly, aware that her family would be able to hear if she spoke any louder. “You’re early.”

“Yes, well.” He clasped both hands behind his back. “What of it?”

Ignoring his curt tone, Aelinor gave him a little smile. He had come early to speak with her, she knew it. 

“Is everything alright?” She asked. “Jace came back last night and said—”

“What did he say?” Aemond asked quickly, his eyes meeting hers like a clash of swords.

Aelinor swallowed. “He said that you attacked him. That it had something to do with my honor. But I know that cannot be true.”

Aemond didn’t respond.

“And now he thinks you’re dangerous,” She said. “But you must tell me the truth, so that I can fix this. Had you had too much to drink? Or perhaps—”

“Perhaps what?” Aemond lifted his chin. “Tell me, Lina, what excuse would justify my beating your brother in the dark of the night.”

Aelinor flinched back at his tone, and something in his face softened. “I just…I just want to know, Aemond.”

“And what…” Aemond’s voice was tight, as if he were speaking without breathing. “What if it was for your honor? What if I decided that he had insulted you enough for one evening, and that I would not stand for it? What then?”

She shook her head. “What do you mean, Aemond? I felt no insult.”

“No?” He stepped closer, and she moved away, her back pressing against the cold stone. “You are too generous, then. I am afraid that I am not so willing as to forgive a slight against you.”

“How was I slighted, Aemond?” She demanded. “The announcement was a shock, but it’s not as if Jace stood in front of the court and declared me defective! I am happy for my family. Truly, I am. I was simply unsettled from the crowd and there being so many unfamiliar faces.”

She reached out her hand and touched his upper arm. “I swear, Aemond.”

His jaw ticked. “I don’t believe you. You spoke of returning to Dragonstone. Of fleeing. Because of what they did! You’ve only just returned, how was I to—”

“So Jace was right then?” She asked. “You truly attacked him over me? You hurt my brother?”

“I let him walk away because he was your brother.” Aemond said. “But what of it, Aelinor? Now that you know what I would do for your honor, are you done? Shall you listen to him? Am I too dangerous? Am I a monster?”

Aelinor was shaking her head, trying to understand where this was coming from. “No. No! Aemond. Of course you aren’t a monster! Whoever said that you were?”

He did not answer. 

“Aemond, please,” She leaned forward and whispered. “I shall never, ever turn my back on you. You know this. We…we understand each other, don’t we?” She recalled his words the night before, when he had shown her his eye, shouting that he understood her. How could he not tell that it was the same for her?

“Just…let me in.” She begged. “Something has made you unhappy, and I—”

“Brother!” Aegon’s voice carried down the hall, and Aemond jerked out of her grasp. Without looking back, Aemond walked toward his family.

She wanted to go after him, wanted to chase him and demand that he confide in her like he used to. She still did not believe that she had the full story, and she needed to know who had ever told him that he was a monster. That was…that was too cruel to even imagine.

But a hand grabbed her elbow, and then Rhaena was at her side. “Come, Cousin. It is time.”

So with one last longing look over her shoulder, Aelinor went to stand before the Iron Throne.

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

Aemond wouldn’t look at her.

It felt like she was nine years old again, standing across from him at Laena Velaryon’s funeral, with him refusing to meet her eyes and her forced to just stand there in dignified silence. Except instead of a funeral on Driftmark, this was a petition before the Iron Throne. And Aelinor wasn’t a child anymore. She understood what the stakes were, and she was determined not to fail Lucerys and her mother.

Keeping her back ramrod straight, she stood at Luc’s side as Ser Vaemond made his petition. Across the way, Alicent stood with her children, all of them looking as if they’d been forced to attend. Aegon was openly yawning and Helaena, who had once been as close to her as a sister, was huddled at his side, as timid as a mouse. Aemond had kept one shoulder angled her way throughout the entire ordeal, as close to turning his back on her as he could come.

All things considered, Ser Vaemond’s case was surprisingly restrained. There were no flying accusations, only a general plea for the preservation of the Velaryon name. Aelinor had imagined hurled insults, perhaps some thinly veiled threats. But it seemed that they were not entirely doomed.

“Princess Rhaenyra, you may now make your case for your son, Lucerys Velaryon.” Otto Hightower spoke down at them from the throne. 

Rhaenyra stepped forward, her face composed. Only Aelinor saw the way her hands shook, the only evidence of just how frightened her mother was.

“If I must grace this farce with an answer, I will begin by—”

The doors at the back of the hall opened. Two hundred heads turned toward it, to the two guards swinging apart the massive doors, and to the small man who stood there.

A strangled sound escaped Aelinor’s mouth.

“The King!” One of the guards shouted.

It was her grandfather. Frail, feeble, shuffling forward as if every step pained him, it was King Viserys. A gold mask covered half of his face — the half that she had seen bandaged the night before — and his golden crown rested on his head.

She turned, watching Otto Hightower stumble down from the throne. The Queen’s face was pale as a ghost, one hand held to her chest.

Aelinor let her eyes drift to the side, where she caught Aemond’s gaze. He must have seen something in her eyes, something that moved him, for her gave her a small nod, his mouth tightening in what might have been a smile. But then his gaze was back on the King, following the sea of people as they bowed in his wake.

Sometimes she forgot that Viserys was Aemond’s father too. He had so rarely spoken of him, being raised much more closely by Queen Alicent, learning the types of things only boys could teach from Ser Criston Cole or his older brother. But she wondered if he too felt this shuttering in his heart, seeing the head of their family rise again.

Aelinor dropped before her grandfather reached her, her curtsy taking her down to the floor. The charcoal skirts pooked around her, her chin dipping low as she felt her family follow in her wake. Only when the edges of his cloak had moved past did she rise, watching as her grandfather reached the foot of his throne.

He turned and said something to Otto Hightower, something that had the Hand nodding shakily, and then he started to climb.

Aelinor wanted to run forward, wanted to take his arm and help him as he struggled, but she knew it was not her place. Instead she knotted her sleeves in her firsts, swallowing her cry as he stumbled and his crown clattered to the floor.

But then someone else was there. Prince Daemon. Her father. The King’s brother. And with surprising tenderness, Prince Daemon helped his brother to his seat, before kneeling and setting the crown back atop his head. As he descended the steps, she shared a look with her father, dipping her chin slightly

Silence hung in the air for a long moment, broken only by the King’s labored breathing. 

“I must admit…my confusion.” The King said suddenly. “I had thought this matter settled. But surely the only person who can shed some light on the wishes of Lord Corlys…is the Princess Rhaenys.”

The Princess Rhaenys stepped forward, bowing to the King. “My husband has never wavered in his desire to be succeeded by our grandson, Prince Lucerys, and I have ever supported him. Additionally, Princess Rhaenyra and I have just announced the betrothal of her sons, Lucerys and Jacaerys, to my granddaughters, Baela and Rheana, an agreement which we have heartily accepted.” 

Aelinor saw the Queen look at the ground, and resisted the urge to grin. 

“Well, then the matter is settled, again.” The King spoke slowly. “I hereby reaffirm Prince Lucerys Velaryon as heir to Driftmark and the Driftwood Throne.”

Aelinor turned to Luc, offering him a smile. They had done it, it was settled. She saw his expression melt in relief.

“You break law, and centuries of tradition, to install your daughter as heir,” Vaemond stepped forward, outrage on his face. “But you dare tell me who deserves to inherit the name Velaryon? No. I will not allow it.”

Aelinor tensed, feeling the room collectively hold his breath. What was he doing? Had the fool gone mad?

“Allow it?” The King hissed. “Do not not forget yourself, Vaemond.”

Let that be it . Aelinor prayed. Please, please let this be it .

But alas, Vaemond did not listen to her prayers.

“That!” He shouted, whirling to point at Luc. “Is no true Velaryon!”

Aelinor stepped forward, pushing Luc behind her. He did not have to stand here and take this abuse, and she was better equipped to handle the fury rolling off their uncle. Over Vaemond’s shoulder, she saw Aemond jerk forward.

“And certainly no nephew of mine.” Vaemond continued.

“Go to your chambers, you have said enough.” Rhaenyra muttered.

But Vaemond remained, his gaze leveled on Aelinor, at the boy who was too tall to hide behind her. Luc’s hand gripped her wrist, and she thought he might be preparing to pull her behind him. What a funny pair they were, an older sister with her big little brother, both of them fighting to protect the other.

Vaemond was still talking. Still ranting, lost completely to madness.

“And gods be damned, I will not see it ended on account of this—” He caught himself.

Aelinor lifted her chin at the same moment she heard her father whisper ‘Say it.”

Vaemond cast his gaze over all of them, presumably deciding whether these were to be his final words. Aelinor saw the exact moment that he chose to accept his fate.

“Her children….” He began. “Are Bastards!”

Everyone gasped.

“And she…and her daughter…are whores.” Vaemond turned to the King, his challenge clear.

Viserys struggled to his feet, drawing a catspaw dagger. “I will have your tongue for that.”

Aelinor was not sure where it came from. One moment she was staring up at her grandfather, waiting for him to declare Vaemond’s life forfeit, and the next there was an unfamiliar whistle through the air, and Daemon’s sword cleaved Vaemond’s head clear in half.

Aelinor jerked back, finding Luc’s arms around her as he pulled her away. She saw Helaena cover her ears, everyone flinching away as the blood sprayed across the marble. Aemond’s hand was on his waist, to where his own sword hung, and she saw the question in his searching look. Are you alright?

She nodded quickly, shrugging out of Luc’s arms, yet staying pressed to his side.

“He can keep his tongue.” Daemon declared, satisfied.

“Seize him!” Otto Hightower cried.

“There is no need.” Daemon sheathed his sword, stepping away from the body. 

Alicent stepped forward, her nose wrinkling as she dodged the top of Vaemond’s skull. “There is every need. To bring this kind of…this kind of savagery into this hall. How dare—”

“Enough!” The King shouted, the power in his voice shocking everyone into silence. “This stops now. This ends today.”

“Father?” Rhaenyra said quietly.

“My King?” Alicent turned, both of them standing at the foot of his throne, staring up at him.

Aelinor looked up too, her mouth parting when she found her grandfather’s gaze trained on her. Confusion crinkled her brow, and she did not find her answer before he looked away and addressed the room.

“I have one last announcement,” He declared. “One which shall benefit our House, and the Seven Kingdoms, in blood and in name.” His breathing was quickening, every word a struggle.

“Your Grace?” Alicent was climbing the steps now, concern coloring her voice.

“I announce the betrothal of my granddaughter, Princess Aelinor Velaryon!” The King shouted.

Her mouth dropped open, and she met Aemond’s gaze, seeing horror flooding his face. This could not be happening. Who could she possibly marry? Her grandfather was sick, his mind addled with pain, and yet he would betroth her to…to…

“To my son, Prince Aemond Targaryen.”

The hall descended into chaos.

QUESTION: Do you think Aelinor chooses Team Green or Team Black? I'd love to hear your guesses.