#while trying not to let my vision tunnel too badly

[chainsandcherries]

shoutout to advil fr

[astatia-ghast]

The King's Quest

At last! Finally, it has come -- my 2023 Holiday Truce gift for @hailsatanacab!

You're a trooper. I'm sure it drove you crazy to wait all this time. I wanted to give you a preview on Christmas Day to tie you over, but it took too long for me to settle on how I wanted to fill this prompt. I hope you'll forgive me for the wait!

The prompt I chose is this one: "To ascend to the throne, Danny must complete a quest. This is great, because Danny doesn't want the throne! Screw the quest — Danny's hanging out with his friends and going to school like the normal boy he is! …Unfortunately, fate has other ideas. No matter what he does or how badly he tries to do the opposite, Danny just keeps fumbling his way into winning the crown."

It was a great challenge for me because while I have spent plenty of time daydreaming about the ghost king AU, I don't typically read or write fanfiction about it. This prompt helped me exit my comfort zone while still letting me work with the characters and tone I love.

Before I began to work on this, I spent a lot of time lurking on your blog to figure out what kind of fanfiction you like, and I must say, you seem like a pretty cool person. I'm glad I was paired with you!

And of course, a big thanks to @phandomholidaytruce for making this whole thing happen! It was my first time participating, and it was a delightful way to end the year.

Alright, enough thanks! On to the fic!

Read on AO3

---

"I never wanted you to find out this way."

Danny leans frozen over a basin still shimmering with the ripples of a just-disturbed future. His eyes are wide, heart pounding, vision tunneling, knuckles white around the rim.

There's no way he saw what he just saw. There's no way.

Behind him, Clockwork watches in silence. He had left the room for only a moment, and Danny had taken the opportunity to sate a curiosity that he now knows should never have been sated. He had stuck his face in the basin, and he had seen a future — a future of him.

"This is my future?"

"It is one of them."

Danny turns around. His eyes are still wide and his body shaking, but Clockwork's words are like a steadying stone he can latch on to. "So it doesn't have to be this way?"

Clockwork's lips grow thin. He rests his staff by the door he had just entered, slowly and measuredly, as if stalling for time. Even once his hands are free, the silence grows longer still; long enough for him to shift into a toddler and then an elder and then an adult again before any word breaks the stillness of the tower.

At last, he speaks. "The truth is, the clock started ticking the moment you deposed Pariah Dark. It is one future of many, but its passing has already been etched in stone."

As if in emphasis, a clock strikes eleven somewhere deep within the tower.

"You will become King."

Ectoplasmically-white petals falling from the sky. Ghostly crowds cheering. A cape. A crown. A parade. A coronation.

Daniel Jack Fenton, King of the Infinite Realms.

Even now, the tower seems to sing to him — regally, mockingly. He wonders if those ripples in the basin are cascading through the timeline, setting in place the bars that will one day imprison him.

"No. I can't be a king." A bead of sweat trails down his temple, tickling him as it goes. "I can barely deal with my life as it is. And no ghost is going to listen to me — all they want to do is attack me. I want to go to school and play video games and at least try to get into NASA. I don't want to be a king."

Clockwork's lips draw even thinner still. In the silence that follows, his gaze falls to one of his many watches, which he begins to twist idly with one hand.

"I remember many things," he says with a hushed rumble. "Pariah Dark was a great king, until he was not."

His gaze grows unfocused. The hand on his watch goes to his face, where it slowly traces his scar. Danny has never seen him do that before.

"I remember the destruction he wrought. I remember looking him in the eyes as he was shut inside his tomb."

His hand falls to his side as his gaze meets Danny's once more.

"You are more than triple the man he ever was. You would make a great king."

Danny's hands go to his head, where his fingers thread through his hair. He takes a step backward in some subconscious attempt to get away from Clockwork and this — this lie, but he runs into the basin still shimmering behind him. Its pedestal rocks dangerously, and Danny wants to scream enough for his Ghostly Wail to take over and shatter the wretched thing into pieces.

But instead of screaming, a fire bursts into life within him. He meets Clockwork's gaze afresh with blazing eyes. "No. I'm not going to become King. You're going to have to find a new future, because that one is not coming true."

Clockwork's expression turns into something like pity. It's enough to quiet the fire for a beat — just a beat, though. "Danny." He drifts forward until the two of them are within reaching distance. He lifts his hands as if to place them on Danny's shoulders, but then he seems to reconsider it and clasps them in front of himself instead. "The Realms have been heralding your arrival since the dawn of my work. You are going to become King."

Danny says nothing. The fire crackles in protest, but it doesn't know what to burn.

Clockwork sighs. He raises one of those hands he dropped before, and at last, it makes contact with Danny's shoulder. "If it helps, it's not going to happen right away. There is a quest you must complete before you take the throne. You can—"

"A quest?" Danny's eyebrows fly up. He latches onto this thread like a rope draped over a cliffside.

"Yes, a quest. Before any monarch can ascend, they must—"

A bark of laughter escapes Danny's throat, and then a font of mad cackling bubbles up behind it. He cackles like a man unhinged, having found the simple yet ingenious solution to all his woes.

Clockwork's eyebrows knit together. "Danny—"

"Don't you get it?!" he jeers. "If I don't know what the quest is, I can't become King!"

Clockwork grows stern. He says his name again — "Danny" — and this time it's clear he wants him to quit laughing and sit down and listen, but Danny isn't having it. He's already lifting himself up into the air and away.

"Start checking your futures, Clockwork, because you missed one! I'm not becoming King!"

Clockwork reaches out as if to restrain him, but the fire finally explodes. Danny violently pushes him away with ectoplasmically-charged hands, keeping one ectoblast at the ready for good measure.

"Stay. Away." His voice is charged in a way that it has rarely ever been before. An otherworldly chill dampens the room. Clockwork is far too powerful a ghost to be affected by it, but if any human had been in this room, they would be screaming.

Clockwork gets the message. He watches with trepidation as Danny flies away.

---

Danny returns to Amity Park determined to slide right back into his normal life and pretend like that moment in the tower never happened. To forget about what he saw — petals, a cape, a crown — is impossible, but hell if he's not going to try his hardest to stay as far away as possible from anything even remotely king-like.

And so he does. He goes to school, fights ghosts, gets bad grades, listens to his parents' mad-scientist ramblings, plays video games, sleeps over at Sam and Tucker's houses, and generally lives exactly the life he'd rather live.

And he doesn't visit Clockwork in all that time, either. It pains him, as he enjoys Clockwork's company a lot and had even become something of an apprentice to him, but he can't risk subjecting himself to some well-intentioned lecture about the virtues of being King.

…Plus, he did kind of assault him and run away. Clockwork probably isn't very happy with him. But apologies would have to wait — for some future in which he isn't King.

School. Ghost fights. Bad grades. Mad-scientist ramblings. Video games. Sleepovers.

Life goes on.

---

Sometime after Danny defeats Undergrowth, Sam drags him along to the Amity Park Botanic Gardens. Well, "drags" is a strong word — he's grateful for any excuse to hang out with Sam — but still, the thought of visiting a botanic garden and admiring plants in the wake of Undergrowth's reign of terror is insane. He expresses as much, but Sam insists that that's all the more reason to visit, as both of them need to unravel their new Pavlovian fear of perfectly innocent plant life.

Plus, apparently admissions are way down — surprise, surprise — and Sam wants to help them out before the dip in finances forces them to shutter. Fair enough.

She tried to get Tucker to come along too, but there was zero chance of getting him through the doors even before Undergrowth gifted the whole city with a healthy dose of botanophobia. So that fine day finds the two of them alone in the Gardens' newly-opened orchid exhibit, Danny antsily resisting the temptation to reach out and hold her hand.

Under the canopy lush with tropical leaves, it's hard not to feel cocooned — in a way that feels remarkably warm and safe. Everywhere they look, orchids peer back, bright and colorful with every color of the rainbow. There are big orchids and small orchids, potted orchids hanging from the limbs of towering trees, orchids that look like pinecones, orchids that look like neat tufts of fur, orchids with stripes and orchids with whiskers.

To Sam's very great credit, the exhibit is astounding, and even his shriveled, technology-loving heart can't help but marvel and be thankful that she convinced him to come here.

In time, he finds himself growing drowsy. It's like the peace and beauty of the place is infectious, to the point where his heart rate seems to slow. Eventually, he turns to Sam and asks, "Would you like to lay down?"

She agrees, and the two of them pick one of the few spots in the exhibit not overtaken by stone pathways or lush vegetation. They spend a few minutes chatting about something or other, but in time, they lapse into a peaceful silence, and Danny begins to space out.

He stares up at the canopy. The sunlight, so radiant and soft, seems to sparkle as it filters through the roof of the greenhouse and the tropical leaves below. Somewhere, a stream gurgles.

And there is a song. It takes a moment for him to realize that he's hearing it, but once he does, it's unquestionably there. It's distant and peaceful, echoing, like standing outside the door of a lofty cathedral while a choir sings inside. Sluggishly, he looks around, and as his lazy eyes focus on the beautiful strands of a white orchid, he is suddenly positive that the song is coming from them. From the orchids. From all the plants in the greenhouse, and perhaps even beyond. He doesn't know how he knows, but he knows.

He falls into a trance, enjoying the song, until suddenly, there is a sharp poke on his shoulder. He sluggishly turns his head to see Sam, who has clearly been trying to get his attention.

"Earth to ghost boy. Anyone home?"

Danny blinks a few times, but his eyes are reluctant to focus. He feels like he just surfaced from a dream. "Sorry. I was just… It's nice in here."

Sam chuckles. "You're really enjoying yourself, huh? Way more than I thought you would."

Danny chuckles too. "Yeah. You were right. I'm glad you convinced me to come here."

Now that his mind is clearing up, it slowly begins to dawn on him how utterly bizarre the last several minutes were. Plants? Singing to him? Surely he's just imagining things — he wants to believe that's the case — but no. Somehow, he's sure. Those plants were singing to him.

Maybe a touch of Undergrowth's power is still in them, like some sort of ectoplasmic residue? That's the only explanation he can think of, and it makes sense, since these very same plants were undoubtedly enthralled by the ghost just a few weeks ago. But why were they singing?

He decides not to tell Sam. He doesn't know why, but it just feels like something he should keep to himself, and not just because it sounds crazy. So he files it under "ghost thing" and leaves it at that. 

It's not until he's watching a video in history class a few days later that he realizes that the song sounded an awful lot like a coronation song.

---

Something similar happens after he defeats Nocturn. Three sleepless nights after he sends the ghost back to the Ghost Zone, he's finally too tired to care whether or not he will show up in his dreams again the moment he closes his eyes.

As he slips into the twilight zone between wakefulness and sleep, ensconced in a darkness broken by one particularly annoying street light, his dreams turn into something… odd.

Before him, he sees seven creatures like Nocturn — tall, dark and starry, like the night sky made manifest. He slips into a ready position, poised to either fight or run, but instead of attacking, they bring their palms together and bow, all seven in unison. And then there is at once a horde of similar creatures behind them, stretching as far as the eye can see, bringing their palms together and bowing in turn.

He wakes in a cold sweat. No. There's no way. There's no way this king thing is still following him. That couldn't be real.

He spends the next day convincing himself it was just a dream, but really, he knows better.

---

The moments keep piling up. When he defeats Vortex, the clouds seem to part for him wherever he goes. When he returns Pandora's box, an ornate jewelry box mysteriously appears on his desk, which, when opened, reveals cavernous, physics-defying depths. Danny grows increasingly concerned that the ghosts have waived his quest and are pledging their fealty to him anyway.

When Clockwork appears in his bedroom one night, nearly a full year since their fight in his tower, Danny is no longer nervous to see him. Actually, he's quite relieved, since at this point, the only thing he's concerned about is getting answers.

"Would you like to have a chat?" Clockwork asks with a smile that almost seems sheepish.

It's a non-question, of course; Danny goes readily, and he's sure that Clockwork knew that he would.

Entering the tower is almost like coming home. A calm quiet; ticking; cavernous rooms cast in shadow — the whole place seems to envelop him in a hug, and briefly, Danny feels tears prick at the corners of his eyes. The past several months have been stressful. He regrets the way he treated Clockwork the last time he was here, and he regrets that he didn't have the maturity to return much earlier.

But Clockwork is ever calm and welcoming, and Danny finds thankfulness shooing away the regret in his heart. What a remarkable person Clockwork is.

The two of them stop in the same room with the basin, whose waters stand completely still. At first, Danny thinks Clockwork is going to encourage him to revisit his future, but instead, he opens a cabinet standing against the opposite wall. As he reaches inside, he says, "I have something for you."

Danny waits, more than a little curious and struggling to resist the urge to see if his coronation is still in the basin. When Clockwork turns around, he's carrying a necklace — not unlike the medallions he uses to take people out of time, but much more ornate. Gently and in silence, he drapes the necklace around Danny's neck. Once it settles, he rests his palms against Danny's chest, in a way that makes Danny think something weighty is about to come.

Their eyes meet. "You recall what I said before, yes? That there is a quest you must complete?"

"Yes."

Clockwork smooths out the wrinkles on Danny's shoulders, and then his hands just stay there. "There is a reason I tried to restrain you. By refusing to learn the quest, you expedited its completion."

Everything in Danny goes cold.

"The quest was to either defeat or receive the approval of all seven of the Ancients: Pariah Dark, Frostbite, Undergrowth, Nocturn, Vortex, Pandora and myself. And you have done so for all of them — including me."

A rushing sound fills Danny's ears.

"You have had my approval since even before Pariah Dark was granted the throne. So with the bestowing of Pandora's gift, you have become King."

The necklace feels heavy around Danny's neck — a necklace he now realizes is a coronation gift.

"I am sorry, Danny. But I stand by what I said before: you will make a great king."

Clockwork pulls him in for a hug, and Danny goes willingly. His wailing fills the tower.

Somewhere deep inside, a clock strikes twelve.

---

Ectoplasmically-white petals falling from the sky. Ghostly crowds cheering. A cape. A crown. A parade. A coronation.

Danny's knuckles go white around his scepter, just as they did around the basin all those months ago.

Daniel Jack Fenton, King of the Infinite Realms.

---

(Yes, I may have warped the timeline of Season 3 just a little bit. Clockwork will be waiting in the lobby to take your complaints! :þ)

[x-bluefire-heart-x]

Run Down

Hey everyone! So shockingly I am posting again in a very short time span! This time with a Nick Amaro/Male reader fic. This was a requested Fic by @nickamaro who asked for a fic where Nick and reader where chasing down a suspect and the reader gets injured badly. With a fluffy ending. I hope they enjoy it and I hope you all do as well!

Also, this is my first time writing with a male reader so I hope it is okay.

Requests are open! Please feel free to request something I have linked my master list which has all the fandoms I write there, and I have also tagged a prompt list.

Warnings: Violence, blood, shooting, death, talk of injuries, - this all only brief and not in great detail.

Masterlist

Prompt List

“There that looks like our guy,” you pointed subtly towards a man.

Nick glanced over briefly before looking back down at his phone to the image captured off of a security camera. The two of you had been scoping out the area a CI had told the squad that the suspect tended to spend time in during the late afternoon. You stood very close together, pretending to be perusing the shops and markets, the closeness with Nick causing you to fight a flush in the cheeks the entire time. It was not fair that Nick looked as handsome as he did in the late afternoon sun, the light hitting his brown eyes in a way that made them glow, turning a little gold almost. It also didn’t help that Nick had been finding any reason to touch you, putting his hand on the small of your back to move you in-front of him while moving through the crowd. Or throwing his arm over your shoulder to keep you close.

“That’s definitely him,” Nick agreed. “We need to be careful, we don’t know if he is armed but he is definitely dangerous. I’ll come from the left you from the right.”

“Got it,” you nodded. “And be careful.”

Nick watched as you moved past him, coming around in a wide circle before slowly making your way towards the suspect as he did the same on the other side. He tried to ignore the worry that started to burn in his stomach, he felt like something was going to go wrong but he couldn’t focus on that, he knew you could handle yourself. You both tried not to draw attention to yourselves but the suspect was unfortunately both observant and paranoid. He kept his head on a swivel and clocked both you and Nick as you made your ways towards him. You swore as he took off causing you and Nick to start chasing him, finally announcing yourselves as police and calling for him to stop. You shouted apologises over your shoulder as you shoved past people on the street trying to keep the suspect in your sights. You distantly heard Nick yelp but you didn’t stop to see what had happened as you heard him yelling at people, you couldn’t afford to let the suspect flee.

 You pumped your legs faster as the suspect turned the corner into a quiet alley way. You charged in afterwards, eyes focused on the other end, the adrenaline causing you to get tunnel vision which was why you missed the shadow on your left. You stumbled as you felt something slam into the back of your head and your lower back. You hit the ground, trying to roll onto your back on instinct alone but you weren’t quick enough as a kick to your ribs had you rolling until you hit the wall. Your breath left you in a rush, just as another kick hit you again and again. You cried out in pain as you felt a rib crack with one last kick before the suspect reached down making a grab for your gun. Knowing that if he got a hold of your gun it was over you fought through the pain trying to stop him but he landed a hit on your face breaking your nose and forcing you back to the ground just as he managed to grab your gun.

“Don’t be foolish,” you groaned. “Shooting a cop is not a smart move, my partner is nearly here you won’t leave this alley way alive.”

“You’re partner is still too far away and I’ll be gone and you will be dead,” he grinned as he clicked the safety off. “Well, maybe, never did like cops, might shoot you in the gut. A slow painful way to die.”

You tried to move, to get away, to do anything but the pain from the blows you took made you sluggish. A gunshot echoed down the alley way just seconds before the pain hit you. He had shot you exactly where he said he would. The gut. The suspect was grinning down at you when you forced your eyes open through the pain.

“Such a pity detective, men like you are exactly my type,” he smirked. “Would have been a masterpiece for my canvas.”

“Fuck you,” you gritted out through clenched teeth. “You won’t get away with this.”

“Oh I will,” he goaded. Your hands moved to cover your gut in an attempt to stop the blood flow, you heard Nick’s voice shouting for you, the suspect heard it as well. “I might get two coppers for the price of one.”

“Like fuck you will,” you groaned taking as deep a breath as you could, fighting past the pain knowing that if you didn’t warn Nick he would get hurt as well. “Nick! He has my gun! He’s on the left in the sha-”

You felt another burst of pain as another gunshot echoed. Apparently the suspect hadn’t appreciated you warning your partner. The second shot took you in the arm, you ignored the pain there to keep pressure on your gut. You looked towards the mouth of the alley way as you heard Nick’s voice, though it sounded distorted and fuzzy. You fought back against the blackness at the edges of your vision.  One last gunshot sounded in your ears and you braced yourself for more pain but none came. A body landed beside you, a gun you fuzzily recognised as your own sliding beside you. Your eyes slowly trailed up the body to see the eyes of the suspect staring blankly at you.

“Told you,” you gasped, just as Nick fell to his knees beside you his voice yelling into his radio for a bus and back up. His hastily ripped his suit jacket off to press against your stomach, putting significantly more pressure then you could manage. “Ow, Nick.”

“Sorry, I’m so sorry,” he whispered, eyes searching yours frantically. “I need to put pressure on it. Why didn’t you wait?”

“I couldn’t, that man couldn’t get away and I didn’t realise you were so far behind,” you answered, your hand reaching up a little to gently wipe away a tear that fell down his cheek, your brows furrowed in confusion at that instead of pain. “Nick. Can’t say I’ve ever seen you cry before and over little old me? Come on now, there’s no need for it.” Nick bit his lip as he shook his head, he lent further over you pressing his forehead against yours, careful of your nose. If you could have you just knew that your cheeks would have been red from having him so close.

“You had better be okay,” he muttered brown eyes dark with fear. “I swear, Mi Corazón. Please be okay.”

“What, what does that mean?” you found it harder to get a breath, your sight getting fuzzier as Nick’s handsome face etched with worry swayed in and out of focus. “And was that fondess?”

“I haven’t been subtle you know,” he forced a laugh. “But Amanda did say I needed to be even more straight forward with you.”

“Oh…oh!” you gasped, you thought you had noticed Nick’s behaviour towards you change but you didn’t want to read too much into it and get your hopes up. “Nick, you have terrible timing. Don’t do it now, please.” You reached for him again but found it hard to get your limbs to obey you. The beautiful sight of Nick started to fade and you just had to get these next words out, just in case Nick had to know. “Nick…me too. I…me too.” Your eyes fluttered close as your breathing became shallow and caught on every second intake.

“No no!” Nick shouted lifting his forehead. He desperately wanted to grab hold of your face to get your eyes open but he couldn’t move his hands from your stomach, not wanting to risk taking the pressure off. “You can’t drop that on me, after telling me I can’t tell you how I feel and then just leave me. Damn it Amor, open your fucking your eyes! You can’t do this to me. You can’t leave me.” Sirens sounded in the distance just as Nick’s hope started to die. “The ambulance is nearly here, please Mi Corazon. Please.”

Your chest stopped moving just as the ambulance pulled up. Nick was pulled away, he struggled before Finn’s voice made it through the roaring white noise that sounded in his ears. Finn held Nick as you were put in the Ambulance, Amanda riding with you as Olivia tried to get Nick to focus.

“I have to be with him,” Nick muttered. “I have to. Liv, please. I can’t leave him.”

“Of course, Nick,” Liv agreed taking hold of his face. “But I need your gun. Finn will take you the hospital.” Nick numbly handed over his gun as more police rushed into the alley way, photos being taken of the dead suspect and the blood you left near the wall.

“He was shot, the suspect shot him,” Nick started eyes not leaving the pool of blood. “His nose was broken, the suspect beat him.”

“Nick, that’s enough,” Liv shushed him, her voice soft but tight. Her worry was evident in the tightness around her eyes. “We’ll take a statement later. Finn get him to the hospital and keep me updated.”

“Sure thing,” Finn nodded. “Come on Nick.”

--

Both Amanda and Finn had tried to get Nick to sit down and drink something but he refused. He kept pacing, stopping every time a doctor or nurse walked by him. You had been in surgery for what like days but had only been a few hours at the most. IAB had been by and asked Nick for a statement, which he gave in an agitated way but for once Tucker didn’t take it heart when he saw how Nick kept looking in the direction they had taken you.

“He will be okay, detective,” Tucker had said just before he left. “That man is one of the toughest I have ever met.”

Nick continued to pace until Liv arrived two hours later and forcibly pulled him into a chair and ordered him to sit. Grudgingly Nick obeyed but he couldn’t stay still, his leg kept bouncing and he ran his fingers through his hair.

“Liv, I,” he started but stopped wetting his lips before continuing, his eyes welling up with tears. “Liv, he confessed to me. Just before he, just before…I tried to do the same but the bastard stopped me.”

“Nick,” Liv whispered her hand grabbing his and holding it tight as she wrapped her other arm around his shoulders and pulled him to her. “It’s going to be okay. You have to believe that.”

“Liv, he stopped breathing, there was so much blood,” Nick gasped out, his shoulders shaking with sobs. “He should have waited. I should have been quicker. I should have been more careful. If I hadn’t been knocked over.”

“Nick, you can’t blame yourself,” Liv said. “It’s only the suspects fault, not yours.”

Amanda watched the scene, her own hand grabbing Finn’s tightly. Tears flowed freely down her cheeks and she tried to hold in her sobs. She hadn’t seen Nick like this before. Finn tried his best to soothe Amanda, ignoring his own emotions to be strong for her, just as Liv was being strong for Nick.

--

The white lights were blinding when you first struggled to open your eyes. You squeezed them shut before opening them again squinting against the light. The sound of machines cut through the buzzing in your mind, as your struggled to recall where you were and what had happened. You tried to push yourself up but hands held you down, softly. A voice pushed its way through the sound of the machines, through the confusion, it sounded familiar. Its lilt as soft and gentle as the hands that held you down. Your side twinged when you shifted your body.

“Ow,” your voice was hoarse croaking out the word as your eyes finally focused and Nick’s face came into view. The most gorgeous sight for you to wake up too. His eyes wet with tears as the softest smile appeared on his face. “Nick? What-what happened?”

“Amorcito,” Nick whispered his hand coming to cradle your face. “I’ll get you some water, wait a moment.” He let go of you to reach for a cup of water before helping you sip at it. “There.” He swiped away a droplet of water that escaped. “I’m so glad you are alright. I was so worried, when you stopped breathing.” Nick cradled your face again as he sat on the bed leaning forward to rest his forehead against yours. The movement causing a memory to form sluggishly in your mind.

“I was shot,” you whispered. “You, I…”

“You were,” Nick agreed. “You stopped breathing in my arms. I wasn’t sure that you would breath again. I swear Amor, you took years off my life. Never do that to me again.”

You smiled at him, finally able to reach your hand up to cup his face and wipe away the tears that were falling from his eyes. You tried to rub your nose against his but a burst of pain caused you to flinch away a hiss leaving your lips. Nick was quick to lift his head from yours, fingers running through your hair to try and sooth you.

“Shit, that bastard hit me too,” you whined.

“You have a couple of broken ribs, a broken nose and two gunshot wounds, one to your stomach and the other to your arm,” Nick told you, taking hold of your hand. “The suspect is dead, I shot him.” You squeezed his hand, knowing that no matter who it is it is always hard when you have to shoot someone.

“IAB?” you asked. “They better not use this to fuck up your career.”

“They won’t, don’t worry after they got the report from your doctor they knew full well that the suspect was a threat and he had gun powder residue on his hand along with your blood,” Nick’s voice seethed with anger.

“Good, I’m glad,” you smiled. “Nick…I remember…you…”

“I tried to tell you how I feel but you stopped me,” Nick said raising the hand he held and placing a kiss on the knuckles. The machine that was monitoring your heart rate spiked slightly. “Y/N, Mi alma, I care deeply for you. You have become my everything, the thought of never being able to tell you that, it pained me.”

Nick leaned back over you holding your hand to his mouth continuing to place kisses along it before he kissed the tips of your fingers grinning as the monitor spiked again and continued to do so as he placed a kiss on your cheek, trailing along it before kissing the edge of your mouth. He hovered over your lips, searching your eyes.

“You had better kiss me Nick,” you demanded. “Or I might just go and get myself shot-”

Nick cut off your threat with his lips, that he softly pressed against yours. You were aware enough to not try to move your arm with your wound and you tried to tug your other hand out of Nick’s grip to hold the back of his head but he stubbornly refused to let go. You heart monitor continued to beep, becoming rather frantic the longer the kiss went on, especially when Nick sucked your bottom lip and nipped at it. Just as Nick let go the door to your room opened and two nurses and the rest of the team rushed in.

“Detective, is everything alright?” one nurse asked as the other checked your monitor.

“Oh, um, yes,” you blushed the monitor not slowing down. “Everything is perfectly alright.”

“Oh, I bet it is,” Finn grinned from where he stood at the foot of your bed eyes locked on how close Nick sat to you and the hold he had on your hand. “I think these two were just…getting reacquainted.”

The two nurses shared a look trying to cover up their smiles and giggles that started to build. They both nodded once, telling you that you should try to remain relaxed for the moment as you only just woke up coherently after your surgery and that they would be back later to do a check-up.

“Well, that was certainly the most awkward moment of my life,” you muttered closing your eyes.

“Most entertaining of ours,” Amanda giggled. “But, Y/N I am so glad you’re alright, you really had us worried there.” Amanda and Liv had moved around to the other side of your bed. You smiled up at them.

“I’m sorry,” you said, looking away from them. Their eyes were red, and pinched around the edges.

“There’s no reason for you to be sorry,” Liv said reaching out and smoothing your hair back from where Nick’s fingers had lightly grabbed it while the two of you kissed.

“Just don’t do it again,” Finn demanded.

“As you say,” you agreed. “I certainly don’t want to feel this way again that’s for sure.”

“And there is one good thing that came out of this though,” Finn smirked. “You two finally saw reason. I tell you, the love sick looks you would send each other was enough to make my teeth rot.”

“You’re just jealous Finn,” Nick teased, as he kissed you softly on the forehead and staring at you with the fondest look you have ever seen. Amanda and Liv shared a knowing look, shaking their heads as Finn scoffed at Nick’s statement.

“That’s right, you two lovebirds just ignore mean old Finn,” Amanda cooed.

“You guys all suck,” you whined as your face filled with red. “Except you Nick, you don’t.”

“Not yet anyway,” Nick whispered softly in your ear nibbing at it where the others couldn’t see.

“Nick!” you shouted. “Dude, seriously?”

“Dude? You’re calling me dude?” Nick asked. “After all those lovely pet names I used for you.”

“How do I know they were actually cute pet names?” you questioned. “They were in Spanish.”

“You don’t trust me?” Nick teased.  “Bomboncita.”

“Sweetie,” Liv translated. “In case you were wondering.”

“Aw, okay that’s cute,” you swooned. “I’m sorry, handsome.”

“That’s better,” Nick grinned kissing your knuckles again.

“And that is our que to leave these two alone,” Amanda said. “Try not to set his heart monitor off again.”

“And let him rest, Nick,” Liv ordered.

“Yes Sarg.,” Nick nodded not even looking up as they left.

“Bye guys!” you called, a cheery lilt to your voice.

“I think the next dose of pain killers are starting to kick in,” Nick laughed. “Get some rest amorcito, I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Hmm, you better be,” you yawned as you tried to fight the drowsiness to get one more hit in. “Darling heart.”

[carpetbug]

what are ur fave songs for each character and WHY. ANALYSIS

omg thank u we’re in love now 😽

I have not updated these playlists in a while so a lot of them are songs i listened to in like 2020 lmao, heres a few from each :)

Marinette

Into the unknown (frozen 2) - original and cristina vees cover make me think so hard about marinette its crazy. her initially refusing to be ladybug, insistent that she couldnt do it but always coming back because she desperately wants to test those waters, see what shes meant to do and how it could change her.

Ladybug

Ribs (lorde) - how easily overwhelmed marinette gets and how her anxiety and stress almost force her to overthink every aspect of her life. I can see her getting this extreme tunnel vision where she cant see all the progress shes made, all the victories shes already had, and instead can only focus on how shes not doing enough, and its not fast enough, and its not good enough. it just really reminds me of how badly she wants to prove herself to be this strong and trustworthy hero, but she feels like shes losing herself as she grows and isolates herself more and more in the role of guardian and ladybug.

Adrien

Mamas boy (dominic fike) - he literally IS the mamas boy. what more can i say. also alludes to him being a sentimonster with the lines "when i was born, you were produced", "i wish i was a toy", "youre made from plastic im just blood".

Chat Noir

First love/late spring (mitski) - ok hear me out. how chat compensates for his family life with devoting himself to ladybug. "one word from you and i would jump off of this ledge im on" is exactly how he operates with her, being ready to throw himself in front of her, literally die for her if she ever said so. and she never does! she gets upset with him for doing it over and over! i just think this song depicts really well how chat noirs goal was always "do whatever I can to help ladybug, no matter what i may lose" while she had to watch him leave his life in her hands like it was nothing.

also including ships because obviously i have playlists for all lovesquare sides + other ships i’m silly about

Ladynoir

Show Yourself (frozen 2) - both the original and cristina vees cover (WHICH IS SO GOOD GO LISTEN TO IT RN) remind me so hardcore of ladynoir. the whole idea of ladybug finally coming to terms with showing chat who she truly is and being ready for the same from him, idk i can imagine an entire movie in my head of ladynoir reveal to this song. [fav lyrics: "I can sense you there, like a friend ive always known", "I have always been a fortress cold secrets deep inside. you have secrets too, but you dont have to hide", "you are the answer ive waited for all of my life"]

Blame (air traffic controller) - this is probably one of my all time favorite songs like fucking ever and tbh i can see it with all lovesquare sides but i feel like ladynoir is the best fit! Chat picking ladybug up when she falls down and constantly being there to remind her she was to get up and fight, theres no time to sit and pity and blame herself, and he wont let her. him being her voice of reason as she copes with losing almost everything to monarch, him grounding her and being one of her biggest motivations to go on! with how severely marinette overthinks and doubts herself, he just becomes a mantra of 'dont blame yourself' which she desperately needs [fav lyrics: "Dont blame yourself cause you tried as hard as hell with the hand that you were dealt", "get on your feet, enough 'poor me', if you got time to bitch and whine then theres still time to try again", "And the vultures they are circling overhead, theyre reminding me of choices from my past"]

Peach Scone (hobo johnson) - makes me think of early seasons ladynoir ;-; chat just being head over heels for ladybug, struggling with keeping his love platonic when he wants to be with her and know her. Also getting to kinda hear his side of ladybug saying shes already in love with someone, how he respects that but still is a bit of a flirt, and hides how much it hurts him. also i love hobo johnson. [fav lyrics: "She kinda loves him back, but not really, theyre just really good friends and thats fine, he understands, its rational", "Oh, you got a man? are you in love? so, what type?", "So i fall to the ground, collect myself and get ready to take over your heart or atleast your spare time"]

Talk to me (cavetown) - i am such a sucker for ladynoir comfort. the idea of them being there for each other at their lowest points, holding each other together. This whole song just makes me think so strongly of chat comforting ladybug when shes breaking down and needs someone. [fav lyric: "ill be here until youre okay, lets your words release your pain, you and i will share the weight"]

Could have been me (The struts) - GOD. THIS SONG. ITS SO LADYNOIR CODED TO ME. them hyping each other up!! keeping each other going!! being each others motivation to keep getting back up and fight!! i just love the idea of them constantly being there to pick each other up and remind them of what theyre fighting for. i could listen to this song forever i love it. I can also really hear "I cant hear you, I wont fear you" being a supportive call and response thing with them <3[fav lyrics: "I wanna taste love and pain, wanna feel pride and shame", "Don't wanna live as an unsung melody, i'd rather listen to the silence telling me i can't hear you, i won't fear you"]

Understood (leith ross) - i am a huuuuuge fan of leith ross so obv i love this song for ml. it just makes me think so much of a worn down, tired, sad chat just gushing and crying to ladybug about how he doesnt understand love, how his family dynamic impacts him, and just letting himself fall apart in her arms. and her relating! her feeling that same tiredness and guilt and ache about love and family and friends, how much invisible pressure is hanging over both their heads and only they understand it. [fav lyrics: "ill visit my family in living rooms that dont get cold cause blankets and body heat cant be compared when it only took you a week to grow old", "Im sick of attachments I recently learned I cant relax and im scared of myself, scared for my health, tell me youll take me back home", "im sick of the feeling that nothing will ever stand still"]

Struck by lightning (sara kays, cavetown) - this song just really makes me think about ladybugs devotion to chat. i just imagine chat being out in the middle of a storm at night and marinette seeing him from her window and joining him as lb to comfort him. her knowing hes not going to go inside, so she just sits and stays with him, insisting if hes going to get soaked and cold and possibly hit by lightning, shes going to do it with him. [fav lyrics: "If you don't respond, I'll put my shoes on and lay down on the pavement next to you if we get struck at least we'll make the news", "What a way to go out something this town will forever talk about the two kids who were laying down and struck by lightning in front of your house"]

She wants me (to be loved) (The happy fits) - literally early seasons ladynoir. she wants me! (to be loved). i think it just perfectly fits how in love with lb chat is and how its clear she cant give that to him. [fav lyrics: "so, you say you love me, but not the way I need, things are so close to what i want to be", "I cant stop feelin, i want her love but all my dreaming is not enough. so in the morning the sun will rise and ill wake up and she wont be mine", "why cant you love me here tonight?"]

Adrinette

I do adore (mindy gledhill) - marinette being head over heels for adrien and being her normal clumsy self. Falling over, rambling, making a huge fool of herself while adrien watches, completely oblivious to her crush. this song just really reminds me of how much marinette struggles with keeping herself calm around adrien, how shes always messing up words and doing the wrong thing, but he never freaks out at her and he never shames her for it. [fav lyrics: "when youre near i hide my blushing face and trip on my shoelaces", "Ive noticed youre remarkably relaxed and im overly uptight, we balance out each other nicely" "Tongue-tied, twisted, foot in mouth, i start to stutter ha-ha-heaven help me"]

Just a friend to you (meghan trainor) - early seasons adrinette <3 adrien being so painfully oblivious while marinette is struggling with balancing being his friend and her overwhelming feelings for him. [fav lyric: "so it breaks my heart when you say im just a friend to you cause friends dont do the things we do"]

Silly girl (chloe moriondo) - listen to this song rn! its so perfectly adrinette! its crazy! how marinette romanticizes adrien and kind of puts him on a pedestal at the beginning which leads to her ignoring how he doesnt fit into that idea shes molded of him. Her having to deal with the pain of being in silent love with him while he seems so far away, and turning that back around to use against herself. i just think it explain really well how marinette saw him in this perfect, unattainable bubble before they got closer and she realized he was nothing like his public image of perfection [fav lyrics: "im just a silly girl in a stupid dumb old world and he is perfect cause hes supposed to be", "he is perfect, unlike me, and how could i ever think that it was meant to be? and how could i ever think that anything was made for me?", "I made him perfect, cause i wanted him to be"]

Small (chloe moriondo) - this was originally intended to relate more towards marinette, but listening to it now with season 5 in my head it just screams adrien! how suddenly he falls for her and he cant get her out of his head! how in just a blink of an eye he is getting flushed when talking to her, hes wanting to be near her and talk to her, he wants to be with her! but shes pulling back from him and hes sort of unable to balance these new feelings AND respecting her boundaries because shes just the only thing he thinks about. i love simp boyfriend adrien. she fell first but he fell harder and no one can convince me otherwise [fav lyrics: "but im not used to dealing with feeling like im waisting your time", "ive never cared so much about avoiding overstepping, and when i think about you i forget about my hands" "endlessly try to make you smile cause whenever i see it my knees always get so weak"]

The one that got away (acoustic version - katy perry) - I am a mess over this song. i always imagine it as a post-reveal scenario in which something happened and ladybug lost chat in the fight against hawkmoth and found out he was adrien right as he died saving her. how badly she misses him and cant stop thinking about how he was the love of her life! having to go on living the rest of her life without him! shes unable to move past it and just spends her time thinking of all the things shed do if she still had him. in another life, they could still be happy together [fav lyrics: "we'd keep all our promises, be us against the world", "talk about our future like we had a clue, never planned that one day id be losing you"]

"Do you wanna be friends?" (leanna firestone) - Marinette breaking her own heart by having such a close friendship with adrien while being in love with him and knowing she cant do anything about it. Her desperately trying to convince herself she can be okay with a life with him as a friend and nothing more when obv she cant bc ouchie! her heart! [fav lyrics: "Do you wanna be friends? i mean, i wanna be more, but if friends is how i get to have you then sure", "The world wont end if you dont love me even if it feels that way"]

Marichat

If i could tell her (dear evan hansen) - i feel like this is a classic marichat song. like its been a marichat song for a hot minute but its still so them. chat comforting marinette about feeling like adrien doesnt notice her! and listing off things adrien 'told him about' and slowly realizing he does actually pay attention to all those small intimate things marinette does! he feels such a strong need to make sure marinette understands how important she is to adrien, and realizing how deep the disconnect between them two is [fav lyrics: "If i could tell her how shes everything to me but we're a million worlds apart and i dont know how i would even start", "And what do you do when the distance is too wide?"]

Drive (halsey) - i love this song for the idea of marinette and chat suppressing their feeling for each other because theyre 'supposed' to be in love with adrien and lb. for me it kind of paints a mental image of hangouts and games and memories between mari and chat that slowly become these intense, almost upsetting silences and tension. Just them desperately ignoring how deep their feelings for each other truly go and insisting everything remain surface level [ fav lyrics: "All we do is think about the feelings that we hide, all we do is sit in silence waiting for a sign", "Your laugh echoes down the hallway, carves into my empty chest, spreads over the emptiness. its bliss", "Overanalyze again, would it really kill you if we kissed?",]

Comfort crowd (conan gray) - this song just really makes me think of chat being at a really low point and trying to hide it from marinette so he doesnt burden her with his emotions and baggage, and her just seeing right through it. Like hes smiling and trying to wave it off and she just knows hes not okay, and he just breaks. Ultimately it makes me think of chat turning to marinette for such deep and intimate comfort that purely comes from him being with her. just knowing hes safe to hold onto her and cry and shell be that company for him. [fav lyrics: "this hurt that im holding's getting heavy, but imma keep a smile on my shoulders til im sweaty", "my breaths getting short and im unsteady, welling up in tears as i lay upon your belly", "Telling you im fine I dont really need nobody, but you say through a sigh that i said that lie already", "and even if i cry all over your body, you dont really mind say you like your shirt soggy"]

Lost in you (khai dreams) - i love the mental image of just such relaxed, fluffy, soft, marichat dynamic in this! chat slowly realizing hes in love with marinette and getting lost in every aspect of her. maybe not being able to entirely admit its love, but still being able to admit he has such a deep and sincere admiration for marinette that he feels is returned in a way he doesnt feel from ladybug [fav lyrics: "Im just looking for some mutual love but all i get is unrequited", "Cause i dont even know I dont know why, all your love im trynna find im so lost in you, in all that you do"]

Something there (beauty and the beast) - i enjoy a good disney song every now and then! its just so marinette and chat slowly falling for each other and being like "nuh uh... wait.. wait a minute.." and then falling headfirst in love with each other, and unable to communicate it. But both of them feeling this sudden new and strange spark between them, things slowly changing, becoming more and more personal and slowly beginning to accept that things have changed [fav lyrics: "And now hes dear, and so unsure, I wonder why I didnt see it there before", "and when we touched she didnt studder at my paw, no it cant be, ill just ignore, but then shes never looked at me that way before", "True that hes no prince charming but theres something in him that i simply didnt see"]

I'd have to think about it (leith ross) - another leith song bc THEYRE SO GOOD GO LISTEN TO ALL THEIR MUSIC RN anyways some angst a lil :) a future where marinette/lb and adrien/chat somehow got torn apart after the reveal and lost contact for. a hot minute. and when they've found each other again its chat finally finding marinette, in a new home, with a new family, and a new life. but they both know who each other are and marinette having to cope with knowing she would drop everything to be with him again. anyways. brain food. [fav lyrics: "but if you come to me, in my home with my three kids, if you asked me to leave, to be with you and split, well id atleast have to think about it", "and if you come to me when ive promised to commit, if you told me that you loved me and asked me for a kiss, well id atleast have to think about it", "you are my achilles heel, the weakness only I can feel"]

Come around (peter mcpoland) - THIS SONG MAKES ME SO GIDDY FOR SOME REASON!! makes me think of like chat picking marinette up from her balcony and taking her on rides, showing her (what he thinks shes never seen) a brand new side of paris and getting to bask in the warmth and light she radiates with him. 'shes looking at the pretty lights, i cant stop looking at her eyes' type shit. just him being so so down bad for her. [fav lyrics: "Ive noticed you pull the blinds back when you hear that im driving round", "i dont mean to cause any trouble, well maybe a little if thats allowed"]

Animal (neon trees) - this song also makes me so !! the vibes are so playful and fun and flirty while the lyrics are more intense. just really reminds me of how surface level marinette and chat keep things, flirting and teasing and just enjoying each other, and then as soon as things get more serious it comes down to a life/death type feeling. but still longing for each other! they know it just hurts and they cant but they want to! they both love and hate the way their relationship feels suspended in the air, in that it gives it a rush of uncertainty and playfulness but it also brings serious fears and pain. i love this song a lot for them [fav lyrics: "I do it everytime, your killing me now and i wont be denied by you, the animal inside of you", "hush hush the world is quiet, hush hush we both cant fight it, its us that made this mess, why cant you understand?"

Ladrien

Dixie boy (april smith and the great picture show) - i have to admit i dont think a whole lot about ladrien but! i am a sucker for jealous/posessive ladybug like claiming adrien for herself and adrien jsut being like. yep. okay. i agree. cause her ass is petty enough to like makeout with him in front of chloe just to really rub it in and adrien is like yippe!! my super hero bug gf loves me! while ladybug is so >:) do not ever touch my man [fav lyrics: "Cause like a soldier defends his land well i stand up, i get up, i defend my man", "Well i know the way that you girls operate so keep your hands to yourself and your eyes on your own plate. Its not nice to stare, dont make me come over there", "Im a lover, not a fighter, and i dont want to have to get rough. just warning you ahead of time I can be a bitch when it comes to my stuff"]

Bad ideas (tessa violet) - both adrien and ladybug just being such lovesick nerds for each other <3 ladybug trying to fight the urge to kiss him when theyre together, and adrien doing anything he can to keep her near him. they both know its a bad idea, to just stop trying to keep it all contained, but its so tempting to just say fuck it and indulge the bad ideas. atleast for a little [fav lyrics: "But i just wanna see the grooves between your hands, your teeth, oh, tell me do you think about me?", "So why'd i wanna kiss you even though i miss you, guess i just wanted to know what it would feel like"]

Her (eery) - how much adrien thinks about ladybug. just all the different ways he dissects her personality, their memories, every little bit of information he knows about her. i just feel like this song, while simple, just really encapsulates how constantly ladybug is on his mind. i miss that dynamic damn

YOUTH (troye sivan) - ladybug and adrien running away together. fuck it. literally think about it. them just being in love and together and adrien finally getting out of that HOUSE and getting to be with his LADY and be happy. How deeply devoted to each other they would be, and although naive, they would be so sincere and literally ride or die for each other.

Roman holiday (halsey) - i love the idea of ladrien having those small, important firsts together. putting aside not being able to be completely honest with each other, adriens entire family dynamic, everything, and just saying screw it and dating and doing couple things! theyre both too scared of what might happen if they slow down and face reality, so they ignore everything outside of themselves. they both have that ache of knowing its not real, its not how they can actually live, but for now they get to be happy. and in love. and with each other. and theyll deal with all the heartbreak later [fav lyrics: "didnt know where we were running to but dont look back", "and we know that were headstrong, and our hearts gone, and the timings never right"]

and my other playlists

Chat Blanc

ANTI-HERO (SEKAI NO OWARI) - i will do my best to put my emotions towards chat blanc into comprehensible words but i make no promises. i love him so much. anti-hero gives like him turning his back on being a hero just for marinette, being okay with being viewed as evil hated because hes doing it for her! his distaste for the rest of the world in comparison to mari/lb ! how he lost his moral compass and doesnt understand the ways hes hurting her and himself by turning his back on being chat noir! god its so good [fav lyrics: "im gonna be the anti-hero, feared and hated by everybody, im gonna be the anti-hero so i can save you when the time comes", "cause there are people that ive got to protect and if you get in my way youre dead"]

I am damaged (heathers) - you caught me im a theater nerd but literally this song is so good for chat blanc! him coming to the realization the only way to save mari/lb is to destroy himself. him saying goodbye and making sure she understand that she was his everything! and he trusts her to fix the mistakes he made because shes his lady! and her not being able to talk him out of it and just having to say goodbye [fav lyric: "wish youd kiss me then youd know i worship you, ill trade my life for yours and once i disappear clean up the mess down here"]

Blah blah blah (the oozes) - reminds me of the trauma marinette gets from chat blanc, how she suffers nightmares and just cant stop being reminded of the horrible fate her partner suffered through. how marinette just cant go back to 'normal' after fighting him but also cant confide in anyone about it [fav lyrics: "you couldn't care less for the people youre hurting, there no excuse", "youve ruined the color blue for me, im surrounded by a deep dark sea"]

Anytime you smile (JT music, Andrea storm kaden) - kind of how i imagine chat blanc kept himself going while being isolated for all those months. coping by pretending ladybug was still with him and nothing was wrong, but slowly feeling uneasy and letting reality creep in. it shows how desperately he fights against his loneliness and pain with day dreaming, but still loses his mind. [fav lyrics: "anytime you smile baby you know you drive me wild, crazy! thats why you got me screamin, i think i might be dreamin", "believe me if im sleeping, i wanna keep on dreaming", "Someday soon this honey moon might be gone though, i hate goodbyes. I might not love you still, youll find no tougher pill to swallow (open your eyes)", "I stepped into a nightmare when i woke up from utopia starting to remember my depression and my phobias, why is everybody looking at me like i lost it?", "How can i be happy here? guess ill just pretend to be!" "no more sadness in this beautiful world, in love with happiness shes a beautiful girl!")

Mr bright side (the killers) - IM SORRY?? "it started out with a kiss how it did end up like this?" AND YOU DIDNT THINK THIS WOULD BE ON MY CHAT BLANC PLAYLIST?? thats really it for some reason this song is just so chat blanc to me. i love it.

Bad bad things (ajj) - im also a big fan of just bonkers insane scary chat blanc, him losing his humanity and only being able to see it reflected in mari/lb and not being able to stand it. him not being able to control his more violent ideas and losing himself in hurting others [fav lyrics: "So i looked into your eyes and i saw the reflection of a coward that you and i both hate very much", "If i dont go to hell when I die i might go to heaven but probably not"]

Akumanette

Dumb dumb (mazie) - i love the idea of an akumanette that just LOSES it on her friends after lila does some real stupid shit. none of her friends standing with her or supporting her and marinette getting so so upset and frustrated that they would be dumb enough to fall for it! which, being akumatized, of course wont come out the wrong way and is warped into this monstrous idea that marinette sees them as these morons who have disappointed her time and time again [fav lyric: "disappointment takes us by surprise even though by now i think we should have realized everyone is dumb"]

Class fight (melanie martinez) - god I LOVE AKUMANETTES THAT LOSE THEIR SHIT. lila putting distance and uncomfort between her and adrien (pre relationship) before marinette catches them kissing and get akumatized, and then marinette wrecks her shit :) her inner voice of reason feeling so horrified with the brutality and trying to get herself to realize but being able to deny monarchs voice encouraging her to act on her worst instincts [fav lyrics: "she had a boy wrapped around her finger tight, i fell in love with him but he wasnt in my life", "Her face was fucked up and my hands were bloody, we were in the playground things were getting muddy", "my one true love called me a monster"]

Bust your kneecaps - johnny dont leave me (pomplamoose) - i think this one really works well with an akumatized ladybug! her being so soft and scary to chat, chat blanc style, while promising to do horrible things to him. akumabug trying to convince him to 'just stop fighting' and 'hand over his miraculous' and then 'everything will be just the way it should be' and finally giving up and working instead to defeat chat rather than convince him

Therefore i am (billie eilish) - cold, angry akumanette FOR THE WIN OGH her just being such a silent but deadly akuma, her voice devoid of all the love and kindness it used to have when she was with adrien/chat, and him having to fight her while she shows no mercy. I just love the idea of chat doing anything he can, crying and begging marinette to fight it and come back to him and she has no pity for him [fav lyrics: "Get my pretty name out of your mouth, we are not the same with or without", "Did you have fun? i really couldnt care less and you can give them my best but just know im not your friend"]

Pretty privilege (blegh) - marinette being shown time and time again that the worst people will get away with horrible things, while she has to suffer beneath them and getting fed up. her letting all her feelings rise to the surface about how ugly she thinks people can truly be [fav lyrics: "Its crawling from underneath the surface nobodys first choice kind of ugly", "just because somethings pretty the laws dont apply to them have you noticed this shit its so ugly"]

Other friends (cristina vee cover) - i live for crazy akumanette losing her mind on everyone! what can i say! i love the idea of her confronting her friends and lilas lies in such a angry but playful way before losing her shit! and the added bonus of it being MARINETTES voice?? im screaming [fav lyrics: "What did she say about me, what did she say?", "Im the loser of the game you didnt know you were playing", "life on the line, winner takes all, ready or not lets begin!"]

Marigami/Kagaminette

She (dodie) - kagami fighting against her feelings for marinette because of their friendship, because of adrien, because of her mother, and because shes scared to admit she loves marinette far beyond how friends should. I love her just gently pushing that line, asking herself that question of "what is so wrong about it?" and working to accept that the pain and heartache are real because her feelings are [fav lyrics: "Could it be wrong when shes just so nice to look at ?", "id never tell, no id never say a word and oh it aches, but it feels ugly good to hurt"]

Sophie (black polish) - marinettes feelings for kagami! wanting to freeze her time with her, relive every moment they've been through and just experience the world by kagamis side. just how desperately they both need each others time and space, how comforting it is to just be with her. [fav lyrics: "youre impossible to read and thats fine, i dont even understand my own mind", "I just wanna escape the world sophie with you, with you, with you, with you"]

and an added bonus: i LOVE the song Bruno is Orange for kagami. reminds me of her so much.

[queenharumiura]

Dash comm thing-- I guess [x] || @whiskeysmulti

Got a lil long (2k) so readmore it is!

That reaction makes her feel like he’s challenging that. Maybe it was more accurate to say that it was his insecurity talking. It could even be his curiosity. Either way, he seemed to actually want an answer, so she’d do just that.

Was it the fact that other guys have treated her so badly that he stuck out more than the others? No, perish the thought. There were a lot of guys out there who treated her nicely, like Yamamoto or Enma for example. It wasn’t so simple as picking someone who was the strongest, or the calmest, or someone who was the kindest. The point was she thought he was the best thing to have come into her life and she stood by that fact.

“Ahhh how to begin?” She looks around and sits down somewhere and looks to him, patting an empty spot next to her for him to join her. “What I say today stays here and you take it to your grave.” If she hears people talking about it, she’ll know who it came from and then you’ll have Hell to pay. “I’m over it, so there’s no point in getting mad at anyone.”

“As we know, I had a first love that didn’t go so well. Went horribly, actually.” She chuckles quietly to herself. “It was really rough, trying to act like I wasn’t hurt every time he’d gloss over me, or every time he’d judge me for something… he’d accept it once Kyoko-chan would say something. Suddenly, ‘such a great idea, Kyoko-chan! I’m so happy you thought of me!’ I knew that Kyoko-chan only stepped up to support me, but it always made me see just how stark a difference there was in how he viewed us. I don’t know if anyone truly understood how crushed I’d feel in those moments. Still, I’d keep a smile on my face and pretend it didn’t bother me.”

She looks up at the ceiling, just focusing on the texture of it. “I’d feel invisible in those moments. Less important. Any of my efforts rendered useless in the face of him appreciating Kyoko’s involvement. Even if it were a group effort, Kyoko got the majority of the credit, or the attention.” Ah… this is why she didn’t ever like talking about this to anyone. “I don’t mean to say any of this like I was owed something, so don’t get it twisted. Haru too, tends to tunnel-vision on things, so she can’t blame him for the same thing.” It does hurt, though. “I started to wonder, was I the problem? Was I not useful enough? Was I not charming enough? Was I simply not worth being paid any attention to aside from being Kyoko’s friend or someone to look after Lambo?”

Of course, she knows that wasn’t the case, and Tsuna didn’t look at her as just someone who looks after Lambo or being Kyoko’s friend. However, at the time, that’s how she felt. “You know? One time, he asked me if the reason my lips were shiny was because I had Yakisoba prior to coming over. It was a lip gloss I’ve been using for a while up to that point. It was such a shock how little he paid me attention. He might notice when I’m hiding some of my emotions and he may ask about it, but that’s just the gist of it.” He didn’t seem to really think that deeply about why it was that she was hurting and why it was that she kept everything bottled up- for his benefit. She let it happen, and she preferred it that way, so she didn’t hold it against him.

“A lot of what I did felt like it was being taken for granted. Not many instances where it felt like I was being appreciated. I could’ve left ages ago for a calmer life. I could’ve started leading a much different life than I am now. I gave up on things that meant so much to me to stay with everyone.” Yet, she still felt like an outsider at times. She and Kyoko both. “I can’t speak for Kyoko, but I don’t like being kept in the dark. I’d rather know what’s going on. Bianchi Nee-san had explained that it’s some male pride thing where you guys want to protect us and keep us innocent, but… we also get dragged into your business.” Like the time the bloody murderous twins were after them, or when they got sent into the future with everyone. “By keeping us in the dark, you alienate us. We feel like we aren’t being considered. I can’t speak for Kyoko-chan but I felt useless and unneeded.”

It didn’t help that she already felt that way prior to them being blasted into the future… so the guys keeping them in the dark only exacerbated her negative feelings. She heaves a heavy sigh. “I doubt Tsuna-san said a word about it when he caught me, but I was crying every single day. Sure, anxiety and fear was part of it, but what really hurt was feeling like we weren’t being trusted. That because we were useless that it was unnecessary to tell us the truth. It took us going on strike to finally get some answers.” She looks annoyed when recollecting everything, like she’s reliving that moment. “I won’t go into details, but I cried more after that from the guilt.” She truly cried an entire lifetime’s worth of tears.

“The worst thing that came from everything that I’d experienced over the years… jealousy is such an ugly thing that can bring out the worst in people. There were times when even I could feel like I felt a twinge of anger because Kyoko-chan was the only one Tsuna-san would pay attention to. Silly, isn’t it? It’s not even her fault, so why get mad at her? The first time I noticed it, I couldn’t recognize who I was. I thought to myself, ‘Guess Namahage and Haru has more in common than I thought. An ugly monster’.” She stretches her arms out in front of her, her tone being so nonchalant this entire time, but her eyes would show that she felt anything but relaxed. “It’s simple enough to say, why didn’t you fall out of love then? That’s the thing, love is so illogical that it’s hard to control. Maybe if I try harder, maybe if I change this, maybe he’ll finally look at me. Maybe if I start changing parts about me, maybe he’ll like me more…” There were times she really couldn’t remember who she was originally. Love truly makes you do crazy things.

“I won’t let anyone say that I didn’t try, or that I didn’t try hard enough. I tried every single thing that I could think of, but nothing ever worked. I just… wasn’t Kyoko-chan and I never will be. I won’t lie, there were times when you’d say something that would absolutely shatter my sense of self-worth. On the days my self-love was on a low, you sometimes walked in to make it tank even further.” Good times (sarcasm).

She looks at him, figuring what would be next on his mind would be along the lines of ‘what did you ever see in me then?’ or something else. “It took me so long to recover from that first love. It really did a number on me. I don’t know if anyone ever realized how badly I was hurting, and how damaged I was coming out of that love.” She did try to act as though everything was the same. Business as usual as they say. If the majority couldn’t pick up on it, then she was doing a good job at hiding her hurt.

“When I moved on from him and started building myself back up, I felt a little lost. Where do I go from here? What do I do now? As silly as it sounds, our constant fights were comforting- as much as they were also aggravating. Routine is such a comforting thing. At one point, I started getting this notion that maybe you liked me, but then you’d say or do something that made me question that idea altogether.” Thinking back on it now, it was because Gokudera still thought she loved Tsuna.

“When I started noticing how it felt like I was special to you in some way, I felt seen. The small ways that you’d show your consideration towards me was sometimes clumsy, but also very sweet. It didn’t make sense to me at first, you know? Why like someone who was virtually invisible to another person?” It was like… why would you like someone that your boss deemed to be not good enough to pay attention to? “Still, you cared in your own way, and you paid attention to me in your own way.” She closes her eyes and breathes out heavily again, “it helped me in ways that I don’t think you realize.”

“In a way, I think, through you, I remembered the aspects about me that I used to love. I didn’t have to be embarrassed about myself. Sure, Tsuna-san basically treated like I was invisible if Kyoko was around, but that didn’t mean that’s all I could be. I have you and Lambo-chan to thank for making my journey in rediscovering self-importance easier.”

She opens her eyes and looks at Gokudera again with a smile. “So, why do I say you’re the best thing that’s come into my life? To put it bluntly, because you are who you are and I love you for that. I find new reasons to love you and being with you makes me happy. I feel loved and it reminds me that I’m worth it on the days I start doubting myself. On those days I’m feeling down, I know you’ll be there for me to cheer me up. You can remind me why you chose me of all people.” She leans against him and hugs his arm to her chest. “What can I say? Your devotion and loyalty are the biggest things that I find so attractive about you. I know that if you say you love me, you mean it. You make me feel like I’m a precious person to you, and that’s something I needed. I couldn’t begin to explain to you how much good you’ve done for me.”

Really, it isn’t like she hasn’t thought about how he could’ve found someone else. Maybe someone who could’ve had more political usage to the Vongola, someone stronger, or more beautiful. Maybe even someone who could understand him on a cultural level. It wasn’t like he would ever find himself lacking in people interested in him. Still, he chose her and she wanted to trust that. “Seeing the way you love me, it sometimes lets me see different aspects of myself that I didn’t notice. It’s very enlightening and heart-lifting. You’ve done a lot of good for me in terms of my self-confidence or my feeling of self-worth.” She won’t remind how he also had done the very opposite as well in the past. That wasn’t important.

“Maybe it’s not some grand explanation you were expecting, but that’s just how it is. I love you so much and I treasure each moment we get to share together, and being together makes be the happiest I’ve ever been. Isn’t that enough to say you’re the best thing that’s come into my life if I can wake up feeling full of love and happiness?” She thought it was, anyways.

“Emotions don’t always make logical sense, anyways. I simply feel that you’re the best for me, so that’s how it is. I won’t entertain anyone telling me otherwise, even your insecurities.” The energy right now is, if your girlfriend tells you to jump, you ask how high? If Haru is telling you that she feels you are the best thing that came into her life, you accept it as the truth.

[bluerthanblue-excerpts]

in a parallel universe, perhaps i sleep well

i. badly want to stop the medications

i tried once but i spiraled for hours and had an episode of too lows and then i crawled desperately and drank my medicines in one go. thus, resulting to extension of drowsiness and sleeping time and all i could do was to take advantage of the time i was away from the computer and keyboard and constant popping of chats from groupchats and personal messages – not caring of the repercussions and recalled what i did due to impulsiveness and intrusive thought. i don’t want to be this addicted to artificial healing, whilst affecting my vision, my appetite, my mood, and my perception. i want to heal, on my own, and i think my body craves for those expensive medicines yet i knew myself that i can still survive this, despite the occasional highs and low, and too much melancholy inside me. it’s not good to rely too much when i have the ability to turn a new leaf and try other alternatives, strengthening the aspects of my health and to start with physical health. if you’re too busy distract yourself with activities that you love, the nightmares of yesterdays, the anxiety, and the present stress won’t make an even more deeper dent than it was before.

ii. the road to healing is far away, filled with mist

and it wasn’t a pleasant journey. i have to stop and take a breath and drink in my surrounding, the sounds of my footsteps on pavements and the earth, my vision staring at the shades of green from the leaves of the trees lining up beside the sidestreets, the moving vehicles, the upbeat music in my earphones, the evening rain and the denim jacket that enveloped me while making my way on the wet pavement. my evening routine composed of kilometers walk, either aware of my surroundings or lost in my head. sometimes, the five senses were alive and sometimes, they weren’t and i’m stucked with the extension of my daydreams and past experiences or ideas. like the road filled with mist that we’d take, the healing is far away yet i can see the small light, waiting for me at the end or was it another beginning again? at the end of the tunnel? perhaps.

iii. in a parallel universe, perhaps i sleep well

it took me two hours and onwards to sleep yet tears would fall constantly on my pillow. i barely had a peaceful sleep ever since and rely on meds to sleep. maybe, in a parallel universe, i sleep well and my dreams are pleasant and wonderful, and my morning goes well, embracing the burst of the sunrise after i open the window. but my reality now, was drowsiness, blank mind, and numb. everyday, i have to drink the meds to sleep. if only i can without those, so i can start on the road to natural healing – not artificial healing. i swear to the stars and to Him to let me sleep peacefully, desperate to have a serene night. if only.

[hallelujahmeatgod]

GUILT

+Keisuke Baji x reader

+Baji seeing you cry for the first time.

+warning/s: lil' angst, cursing.

+word count: 2723

You tapped your pen anxiously against your desk, more than ready to sprint the fuck out of the classroom.

You kept looking back and forth to your phone, your teacher and the clock. No control at all over the anxiety creeping into your system as time passes by.

Earlier, when you were just about to answer an exam you received a message from Mitsuya. You almost ignored it because you want to be as focused as you can be on the exam because you're not one to take studying lightly.

But thank goodness you did peek at it, but when you did your heart literally fell to your stomach and the whole world felt like it crashed down on top of you, full weight all on you, crushing you.

The message goes: Hey, you're probably taking an exam right now so I don't want to bother you, but I know for a fact you wouldn't forgive us if no one informed you about this right now. Baji, he's badly wounded right now. He confronted the men from the other gang that had disrespected Mikey, and he got beat up, pretty badly. It's so bad we needed to take him to the hospital. I can't really tell you not to panic or worry, but please try to stay as calm as you can. We got him. We'll look after him until you can come.

So there you are contemplating whether you should be relieved that you had read it right away or maybe you should've just read it after the exams so that you wouldn't feel like just fleeing right now. You never answered an exam so fast in your life.

After what seems like an eternity, the papers are finally submitted and you're dismissed. You fled the classroom in a flash, not even bothering to put your stuff back in your bag properly.

You power walked to the hospital, your heart pounding hard through your chest as if it's about to jump out. On your way there, there is nothing on your mind but Baji being in a fucked up state right now, because they don't usually have to be taken to the hospital. Even if they're all messed up they never really get patched up in the hospital, so Baji being admitted to the hospital means he's just NOT OKAY. He might just be in a gruesome state.

"You better be fucking okay or I'll beat you up even more." You mumbled through gritted teeth, sniffling, holding back the tears threatening to fall.

When you finally got to the hospital and got that hospital scent, shivers ran down your spine. You hate hospitals.

When you got to the floor he's in you saw the members all waiting outside the emergency room.

"Y/n!" Emma called, ushering you.

"He's in there right now. He's in really bad shape, I'm gonna be honest with you. He could barely breathe on his own when we saw him. But thankfully, we got to him quickly so we were able to get him here right away. You okay?" Mikey filled you in, holding you by the shoulders. You looked back at him, nodding, not really showing much emotions because honestly you're lost right now. You don't know which emotion to feel.

He could barely breathe. That played in your mind nonstop, making you just want to drop down to the floor and weep. But you can't be a weeping mess when he's fighting for his life inside. You have to be strong, so you can punch him in the face when you get to him. How stupid to confront those men by himself.

You looked around the guys, some of them giving you worried looks in which you returned with a weak smile, nodding at them to assure them you're fine. You're fucking not. You're far from it.

Your eyes fell on Chifuyu who's sitting on the ground, head hanging low. He's the only one who didn't greet you, when usually he'd be the first one to do so. You walked to him and sat beside him on the floor.

"Are you okay?" You asked the blonde who's literally burning holes on the ground by how intense he's looking at it.

His features softened when he heard you. He slowly looked at you, giving you a defeated look. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I wasn't able to protect and help him. I should've been there with him. I didn't know." He said, almost choking as he fought the tears.

You brought your hand to his head, caressing it lightly. “Nobody knew, so don't beat yourself up for it. Let’s be strong and beat him together when he’s better, then let's share peyoung noodles by ourselves, how about that?” Chifuyu instantly lit up, nodding his head like an excited puppy who’s owner just came home.

You guys waited for hours, which felt like an eternity. Some guys were eventually dismissed by Mikey though they didn't want to leave, since you guys were cramming the waiting area.

You just sat there in silence, not being your usual loud and talkative self. I mean, how could you? That very stupid, hard headed guy who you love so much is in the emergency room in whatever fucked up state he's in.

"Who are the relatives of Keisuke Baji?" A doctor finally came out, looking around the room.

All of you stood up, looking at the doctor expectantly. The group made way for Mikey, Chifuyu, and you to step up to the doctor. "We all are." Mikey answered for all of you.

"Well" The doctor cleared his throat. "He was in such a bad condition when you admitted him, which is why it took quite some time to tend to him. There was a moment when he couldn't breath by himself and his pulse was too weak."

Every single one of you looked down, Emma and some men including Chifuyu started tearing up. There's really nothing you can hear but the doctor flipping through the pages on his board and their sniffling.

"H-how is he now?" You found the courage to speak up. Your voice never sounded so low, so weak, and fragile. Lord knows you're more than ready to have a breakdown right now. But you just have to find out this instant how he's doing, because one more moment of not knowing might just make your head explode.

"He's not in the best condition." The doctor announced. If your heart had already sunk earlier, now your heart feels as if it's just been shattered.

"He's got bruises all over his body as well as broken bones. He's probably not gonna be able to move or do very physical activities for quite some time. But he's a lucky guy. Though bruised up and fractured, we didn't see any serious problems that might put his health at risk, and that's because you were able to admit him here right away. He just needs to rest up and let his wounds and injuries heal."

There it is, the rainbow after the storm, the light at the end of the tunnel.

A breath all of you unknowingly had been holding was released all at once. The sad cries are now replaced with happy ones. You engulfed Chifuyu in a warm hug, keeping him up for his legs had given up on him. You eventually felt a tap on your shoulder, and when you looked back it was Mikey.

"Doctor said we can go check on him now. You should go." He smiled at you and you gave him back a smile, understanding what he's trying to say.

"Fuyu, wanna come with me?" You looked back at Chifuyu just as you were about to enter Baji's room.

"You should go" Chifuyu gave you a knowing smile. You smiled weakly at all of them and they returned it with nods of encouragement and reassurances.

You took a deep breath, trying to clear your mind before entering fully.

There he lies, whole body, from head to toe wrapped in gauze. If this were any other occasion that isn't serious you would have probably even joked that he looked like a mummy.

He instantly felt your presence so he whipped his head towards your direction, briefly forgetting that he's in no good state so he ended up wincing from the sore neck.

"Take it easy there" You made your way to him, voice filled with concern.

He just gave you one of his strong stares, almost like a glare, not saying a word.

"A-are you feeling much better--"

"I am, stop worrying." He said in an almost annoyed tone, turning his head to the side to avoid your gaze. Which confused you. Why's he acting this way? Is he in any position to even act this way?

"What's the problem, Baji?" You asked as calmly as you can because the last thing you want is to fight him in his current situation.

He clicked his tongue, confirming that he was annoyed. "Just leave me alone" He said in a very dismissive way that really made you stare at him in shock.

You didn't move. You don't even feel like you're breathing. You just looked at him trying to decipher the situation in front of you, trying to decipher him.

All the emotions you’ve been trying hard to control have just sprung free, not giving you any more chance to control them. You’re starting to get so overwhelmed that you didn't even realize that tears are falling down your eyes. You only realized it yourself when you heard your own sob escape your lips.

Baji looked at you in a flash when he heard that sound. A sound he's never heard from you before. When he looked at you, you were dropping to your knees as you sobbed uncontrollably.

This is the first time he's seeing you cry and he hates it already.

All the attitude, annoyance, and frustrations he has was suddenly washed away with panic. He tried propping himself up but he physically just can't. The sound of your sobs is so painful that it feels as though he's being stabbed in the heart.

"Y-Y/n, w-why-- I-I" He stuttered, unable to speak properly.

You looked up at him from the ground, vision cloudy because of the tears pooling on your eyes. "D-don't ask me to leave you alone, Baji. Not wh-when I felt like I was g-gonna die when I found out y-you're hurt." You sobbed harder. "I was w-worried sick, Baji! When I found out about you being beaten up there's nothing else I want to do but be where you are and save you. I wanted to leave everything earlier, it took everything in me to not storm out of the classroom to get to you. My fucking world COLLAPSED, I was scared as shit, just imagining you fucking beaten black and blue. Imagining you heaving for fucking air while you lay on the cold, hard concrete fucking broke my heart. I was shattered completely because there's a small voice in my head that says I can lose you. AND I DON'T WANT TO FUCKING LOSE YOU. You're the only one I've ever loved like this, so If I were to lose you how am I going to continue living? I don't want to be in a lifetime without you in it, because then I'd just be existing, not living." You looked into his eyes, tears still falling from yours. He's also got tears running down his cheeks as he laid flat on the bed, can't really do anything because his body wouldn't let him. All he could do was cry out as he felt the guilt creep up his chest, swallowing his heart whole.

No words were said nor exchanged for a while after that. The only sound to be heard in the room are both of your small sobs, sniffling, and the beeps from the monitors connected to him.

“Come here.” Was the first thing he said when he managed to calm down a bit.

You slowly looked up from the floor, wiping your tears as you blink the remaining tears on your eyes away. He just looked down at you waiting for you. You didn’t ask anymore, you just stood up and walked to the side of his bed, towering over him.

He patted his chest looking at you with guilt. You didn’t put up a fight and gently laid your head on his chest, carefully wrapping your arms on his torso. This is what you’ve been meaning to do ever since you laid eyes on him. This is what you’ve been wanting to feel, his warmth and his beating heart giving you the reassurance that he’s right here.

“I-I’m very sorry” He breathed out, voice shaky. “I shouldn’t have acted like that, it was very immature. I just hate worrying people and I saw it all over your face when you came in. But what I hate even more is seeing you cry, and knowing that it’s because of me broke me even more. I’m so sorry for worrying you, for making you feel helpless, and for making you cry. I love you.”

You just sobbed on his chest, nuzzling more onto them as he wrapped one of his arms around your torso and the other to your head. Feeling his gentle breathing and the beat of his heart under you instantly washed all your worries away.

“I love you too.” You said, lifting your head, kissing the hand he has on your head before resting your chin on his chest so you can look at him. “Don’t do that shit again, Baji. You’re in a gang for a reason, you have like a hundred other guys with you so you should’ve asked for their help or talked to them about it first. I know you got offended on behalf of Mikey but I'm pretty sure he didn’t want you ending up in this state for him. This is seriously a stupid stunt. You even made Fuyu cry, you jerk!” You fully stood up, hitting him lightly on the chest. Light but hard enough for it to hurt, because you want that shit to hurt.

“OWWW!” He yelled. You just rolled your eyes at him, but then brushed some hair out of his face.

“I’m serious, don’t do that again.” You said, looking deeply into his deep dark eyes. He nodded at you leaning on your hand that’s still brushing his hair. “Promise?”

He tugged on your hand and connected your lips. Your lips danced slowly yet passionately. Everything else that he can’t put into words you completely felt through the kiss. “Promise” He breathed out. You gave him a warm smile and stood up straight.

“You better keep that promise because if you don’t expect me to beat you up, and I know Chifuyu wouldn’t think twice helping me”

“You guys are mean” He pouted.

“And you’re stupid” You retorted. Before the conversation could turn into a full blown argument, Chifuyu’s head popped inside the room.

“BAJI-SANNNNN~ Nice to see you’re still intact, considering you’re a dumbass.” Chifuyu chirped, standing beside you making you laugh.

“So everyone’s really gonna slap it to me that I’m stupid huh?” Baji groaned.

“Oh for sure. You’ll probably even get an actual slap from Mikey, maybe even a kick, who knows?” Chifuyu shrugged while lifting a plastic bag. “Y/n, look what I got!” He said fishing out the content inside. You snickered when you figured out what it was and you gave Baji a devilish look.

✨PEYOUNG NOODLES✨

“You know how we plan to share one after we beat him up when he’s all good? Well since it’ll take time for us to beat him up, might as well eat now since he did exhaust us” Chifuyu grinned and you pat his head, giving him a proud parent look.

“Good call, Fuyu! Let’s eat!” You chirped.

“You guys aren’t seriously going to eat that in front of me right?” Baji gave you and Chifuyu a desperate look but you two just shrugged.

“ITADAKIMASU!!!” You and Chifuyu exclaimed, digging into your shared peyoung noodles.

“I’d rather be beaten up by those guys again than endure this torture. You spawns of the devil!” Baji groaned.

[painless-innit-colourful]

Invisible

Potions of invisibility grant the user the ability to disappear, functionally: the concealment of one’s self through magic, distilled into a draught easy to swallow. For better and worse, Tommy’s familiar with the taste.

It tastes sour, primarily. 

Looking at the ingredient list, no wonder. Nether wart and fermented spider eye. Gross. There are some things a golden carrot just can't balance out. 

It's such a disgusting taste he doesn't notice the shimmering feeling, instead focusing his attention on scraping a thin layer of translucent brown sugar-mushroom-spider ick off his tongue. Not until: 

"Tommy?" "Y- Bleh- Yeah?" "Oh!" Tubbo waves his arms in a wild arc, smile growing, before his hand collides with Tommy's arm, and he picks up Tommy's wrist. "It worked!" "What do you- Ohhh..." 

If he blurs his vision, Tubbo's fingers circle around nothing. If he looks properly, he can just about see the edges of his wrist, the lines of his shirt sleeve. "Dude, how does that work?" "Which bit?" "Clothes. My clothes didn't drink it too." "Dude, I dunno... My turn!" 

They learn to spot the tiny signs of an invisible person. They learn to disguise them. Tommy tries to tackle Tubbo and misses completely, and both of them fall about laughing. 

Call that a drug van success story. 

--- 

He sprints past it, hoping they aren’t following, panic filling his bloodstream. He chugs the potion as he runs, drops spilling down his front, staining his navy coat with off-white shadows as he shimmers and disappears into thin air. 

Please don’t see me, please don’t see me.

He stumbles into the shallow waters of the lake, wading - disturbing the water, too many signs, you're gonna be seen - towards Tubbo's tunnel. He takes three steps and slips under the surface, landing on his hands and knees on the tunnel floor, waiting, waiting- Where are they? 

There's the sound of an arrow seeking its mark and hitting true, and for a split second Tommy sees an arm with deft fingers and a dark blue sleeve fall over the side of the entrance, and then the body is gone and shit shit shit- 

Tommy sticks his head back out- Who was that? Wilbur? Tubbo? He feels the shimmering feeling again - "a quick escape", where are the others - and slowly drops back to the tunnel floor. 

Make a decision, what if they find you, Little Laddy One Life? He walks away, opting to live to fight another day, hoping that his friends will join him soon. 

--- 

Funnily though, while clothes disappear with the potion, armour doesn't. He doesn't know why; he's not smart enough to. And right now, as he yanks the shoulder straps of his chestplate tight, he doesn't really care. 

"Stop!" They don't stop, voices mostly drowned out by the overwhelming sound of rushing water. Dream, his face also hidden, but by his signature mask as opposed to the magic of an invisibility potion, holds his hand towards Tubbo and tells him "I need the disc." Tommy crests the wreckage of the Community House, no longer attempting to stay hidden as the water thunders down around his ankles, pulling him towards the platform in the centre. It's a bizarre version of the Pit. It’s an arena. It's a stage. 

"No!" He screams, as Tubbo takes half a step back towards the ender chest. Heads snap to his position, looking at the empty suit of armour that's just appeared beside and above them. Tubbo stutters something in quiet disbelief, and between that and the sudden attention, Tommy falters. If he took off his armour now, could he get out of there? Or would the same fate that once befell Wilbur catch him? The blame for this building is on him, after all. 

He jumps in, landing on his feet between Dream and the cabinet of L'Manberg. He is caught in the crossfire of their questions: "Tommy?" "Is that Tommy?" 

He shouts, and he screams, and he revolves like a merry-go-round, trying to keep his eyes on everyone, not trusting that his armour'll be enough to protect him from the sheer amount of enemies about. So many people hate him, he realises, it's 30 v 2. Technoblade would like those odds. Technoblade, who's standing beside him, not invisible because he went to get milk. He likes the protection; he thinks. 

They don't listen. Tubbo keeps insisting he betrayed them all by teaming with Techno, that he betrayed L'Manberg, but they don't understand, he didn't have a choice, "You don't know what he did to me in exile." Tubbo has the disc in his hands, and without having an inkling of where Dream's eyes are, he watches him consider simply snatching it from Tubbo's hands. 

"You're not gonna give him the disc." Tubbo looks at him like it's a dare, and why can't he see? Tommy's practically crying with the effort and exertion of watching his best friend betray him in slow motion, of being this close to his abuser, of being blamed for something he didn't do, of being beaten down every time he gets on his damn feet. 

"I don’t need to prove myself to you. This wasn’t me. Trust me. Jesus— for once in your life, Tubbo, trust me." Tubbo's eyes are cold, his mind made up. What happened to us against the world?  "I did trust you. Once. The first time all of this happened. And I won’t make the same mistake twice." 

There's a little moment where time stops, and everyone draws nearer like a crowd at the coliseum, and Tommy feels his invisibility ripple slightly, warning him it's about to wear off. Who the fuck cares. 

Tubbo takes a step towards Dream, and Tommy lunges to put himself between them. "Don't you dare." Tubbo's hand goes to his axe. "You betrayed me, Tubbo, you- Did you just-" Both of their eyes are on Tubbo’s weapon, when he puts the disc away, staring Tommy down plainly with his one hand returning to the axe at his waist, and the other taking out his shield. "I didn't betray you." His voice is level, all business. Okay then, Mr President.

"You betrayed everything that you'd built with presidents prior." Tommy's anger, and hurt, and frustration, and pain finally boils over, so much so that it's visible in the way he shakes as he brings out his axe. "You know what?" He bites into a golden apple, feeling its effects drown out the rushing water and the shimmering sensation of his invis. "You've got your axe up." Technoblade’s tone is surprised but light as he tells Tommy to make this decision wisely, but he’s already gone, his safety and conscience be damned. He throws himself at Tubbo, brandishing his axe as the pigman taught him, like he once practised with the brown-haired boy he’s swinging at, thinking You say I betrayed you? I'll show you a traitor. 

Poetically, perhaps, it's less like a fight, and more like a dance. They are a whirlwind - a hurricane - clashing and blocking and pushing and shoving across the otherwise empty floor. Somewhere in the gushing water, Technoblade's bloodlust has seized him, and he's gone for the L'Manbergians and the festival-goers and the unrelated parties that came when they saw the destruction, and he's scattering them this way and that, but who cares about that? 

They are not equally matched. Tommy shakes too much: there is too much of him vulnerable here, not just his mortality, something that neither invisibility nor armour can keep from being scratched and damaged. He's losing. He's quite badly losing, despite Tubbo's inferior armour and weapons and allies, and he leaps into the nearest watery wall, letting the Respiration helmet Techno made for him protect him as the water drags him under and away from his attacker. His best friend. He bites into another golden apple, his pleas swallowed by the torrent. He still hears Tubbo's shout though, permeating the water and being relayed through his communicator from wherever Techno is. 

"Where are you?" 

He pops back up, shaking and soaking wet and sees a familiar sight: an old friend, a brother - once - staring him down with death in his eyes from behind brown hair. He was wrong, oh so wrong, all those weeks ago: at once he is Schlatt, alone at the end of his days, and there's Wilbur, old pals who'll be the death of each other. No. 

No. 

"I didn’t betray you, you teamed up with the very person that destroyed us the first time!" He feels his invis shimmer one more time, and the timing is immaculate, really. Cinematic, one might say. 

"I went for the discs— Tubbo, the discs— The discs were worth more than you ever were!" "No... Wh- Th-" The world stands still, and it feels so good, it's so good to finally say it, to watch Tubbo's face fall, his shield slipping from his hand, listen to the reactions around their little arena, watch as Tubbo shuts his mouth and yanks on the strap of his chestplate and lets it drop to the floor, leaving him defenceless and open to attack and wait- no- wait- 

Mutely, Tommy’s gaze drifts skyward, and it should feel good because they know now, they know how he feels, but it's not, it's not good because that- that wasn't true. That wasn't right. 

And he looks back at Tubbo, and finally, finally, his invis runs out, and he hopes it shows on his face, that he knows he's fucked up because Tubbo looks destroyed, and a shiver goes through him because he no longer looks angry he just- He just looks sad. 

He takes off his helmet, breathing heavily from the ache and exertion, heart burning in regret. 

‘The discs were worth more than you ever were.’

How do you fix that? For one crazy moment, he considers the invis again. Turning translucent and running, back to Techno- back to Technoblade who'd congratulate him on 'moving on' and tell Phil like he was proud and probably write that line on the fucking wall, how could he be such a monumental ass- 

"Tubbo?" Their eyes meet. Tubbo says nothing. 

"Give him the disc." 

He looks bewildered, "You want me to give Dream the disc?" He says, the tiniest sliver of something they used to have peeking through, the bearest hint of kindness, and bless him, it's more than Tommy deserves. It makes him want to go invisible again. 

He smiles softly, and it can't reach his eyes, but he pours every ounce of good left in him into it and desperately hopes it's enough.

"Yeah." And because he's fucked up, because he knows they can never go back from this: "I'm sorry Tubbo." 

--- 

He's done it again, he keeps fucking up. Sam's hand is holding him down by the shoulder, firm fingers digging into him, keeping him from reaching Ghostbur. 

He tried so hard. His throat is sore from not coughing. His muscles hurt from the pure tension and adrenaline coursing through his bloodstream, from his stubborn heart to the ends of his fingers and toes. He thought he'd gotten caught when he drank the potion in the waivers room, and his heart had been beating so loud that he'd thought Sam could hear it. 

Yet, they made it. But it doesn't matter, because he pulled out the axe too early, and now he's busted, and Sam's gonna kill him or Wilbur's going to come back or both, and it's all his fault. 

Every time he tries. Every time he tries to fix things, or do what's right, or have something for himself, it's taken away, destroyed and he's kicked to the ground. Every time. 

It's enough to make anyone want to be invisible.

[n04hw4sg4y]

I feel like Mike gets way too much hate, so here is this, that I've been thinking about.

Season 1: His literal best friend goes missing, he does everything he can to find him, including letting a random girl from the woods stay in his house because he thinks she can help him find Will. Then he finds out he is dead. He refuses to believe it and continues searching no matter what. He has to cope with the revelation that an entire different fucking dimension exists, and that Demogorgons are real. He even has to run away form them. Oh! He also has to run away from a weird organization to hide the strange girl. He thinks he might like the strange girl. Oh shit, she vanishes in front of his eyes while fighting a fucking monster. At least he has his best friend back, right!!

Season 2: Yeah, no. His best friend has all these weird visions of the alternate dimension he was stuck in for a week. At least they're crazy together :). Yeah well, in one of those visions his best friend gets infiltrated by a fucking big ass mind flayer shadow monster. They discover weird underground tunnels in hawkins. They try to burn them because they're from the alternate dimension. Ah shit, his best friend is burning too. So they're connected. They try to find out what is going on with Will. He seems to be getting worse and worse, his memory dwindling. His best friend finds a solution. Oh shit, the mind flayer is spying back, the solution is a trap. No one believes him. The entire lab gets infiltrated by Demodogs, his best friend is completely possessed and he has to listen to him screaming as his mom sedates him. They somehow make it out of the lab. They have to get info out of Will, so he has to talk to his possessed friend to get that info. Ah shit, they're running away again. Oh, did i mention? The girl he's been trying to contact for like half a year, after seeing her vanish, has lived the whole time and was being kept hidden. Shit happens. They manage to get the mind flayer out of Will, and El closes the gate. Cool!!

I am not about to do Season 3 and 4 too, you get the point. Mike has spent years having to constantly worry about not only him dying, but also the people around him. Especially the two people who he loves most. His best friend who he possibly is in love with, and his girlfriend, who he's been through so much with. And he can do nothing. He tries to help, but truly, he can't. They don't need him. So he is left to worry that they both will eventually realize that they don't, and leave him. Mike Wheeler is a helpless 15 year old, who has a shit ton of trauma. Who has to also deal with his feelings for his girlfriend and his best friend. He pushes people away, so they don't do it to him first.

Stop acting like Mike is a monster. He is dealing with a lot, and his worst fears are coming true over and over again. The people he loves are constantly in danger, and they don't need him. They can do it on their own. All he wants is to protect them, and he can't even do that.

Also, he most likely has an insane amount of internalized homophobia.

The way he acts in season 4 comes from that. From that fear of losing people. From that fear of them being in danger. From that confusion of his own feelings. From all that trauma. No one cares bout any of it.

Mike Wheeler, I love you, and I think you're great.

I've done this all from memory so some parts might be wrong, but I think my point is clear.

And yes, this does not excuse the fact that he treats Will badly. That he pushes him away and ignores him. But I think he does because he loves him, and is scared. He does because he just wants to feel normal, to live normal. He does it because when he has a break from worrying about everything, he doesn't know what to do with himself. Who to pay attention to. His brain functions on the thought "Pay attention to whoever is in danger." And when neither Will or Eleven are in danger, he's confused. Plus again, Eleven is his safety. Through her he can pretend that he is straight. And he cares a lot about her. So maybe he also misinterprets these feelings as romantic when he's platonically attached.

Idk, I have a lot of thoughts on him, and I'm not sure if any of this made sense, but I felt like it needed to be said. I will defend Mike Wheeler always.

[candychronicles]

violence // k. takami (hawks)

A/N: my lovely take on @sightoru​’s dante’s inferno collab! congrats on 1k (and many more)! i loved writing this, was definitely so different and so much fun!! also, please please please heed the warnings. i mention some potential very triggering things in here! 

CHARACTER PAIRING: Takami Keigo x Reader

WORD COUNT: 1,645

WARNINGS: sacreligious themes (it is dante’s inferno, after all), death, grief, mentions of eating disorders & self harm, negative coping mechanisms, violence and overall violent themes

SYNOPSIS: the seventh circle of hell is violence: what will you face here?

Want to indulge yourself in all the circles of hell? Click here! 

panting, you prepared yourself for the next circle, chill seeping into your bones as you pressed yourself against the cold metal of the creaking elevator. sir nighteye looked forward, no emotion betraying his face as he continued to guide you through hell. you weren’t certain what would happen in the next cycle but you were so close, nearing the seventh beast, and you were more than determined to finish and see your mom once again.

“this next one will be no more or less difficult than anything else but you may find it particularly hard to handle nonetheless. please exit and i will see you on the other side,” was all sir nighteye said before the elevator screeched to a halt. 

he gestured with one slim hand towards the now open door, a blinding light flashing in your eyes. you shielded your vision from the assault but marched forward, determined to get out of this hell hole as fast as possible. taking one step forward, you fell into the light, a silent scream ripping from your lips as you careened towards nothing.

isopropyl alcohol

that was the first thing you noticed as you came back to your senses. rubbing your eyes, you jolted your body forward, blinking at the harsh light, cocking your head as you tried to gather your surroundings.

an unsteady thrum of beeping caught your attention and with careful consideration, you opened your eyes, blinking once, twice, three times to make sure you were right in what you saw.

your mom laid under a plain white cotton sheet, monitors going off left and right, doctors swarming around you like you were absolutely nothing, like you weren’t even there. they spoke gibberish to you but what you did know is that you were watching your mother die all over again. you tried to help, tried to do something, anything to keep her alive, but your hands went through her body like she was made of thin air. you sunk to your knees, pain and despair clawing its way into your heart once more. your brain was confused, unsure of what was going on, only knowing intense emotions and suffering.

you burst your way through the crowd, slipping through them like a ghost as you panicked, struggling to find your way out and somewhere where you could calm down and figure out how to get back to the elevator.

“whoa,” a gentle voice said, hand placed firmly against your shoulder to stop your body from running.

“you can see me?” you questioned, looking up at him quizzically, trying to place where you had recognized him before.

“yeah, you’re running like a chicken with your head cut off in the middle of a hospital. kind of hard not to notice.”

quickly, you observed all the people around you, everyone looking at you with sympathetic eyes. you felt ashamed that you had acted that way, let the emotions get the best of you all over again as you watched your mom die once more.

“who are you?” you finally asked, blinking owlishly at him as you tried to understand what was going on.

“you can call me Keigo,” he replied, ushering you over to an empty waiting room so you could catch your breath.

“why don’t you tell me what’s wrong?” Keigo asked, a kind and gentle smile on his face as he encouraged you to talk.

without hesitation, you began to speak, expressing all the feelings you had, feelings of guilt that you couldn’t help your mother more, feelings of sadness that she was gone, of anger that she was taken away from you, of anger that you didn’t do enough to save her. he listened with rapt attention, the air getting thicker and heavier the more you ranted and raved about yourself and the whole situation. before you even had a chance to process what was going on, he grabbed your hands with his own, eyes peering deep into your soul.

“is that why caused so much harm to yourself? not eating or drinking for days, not showering, wallowing in your self pity, punching walls and slitting wrists? lashing out at yourself because you felt like you were too weak to help your mother, punishing yourself for not being there for her enough, for not loving her enough in her weakest hour?”

“w-what?” you asked, struggling to pull your hands away.

“i mean, i agree with what you did. your mother deserved better, deserved a child who could be there for her unconditionally, but you shouldn’t only be mad at yourself darling. those doctors didn’t do enough to save her either. it wasn’t just you who failed her but every healthcare worker out there too. they should’ve caught the cancer earlier, they should’ve treated her better, they could’ve saved her life but instead let her die on that creaky old bed, you by her side crying and not trying to help either. absolutely pathetic, all of you.”

as he went on and on, you felt your anger grow. not only at yourself and the doctors but him as well. you knew you were angry with them, you knew you hated yourself but for him to infer that you weren’t good enough, that nobody was good enough, set your heart ablaze. wrenching your arms out of his hands, you smacked him in the face, blood boiling at his insinuations and words.

you expected him to look shocked, angry or even confused but instead went wide eyed as he cackled, hand coming up to rub the imprint you left on his face.

“that’s it baby, hit me again. c’mon, don’t be shy, hit me once more. get all that anger out, make yourself feel better,” he cooed, tilting his head to give you better access.

without even thinking, you launched yourself at him, punching and kicking and screaming, angry at the world, angry at yourself, not even caring about him or what he was, enraptured with the feeling of power that came over you as you wailed on Keigo. 

as the blood pooled around him, you felt yourself getting weaker, the anger continuing to rage inside of you but the energy draining out of your body. red rivulets of blood danced and moved along the floor, attaching itself to his back, creating a dripping red pair of wings. realization flashed before your eyes as you watched the man stand up and crack his back, seemingly no worse for wear despite the beating you gave him. 

“y-you’re Hawks, aren’t you?” you asked, remembering the fallen hero who had lost his wings and turned to the side of villandry in times of hardship.

“in the flesh, baby.”

“you’re in charge of violence… a man who was once a hero, turned villain as his friends and partners betrayed him.”

“you make it sound so sad but really, it was enlightening, a real treat to be able to punish those who put me through so much pain,” he confessed, flashing red stained teeth as he leaned over you, his bloody wings dripping onto your face.

“how do you feel after all that fighting, hm? want to keep going? i’ve got all of eternity to fight you.”

you went to protest but before you got a chance, a fist connected with your face and you were hit with the flashback of your mother dying once again. 

a kick to your stomach had you thinking of the days laying on the bedroom floor, too tired to even crawl into bed.

a shot to the knees had you thinking about the time you sat with blood dripping from your thighs, wanting so badly to feel something, anything other than the emptiness you had felt before.

punch after punch, kick after kick had you wallowing in despair, anger at yourself for ever allowing yourself to feel again, anger at Hawks for kicking you while you were down, angry at the doctors for letting your mother die and angry at the world for taking her away from you.

just as you were about to give up and let the feeling of despair and anger consume you, you thought about all the good times you had with your mother, all of the memories of love and devotion, how she made you promise her that you would be happy after her death, how that promise got you out of grief the first time and how you so desperately needed to hear those words again.

with a determined nod, you rolled under a couch, kicking it up from above you towards the man with the feral grin. you shot out into the hallway, not caring about the pain and anger anymore, wanting to live and be happy for your mother, forgiving yourself, everyone around you and the universe itself for putting you through so much pain. turning a corner, you spotted the light at the end of the tunnel, the elevator glistening from the harsh hospital lights.

“come on little bird, don’t you want to play? don’t you want to fight your anger away and be punished for the failure that you are?”

“you may have caused so much violence in your life Keigo, you may have chose the wrong path and led a life of anger and pain, but i won’t do the same. i will live happy and free, not only for my mom but for me as well.”

with that said, you rushed through the empty hallway, leaping into the elevator, turning around to face the fluorescent light as the doors promptly shut in front of you.

“you’ve seen better days,” was all sir nighteye managed to comment as he took in your bloody and disheveled appearance.

you frowned and scoffed, the pain disappearing as you readjusted your hair and clothes, mentally preparing yourself for the next circle. 

you were not about to give up. 

[volot]

wait before i go. i found a post i wanted to talk about again and i have to type this out before it leaves me. 

so in my post about volo’s empathy, i said he wasn’t a heartless person, right. his main issue seems to be derived of his utter complex and his delusionary beliefs and ideas of grandeur regarding himself and generally selfish, tunnel-visioned while still slightly empathetic outlook, but he is at his core, a pretty tragic and lonely person who is consumed by his grief and turned it into rage and ambition, right. there’s a post that sort of moves to the beat of this idea that talks about how they don’t believe every inch of his act is an act, and while i didn’t agree with everything in that post, i do agree with part of the general core idea.

i think the act is really both a mix of him behaving a certain way that he knows will work on people and lower their defenses around him via charm and being buddy-buddy and overly familiar to try and get them to trust him, while also sort of exaggerating some of his base traits. i feel like there are points within the game that do feel a little too honest to be completely and wholly part of his whole ‘funny teehee merchant’ bravado; in particular... the scenes that come to mind are the moments where he’s excitedly talking about his curiosities and eagerly rambling away, when he dotes over cyllene’s abra, the little things like when you refute his offer to gossip, he basically begs you to let him ramble in your ear because he wants so badly to talk about it.

don’t get me wrong. the act is an act; volo is a manipulative person at his center, who is selfish, possesses a cruel streak if he feels wronged, is entitled, possessive, bitter, egotistical, vain, possessing a superiority complex along with his god complex, and remains distant emotionally to connect with and relate to out of his worldview and what has happened to him. but he is also someone who is wildly curious, and despite his exasperation and distaste with/for this world, there are idle pleasures he enjoys, there are things he finds amusement in, there are parts of him that are good traits. he knows how to amplify or exaggerate these traits to appeal to people to the point where they may become dishonest and insincere, yes, because the ends justify the means to him, but there are parts of him that aren’t wholly terrible. there are parts of him that are honest, that are jocular and teasing, that are humoring and considerate and thoughtful and so on.

yes, he’s by no means a great person, even if he believes he is wholeheartedly, but he is not a person composed of solely bad traits, either. he’s a human being, even if he does think of himself as a god.

[sunnywritings]

you’re amusing

request: n/a pairing: pirate!dream x reader genre: angst/fluff word count: 6k warnings: fighting, bloodshed(not graphic) summary: captainpuffy’s crew raids your island. :)

extra: i spent two days writing this and it turned out to be 14 pages on google docs- please- lmao. um anyways,, you can use my au if you’d like(just @ me if you do!!/credit me), feel free to ask questions and i’ll answer and give y’all the info i have on it! :) also this is NOT edited dsifds anyways!! (i dont usually add keep readings but this is so long im sorry please-) - - - - - - - - - - 

winter was never kind to us, the only things that seemed to warm us all were the bread and pastries niki made, or the fire we’d have ever night. otherwise, the town was silent, not a peep from anyone simply trying to survive. 

we were close, or at least some of us are. every now and then you’d here whispered talking, most now guarded and isolated from the first attack. tubbo and tommy were the two that spoke the most to each other, tommy commonly being seen entering and exiting tubbo’s florist shop, except not always with flowers.

he’d leave with weapons now, newly crafted and made swords or arrows, shields sometimes even. it wasn’t new but it was still shocking that this is what the town had come to. what used to be a lively, social town now filled with the cold, bitterness of a half victory. 

wilbur hadn’t been seen for a couple of weeks, the only signs he was still in there were the fact patrols were still being sent out. tommy, techno, and purpled all wandering the island, weapons drawn and looking out for that one boat.

‘masked raiders’ is what they called them, the members rather than the ship. the title was earned when their raid leader had become recognizable for their white eye cover/bandana and mocking smile.

no, the ship itself was called ‘ethereal fury’. led by the infamous captain puffy. legends say it’s hundreds of years old, passed on to their family like an heirloom, yet no one knew who would lead it next. 

you stared out over the waters, one leg over the cliff side and the other tucked up, elbow leaning against it and palm in hand. your bow sat beside you, the bundle of arrows scattered around messily. organization was never your strong suit, but aim was. tubbo had crafted you personalized throwing knives, your initials craved into the handle.

your hand clasped around one of the knives, running your thumb delicately over your initials. glancing up at the sky, you took note of the time, pressing a hand against the ground and standing. purpled would be home soon, and you needed to check him over for wounds. he was your brother, as reckless as he was, he never learned to take care of himself.

with a sigh you walked around, picking up the discarded arrows, sliding your bow over your back. the string pressed against your front, though it became an invisible, phantom of a feeling when you turned around, hearing noise from the waters.

around another island in the distance pulled a ship, not too far away from your home island. quickly you pulled a shrinkable scope from your pocket, an intention fundy had given you to test, looking around the boat for a symbol.

and there it was, the ram horns on the front of the ship. quickly a gasp left you, from your post you ran for the watchtower. the cliff was a watchpoint and practice area, one you commonly went to.

you rushed up the mossy watchtower stairs, almost stumbling. finally, you reached the bell, grabbing the string inside and frantically ringing the bell.

it’s noise rung out, hurting your ears, yet you continued to hit it and let the sharp sound fill the island. immediately you heard the upsurge from the side, hearing the draw gate start to close and defense barriers begin to set up. techno and tommy must’ve been closing in when you hit the bell, what ironically and unfortunately perfect timing.

the cold wind stung at your skin and face as you raced back down the stairs and to the cliffside. you kneeled, pulling your bow back out and drawing an arrow from your quill. your sight was aimed down at the ship, keeping a steady aim and stare on the offensive, and enemy raiders. 

the ship began to slow, and you could see the cannon windows begin to open. steadying your grip on the arrow you aimed slightly up, breathing in before releasing the arrow, exhaling while you shut.

the arrow zoomed through the air, piercing directly into the opening of the cannon. the window immediately shut on that opening, and you took out another arrow, quickly changing positions to be further in the shrubbery. loading another arrow you aimed at the pirate ship again, watching them begin to dock. the moment you saw a sign of movement you fired the arrow, repeating your breathing process. it hit against the board that let them down, bouncing off and into the waters, though you had been inches away from hitting someone's foot.

you glanced up slightly from where you had been aiming, the white sticking out against the rest of the outfit. pain shot through your lungs at the aggressive and sharp inhale you took. the leader of the masked raider’s was staring directly up at the cliffside, though not at you, but rather at the watchtower.

quickly you rolled into the bushes, back against a tree while peering out at them. you saw two of the raiders jump out, one throwing a fireball at the wooden defenses and the other throwing two potions down. their swords gleamed, even from how far back you were. suddenly, you heard a familiar warping sound. 

drawing your attention over, you watched a black and red hooded figure land, glancing over the town. they stood beside the watchtower, only about twenty feet away from you. slowly you leaned a hand down, grabbing a pebble. keeping it held firmly in your hands you reared your hand back, throwing it at the shrubbery on the other side of the watchtower. 

that got their attention, and you got a good glimpse of their face. a half demon, black horns prominently protruding from their forehead and white eyes. you bit your tongue to prevent any noise, pulling a throwing knife out of its sheath. it was silent for a moment before the half demon began to walk over to investigate, sword drawn. 

you had to block out the noises of the battle below in order to focus, inhaling softly and slowly. tunnel vision took its effect, and everything around you became noiseless, void while you zoned in on this half demon’s back. the knife flew from your hand, embedding yourself into their shoulder.

“agh!” the half demon shouted, flinching forward and dropping their sword before spinning around, growling. clearly they were angry, ripping the throwing knife from their shoulder and looking at it. their blood was white like their eyes, and while they seemed focused on the throwing knife you drew the dagger you had strapped to your thigh.

from where you were you could hear the half demon’s breathing, before their gaze flickered to the shrubbery you were in. your eyes met, and before you realized what you were doing, you had sprung out of the bushes, lunging at the half demon. 

their grip on the knife changed, clasping tightly around your throwing knife. while you swung to the side in an attempt to hit them, they swiped at you. the knife clipped your shoulder, but you had managed to slash across their leg. 

you rolled away, on your good shoulder, the adrenaline numbing the sting from the wound. the half demon took a step back to look at you, seemingly unfazed from the wound. they slowly took steps towards you, while you stood there, shifting your feet into a fighting stance. 

suddenly they rushed at you, stabbing the knife down at you. your knife raised, meeting the knife in the middle. while you both struggled to push the other knife away, you rose a foot, kicking the half demon in the stomach. they flinched, gasping while being kicked back. 

your throwing knife dropped, and while you quickly moved, ducking to pick it up, the half demon threw their own knife at you. it landed in your shoulder, which brought a gasp of pain from you.

glancing over, you saw the half demon running at you again, sword drawn, having picked it up when they were kicked away. you stared, rage now burning in your stomach. when they took several swipes at you, you managed to duck or back away from the strikes. when the barrage of hits ended you swung forward, slamming the handle of your knife into their head. the half demon got knocked down, and before they could get back up again, you slammed into their stomach. you hit the handle against their head once, twice, and finally three times before they were down for the count. 

standing up you inhaled shakily, reaching a hand up and ripping out the knife. you gasped again, stifling a cry of pain by biting your lip. tears burned in your eyes before you rolled the half demon over, slowly taking all their weapons. you hesitated before grabbing the half demon by the back of the hood, dragging them over to the watchtower. you propped them up against a wall inside, leaving their practically emptied bag there. 

new sword in hand, you walked out, the pain slowly returning from your dying adrenaline. returning to the cliffside over town, you stared down at the battle, panting softly. the battle reigned on, techno fighting the masked raider’s leader, tommy fighting the one that started the fire, and purpled fighting the one that splashed potions. from what you could see the battle was in the town’s favor, philza even shooting arrows down from above the town’s biggest building, the townhouse, where wilbur, fundy, and philza all lived.

with a sigh you readied yourself to go down the cliff, shaking out your arms, not without a spike of pain in your left one. slowly, you used your heels to ground you to the earth, sliding your way down without hurting yourself too badly. scrapes now littered your hands when you hit the ground, quickly running into the town.

the battle was louder now, metal clashing against metal and the sounds of the crackling fire. you ducked beside the bakery, peering inside for niki. 

when you looked inside you saw her behind the counter, the traveler jack inside with her. they seemed to be talking, jack gesturing to the battle outside while niki shook her head. she saw you, pausing before waving. jack turned to look at you, scowling, which seemed to be his natural expression. you waved back before looking back at the battle, huffing. 

the fire was spreading uncomfortably close to the townhouse, though philza seemed fine from above. it was fundy you were worried about, less than about purpled but still worried. the fox hybrid had been taught to fight, but hadn’t completed his training, and was even a few years older than purpled. he’d been babied for so long by wilbur that he hadn’t gotten the chance to train.

glancing around at the battle, you made sure all of them were distracted before running, sprinting across the open field. the clinking of the swords grew louder as you ran past them. unfortunately, the moment you got close to the townhouse, you heard the loud sound of cannon fire. the noise pierced the air, a ringing noise now sitting in your ears as you watched the cannon ball hit directly into the townhouse.

“no!” you screamed, voice cracking. the impact knocked you off your feet and threw the sword away from you, though you scrambled back up, you were forced to watch the townhouse crumble and fall. philza managed to swoop down with his wings. “phil, fundy’s still in there!” you shouted at the advisor, who paused with wide eyes.

“get him! i need to help techno!” he shouted back before dashing off, not even giving you a chance to rebuke. you exhaled heavily before running into the burning remains of the townhouse, roughly scrambling through while coughing from the smoke. 

lifting the broken wood, “fundy! where are you!” you shouted, coughing afterwards. faintly you heard him call back, a weak ‘help!’ from within the rubble.

dashing over, you quickly began to remove the wood, ignoring the sting from the fire. it burnt your skin, licking at it to create new wounds while you simply continued to move. finally you found the fox hybrid, grabbing his hand and pulling him out. his fur was burnt slightly, tips singed. you put a hand on his head, forcing him to duck with you. “c’mon! this place is gonna collapse!” taking hold of his hand you rushed fundy out of the building, with him stumbling behind you.

when you both managed to get out, only a few moments later did the building groan, the rest finally collapsing. your hands shot to your knees, crouching while you coughed aggressively. fundy pat at your back, covering his own cough with an arm. “thank you.” his voice was hoarse, yet almost broken sounding. you glanced up at him, nodding before walking a little bit away. picking up the half demon’s sword, you handed it to fundy. “protect yourself.” even your voice was hoarse, strained from the smoke and coughing. 

he nodded at you before both of you turned to the battle still raging on. ringing set in your ears again, the pain coming back like a tsunami. you winced, crying out in pain before collapsing to your knees. burn wounds littered across your hands and upper arm, the stab wound to your shoulder not doing any better from the ash that now rests atop it. 

your breathing had become labored, shaky on top of that. fundy rummaged through a he had, taking out a healing potion. he kept a hand on your back, “tilt your head back.” you glanced over at him before doing as told. the fox hybrid pushed the bottle to your mouth, pouring half of it for you to drink. you gulped it down like it was water and you were going through a drought. leaning your head back forward, he drank the rest of the potion. “thank you.” you muttered, able to feel the energy returning to your body, watching the burn scars fade slightly and feel the stab wound stop bleeding and scab over. 

he hummed, removing his hand quickly after that while discarding the bottle. “now let’s get back to this battle right?” fundy grinned, one of his fox ear’s flicking. you smiled back up at him, standing up and taking out your dagger. “we got some raiders to beat the shit out of.”

together, you rushed towards the battle, though fundy diverged from you, running to philza. you kept running straight, sprinting to where purpled was fighting, though his opponent’s back was to you. 

just as you were above to slash at him you heard the call out, “george! behind you!” it came from the one tommy was fighting. 

the one now known as ‘george’, spun around, swinging his sword. you ducked back, sword swiping over your stomach and head. you spun, pressing your hands off the ground and kicking him into the stomach, knocking him back towards purpled. while you landed your brother slashed george in the side, rearing a hand back and punching him square in the face while he was in shock.

his glasses crumbled to the floor, now broken, blood dripping down after it. he gasped, and while you moved around george to purpled’s side you could see why. george’s nose had been broken from purpled’s punch, and your brother still wasn’t letting up. purpled landed another punch into his gut, shoving george back again. the enemy raider let out a small fry of pain before punching back at purpled, hitting him in the shoulder.

it was slow motion when you watched the raider’s leader appear behind george, and as george ducked, the leader’s sword swung towards purpled. you dived forward, knocking purpled out of the way. the sword hit empty air while you stood back up, glaring at the masked raider. their head turned to stare at you before one of their hands rested on george’s shoulder. george glanced at the leader before running off into the battle.

it was slow motion when you watched the raider’s leader appear behind george, and as george ducked, the leader’s sword swung towards purpled. you dived forward, knocking purpled out of the way. the sword hit empty air while you stood back up, glaring at the masked raider. their head turned to stare at you before one of their hands rested on george’s shoulder. george glanced at the leader before running off into the battle.

you stared at the masked one, or the bandana, shifting the grip on your dagger. right now you really wished you hadn’t given fundy that sword. it was silence between you two before he bolted forward, swinging at you. you backed up, ducking and dodging his rapid swinging. 

purpled shouted, “catch!” you glanced over only for a second, dropping the dragged and catching the sword, spinning on your foot and clashing your swords together. the clink rang out, the renowned, mocking smile forming on the leader’s expression.

you stared flatly, glaring before smiling. the masked leader paused when you smiled, quickly spinning around and hitting purpled’s dagger away. with his back turned, you slashed down it, cutting through his shirt and drawing blood.

the masked leader paused before aggressively swinging at him, pivoting and slashing the blade at you. you bounced his blade off, taking steps back while he took steps forward, making aggressive slashes at you. 

the tip of his sword hit you every once in a while, making shallow cuts first to your arm and then one to your chest. finally something intervened, though it definitely wasn’t what you hoped for.

“stop the fighting or he’s fucking dead!” the fire started called, sword to someone’s neck. you and the masked raider both paused, looking over. fundy was beaten up, bleeding from his lip and nose, slashes made down his arms and a couple on his legs. 

you gasped, “fundy-“ your voice started, but before you could move the masked raider’s sword was put in front of you like a wall. slowly you looked over at them, staring with wide eyes. purpled came to your side, weapon discarded and glaring up at the masked raider. “back up.” he commanded, but his demand fell upon deaf ears. 

the masked raider continued to stare at you while one of his companions shouted, “drop your weapons and give up! one fucking arrow or knife comes at me and he’s gone!” the sword moved closer to fundy’s neck, who managed to hold his head back slightly, his eyes wide, mouth tightly closed, and arms drawn in. 

“let him go-“ your voice was quiet at first, before your fist nestled around the grass below you, though it was practically dead. “let him go!” you shouted, voice breaking halfway through, tears finding their way to your eyes. “he’s just a teenager how the fuck can you do this! you’re threatening to kill us for what? greed! fucking satisfaction you sick fucks!” you continued to scream, even when the masked raider moved his sword closer to your neck.

tears spilled over your eyes, “if you’re gonna do it then fucking do it! but leave him alone! fuck off! we’re a small island! a fucking family that you made distrust each other from the first attack! what’re you gonna do? stab me?” you reached up, grabbing his sword and bringing it to your neck. your grip was tight enough to cut your hand, blood dripping down the blade. “do it then you fucking sick prick.” from behind the bandana you could feel them staring at you, as if actually contemplating it.

their sword dropped as they walked forward, crouching down and grabbing you by the collar of the shirt. they smiled, “drop the fox!” they called, holding an amused tone of voice. “we’re taking this one.” as they spoke they hoisted you up, lifting you slightly off the ground. you squirmed, and as much as you hated it you had to accept they were stronger than you.

“no you aren’t!” purpled shouted, swinging the sword you had discarded towards their arm. another sword intervened, but not by who either of you expected.

wilbur scowled at purpled, pushing your brother away. “stand down purpled.” he ordered. purpled opened his mouth to speak, but wilbur didn’t give him the chance. “you heard me.” he glared before looking over at the masked raider.

“leave.” was all he said, turning his back on the masked raider, walking across the burnt town-square and over to where fundy had been dropped. 

the masked raider tossed you over his shoulder, where you wiggled, hitting at their back while cussing bitterly. the raider who had started the fire was handed a pouch of gold while wilbur took fundy, leading the fox hybrid away from the raider.

the raider whistled, “and thank you-“ the masked raider shouted after a moment, “sapnap! c’mon we don’t have time for this!” they called. ‘sapnap’ groaned, rolling his eyes before going along. “and see you all another time!” he mock bowed while the masked raider walked up the board.

you hit at their back with closed fists, wiggling. “let me go!” your voice echoed, screaming, though no one listened. no one in the town could look at you, the only ones who did make eye contact were purpled and techno, one who looked regretful and the other looked guilty. both were wounded, techno more so than purpled, before they were gone from your sight.

the board was hauled onto the ship when sapnap got back on, george and the half-demon getting their wounds tended to as you were set down. the masked raider set you down against a pole while the boat got moving. feeling the boat lurch forward, you moved with it, wincing when your head hit the back of the pole.

your eyes closed, biting your tongue before opening your eyes. when you opened them you saw the captain staring at you, ram horns decorated with gold jewelry. you yelped, trying to flinch back even further from the captain. 

alas, that did nothing as she only grew closer. you shut your eyes tight, tucking your chin and grabbing onto your own wrist tightly. the feeling of a hand on your chin brought back all your fear, and it only worsened when you were forced to look up, opening your eyes out of shock. she stared down at you, studying your expression and how you reacted. you were forced to stare back, and your fear mixed with anger burned into your eyes and stomach, boiling like a geyser. 

“good job dream, now we have leverage.” she hummed, smiling. “welcome to ethereal fury.” captain puffy stared down at you before letting go, simply taking a few steps back. her sword shifted as she moved, and with a snap of her fingers you were being picked up again, this time by strangers. ‘dream’ seemed to be the masked raider, who stood beside the captain.

the new people holding you were up some not out on the battlefield, you assumed they were behind the canons or simple helpers. one was a half endermen and the other looked more dead inside, and bored, than sapnap did behind dream.

“now i find it awfully impressive you managed to take down bad,” that sentence got the half endermen to tighten their grip on you, “but i’m not all that happy you did it to begin with.” puffy turned to look at you, unsheathing one of her daggers. “now you can either tell us everything about yourself and the island,” the tip of the dagger pressed against your lips, applying pressure on your lower one, “or you can decide to not speak at all.”

your jaw fell loose, and the light pressure applied to your mouth made it fall open slightly. the cold of the blade shot through your head, the metallic taste was a bitter reminder of what was happening. she removed the knife after a moment, to give you the opportunity to speak. 

you looked up at her slowly, glaring. “your men tried to kill one of my friends,” your voice was low, words slow, “so frankly, you can suck my fucking dick.” a smile drew onto your face, “because at least mine is bigger than half your men’s.” 

puffy stared back at you, and while the fear and loss of confidence dwelled in your stomach, you were determined to keep staring back. 

finally, she laughed loudly as well. your expression and body slacked at the noise, eyes widening. “that’s a good one kid, a good one.” puffy leaned slightly down to look at you, smiling. “you’re amusing, so full of spite it seems.” she stood back up, sheathing the knife. “i like this one.” 

dream rose a brow before scoffing, him and sapnap walking over to george and ‘bad’. “release them.” puffy ordered, which got everyone’s attention.

slowly you were let go, you stretching by rolling your arms, though you winced right after. your arm was still sore from where bad had stabbed you. hesitantly you glanced around, unsure of what to do now that you were let go, though puffy brought your attention back to her. “alright kid, now you’re not one of us so don’t get the wrong idea, but you’ll definitely have to stay in the cell for a couple of days.” those words brought your scowl back.

“well if your so-called dream hadn’t insisted on taking me you wouldn’t have to worry about me.” you grumbled. puffy laughed again, though it sounded more mocking this time.

puffy grabbed you by the wounded shoulder, tugging you over. her nails dug into your wound, which made you wince out of pain, biting your lip and whimpering slightly. she let up on her grip, though she still dragged you down into the bottom of the boat, through a staircase. down there was one guy cracking jokes and the other laughing. the one making jokes was in blue, a scar down one of his eyes, and the other was in a colorful outfit, goggles on top of his head and a book in hand.

you stared at them for a moment, and eventually they both looked over at you, pausing in their conversation. puffy continued to tug you forward, and as you passed them they both returned to conversation, though more hushed this time.

when you looked forward again you saw puffy pulling you towards a cell, which was quickly opened with one of her keys. you inhaled sharply when she pushed you inside, landing on your side.

you sat up as puffy spoke, “now if you behave for a little we might consider letting you join, or return to your companions.” she locked the door again, spinning the key. quickly you went to the bars, shaking them a couple of times. you knew it was futile, only the width of your arm could fit between those bars.

moving back in the cell you sat against the wall, sighing while tilting your head back. this was gonna be a long few days wasn’t it.

- - - - - - - - - - 

you woke up to the sound of the cell door opening, jolting up. pain shot through your shoulder when you sat up, staring with wide eyes at the door. dream stood there, bandages and gauze in his hands. he stared at you before clearing his throat, “puffy sent me to clean your wounds.” the raider muttered, walking towards you.

before he could reach you your back had hit the wall, distrust dwelling in your stomach. dream’s posture was slack, relaxed and unafraid, clearly he didn’t take you as a threat for now. no words were spoken as you slowly turned, huffing while showing him your back first.

the sound of him sitting down was the only noise in the cell, besides hearing your own breathing. when he stopped moving the noise of his breathing became clear as well, and oddly your breaths had been in sync. you flinched when a rag touched your shoulder wound, clearly he had doused it in gauze to clean and disinfect it. he stopped moving for a moment, waiting before slowly wiping the rag down the cut. it wasn’t necessarily long, just a deep stab in your shoulder, which hurt like all hell.

after a moment of repetitive wipes to the wound, he removed the rag, using his other hand and tugging your sleeve down. you bit your lip to distract yourself, fidgeting with your hands. “lift your arm.” his voice was surprisingly soft, calm to an extent. you did as instructed, wincing, though all he did was begin to wrap the bandage around your shoulder. he lifted a hand, gently pulling your arm down after he’d looped the bandage around the front, pulling the rest down onto the flat of your wound.

he cut the bandage off, though his other hand stayed on your arm for a moment longer before he removed it. you shifted, turning around and holding your arms out. the gauze rag he had used was tainted with a light red, though he still used it to clean the shallow cuts to your arms. his hands moved slowly, and you watched him work, closely studying his expression, or lack thereof, and his hands. 

when he finished bandaging your arms his head tilted to look you in the face. silence settled between you two, only the sound of your breathing filled the room.

“why’re you listening to puffy and helping me?” your voice came as a surprise to even yourself, having blurted out the words.

dream only stared back before a smile formed on his expression. “puffy was right. you are amusing.” his tongue clicked, raising a hand and pulling his bandana back. piercing, green eyes stared at you, bright somehow even in the darkness of the cell, a taunting, yet charming smile painting his face. “i’m glad i chose you over the fox.” dream’s words were practically purred out, voice filled with amusement. you couldn’t help the small blush that spread to your face, both from his eyes and sudden change in voice. “try and get some more sleep doll, we have a long couple of days to go.” he leaned towards you, grinning before patting the top of your head.

the bandana returned to cover his eyes after he gathered the gauze rag and bandages, walking out of the cell and locking it. you stared wide-eyed at the spot he once sat at and the cell door. a sharp breath left you, one you didn’t realize you were even holding. who the fuck was this raider? and who did dream think he was to do that to you? but most importantly, what did he mean?

- - - - - - - - - -

dream had visited you a couple more times over however long it had been. mainly he had been bringing you food and water, his excuse was always, ‘puffy sent me down to do this’. the more he used it the less you cared, you were tired of that excuse, you just wanted to know what he saw in you that had him coming back.

on the brighter side, you had met a few of the other crewmates. quackity and karl were the two you had passed before below deck, they seemed fun and even cracked jokes with you despite you being in a cell. they had made you laugh for the first time since you got here, it was refreshing too. you had also met ranboo, the half endermen, and punz, the one who had looked dead inside. though it was more you had heard his name was punz, from ranboo who had been coming down to check on some storage.

anytime you tried to ask how long you’d been down here you never got a certain answer, just an ‘uhhh’ and then a shrug, or being flat out ignored. at this rate you were tempted to shimmy out of the bars and see if there was a window you could jump out of. it felt like you could swim to shore with how long you had been cooped up in here. 

you heard his footsteps again, he had come by enough for you to recognize them. turning, you looked at the cell door, focusing back in, seeing dream walking. something hopped in your stomach, seeing him carry a tray of food and a glass of water. 

he opened the cell door again, “puffy had me-“ you interrupted him, “oh quit the fucking excuse, if you’re gonna bring me something at least tell me why you’re coming.” dream looked mildly shocked you had snapped at him, shoulders stiffening.

his jaw clenched while he set the food down, water beside it. you grabbed the food, picking up the bread and biting into it. cold as always, “well? you gonna talk or you gonna keep shoving your head into your ass?” you swoop your hand in a vague ‘get it going’ gesture.

dream paused again before laughing, sitting down. “i’ve always been interested in you. since that first raid we pulled on your island,” he started, while you slowly continued to eat, “when we lost and were retreating you didn't shout in victory like the other island protectors did. you turned around and helped the others of your island, checked on them, made sure they were fine, and began to help set up housing for those who had temporarily lost it from our cannonballs.” his words slowed considerably, pausing to breathe. 

another smile formed on his expression, though not a mocking one, “something about you drew me in, something i can’t explain.” dream undid his bandana, resting it on one of his crossed legs. he leaned forward and towards you. his eyes scoured your expression, looking for something, which had developed a look of mild shock. you didn’t think he paid that much mind to you before they had taken you.

he leaned back, standing up and tying his bandana back on. dream offered a hand out, “your days in the cell are up.” a grin split across his expression when you took his hand, stumbling after pulling yourself up. “oh doll, you’re gonna love it here.” 

dream led you out of the cell, careful to support you to avoid you falling or stumbling, even as you climbed the stairs. the daylight burned you eyes when you saw it again, squinting up at the clouds before glancing around. the crew had all gathered by the stairs, puffy in the front.

you paused to glance at dream, who was still grinning, before looking at puffy. she was smiling, taking strides towards you. the ram hybrid stared down at you for a moment, letting the silence ring out before she spoke.

“we want you to join ethereal fury.” puffy offered, “we all here believe you’d fit right in with us, training as a team, close as a family, and forming a bond with everyone here.” the ram hybrid hummed, finishing her small speech.

silence sat between you two again, the only noise was the waves rocking the boat. dream’s grip on your shoulder tightened slightly, but not as to intimidate you into joining, more of anticipation. 

a small smile formed on your face, “sure.” why not try it? you’d probably return home eventually anyways, right? the crew burst out into cheers, karl running at you and pulling you into a hug, “welcome!” he shouted, shaking you slightly.

they were so trusting of you. but why? they’d barely known you, didn’t know if you’d say yes to joining. it made no sense to be this trustworthy.

dream pulled you away from karl, pulling you into a tight hug while quackity shouted something about getting the tequila and rum out. “welcome to the team, glad to have you here.” he shifted back slightly, using a hand to tilt your head up and kissing your forehead, smiling. a blush rapidly spread across your face, eyes widening slightly, and your posture and expression momentarily falling slack.

maybe this was the start of something new, a good new, and frankly? you couldn’t wait to see where it led.

[wesimpforxiao]

Say My Name and I’ll Be There: Chapter 9.4

Xiao was sick to his stomach.  The idea that Childe turning out to be an ally to the group disgusted him--and don't get him started on the thought of Zhongli possibly falling for that act a second time.  It would be an understatement to say that he wanted nothing to do with that harbinger ever again.  But of course he just had to deal with him for awhile longer, and it was for your sake only.  

"You mean..."  Aether was still processing Zhongli's confession alongside the yaksha.  "You tricked us?  Again?"

"You're just as bad as Childe if you lie this much!"  Paimon huffed in obvious disappointment before poofing out of the conversation.

"Forgive me for not informing you sooner; I made a grave mistake for trusting him the first time, but I will not leave you in the dark for a second."  The former archon bowed his head in a deep apology after revealing what really happened in Fontaine all those weeks ago.

"And you knew of this, Xiao?"

"He informed me in a dream while I was still unconscious."

"I-I'm still wrapping my head around this," uttered the boy.  "And now Childe is making the same move again?  What're you going to do?"

"I think it's time to make our final move."  The archon eyed the couple of Fatui agents walking past their table, careful to keep his voice lower than usual.

"As much as I want to, you can't join us.  You'd be breaking your own contract.  Isn't that a problem?"  Zhongli didn't answer, so the traveler then turned to Xiao.  "What do you want to do?"

"I..."  The yaksha averted his eyes.  I want to rescue her, he thought.  I want to, but if she's not in contact with me, she won't be affected by my karma.  Zhongli noticed the sour expression on Xiao's face and piped up.

"We do not need to decide our move right at this moment.  A situation so dire cannot be approached lightly."

"She should stay where she is," Xiao muttered under his breath after Aether and Paimon ran off to do some commissions.

..............

"Are you just gonna stare at me or what?"  

You were sitting with your back against the far wall of an unfamiliar cell while your hands were carefully placed on your lap to avoid touching the scummy floors.  On the other side of the cell bars stood what was probably the shortest of the eleven harbingers.

Scaramouche didn't answer you, electing to deepen his scowl instead.  His glare fell to the vision at your hip like he was trying to understand why the Tsaritsa refused to give him the order to confiscate it.  Your gaze followed his until the faint glinting of the vision's glass was all you could focus on.

Why didn't she take it this time?

And that wasn't the only thing that was different about your second imprisonment.  Your cell was painted in what you assumed to be anti-adeptus sigils like Xiao's cell had been.  Maybe this was to prevent you from calling for Xiao; the threat of his capture seemed to weigh heavily on your shoulders, but something about this cell felt off and you couldn't put your finger on it.  Why take this precautionary measure if she knew you wouldn't call for the yaksha for his own safety?

That question was answered a little too-quickly for your liking.  One of Scaramouche's underlings brought in what looked like a toolkit, only to reveal a plethora of presumed torture objects inside.

"Is this really appropriate for you, my Lord?  We can take over from here; you don't need to participate in an activity that would insult y--"

The harbinger shot him a dangerous look.  "I don't remember asking for your input.  Get out."

"Y-yes, sir.  Excuse me!"  The guard doubled over in an apologetic bow before scrambling out of the prison as fast as he was able to.  Then Scaramouche's glare returned to you as he reached into the bag.

....................

I'm gonna kill them all.  I'm gonna kill them.  They'll all fall at my hands.

A blood trail tailed behind you as Fatui guards escorted your weakened body into the frigid throne room for the third time this week.  They threw you to the tile floor, while your vision clinked unhappily against the hard surface.  She still hadn't bothered to remove it; it was like she was taunting you with the illusion of power, and she shot you down every time you thought you'd take her by surprise.

I'm going to kill her, Xiao.

The coldness of the unwelcoming floor seemed to welcome you into your repeating nightmare while the hot blood that pooled in your mouth dripped onto the surface.  Unlike the other times you were dragged in here, Childe wasn't present.  It was a shame that the one who so badly wanted to be involved in the brawl was about to miss out.  The tapping of a fingernail against metal prompted you to push yourself up to your knees.

She'll fall at my hands.

"Bow before Her Majesty, the Tsaritsa."

You just coughed up more blood without obeying.  Twitching fingers were the remnants of Scaramouche's torture.

"The perseverance of humans truly is something to witness," the cryo archon muttered in distain.  She had run out of patience; you were nothing more than a nuisance if you refused to work with her any longer, and it was a miracle that she put up with you longer than she would with her own men.  "Very well.  You'll die here.  Any last words?"

"Y-You threatened them."

"If you wish to be heard, speak up."

"You threatened them," your voice raised loud enough for everyone to hear despite the fact that your throat was sore from the amount of screaming Scaramouche managed to get out of you.  A small groan left your lips as you forced yourself to your unsteady feet.  Blood coated your lips and chin, and soaked into your tattered shirt.  "You threatened my friends, you've threatened Xiao, and you're ultimately responsible for my Granny's death.  Your crimes against us and the people of Teyvat will never be forgiven.  What do you have to say for yourself?"

"Hm."  A hint of a wry smile was quickly overshadowed by hatred and disgust.  She had heard enough of your disrespect, and it was clear beating you into submission wasn't working.  

You caught the subtle twitch in her hand before she flicked her wrist and hurled an attack in your direction.  Defiant feet remained planted, and a counterattack almost as quick as the Tsaritsa's was thrown her way.  You didn't feel the blast of her magic reek havoc against your body, but  subconsciously heard the sound of shattering glass right before you initiated your counterattack.

The Tsaritsa waved off the guards that readied to restrain you while hiding the beginnings of fear from her face.  She'd kill you herself.  The temperature dropped lower and lower until the entire room froze over and your fingers began to go numb.  Of course, this wasn't because of your magic; you could drop the temperature below zero, but this was on a completely different scale.

"You've earned your friends' deaths as well!"  The archon raged and stood from her seat with the intent to kill you on the spot.  Shards upon shards whirled around her before shooting at your frail exhausted figure.  "Morax's yaksha will join you in death for your disobedience.  Thus is the punishment for disrespecting the will of your master!"  

"You will not harm anyone!"  

BOOM!  The palace walls shook violently as the force of a shockwave ran through them--with you at the epicenter.  A brilliant light shone from your eyes for a split second, though it made no difference in your tunnel vision of determination.  This time, you were the one to lower the temperature.  A growing layer of frost enveloped your skin in a warm embrace.  Your power was a mix of ice and stormy gales that tore through the throne room at a vicious speed, sending Fatui agents and harbingers alike running for cover as the palace became an unstable battlefield.

............

Two days before.

"What kind of a suicide mission is that?!"  Xiao growled out to the open night air with frustration, though he knew you couldn't hear nor feel his response.  "This recklessness will be the end of you!"  He took a deep breath to regain his composure and his gaze fell to his hands, which were enveloped in the fine black mist that was his accumulated karma.  He couldn't keep his thought process of protecting you from himself if you were practically asking to be killed by the cryo archon. He wouldn't let that happen no matter what risks his karma may bring.

Days of grueling torture unlike anything you've faced before haunted his ears.  He could tell that you never meant to pray to him these past several days, but somewhere in your delirious state of mind, clouded by pain, you called his name.  Not for him to come and rescue you, no.  That was a trick you weren't going to fall for and he wasn't rescuing you out of respect for your wishes.  

But hearing your cries, you sobs, was a torture method in and of itself to Xiao.

After the first three days your agony turned to resentment, then to rage.  You plotted.  You schemed.  You planned until you settled on what was probably the dumbest 'solution' to your problems.  And Xiao heard every word.

"FOOL!"  Overcome with frustration yet again, Xiao impaled the nearest tree with his polearm.  The winds whipped violently through its leaves until he let out another aggravated sigh.  He looked down to Liyue Harbor and the sunrise that began to chase away the shadows.  Yelling would result in nothing and it was immature of him to do so.  He would go to Zhongli, and summon Aether.  There was no time to waste.

............

What awaited them at Zapolyarny Palace was nothing short of stupefying.  They were met with a stampede of shaken guards that were so disorganized and distraught, they didn't even notice that intruders had broken into the palace.  The three of them exchanged knowing glances before Zhongli led the way to the throne room.  It was then that a powerful shockwave--loud enough to be a sonic boom-- nearly threw them into the wall behind them as the doors flew open.

"You will not harm anyone," muffled words reached the ears of the intruders.  "Not me, not Zhongli, not Aether, and certainly not Xiao!"

It took a moment for Xiao to process what he was looking at; the snowstorm that raged on was barely contained in the throne room, and white obscured the battle for the most part.  He didn't need a clear image of you to pick up on your words.

A new light appeared above you and this time you caught sight of it.  Six star-like objects lit up a similar color to Xiao's hair and connected to one another.  You paid no mind to it, as it disappeared as quickly as it came.  The storm grew violent, and much like your most recent confrontation with Childe, your power was harming yourself.  Icicles shredded your worn-out garments.  The wind turned so sharply that it bit into your skin.

"That shouldn't be possible," Zhongli's widened gaze lingered where those stars had appeared above your head.

"So you saw that too," Aether mumbled in bewilderment as he also stared at the same empty air.  I thought the people of Teyvat needed Stella Fortuna to unlock their constellations?  He snapped out of his daze quicker than Zhongli.  "Let's go, we need to help her!"

Xiao blocked their advance with his polearm.  "Wait."

"You think we should wait?"  Paimon hissed.  "She needs our help!"

The yaksha ignored their hesitance and kept his narrowed eyes on the blurry image of you in the distance.  Rely on me.  Call out my name.  If he was allowing himself to be vulnerable with you now, risking your safety from his karma, then it was your turn to do the same.  Call out my name, and I'll be there when you call.

"DIE!"  The Tsaritsa waved her hand through the air and summoned a glade of ice that was meant to slice you in two.

"I won't succumb so easily!"  A blast of wind erupted from your side, and it cut the ice in half before it could reach you.

Wind?  Anemo?  Zhongli sent a glance to Xiao's figure.  Could this be...

You pushed off the ground with the aid of the wind, and a flurry of snow hurled towards the Tsaritsa.  She shot shards through it, and they impaled the ceiling after clearing the fog.  You weren't there.

The archon spun around and was met with the devilish amber eyes of an adeptus and the cocky grin of her weapon of war.  This power--The wind kicked up the accumulated layers of snow from the floor and blocked her line of sight again.  A sharp pain sliced through the backs of her knees, and she crumpled to the ground.  The speed of your movements was unlike anything your friends have seen from you before.

You landed before her and relished the feeling of having a literal god kneeling at your feet.  Maybe you weren't so unlike Childe after all; if this sight made you feel that good, then one could understand the harbinger's obsession with battle.  The three friends behind you--who you had yet to notice--took note of the Childe-like expression on your face.  You summoned your iced polearm.  Or...tried to.  A quick glance to your hand confirmed it was still empty despite your attempts.  Instead, a cold breeze playfully weaved between your fingertips.  Huh?  Did I exhaust myself?  I feel fine...

"Ha...haha...Hahahaha!"  A wicked cackle sent chills down your spine, and you returned your attention to the god that was hunched before you.  "You may have picked up on my Childe's arrogance, but you wield it like a weakness."  You anticipated her next move from the growing of sheer cold, but with your current position, there was no way you'd be able to dodge it in time.  She swung her arm out to you.

The name fell from your lips without thinking.  "Xiao-!"  WHOOSH!  The blast of air knocked you onto your butt, and your vision cleared to view an unsettlingly-silent battlefield.  For several seconds, the cyclone calmed.

"Tch."  The sound of a struggle made you look up.  There was your yaksha, neck-at-neck with the cryo archon.  He held his polearm in a blocking position, and it rattled uncomfortably against the force of the ice sword that pushed against it.  The pair were staring daggers at one another.  

"Xiao!"

"Took you long enough.  Leave the killing to me.  Leave, now."

"There's no way I'm leaving you by yourself!"  You pushed yourself to your feet and ran towards them.

Xiao picked up on the sound of your footsteps, and glanced back at you for a split second.  "Get back!"  He could almost feel the grin that spread on the god's face as you got closer.  "Move!" Panicked, Xiao pushed back against the Tsaritsa before dashing through the air and pulling you with him just in time to avoid what would've been a devastating blow of the god's power.

The sharp movements made your stomach do a flip or two, but you didn't have time to puke.  The Tsaritsa levitated towards the two of you, who were now standing side-by-side with Xiao's hand placed lightly between your shoulder blades.  Your eyes met his, but you couldn't tell what he was thinking.  Instead, you nodded in encouragement just in case he wasn't on-board with you still being here with him.

The yaksha seemed to understand on some level, and nodded back before returning his eyes to the god above you.  "Now."

[meat--grindr]

NFSW with Yandere Harry Warden.

Finally, after like, ten thousand years, it’s here! I’m so sorry this took so long. Both the Christmas break and the 46-page essay I wrote just before really swallowed my routine and motivation whole. But! I think I’ve found my words again, which means it’s back to the grind, baby!

Just some notes before we get going: as with the previous Yandere ask featuring best-boy Brahms, I feel I should give out a little warning. In general, I am not really a fan of the whole yandere thing, and I have some real issues with it when it comes to NSFW scenarios. I’m not judging if that’s your thing, I’m just saying it isn’t mine. That being said, I find the more possessive/protective aspect of the yandere troupe fits really well with slashers (possibly because I find it attractive on the lowest of keys asdkaskah). As was the case with that previous ask, I have taken some liberties that tend more toward ‘possessive’ than properly ‘yandere.’ As always, if this isn’t at all what you were hoping for, my DMs are open. Perhaps we could figure something else out together!

Under the cut you will find two different scenarios which follow a similar premise—you were flirting with someone else at a bar to make Harry jealous. When you get home, he takes matters into his own hands. Honestly, this is just borne out of my deeply held belief that our Valentines’ Slasher is a switch ;)

Jealousy: A Double Feature (Yandere [?]) Harry Warden (Gender Neutral Reader) – NSFW

The Set-Up:

·       Harry had been with you all night, that much you knew, though you had only caught sight of him once. He was tucked away in a dark corner of the bar, the brim of his hat pulled down low over his eyes. You spotted him over the shoulder of the friend of a friend—a stranger really, though that hadn’t stopped the pair of you from orbiting one another all night. You knew he was the perfect choice from the moment you set eyes on him. He was tall, broad shouldered, cut rough around the edges, but he had a sweet smile and an open face. It was one that said there would be no hard feelings at the end of the night if he didn’t end up going home with you. It almost made you feel bad, leading him on as you were. Almost.

·       The way you smiled and laughed at his (admittedly quite funny) jokes, the proximity of your hand to his on the table, the way you pressed your cheek to his, feeling the scrape of stubble along his jaw—none of it meant anything. You knew it and you were pretty sure Bradley (Braden?) knew it too. Harry Warden definitely knew it, but as you peaked over a flannel clad shoulder, you could see, even from a distance, the tight set of his jaw, and the tension in his shoulders. You smirked at him and leaned in to whisper into the stranger’s ear.

·       It was something utterly trivial—a compliment about his jacket, or a comment on how badly you needed another drink if your friend was going to play that song on the jukebox—nothing of substance, but you knew it would make Harry’s blood boil all the same.

·       When Happy calls last orders, you stand, exchanging lengthy Maritime goodbyes with close friends and friendly-for-the-night-strangers alike. Casting a glance around, you can’t find Harry. He must have slipped out already, not wishing to be spotted as the crowd thins. Coming out at all had been quite the risk for him and had taken more than a little convincing on your part.

·       You expect to meet him in the lot, but his face was not among those still milling about their cars, stuffing drunken friends into backseats or beginning tottering journeys down the street.

·       You count the alleys on Atlantic Street as you pass them, sure you’ll catch him in your peripherals, but you find each unoccupied, save for one. A pair of rats fight over a scrap of bread, their beady little eyes and slimy coats catching the dim light of the streetlamps in a greasy fashion that makes you almost ache for a shower.

·       Your eyes scan the streets as you walk, senses on high-alert for any sign of his presence—the puffed clouds of his breath in the cold or a late-night smoke curling up toward the streetlamps in the distance, a kicked pebble scraping across the pavement, anything. You find yourself jumping the gun and mistaking familiar landmarks for a more welcome shape in the darkness—the saplings you’d helped Mr. Hastings plant in his front yard in the summer, the devotional cross behind the hedges at St. Andrews Presbyterian, the statue of the town’s founder in the square. Even with each disappointment, your mind jumps to the next place he could be waiting for you: the grocer’s lot, the schoolyard, the ballfield—all empty.

·       It isn’t until you turn into your driveway that he materializes, as if from the darkness itself. His face is bathed in shadow, his shoulders hunched against the cool breeze. He follows you up the drive, hands dug deep in his pockets. He’s utterly silent, but you’re relieved to see him anyway. He slouches up the steps, bracing a shoulder against the weather-worn siding. It creaks beneath the pressure. 

·       “Well, you sure got here quick. I didn’t see you leave.”

·       He makes no attempt to respond, merely waiting for you to produce your keys and let him inside. While his silence is not wholly unusual, this one feels…pointed. Perhaps you had upset him more than you had intended.

·       You chew your lower lip as you contemplate this, fishing your keys from your pocket and turning them in the lock. The grating screech of rusty door hinges proclaims your late-night return into the silence. You cringe as the sound carries, echoing around the enclosed back porch. You hope your neighbours are heavy sleepers, as if not there would surely be some comment made in the morning. The folks around here are nice enough that you doubt there would be any legitimate animosity in it, but sometimes their friendly commentary comes off more passive-aggressive than not, and their interest in your life more condescending than genuine. You know they mean no harm, but that doesn’t stop them from getting on your nerves now and again.

·       Fixing the hinges would have been a quick and easy thing, sure—a drop or two of WD-40 and a filthy rag were enough to work a quick miracle around these parts, but you knew they would only rust again when the heavy snow came in a few months time. And despite the optimistic predictions of a mild winter folks were spouting around town, come you knew they would.

·       The snow would drift in, creeping up the porch as it always did. First just a dusting, thin and powdery as icing sugar, easier to remove with a broom than a shovel. Then, almost overnight, the heavy snow would come, whipped by the wind as it howls across the harbour into great peaked dunes, waist-deep and packed tight against your door. On more than one occasion, you had found yourself climbing out through a first-floor window to dig a tunnel just to get the damn thing open.

·       No, it would be far less of a hassle to simply leave the hinges as they were—at least until the spring. By that time, there would hardly be a scrap of metal in the whole damn town that wasn’t oxidized nearly past the point of usefulness. Let the neighbours complain then, as if their hinges wouldn’t be squeaking just as badly.

·       Pushing through the second screen door, you stumble into the kitchen, already in the process of kicking off your boots. Your companion slips in behind you, allowing the screen to bang against the doorframe as it closed. The noise echoes around the tiled kitchen, battering your ears. You wince, but at least it wasn’t quite as piercing as the protesting hinges.

Part One—Domination or Mine, Mine, Mine:

·       The metallic music of jangling coat-hangers greets you as you throw open the closet and hang your jacket. Your fingers smooth over the wrinkled denim in a vain attempt to make it look even a smidge more presentable for the next time it’s worn. Deep down you know what it really needs is a good pressing. But you hated pressing clothes and would probably put it off until it couldn’t wait a moment longer.

·       Behind you, you hear the screen door woosh open again—probably Harry going out for a smoke, you think. Then the scream of the hinges pierces the night, and the resounding SLAM of the outer door shakes the house. You hear the lock click into place, a quieter sound, though it’s no less forceful. You whirl around, equal parts frightened by the noise and irritated by the man who had caused it.

·       “For Chrissake, Harry! It’s late, would it kill you to be more qu—!” You don’t get the chance to finish your reprimand before Harry’s strong hands catch you around the waist. He swings you about, storming forward to slam you against the door. The wood shudders with the impact, the flexible mesh of the screen warping around you; a thin net between the rough wood and your shoulder blades. Your head cracks against the door, white light bursting across your vision, blotting out the dark kitchen and the even darker shadow of the man who stood before you.

·       Even as the blinding brightness behind your eyes dissipates, you struggle to make out his features in the darkness despite your proximity. Then, his lips press against yours and the breath stills in your chest, unable, or simply unwilling to rise beyond the catch in your throat. They are warm and wet, tasting of bitter liquor and a recent cigarette—du MAURIER’s, you thought. You’d never seen more than the very tip of a pack peaking from a denim pocket or the rolled cuff of a shirtsleeve, but the red box was distinctive. He must have smoked it on the way home. The thought comes to you sluggishly, stuttering through the few sparking neural pathways that hadn’t shut down entirely when he’d first grabbed you. Dimly, you are aware that it’s an utterly absurd thought to have in this moment. How can you think of anything at all when Harry’s got you pinned against a door and he’s kissing you like a man starved? Maybe you’d knocked your head harder than you’d thought.

·       You try to clear your mind, directing your focus away from cigarettes and packaging and back to the matter at hand—Harry Warden.

·       You can almost feel the anger rolling off of him. It’s in the tightness of his jaw, the rough press of his hands against your hipbones, and the strength with which he keeps you pinned against the door. It thrums through his lips where they press against you and jolts through you when his teeth clash against yours, or his fingernails dig into the sensitive flesh just above the waistband of your jeans.

·       You reach for him with trembling hands to cup his jaw and kiss him harder, to wrap around his neck and pull him even closer, to feel in your hands somehow, anyhow, solid, and warm. But he catches your hands, pinning them roughly against the door, his grip so tight it’s nearly painful.

·       A keen, stinging pain blossoms on your lower lip as his teeth sink into your flesh, hard and sharp. Then he’s gone, melting into the shadows of the dark kitchen. You’re left there, back braced against the door, breathing coming in short, ragged gasps. Quite suddenly, you realize you’ve gone hot all over, as though a fever had dug its claws deep into you in a manner of seconds. Your brain struggles to restart its thinking processes through a fog of unsavoury thoughts and debauched imagery. So, this was to be the consequence of your actions. I can live with that.

·       With a shaking hand, you feel your way up the wall to your left, groping along in the darkness, until you find the light switch. With a muted click the kitchen is bathed in a soft glow. After so much time spent in the darkness, the light, low as it is, is dazzling where it bounces off the white tile floor. You raise a hand to shield your eyes but catch a quick glimpse of Harry. He’s standing over by the table, a hand on the arched back of a white-washed chair. His head snaps to the side, dark eyes fixing upon you, unwavering.

·       His voice is low, a gravely growl that rumbles from deep within his chest, “Turn it off.”

·       You blink at him, stupidly, one hand still hovering over the switch. He wrenches the chair from its place at the table, swinging it around and slamming it down before him with a BANG. He takes a menacing step toward you, never once taking his eyes from yours. “Turn. It. Off.”

·       You jump, rushing to do as you were told, flicking the switch again. As the darkness settles over the room like a blanket, your eyes, now more accustomed to the light, struggle to pick out his shape in the gloom. A small patch of sodium-orange light streams through the window above the sink, staining a patch of floor before the chair. Beyond that pool of light, you can see nothing.

·       Your ears, however, do not fail you as your eyes have. You can hear him rifling through a drawer. From the rattling, you assume it’s the junk drawer—a messy collection of odds and ends that seemed to have no other place in the house. You were always saying you’d get around to cleaning it out one of these days, but it only ever seems to accumulate more junk.

·       You peer into the darkness and find, if you squint, you can just make out what you think is Harry’s form. He’s hunched over the drawer, picking through the bits and bobs, looking for…something. Maybe if you had cleaned the drawer out, he’d have an easier time of it. Alas.

·       Then, he stills, the drawer slams shut, and the room goes silent. The hazy smudge retreats further into the gloom, and you lose him again.

·       For a long moment, the silence fills the room, pressing against you, an almost tangible force. Then, with a single word, it is shattered, “Strip.”

·       Despite the bright bolt of heat that single syllable sends thrumming through your gut, you almost laugh aloud. “I-In the kitchen?” Your incredulous tone does little to mitigate the warmth rising to your cheeks, nor the desire that flutters to life within your chest.

·       Harry does not respond. You can feel the command hanging in the air, and with it, the weight of what he has asked of you—a display of willing vulnerability. Your gaze is once again drawn over to the kitchen window. Set above the sink it faces out onto the street. The blinds are raised, as you had left them after dinner, and the lacey white curtains do very little to obscure the view in either direction. Usually, you see this as a blessing, watching the comings and goings of the world as you eat breakfast or dry the dishes, but now it makes you squirm in discomfort, “I don’t know, baby…the window’s open. Someone could see us…”

·       You peer into the darkness again, craning your neck, hoping to catch another glimpse of him, but everything beyond that smudgy patch of orange light remains lost to your eyes.

·       Harry’s voice rings out from the opposite side of the kitchen, much closer than you had realized. You hadn’t even heard him move. He was so quiet you’re sure the neighbourhood cats would swat at his boots in a jealous rage as he passed…if they could hear him coming that was.

·       “You didn’t seem to care who saw you with that fuck in the bar.” His tone is even, but there is a tightness about it that betrays him. “You know this town. You know how people talk. It’ll be all over by tomorrow. ‘That lonely soul from 214 out on the town. With a man no less. Could be the start of something.’ They’ll ask all about it, I’m sure. And you’ll just brush it off like you always do, but they’ll speculate all the same. Little do they know; I’ve already got my stamp all over you.” There’s a short pause, “Now, strip. I won’t ask you a third time.”

·       You turn your head to face him, but are met with nothing but the seemingly endless, empty void. Usually, you wouldn’t have any qualms about pushing back against his commands. You both got off on it in fact—you know just how much he likes putting you back in your place, though sometimes he lets you get away with misbehaving. But you could usually see his face. You knew by the set of his jaw, or the narrowing of his eyes, just how much harder you could push him. Now, however, you could hardly place him in the room, let alone determine how much pushing he was willing to tolerate. If the sharp, impatience of his commands was anything to go by, you could tell the answer this time around was little. Very little.

·       You eye the window again, weighing the risk. Sure, someone could pass by and see you, but it was late—so late it was almost early. Plus, it was dark enough inside someone would have to press their nose up against the glass to get much of a look, and if that was the case, you likely had a much bigger problem on your hands. And you cannot deny the thrill that shudders through you at the thought of stripping down for Harry when he gets like this: all demands and possessiveness. Then there are the thoughts of what he might do to you once you have. Those come quick and easy: his lips on your throat as he hoists you up onto the counter, strong hands on your thighs as he sets to work on your most intimate spots with his tongue, his cock stretching you open as he takes you in that chair, bent over the table, spread out on the floor. You feel a damp patch beginning to form in your underwear, a heat spreading between your legs that wants and wants and wants.

·       Fuck the risk.

·       You fumble with the button of your jeans, fingers trembling with a jangly mixture of excitement and trepidation. You peel them down your thighs, the thick denim seams scraping against your skin. You kick them off and into the darkness, not caring where they land. Your shirt quickly joins the pile, a rumpled ball of coloured cotton. It’s only as your fingers dip below the waistband of your underwear that you meet resistance from Harry.

·       “No.” The command echoes, again, from a new spot—this time somewhere behind the chair. “Leave them on.” You frown a little, but obey, leaving the cotton garment alone…for now. “Sit.”

·       You edge forward, socked feet sliding against the tile. Your legs are trembling, something you hadn’t noticed with the door against your back, assisting in keeping you upright. You knew it had nothing to do with the night’s boozy beginnings. When you’d left the bar, you could feel the pleasant hum of alcohol buzzing at the base of your skull, but now, in all honesty ever since that kiss, you would swear you were stone cold sober. No, this shaking has nothing to do with the drink, and everything to do with the man who waited for you in the darkness, and the promise of what he was going to do to you.

·       Not wanting to push your luck, you slip around the patch of light on the floor. If you caught so much as a glimpse of someone through that window before you had even started, you knew you would lose your nerve and that would be that.

·       When at last you plant yourself firmly in the chair, you jolt, squawking in surprise, knees reflexively shooting up to your chest. “It’s freezing!” You curl in on yourself, wanting as a little of your bare flesh touching the chair as physically possible. You hear him chuckle, a dark, rich sound that makes you shiver almost as much as the sudden chill. “Poor baby.”

·       You wrinkle your nose at him, huffing in indignation. You were no baby. It was just cold. Still, you take a grounding breath or two before you can find the courage to press your temperature-sensitive flesh back against the cool surface of the chair. You know the wood will warm beneath your skin in no time, but your muscles jump and twitch regardless, making their opposition known. It’s not an unbearable chill, despite the wave of goosebumps slowly spreading across your exposed skin; perhaps a touch uncomfortable, but it will pass.

·       Your ears prick up as you hear Harry approaching from behind. “Hands behind your back.” He says, his breath stirring the little hairs at the nape of your neck as he bends over you.

·       When you comply, he grasps your wrists roughly, winding something coarse around them—it feels like a length of cord, old and fraying at the edges. You squirm in your seat, rolling your shoulders and wriggling your hips, not quite fighting against Harry, but not making it easy for him either. Still, he manages to wrangle the rope around you and pull the final knot tight. He pushes two fingers beneath the cord, exploring the space between it and your skin. Clearly satisfied with his handiwork, he withdraws, sweeping around the chair to face you.

·       Dropping to one knee, he forces your legs together and binds them at the ankles in a similar fashion. You notice, however, that he does not tie your ankles to the chair itself, merely to one another. With a little squirming and tugging, you discover the same to be true of your wrists. Again, he ties the final knot, and eases a finger between your skin and the cord. He looks up at you, his handsome face only semi-visible in the gloom. You realize, after a long moment, that he’s waiting on your approval. You give the ropes a little pull each, and nod.

·       Harry is on his feet in an instant, looming above you. “‘magine my surprise,” he says, voice low and dangerous, “When I see my baby making eyes at some other cocksucker in a bar.”

·       You supress a smirk. You’ll play along with his game, sure, but that doesn’t mean you won’t have your own fun along the way, “Some other cocksucker? You really are a man of many talents, huh?”

·       His hand is around your throat in seconds, pressing you back against the chair, but not squeezing enough to cut off your airflow, “Keep mouthing off, see where that gets you.”

·       You roll your eyes, though you’re not sure he can see it in the dark, “C’mon, Harry. You know it didn’t mean anything. We were just talking.”

·       His hand snaps upward, abandoning your throat in favour of your jaw, blunt fingernails digging into the soft flesh beneath. His face comes into focus, mere inches from your own. You can see him clearly for the first time: the sneer on his lips, his eyes alight with jealousy. “Yeah, you’re real good at that ain’tcha? Had him hanging off your every word.”

·       You swallow hard. The waver in your voice is only half-forced, as most of your bravado evaporates in the face of Harry’s dominating presence. He’s a small fellow—short and slender—but somehow, he’s able to fill out the meager space his physical body takes up as though he’s twice his size. It’s in the way he holds himself, coiled like a snake about to strike, like he’s used to throwing and dodging punches alike. He’s rough around the edges, scrappy, and though you knew he’d never lay a hand on you that you don’t want, it doesn’t make him any less intimidating when he looms like this. “Doesn’t mean I was interested, Harry, you know I’m yours and—"

·       Your words are squeezed into a premature silence as Harry squishes your cheeks together, pushing your lips into a pronounced pout. His thumb sweeps soothingly across your cheek. “I know that,” His grip tightens as he leans in closer, his lips a hair’s breadth from your own, “I think you might need a little reminder of jus’ who ya’ belong to.” His eyes flicker down to your lips, and for a moment, you’re sure he’s going to kiss you. But he simply releases your jaw and melts back into the shadows.

·       From further back in the kitchen, you hear him say, “Can you be good for me and let me remind you?”

·       You swallow thickly, feeling the heat pooling in your gut with every word he speaks. God you want nothing more than to be good for him. You nod emphatically, then with a jolt, you realize that if you can’t see him, he likely can’t see you either. You croak out a wavering, “Yes,” through a throat that’s suddenly far too dry.

·       “Yes, what?” You can hear him rummaging around again, though by the sounds, you’d wager he’s searching the countertops this time. For what you couldn’t say, but that pronounced clink was certainly something bumping up against your sugar jar.

·       “Yes, Sir.” What could possibly be on that counter that was more important than you, bound and promising him your good behaviour? Nothing obvious springs to mind, and yet he keeps searching all the same.

·       “Good.” A shudder passes through you, and you know you’d do almost anything to hear him say that again. At this point, the impact that word had on you was damn near Pavlovian, especially when he said it like that, with a smirk on his lips and a rumble in his chest.

·       The room falls silent again as Harry puts hands on whatever it is he’s looking for. In the quiet, you get the distinct impression that he’s looking at you, even if he is unable to make out your form in the dark. Maybe he can see you, maybe he can’t. Either way you know he can hear you just fine. Why not give him a little show?

·       You whine, long and low into the darkness, struggling against the bonds and rubbing your thighs together, seeking any sort of stimulation that might abet the growing heat between your legs. As expected, you’re sorely disappointed with the results. Huffing your displeasure in what you hope is Harry’s general direction, you hurl a desperate plea out into the kitchen, “It’s so cold, Sir. Please come touch me. Please.”

·       You hear him let out a shaky breath. You know how much he likes to hear you beg and frequently use it to your advantage. Harry wasn’t one for poetry—the point of pretty words was mostly lost on him—but a blunt statement of exactly what you wanted from him—how deep, how fast, how hard—tinged with the desperation of needing him and needing him now? Well. That was a different story altogether. Begging was usually an easy way to get exactly what you wanted out of Harry Warden. This time however, much to your personal frustration, he manages to collect himself in record time.

·       He tuts softly as he strides past you, visible for only the briefest of moments as he passes through the patch of light. “What have you done to deserve my touch?” He stops behind you, “An’ no, flirtin’ all night wit’ a stranger don’t count.”

·       You throw your head back to look up at him, a pout on your lips, “Wasn’t flirting.”

·       “G’way witcha. You were so.” His hand whips out and grasps your chin. “I can’t have that. See, you’re mine.” He’s wearing his gloves, though not the soft leather pair you’d bought him for Christmas last year. Those, in all likelihood were stuffed into his coat pocket. No, these were his old work gloves. The tough leather was cracked and torn in places, exposing the cotton padding. They smelled heavy—like dust, like the depths of the mines. You didn’t even know he still had these.

·       “You know what I think?” He leans forward, scraping his teeth against the sensitive skin just below your ear, relishing in the shiver it elicits, “I think you was doin’ it on purpose.” He trails a line of searing, open-mouthed kisses down the side of your neck, murmuring against your skin, “Trying to make me jealous. Well, guess what?” He sinks his teeth deep into the meat between your neck and shoulder, “It fucking worked.”

·       You cry out, the mix of pleasure and pain stirring up the heat that had been steadily blooming inside of you. Sharp and bright, it spreads up through your gut, filling your chest and seeping out into your limbs. You can’t help but smirk up at him, “Good.”

·       He presses his lips into a thin line to keep from smiling too, “Uh-uh. That’s bad. You’ve been real bad, haven’tcha?”

·       You chew your lower lip, pretending to mull it over, “Maybe…”

·       “I think you have.” He trails a gloved hand down and over your shoulder, pressing into the bitemark he’d made. The shredded fingertips of the glove burrow into the indentations left in the wake of his incisors. A dull ache pulses to life beneath the skin, forcing a pained hiss of air between teeth clenched tightly together.

·       “Aww, does it hurt, baby?” Condescension drips sweet and thick from his words as he digs his fingers in harder, you nod frantically, face scrunched up in discomfort, a gasp tearing from your lips as you attempt to flinch away from his touch. “Poor little thing.” A second, gloved hand joins the first, trailing down the other side of your neck. The texture of the old leather ignites a new wave of goosebumps, spreading with the shivers that race across your skin. His fingers trace the tendons in your neck, lingering over your pulse points, scraping gently against the sensitive spots he knows so well just to watch you squirm, “Mine.”

·       The chair creaks as Harry leans over your shoulder, reaching further down your body. He lavishes your collarbone with gentle touches, exploring the dips and hollows he finds there with a rare patience—one you see in him only when he is well and truly set on teasing you. He drags his fingers down, ghosting across your chest, circling your nipples, and tracing your ribs. You shudder beneath the cool leather. It isn’t right. Harry’s hands should be warm and calloused, two points of bright heat against your chilled flesh. That’s what you really crave: the felling of his skin, bare and burning against yours. You open your mouth to ask him, beg him to take the gloves off and touch you properly, but your mind goes fuzzy and blank as his lips find their way to your neck, leaving soft kisses and pressing the points of his teeth into the skin above your pulse.

·       His narrow chest presses hard against your shoulder as his hands roam even further down, trailing across your stomach. You can feel his heartbeat. A little thrill jitters through your chest when you realize that despite his calm outwards demeanor, all steady hands and cocky words, his heart is racing—jackhammering against his ribs so hard it must be painful. A giddy wave washes over you then, knowing he wants you with the same mad desperation. Of course, you had known that from the start, from before that even, still it made your heart shake and your lips twist into a dopey grin.

·       Deft fingers press against your sides, teasing the ticklish spots that make you squeak, and wriggle beneath his hands. A soft chuckle rumbles through his chest, though he decides to take mercy on you, sliding his hands down to caress your hips and the tops of your thighs. “All mine.”

·       One hand drifts, pressing against the seam where thigh and hip join. The pressure feels strange, the muscle jittering beneath his touch, though it doesn’t hurt. His fingers follow the natural curve of your body, pressing into the space between your thighs. You try to part your legs for him, but the cord binding your ankles only lets you go so far. Still, it’s enough for Harry to slot his slender hand into place, fingers pressed tight against the wet spot that’s been steadily spreading across the cotton fabric of your underwear.

·       His tongue flickers over your neck, a snicker bubbling up in his throat, “Well, well, well. Aren’t you just a little fucking slut for me tonight?”

·       You whimper, the sound sitting high in the back of your throat, “Take the gloves off and touch me.” What was meant to be a command comes more as a cracked plea, half-whisper, half-sob.

·       The bark of his laughter is muffled against your skin. His fingers remain pressed against you, but they stay frustratingly still. The pressure is delicious, sparking your touch-desperate nerves, but not providing the stimulation you so desperately crave—you need him to move. “Who said I was gonna keep touchin’ ya’ ‘t’all?”

·       “Please!”

·       Deaf to your pleading, he remains utterly motionless, and you feel something inside of you shatter. Perhaps it was your patience, perhaps it was the last of your inhibitions. Whatever the case, Harry had chipped away at it, cracking it piece by piece with his teasing. Now it lays in shards within you, and you know the only way to get what you want is to take matters into your own hands.

·       You buck against his fingers and for a moment, the pleasure swallows you whole. Your head falls back against the hard wooden back of the chair, a moan tearing itself free from your throat unbidden. Your toes curl as you begin to move your hips, grinding against his fingers, glassy eyes rolling toward the ceiling.

·       Behind you, Harry growls. Dimly, through the fog of pleasure clouding your mind you realize you may have made a mistake. A split second later, his fingers disappear. Your hips jerk forward, desperately trying to follow. You thrash in the seat, a sob wracking your chest, as the pleasure deflates into a dull throbbing. “No!”

·       You feel the smile slide onto Harry’s face, more teeth than lip, “Oh no, no, no, Sweetheart. You’ve gotta earn that.”

·       The simpering edge to his voice has you bucking into the empty air again, “Then let me.” Your struggle to catch your breath, craning your head to look at him. “Let me earn it.” The silence stretches on in the darkness. Was he considering it? Would he refuse? Not if you could help it, “Please, Harry. Please.”

·       A soft sound leaves him then—when you say his name like that, a prayer—a sound like he’s been punched, a rush of air accompanied by a soft groan. Though he’d never admit it, your voice had such an impact on him. Especially when you sound like this, husky and wrecked. Desperate. It takes him nearly a minute to find his voice again, and when he does, it’s rough, a rocky rasp caught low in his throat, “Maybe I will.”

·       He slides back up your body, his weight lifting from your shoulder. You give the joint a quick roll, working out the stiffness you’d failed to notice growing beneath the pleasant weight and warmth of his body. Quick as a flash and silent as a shadow, he sweeps around the chair, appearing before you.

·       With strong, sure hands, he seizes you by the arms, dragging you to your feet. He kicks the chair back, sending it sliding across the floor with the screech of wood against tile. In the darkness you hear the snick of a switchblade. You still, a prick of fear piercing your chest despite yourself. Harry drops to the floor. In a matter of moments, your ankles are freed from their restraints. Though you expect him to do the same for your wrists, he flicks the knife closed, leaving you partially bound. You hear something land nearby on the floor, though for all your squinting, you cannot make it out.

·       He reaches for you then; with a gentleness usually reserved for after your more…strenuous encounters. He strokes the back of his hand down your cheek, and you jolt against his touch, realizing it’s the touch of bare skin. You attempt to lean into it, but he’s already pulling away. His other hand snakes up, fisting roughly into the hair at the nape of your neck. Instinctively, you arch your back, craning your head and bowing against him to lessen the sting.

·       He presses down, forcing you to bend toward the ground until you lose your balance and collapse, bare knees colliding with the cold tile. Your arms jerk against the cord, as you attempt to catch yourself, but the knots hold firm. You wobble, momentarily thrown off balance by the sudden change in position but manage to remain at least partially upright.

·       Even before you hear the jangle of his belt buckle hitting the floor you know just what he wants from you. You readjust yourself, sitting higher on your haunches. The rustle of his jeans hitting the floor makes your heart flutter with excitement.

·       Harry looms before you, a great dark shape. Though he isn’t overly tall or broad, he towers over you when you’re on your knees for him. The pad of his thumb traces your lower lip, the rough skin dragging against your flesh. Your tongue flickers out to meet it and he stills. He hooks the digit into the corner of your mouth, pressing it into the soft meat of your cheek. You press your tongue against it, sucking gently and he groans. “I think my baby can handle somethin’ bigger, yeah? You want something bigger?”

·       You whimper your affirmation, letting him slip his thumb from your mouth, waiting patiently as he pulls his cock from his underwear. He presses the tip against your lips, hissing as your tongue slides wet and warm against it.

·       “That’s a good pet. Open up.” You open your mouth, pushing your lips down over your teeth as he presses into you. “That’s it, baby. Take it all. Show me how good ya’ can be for me.”

·       Breathing deeply through your nose, you try to remain as still as possible as his cock slides into you inch by inch. Your jaw is already beginning to ache from the stretch, but a sore jaw will certainly be worth the reward if you can be good for Harry now.

·       The tip bumps against the back of your throat and you have to fight not to gag. “Fuuuck.” He presses in further, hips canting forward as you choke around him. The tip slips down into your throat, and you panic. The sensation is entirely new, never having taken him so deep before. You jerk back, a string of saliva connecting your lips to the head of his cock. You gag, doubling over in a fit of coughing that wracks your body. Harry’s hand is in your hair again, tugging gently. You look up, vision blurry, and the tugging becomes a gentle petting, his fingers carding through your hair soothingly, “Are you okay?”

·       You take a shuddering breath, but nod. Your voice comes out in a shredded whisper, “Just s-scared myself is all.” You draw yourself back up onto your knees and take his cock into your hands.

·       “Take your time, pet.” He groans as you begin pumping his length slowly, but you can hear the grin in his voice, like he knows he’ll get what he wants from you sooner or later. “I’m in no rush.” Cocky bastard.

·       You trace the vein on the underside with a finger and he pulses in your hand, a bead of precum dripping down his length and onto the floor. You dip your head to kiss along the shaft, following the thin wet trail as you work up the courage to take him into your mouth again.

·       You take a deep breath and sink down onto him, relishing in the growl that rips through the air above you, “Mmm! Mind the fuckin’ teeth, Sweetheart!”

·       Your legs begin to cramp beneath you, but you press forward, swallowing around the length in your mouth. He bucks into you, the tight heat drawing him deeper in, the tip once again bumping against the back of your throat. This time, however, you’re ready and manage to keep control over your gag reflex. You swallow around him again, and the hand in your hair tightens, dragging your head back. His cock almost begins to slip from your lips, before he pushes his hips forward again. “Let me fuck your mouth, yeah?” You moan around him, letting the slackness of your jaw speak your permission for you.

·       Curses tumble from his mouth as he rolls his hips into your waiting mouth again and again—a litany of ‘fucks,’ and ‘Christs’ and disjointed praise mixed with a constant stream of ‘Mine, mine, mine.’ The sound of his voice and the drag of his cock over your tongue is nearly hypnotizing. You flatten it against him, hollowing your cheeks as you do, and his hips stutter, your name suddenly the only thing on his lips. It makes you throb. You just need a little friction to take the edge off, to ease the dull ache between your thighs. You squirm, twisting your wrists against the bonds. Harry makes a sound above you, and for a moment, you freeze. Had you been caught? You glance up at him, but you find his head tilted back in pleasure, eyes cast to the ceiling.

·       Feeling a little braver, you begin to bob your head along with his thrusts. His grip on your hair tightens in response, and he moans long and low in the back of his throat. He seems far too occupied with your mouth to take any notice of your hands.

·       You twist your wrists again, feeling the knot beginning to loosen. So, you keep at it, working the cord further and further up your hand until it pops free. Your body jerks with the momentum, momentarily thrown off balance, but you recover quickly, forcing yourself to choke, as though Harry had pushed too far into your throat again.

·       The ruse appears to work, as Harry’s hips buck forward and still, lost in the tight squeeze of your throat. You ease your thighs apart and slip your fingers between them. The cotton of your underwear is soaked, likely to the point of transparency. You can’t help but moan long and low around Harry’s cock as you brush your fingers against the drenched fabric. The wave of pleasure that rolls through you is heady and electrifying. You want more. Right now. Your fingers press harder and your hips jerk up against your hand.

·       Even in his pleasure, this gets Harry’s attention. Looking down at you, he almost laughs, the sound caught somewhere between a snicker and a moan. You feel your cheeks heat with the shame of being caught, though by this point you’re so tightly wound you can barely find the brain space to care. You can practically hear the cocksure grin on his face, “You greedy little whore.”

·       You try to pull your hand away, but Harry’s boot comes down over top of it. He doesn’t press down hard, but you can feel the thick treads grinding against your flesh, indenting the pattern into it. Your fingers are trapped right where you wanted them: pressed against the damp fabric of your underwear and the sensitive nerves beneath. They spark and throb against your fingers, begging for more stimulation and you can do nothing.

·       You sob around Harry’s cock as he begins to thrust into your mouth again. “You wanna touch it so bad, baby, I know,” He presses down harder with his boot, and you whine around him, “But’cha can’t.” He’s pushing deeper into your throat now with every thrust, “You can’t touch what doesn’t belong to you.” His hips begin to stutter now, losing their rhythm as he picks up the pace chasing his release. His voice has gone taught, shaking with both the pleasure and the exertion, “You’re all mine, Sweetheart. All mine.”

·       His cock throbs against your tongue. He pushes to the back of your throat one final time, and he’s cumming, letting it fill your mouth and leak down your throat. You sputter, swallowing around him in a desperate bid not to choke. His thrusts have gone shallow and lazy, but he doesn’t stop. Groaning, he grips your jaw, “All fuckin’ mine.”

·       You swallow a final time, and he pulls out. You cough, gasping for breath. Dimly, you’re aware of the rustle of denim and the metallic chirp of a zipper being done up. Regaining control of your breathing, turn, cleaning your drool covered chin on your shoulder. You inspect the wrist of your free hand. The skin feels tight and raw but doesn’t appear to be broken. You assume the same is true of the other, where it remains trapped under Harry’s boot. “Fuck, baby. You take it so well for me.”

·       You tilt your face up toward Harry, chest tightening with the praise. “Harry,” Your voice is raw, your throat aching from the fucking it had just endured, but you beg him anyway, “Please, I was good. Touch me…or let me do it myself. I-I’ll put on a good show for you!” You buck up against his boot, throwing your head back and whimpering.

·       He grinds his boot down against your hand, and your vision fills with white spots. You jerk against him, unable to still your hips. His voice floats down to you through the fog of pleasure, as though from far away, “I’m not so sure you’ve learned your lesson.”

·       You sob, bucking against both boot and hand alike, until he presses down harder, and the blinding pleasure becomes a crushing pain that sucks the breath from your lungs, “Harry! Harry, you promised! Fuuck, please! Please! Ow! You said If I was good—"

·       The pressure lessens, “Now, now, baby. Don’t get so worked up. I said I might let you cum. Never said when.” He laughs at your devastated expression. “We’re just getting started.”

Part Two—Submission or Yours, Yours, Yours:

·       The metal hangers burst into a jangling song as you fling the coat-closet open to hang your jacket. The padded denim will probably see you through another month if you layer properly beneath it. Too much longer than that and you’ll be pushing your luck. Perhaps tomorrow you would go through the ‘winter clothes bin’ and bust out the ole’ windbreaker. Of course, to do that you’d have to spend an hour sifting through the assorted piles of junk in your basement to actually find the ‘winter clothes bin.’ Now that you think of it, despite the numerous trips you’d taken down into the dark and dingy space, you haven’t actually laid eyes on the bin since you had put it into storage last spring. Ugh.

·       Though, maybe Harry had seen it. Three days ago, you’d woken up and stumbled to the bathroom to find a steady stream of water pouring from the cabinet space below the sink. It must have been leaking for a good long while before you found it, because the floor was soaked—the bathmat was so saturated with water it had actually squelched underfoot.

·       Luckily, it had only taken Harry around five minutes to fix the problem—a loose ring nut of all things—but he’d spent a good deal longer than that tearing the basement apart in his mad hunt for the toolbox. After a great deal of shuffling, banging about, and swearing, he’d found it wedged between the wall and a cardboard box of assorted holiday decorations. He’d rushed up the stairs, breathless and wild-eyed, “Christ, but it’s a mess down there. This?” He’d said, brandishing the toolbox in his left hand, “stays in the porch from now on.” He’d swept passed you then, leaving no room for argument as he marched off to save your bathroom from any further water damage.

·       Point is, Harry’s ‘leave no stone unturned’ approach to impromptu basement reorganization may just free up your afternoon and save you a headache—he’d probably seen the bin and with any luck would remember where he’d moved it. If not, finding the damn thing would be tomorrow’s problem. Still, it couldn’t hurt to ask while you were thinking of it.

·       “Hey, Harry? When you were down in the basement the other day, did you see the—” Turning to face him, you’re shocked to find that he isn’t standing behind you anymore. You could have sworn you’d felt him there with you right up until you’d turned around. You call his name out into the darkness but receive no response. You roll your eyes, sometimes he got like this when he was in a mood—preferring silence to a solution.

·       Your left hand finds the wall, feeling your way along the cool plaster until your fingers find the switch. Light floods the kitchen momentarily flaring too bright against your retinas, and you realize he’s not even in the room anymore. You hadn’t heard him leave, but he’s certainly not still here, unless he’s somehow managed to master the art of invisibility without telling you. He’s a remarkable man, you’ll give him that, but you highly doubt he’s that remarkable. In all likelihood, he’d just popped out for a smoke. Though you’d love to know how he managed to sweettalk the squealing hinges into silence.

·       Crossing the room, you pull the screen door open, bracing it against your hip to keep it from banging closed on you. You crack the main door open just enough to poke your head out. You go slowly, easing it open bit by bit—the hinges whine high and thin into the night, but it’s nothing compared to the fuss they’d made when you first came in. peering out into the darkness, you don’t see Harry in his usual late-night smoking spot—leaning out over the porch railing, one hand curled around a cigarette, the other cradling his chin as he stares out into the relative seclusion of your back garden.

·       Around this time of year, it wasn’t much to look at—the leaves mostly gone from the trees, the shrivelled corpses of your flowers littering the rapidly browning grass—but in the spring, it was a sight, bursting with blossoms and buzzing insects alike.

·       You suppose it doesn’t matter though, Harry never gets to see the butterflies and bees anyway. Not when he only comes out to smoke at night. On the bad days when he’s stressed, or tired and really croaking for a smoke before the sun dips down into the harbour, he usually retreats to the basement, cracking one of the tiny windows that looks out onto the street. But otherwise, he’s an exclusively nocturnal smoker.

·       One night in the summer, when it had been far too muggy to do anything but lay in bed and sweat, you’d given up on sleep to sit out with him. Outside, the air was no less close, but even the pitiful, sporadic gasps the breeze offered had felt so good against your feverish skin you couldn’t bring yourself to complain. He’d stood there, leaned out over the railing, the cherry of his cigarette flaring red-hot in the darkness. You had hopped up onto the railing beside him, dangling your legs out over a bed of wilting marigolds—even they were flagging in this heat, not that you could blame them.

·       For a long while, neither of you spoke, content to simply inhabit the same space at the same time. It wasn’t long before you were lost in thought; staring up at the stars and marvelling at how the scent of your little lavender bushes almost covered the stink of the harbour. Almost. Then, Harry blew a cloud of smoke out into the darkness, which drifted sluggishly across your vision, bringing you back to the present moment. To this day, you don’t quite know why you’d asked the question, nor where it had come from, “So…you only smoke at night, huh?”

·       He’d frowned a little, his eyebrows pulling together as though he was only realizing this for the first time. He’d maneuvered the dart into the corner of his mouth so he could speak around it, “I s’pose so…”

·       “What’s up with that?”

·       He chewed on the end of the cigarette, jaw working as he thought, “Probably got somethin’ t’do with spendin’ so much time in…” He raked a suddenly shaky hand through his hair, “…the pit.”

·       “You were a miner?” You had known so little about him in those days.

·       Again, he ran a trembling hand through his hair, the silence stretching long into the humid night. “It…uh…fucks your sense of time real good. Y’get used to it bein’ dark all the time.” He takes a deep drag, letting the smoke curl about in his lungs for a good long while before letting it go with a heavy, rushing sigh. “‘N ya’ get to like it better that way.” With a practiced flick of the wrist, he taps the ash from the end of his cigarette, scattering in on the wooden deck-boards beneath his boots. “I’d rather not talk about it.”

·       And so, you’d let it go. But the pieces had begun to fall into place: Why he never went out with you, why he was so hesitant to talk about where he’d come from or what he’d been running from the night you found him shivering and soaked to the skin at the end of your street, why he’d asked you to keep quiet about him, why he hadn’t told you his last name—a name everyone in town both knew and feared.

·       He’d told you half the truth then you suppose. After all, he is a night-owl, and that probably did have something to do with his previous profession. However, you think his late-night smoking habit likely also has something to do with risk. You know now who he is and what he did. If anyone knew he was back in town, there would be trouble no doubt. Of course, the rumours that would start flying about if a strange man were spotted hanging around your place would also be trouble, just the type you were more accustomed to handling. There had been jaw about you in town before and there would likely be again. You could deal with a few stray comments from old folks with nothing better to do than gossip and young folks who did but wasted their time on it anyway. You knew for certain that you could not handle the sight of Harry beaten and dragged off to God-knows-where by a mob of angry townsfolk or worse, the police. No, if it came down to it, you’d take the rumours.

·       Shuddering, you close the door, locking the knob and sliding the deadbolt home. You lock the screen door as well, something Harry always teased you about. You could picture him now, leaning against the counter, hands in his pockets. An easy grin slides across his face as he watches you, ‘Now what’cha lockin’ that for? S’not gonna stop nobody from comin’ in if they really wanna.’ But you always locked it anyway—it made you feel safer. Sometimes you’d tell him so, but that smile would only grow as he pushes off from the counter and scoops you up into his arms. He is really quite strong despite his small stature. ‘Don’t need locks for that no more, Sweetheart. You got me.��

·       But he doesn’t know. He doesn’t know you’d never locked your doors before he came along. Not once. There was never any need to. The community was small and tightly knit. With only one notable exception—the cause of which now shared your bed on the regular—the crime rate was so low hardly anyone locked their doors at all. But since Harry, you had felt compelled to do so. Not out of obligation to the town, rather an obligation to Harry. They didn’t need to be kept safe from him—they had already paid for their mistakes. If they were smart, they’d never give him reason to shed blood again—no you locked the doors to keep Harry safe from them.

·       Though there was a memorial plaque dedicated to the lives lost in the mining accident right there in the middle of town, it was something the residents rarely spoke about. Most were content to forget it—and the grisly murders that followed—entirely. But when February rolled around again, an oppressive tension swept through the streets. Even as people pretended to carry on with their lives like nothing was wrong, their hushed whispers and conspiratorial glances spoke the truth plainly—they hadn’t forgotten at all. They couldn’t forget. Harry Warden had stained their community, perhaps forever, and they hated him for it. Many would rather see him dead than locked up and you could think of one or two who might actually try if given the chance.

·       Maybe there was a time when you would have let them, out of fear or some misguided sense of morality. But now that you knew him, everything was different. That night, when he’d finally told you the truth about who he was, what he’d done, the place he’d escaped from, he had seemed so small—trembling on the floor of your living room, fingers digging hard into his arms, unable to look at you for fear of your reaction—and you’d decided then and there you would stand between him and that hatred. You would keep him safe. Locking that door was just one of the thousands of small ways you had found to do so. Maybe a part of him knew that. Maybe not. Still, that door stayed locked at night.

·       Now, if he wasn’t outside and he wasn’t in the kitchen, where else could he be? You pad quickly through the kitchen, your thin socks only able to protect you so much from the chilly tiles. On your way by, you pop your head into the den, wondering if he’d decided to curl up on the sofa in front of the TV—a favoured spot for a deep sulk. If his attitude in the driveway told you anything, this had been be a pretty good guess, but the room is as dark and empty as the kitchen. Strange.

·       Rounding the corner at the end of the hall, four doors stand before you: the bathroom, the office, the guestroom and your bedroom. The bathroom door is closed, and through the crack beneath, you can see the light is turned off. The same can be said for the office, and upon closer inspection, the guestroom as well. You suppose he could be in any of the three rooms, but if that’s the case, it’s safe to assume he really wants to be left alone.

·       Perhaps you really had hurt him in your silly attempt to make him jealous. You both knew it was dangerous for him to go out, but you’d pushed him anyway, and he’d said ‘yes,’ because he trusts you and he loves you. And what had you done? You cuddled up to a stranger all night and let him watch. When you think about it like that, a hot wave of shame rolls through your gut. You feel nauseous.

·       You stand there in the hall, chewing your cheek and wondering what you should do. You could knock, calling his name softly and apologize. Maybe he’d open the door and come to bed with you, maybe he’d choose to sleep on the sofa and send you to bed alone. Either way he’d know you were sorry. But trying to force a conversation Harry wasn’t ready to have was often like talking to a brick wall—a brick wall which could get up and leave the room. Perhaps it would be better to let him come to you when he was ready. But if you leave him alone, he might think you don’t care. But if you push him, he might not take you seriously. As you weigh your options, a flicker of movement from further down the hall catches your attention.

·       Your bedroom door is open just a crack, and through it a quavering light pools on the carpet. At once confused and curious, you creep down the hallway. Pressing your ear to the door, you don’t hear anything out of the ordinary. In fact, it doesn’t sound like anyone is in there at all, and yet the light from within flickers as though something is moving in front of it. Curiosity burning in the pit of your stomach, you press your palm against the faded wooden door and give it a push.

·       Candlelight spills out into the hallway, its warm glow washing gently over you. There must be a hundred candles in the room, as every available surface from the dresser to the desk is covered with votives and pillars, tapers and tealights. Were these all yours? You can’t recall ever buying so many, yet here they are. The air is filled with their mingling scents: apples, beeswax, and fresh linen, but beneath that the smell of smoke and the sulfurous scent of the matches he’d used to light them all linger in the air. It can’t have been long since he’s finished lighting them.

·       Harry himself kneels on the floor at the foot of your bed, thighs spread wide. Though he’s facing the door, he hadn’t looked up when the it opened. His eyes remain trained on the carpet before him. His hands though firmly clasped behind his back can’t have been there for long—both the button and zipper of his jeans are fully undone, the fabric stretched wide and slung low across his hips. Beneath the jeans, his boxers have been pulled low, exposing his cock, already hard and drooling precum onto the carpet beneath him.

·       Stunned by the unexpected sight before you, you can do little more than stand there in the doorway, gaping. Harry had certainly never done this before—he’d knelt for you on occasion, sure, but never without being asked first. A tight heat begins to stir within you as the blood rushes from your head to much more…important areas. Feeling a little lightheaded, you find yourself leaning against the doorjamb for support. Though your legs feel as though they’ve turned to jelly, you find your words again with your shoulder braced firmly against a solid surface, “What’s all this then, baby?”

·       He makes no attempt to look at you as he answers, his eyes glued to the floor in a clear sign of submission, though his tone is anything but. There’s bite in his voice, an anger that thrums through his every word, and vibrates through you even from your spot in the doorway, “Jus’ wanna show ya’ I’m good.” He clenches his jaw, eyes burning holes into the carpet, “Make you forget all about him.” He spits out the word like a mouthful of rotten fruit.

·       You grinned. So, he is just jealous after all. Good.

·       “Look at me, Harry.” His eyes flash in the low light, still blazing with anger even as they find yours. His while body is tense with that rage, every muscle coiled and ready to strike, through he remains still, head bowed, arms folded behind his back. His voice is tight, enunciating very clearly, his usual industrial drawl combed into something smoother, “I want to show you I can be just as good for you. Better even.”

·       You smirk down at him, “Oh really?”

·       “I can—” He begins to shift, the movement dragging his shaft against the rough denim of his jeans. He shudders, the words momentarily dying on his tongue. His fingers sink into the carpet at his sides, knuckles going white as he struggles not to roll his hips, bucking into that coarse pleasure. His cock pulses and another bead of precum oozes from the tip. “Fuck,” He takes a shuddering breath, his eyes squeezing closed for a brief moment, “I…I can prove it.” There is a pause, his jaw working as he struggles to force the next word out, “Please.”

·       Oh, he really is wound up. Begging doesn’t come easily for Harry Warden, but that just makes it all the sweeter to hear when he does.

·       “Please, let me prove it to you.”

·       You can’t help the grin that slides across your face. “And just how do you intend to do that, baby?”

·       He goes still for a moment, eyes narrowing, still angry but acknowledging the challenge. His gaze slides down your body, dark eyes drinking in your form, coming to rest on the carpet at your feet. “I’ll do anything.”

·       Your grin widens, “Anything?”

·       He swallows thickly, nodding.

·       “Anything?” You’re just teasing him now.

·       “Yes.” His voice is tight and there’s tension building in his shoulders, but you think you can push him a little further.

·       “Anyyyything?”

·       His head snaps up, eyes boring into yours, ablaze with frustration, “Yes for Chrissake! Anything. Just,” He sighs through his nose, bowing his head again, “Just tell me what to do, and I’ll do it.”

·       You push off from the doorjamb, managing to wobble only a little, as you saunter into the room to stand before him, “Shirt off.”

·       It takes him less than a second to respond, pealing the white cotton shirt over his head, exposing the hard planes of his chest and stomach. “Mm, good boy.” You flop down on the bed, tucking your legs up beneath yourself. “Now, touch yourself.” He reaches for his cock, “Ah, ah, ah. I didn’t say ‘touch your cock,’ Harry. I said, ‘touch yourself.’”

·       Harry makes a noise caught halfway between a sigh and a whine but does as he’s told. He sits up straighter, his neglected cock bobbing against his stomach. His hands trail up his sides, pressing against toned muscle and bone alike. He shivers as his fingers brush against the scars that litter his chest, remnants of the accident that nearly took his life. “Feel good, baby?”

·       He wrinkles his nose a little, “Not…really? They’re numb kinda…”

·       “Keep going then, you can’t stop until it starts to feel good.” He swallows and brushes his fingers across his nipples. His jaw goes tight, fingers stilling for a moment. You know he doesn’t get much out of touching himself like this, much preferring to fist his cock fast and hard until he finds his release. This is mostly for you—he cuts a lovely figure half-undressed, hands roaming across his body—but if it’s the only stimulation he’s allowed, you figure he’ll find some enjoyment in it. And this hypothesis seems to be correct thus far, as he continues to play far more attention to his chest than he usually would, the fingers of one hand digging into the flesh of his pectoral as his thumb rubs a slow circle around his nipple. His other hand is trailing up his neck, pressing against the sensitive spots just beneath his jaw.

·       His breath is coming harder now, and he’s making lovely little sounds at the back of his throat. His hips press forward, seeking stimulation. “A little lower now, baby.”

·       As commanded, his hands slip down across his ribs, over his stomach. His hands hover about his hips, hesitating, waiting for your instructions. “Oooh, there’s a good boy. Let’s test your self control, shall we? How close can you get to it before you can’t keep still anymore?”

·       He heaves a shaky breath. His fingers dip below the waist of his jeans, tracing the bones of his hips and the tops of his thighs.

·       “You can do better than that. Closer.”

·       You can see his thighs beginning to shake as his fingers slip ever closer to his cock, teasing the inner most spots on his thighs and the seams of his hips, spots you know he loves and hates to find your mouth in equal measure.

· It isn't until his fingers brush against the sensitive flesh just above his cock that his hips stutter forward and a soft cry tears free from his lips.

·       You slip from the bed to kneel before him, pressing your face close to his, crooning praises into his ear. “Is it too much for my good boy? That’s okay, you follow orders so well.” You can feel his cheeks heating us as he flushes a deep red in the low light.

·       Cupping his face, you tilt his chin up, forcing him to look up at you. “Good boys deserve rewards, don’t you think.” Despite the deepening blush, his haughty expression tells you he’ll get you back for this someday. Every word of simpering praise, every degrading kindness will be repaid in full. You can hardly wait. You tilt his head up and down in answer to your own question, “Yes they do. So, let’s give that cock some attention, hmm?”

·       In that moment, Harry forgets himself. His hands shoot out, reaching down to wrap around his length. “Stop!” You bark the order, and he freezes, fingers curling against the air, rather than his throbbing length as he so desperately wants. “Not with your hands.”

·       A long breath hisses out through his teeth. His tone is petulant, “Then how am I supposed to—”

·       “Is that backtalk I’m hearing? Because if it is—”

·       “No!” And just like that the attitude is gone, replacing with a stumbling apology, “I-I’m sorry, I’ll do what you asked. I was just…just clarifyin’. How do you want me to…get off?”

·       “No one said anything about getting off.” You press a finger against his chest, slowly dragging it down over his pecks, his sternum, his stomach, until you find his cock. Your touch merely ghosts over his sensitive flesh, but he trembles beneath it, moaning low in the back of his throat.

·       Your finger finds the tip of his cock, and slips to the underside, stroking roughly against his frenulum—the most sensitive spot on his body. In an instant he’s bucking against you, your name tumbling from his lips along with a litany of trembling pleas for more. While it’s tempting to indulge him, you don’t want this to be over quite so quickly. With a lopsided grin, you withdraw your hand. Harry whines in frustration at the loss, his hips stuttering against the air.

·       His cock drags against the rough denim of his jeans, and he sucks in a sharp breath. He hesitates for only a moment as he looks at you for permission. You nod and his shoulders slump forward, his hands shooting forward to catch himself. His fingers sink into the carpet before his knees, and his thighs slide further apart to accommodate this change is posture.

·       The drag of coarse denim against the over-sensitive flesh of his cock can’t have been the most comfortable sensation in the world, but one wouldn’t get that impression from watching Harry’s expression. Though his head is tipped forward, you can see still his eyes, screwed shut in pleasure. His teeth catch his lower lip tightly. It’s really such a pity, because you know he’d make such lovely noises if he would just open his mouth. You suppose you could just order him to let you hear him, but it was always so much more satisfying to pull the sounds from him yourself.

·       Dipping your head, you press your lips into the column of Harry’s exposed throat. For a moment he goes utterly still, shuddering beneath your mouth. In between peppering every available inch with little kisses, you murmur, “Keep going baby,” against his skin. It takes him a moment to process your command. His lust-fogged mind is able to focus on only a few things at a time, and your lips are taking precedence over everything else. But when it finally clicks, his hips jerk back into motion

·       You graze your teeth along his jaw, catching the spots his fingers had toyed with earlier. Like a latch clicking open, his teeth release his lip, and he moans—a soft sound, almost a sigh. Beautiful. You fall into that spot, nipping and sucking at it until the sounds—moans, whimpers, and curses alike—are tumbling from Harry’s lips one after another.

·       You dig your teeth in hard, and his hips slam forward, a gasp on his lips. The force of his movement pushes his cock further through the opening of his jeans, and the teeth of the zipper drag across his flesh. He hisses, sharp and sibilant, as the sting overtakes the pleasure. God you wish you could see his face—the pleasure swiftly transforming into agony then back again. Though you’re sure your imagination pales in comparison to the real thing, the pictures your mind conjures are enough to send a throbbing wave of want through you. The tortured mix of pleasure and agony on his face is a sight, second only to the beauty of Harry’s expression when he cums for you.

·       As though he could read your thoughts, Harry’s hips jerk down, rutting against the fabric from a different angle. His pace becomes quicker, more frantic as his orgasm looms large on the horizon. You grin against his throat. “Are you close baby?”

·       Harry doesn’t speak, but you can feel him nodding, his bony jaw bumping against the top of your head. “That didn’t take very long. Were you playing without me earlier?”

·       Of course, you know the answer is ‘yes.’ He’d likely been kneeling right there, bucking into his fist while you were locking still the doors. But you wanted to hear him admit it. “Answer me, Harry.”

·       His voice is trembling when he replies, speech lust-slurred and sluggish “Yesss, Ssweetheart”

·       Tsk, tsk. Maybe I shouldn’t let you cum after all.” You place a hand on his hip, stalling his movement. He’s strong enough he could just shake you off, keep going until he finds his release, but he doesn’t. That’s not the game you play. Instead, he shudders under you hand, trembling as his release slips away from him, the pleasure fading to a dull throb between his legs.

·       “No!” His cock pulses, the precum shiny and wet against the tip. “Please, I-I’m sorry. I jus’ wanted to be ready for ya’, I didn’t mean to break the rules.”

·       “I know.” You pat his cheek affectionately. “I understand. It’s hard to be a good boy when it’s in your nature to be a filthy little whore.”

·       Harry’s chest heaves as he comes back down from the edge. His ego chafes under your degradation, but his body shudders with the thrill of it. He rolls his head back, shooting you a sideways glance, “You’re so mean, you know that?” Though his words are anything but, both his expression and his tone are utterly adoring.

·       You peck his cheek, “You love it.”

·       “I do.”

·       You stroke his cheek gently with the back of your hand “Can you start again?”

·       Harry rolls his hips forward, experimentally. His teeth fix into his lower lip almost instantly, but he nods. You can tell the break wasn’t quite long enough, but that’s okay. You’ll just need to keep a closer eye on him to make sure he doesn’t slip over the edge before you’re ready to let him.

·       Your hand finds his hip again, slowing him to a stop. “I think we’ll play a different game this time. Wouldn’t want you getting bored.” You glance down at the rough denim, “Or chaffed up.”

·       Your hand slips into his jeans and grips his cock firmly around the base. He cants up into your hand almost reflexively, heating flesh sliding against your palm. You smile, “Oh no. None of that. You’ve gotta stay still this time, baby. In fact,” You give his cock a gentle pump, causing him to buck into your hand despite your instructions. You pull you hand away. “If you move, I’ll stop. Understand?”

·       Harry’s knuckles go white in the carpet as he struggles to keep himself under control, but he nods. “Good. Now,” You wrap your hand around him once again. “I won’t make this easy on you.”

·       He grins, “Wouldn’t be any fun if ya’ did.”

·       You can’t help but grin back, an expression of your adoration for the man before you as you begin to move your hand. As promised, you set a brutal pace, your grip tight around his feverish flesh.

·       His head falls back, eyes going wide, “Ohh, fuuck!” His hands are shaking where they’re dug into the carpet and his thighs tremble with the tremendous effort of keeping still. And though he takes a near herculean stab at following your instructions,  when your thumb swipes gently over the tip of his cock at the end of a stroke, he falls apart. His hips jerking forward into you hand

·       “Ah, ah,” You say, pulling your hand away despite the high whine at the back of Harry’s throat. “I said don’t move.”

·       His breath is coming in ragged gasps, “Let…Let me try again. I’ll be good!”

·       You purse your lips, as though to say, ‘I’m not sure you will be.” But he leans in, nuzzling into the crook of your neck and whimpering, “Please,’ against your skin, and you’re almost convinced.

·       Your pulse jumps as his lips press against your skin. The need to put hands on him again bubbles up within your chest until you cannot fight it a second longer. You hand finds his cock again, sliding against his skin which is now positively radiating heat and slick with precum. He’s really enjoying this. You squeeze your fingers around him a little tighter as he twitches in your hand, “Look at you! Taking it so well for me.” He whimpers in repose, the sound vibrating against your throat as his mouth works against your skin.

·       Swiping your thumb over the head of his cock again, his voice breaks, climbing higher into the back of his throat. Yet his hips remain still. So, you do it again, thumb spreading the slick precum gathering at the tip of his cock across the head. He shudders against you, sinking his teeth deep into your neck. He’s putting up a good fight, but you can tell he isn’t far from breaking. You begin to move you hand more quickly, squeezing your fist tightly around his shaft.

·       “You’re doing so well, baby. But I wonder…” Your other hand hovers just above the tip of his cock. “What would happen if I…” You touch his tip gently, ghosting your fingers over. The combined sensation of the rough pace of your hand and the gentle touch of your fingers makes his thighs tremble. He’s cursing now, a steady stream of ‘fucks’ and half-coherent pleas tumble forth into the hollow spaces between your collarbones.

·       You press a little harder, rubbing a gentle circle around the head of his cock, and he bucks into your hand, pressing the tip hard against your fingers, desperate for more. Through clenched teeth you can hear him chanting, “No, no, no” over and over, clearly frustrated by the betrayal of his own body.  

·       You smirk down at him, “Looks like you’re really sensitive here huh, baby?”

·       Harry doesn’t respond, merely shuddering against you, his head still buried in the crook of your neck. “It’s not your fault though.” You release his cock, stroking you hands soothingly against his trembling thighs. “You know, I think it’s partially my own fault for not touching you enough. But I can fix that.” You can feel the confused frown pulling against his handsome features, one that begins to melt into a look of shocked horror as he realizes what you’re about to do.

·       He pulls away from your neck just a moment before you set upon the tip of his cock. Your fingers making a tight little ring, you squeeze around him. His head jerks back, eyes rolling toward the ceiling. You stroke your thumb against the tip, rubbing tight quick circles against his weeping slit. He finds his voice, broken and wavering and cries out your name, begging you for more and to stop in the same breath.

·       His hips buck into your hand wildly, but this time you don’t stop, squeezing tighter, as your fingers slip beneath the head, rubbing relentless circles against his frenulum. His body seizes up, his voice momentarily dying in this throat. When it returns, he’s babbling, nearly sobbing with the pleasure, “Need t’stop…” He whines, “Neet’sssstop or I’ll cum,” His speech is slurred, punctuated with sharp moans and deep gasps for breath.

·       “But I thought you wanted to cum, Harry.”

·       His chest is heaving now, sweat slicking his sandy hair to his temples, “I do, fuuuck, IdoIdoIdo, pleassse, but…” He swallows hard, struggling to grind out the words around the white-hot pressure building in his stomach, “Wanna...wanna be good for ya’, don’t wanna…c-c-cum until you let me.” Despite his words, he grinds down against your fingers, unable to stop himself. “Please lemme be good, FUCK! Please, babyssstop! I’m gonna cum,”

·       For just a moment, you consider letting him. But the beseeching look in his eyes tells you even if you did, though the release would be satisfying, it wouldn’t be good enough. Harry wanted, no, needed to be good for you. Taking pity on him now wouldn’t help.

·       You pull your hands back, and despite himself, Harry sobs, a fat droplet of precum spilling down his pulsing length. Harry shudders as it rolls down his flesh, over-sensitive as though he’d just cum. You realize then, just how close he’d actually been.

·       You take him into your arms, pulling him close and petting his hair gently as he struggles to get his breathing under control. He jitters against you, a low whimper in his throat as your repositioning causes his cock to rub against you.

·       “Christ, I’m sorry,” He says, voice a cracked whisper, “It’s been so long since we’ve…”

·       You shush him, “I know baby, take your time.” His head falls against your shoulder, the weight of his shuddering body a welcome pleasure. He presses soft kisses into your neck, trailing up to your jaw, your cheek, your lips.

·       He kisses you softly, his lips sluggish against your own, but still no less adoring. He pulls back enough to whisper, “I’m yours.” And you smile.

·       “I know.” You run your fingers down his back, ghosting over exposed skin and he shudders.

·       “No one else will ever belong to you like I do.” Despite Harry’s fragile state, it isn’t a question, rather a statement that isn’t to be questioned.

·       “No one else.”

·       He melts against you, “Then touch me. I can take it.”

·       You push him back, searching his dark eyes. What you find there is the same lust that’s driven you since the beginning of the night. You tug him to his feet, gripping his arms tightly as he wobbles on stiff and tired legs.

·       “Get yourself out of those jeans, and get on the bed. We aren’t finished.”

[g-e-r-a-s-k-i-e-r]

TRAPPED PART 3

——————

I can send you back, but for that you need to know why you were sucked into my mind in the first place. That’s just how it works.” He shrugged.

“Wait… so this has happened before? With who? And how? I mean… how did I get sucked in? How do I get out?”

“Haha, that’s a lot of questions at once, mi sobrina. It was me, Mirabel. I sucked you in. It’s only ever happened twice before, the first time I was disturbed during a particularly tricky vision, the second time was when I… was out of control.” He fiddled with his ruana again, avoiding her eyes.

“Out of control?” Mirabel breathed quietly.

“Yeah… It was years ago, when I was a lot younger. The kids in town were… getting me to have a lot of visions but… but… I didn’t want to and…” He trailed off and looked at the floor awkwardly, a haunted look on his face.

“You mean forcing you to have visions” she finished for him. He looked up at her in surprise before nodding slowly. She decided she’d think over that particular detail of Bruno’s life later. “But I thought only you had the power to activate your visions Tío?”

“Oh I do, I do. But they were very uh, persuasive… anyway, I ended up having a lot of them at once and it overwhelmed me to the point where I lost control and sucked Julieta in here while she was trying to calm me down.”

“So… I got sucked in, to calm you down? Is that it?”

“Yes, Mirabel. I needed you. When I tried to have that vision this morning, I was too weak, I knew that. But that nice townswoman badly wanted something specific and since I’m trying to help again I thought I’d be able to handle it but… the vision started taking on a life of its own and… and I couldn’t stop it… I saw you under Casita and then, and then… well you know the rest. I can get to a point where nobody can reach me on the outside, so I think it’s my gift’s own way of making sure I can find my way back…” he smiled shyly at her. “So this will be the second time you’ll have saved me.”

He stared at her earnestly, mouth pulled into the most genuine, loving smile she remembered ever getting from him. She smiled back, wondering how on earth her Tío had endured so much suffering in his life, yet still managed to be so kind and gentle and humble.

The moment was broken when Bruno cleared his throat, shifting himself so he was kneeling down directly opposite her. “Okay… let’s get you home.” He said with a deep breath, flexing his fingers and putting his hands on her shoulders.

“Let’s both go home.” She grinned brightly at her dear Tío.

“Okay… I need your forehead for this bit.”

“My forehead?”

“Yeah… you put your forehead on mine, right? It’s how this whole thing works.”

His eyes started to glow, then flickered as he added as an afterthought “Oh, one more thing, it might take a lot out of me… after I’ve sent you back, find Julieta. She’ll know what to do. And Mirabel? Don’t be scared.” She nodded nervously as he focused once more, closing his eyes then bringing his hands up to her face, resting his forehead against hers. The last thing she saw was his eyes flying open and a blinding flash of white before she was again catapulted through a pitch black tunnel, although this time she was aware of being pushed towards the noise.

——————

Hoped you liked this 😁 Part 4 on the way guys! And it’s the whumpiest of the lot! 😂

Here are parts 1 + 2:

https://g-e-r-a-s-k-i-e-r.tumblr.com/post/674136474352025600/trapped-part-1

https://g-e-r-a-s-k-i-e-r.tumblr.com/post/674209358910013440/trapped-part-2

[mashiraostail]

Hi can I please get Aizawa, Hizashi, Gang Orca and Vlad King when their poor civilian s/o gets injured in a villain attack? Like not super serious but definitely to the point they're in a lot of pain

yeesss! under the cut enjoy ! >:3 i just picked random jobs to give the reader where it fit btw

Shouta Aizawa: “I swear to god you just attract trouble.” Aizawa drops you unceremoniously onto the couch, “don’t you?”  “Clearly, I found you didn't I?” You look up at him and he huffs.  “You need ice.” He stuffs a few pillows under your incredibly swollen and bruised ankle, “what the hell were you doing around here anyway, I thought you were supposed to be at work?”  “I got off early, I was gonna break into your place and surprise you.”  “You can’t break in someplace you have a key for.” He crosses his arms, “well, either way, you’re lucky I was around. If you’d hung out there too much longer who knows what else would have fallen on you, or worse. You need to be more careful.”  “You need to be more careful.” You mimic him in a childish tone and he scoffs. “I may have saved your life and this is how you repay me? What would you have done if I didn’t show up? Make a home in that subway station with your leg stuck under a pile of rocks and a trashed phone? If that villain didn’t get to you the boredom would have.” “I had it handled, thank you.”  You gasp, offended.  “What were you gonna do, finance the villain’s car?” He starts to laugh. “I would have figured it out!” You insist. “You’re an accountant.” He snorts and you frown.  “I’m-” You snap your mouth shut and scowl at him, he laughs some more.  “Is that you trying to look angry with me? Gee, I’m petrified.” He wraps up a bag of ice cubes with a thin cloth and rests in on your ankle. You reach forward to hit him and he jumps back, “Woah, woah, hey, hey no.”  He catches your hand, “you know you’re lucky you have me-okay hey-” Your leering forward with your other hand but he catches that too, “you’re just going to hurt yourself, not me so no hitting- hey! I said no hitting. I’ll stop, alright?” He kisses your knuckles and then sets your hands in your lap, “but you need to rest, it’s only a few bumps and bruises plus  a bum ankle but I’m sure you’re exhausted and in pain.”  You sink into the cushions of his couch, “stop being mean to me, this is kind of your fault you know?”  “Being mean to you? I saved you!” He sighs, “Look. I’m sorry I laughed at you. You’re a very good accountant, I love you and I love that you’re an accountant. I’m sure you would have found your way back here somehow. I shouldn’t underestimate you.” He kisses between your furrowed brows, “so stop looking at me like that and tell me what hurts so I can help.”  “Just my legs.” You promise, “I hit my head but it wasn’t so bad, I don’t think it’s serious.” You reach out for his hands and he lets you take them. “You’re all scraped up.” He sighs, “do you have any idea how worried I was when I saw you stuck in there? It’s like I got tunnel vision.”  “I’m sorry.” You murmur playing with his fingers, running the pad of your thumb over his calloused palm, “if it’s any consolation that’s how I feel about you all the time..”  He snaps his mouth shut. Well, he’d never considered it like that.  “I know..” He sighs and closes his eyes, “and I love you..so...don’t be sorry, just...try not to let it happen again? For my sake and yours. It’s my job to get into trouble so just leave it to the professionals?”  You nod at that and drop your head forward onto his shoulder.  “Okay good. Now let’s get you cleaned up. Come on, you can barely keep your eyes open, go to sleep if you can, I’ll stay here with you while you do.”

Hizashi Yamada: “I told you Zash, it’s really all right.” You let him open the door for you anyway, “the doctors just wanted to be sure I didn’t have any broken bones or anything like that.”  “I should have at least been able to come to get you at the hospital!” He warbles and you smile a little at him.  “You were just doing your job. I understand. Like I said before it wasn’t serious at all, I just dislocated my shoulder, and I’ve got a minor concussion.” You press your fingers to his lips, “so let’s keep it down okay?”  He nods at you, looking just a little awestruck. you smile at him a little wider and take his face in your hand, “you’re sweet, Zashi, thank you for being worried about me.”  “Of course I’m worried.” He shakes his head, “I’m sorry you got hurt in the first place...I can get you some ice for your shoulder and some pain meds, you should try to rest as much as you can.” He holds your waist, “want me to carry you?”  You snort out a laugh at that, “no I think I can manage it babe.”  “Maybe I should come to help you change shirts, they may have reset your shoulder at the hospital but you should still be careful.”  You’re going to say no, that you can handle that too, but he just looks so worried.  “Yeah..I’d really appreciate that Zash. Do you mind?”  He’s about to yell, you can see it in his face, the way he opens his mouth, but it locks shut and he starts shaking his head vigorously instead. “Let me get an icepack and some painkillers and I’ll meet you in there?” You’re pretty proud of his self-restraint. He follows close behind you into your bedroom and starts helping you change into a big, old tee shirt of his, per your request.  “You know..” He starts after pulling the tee-shirt over your head, “what were you doing all the way over here anyway, isn’t your office 3 stops away from here?” “Hm?” You look up at him and ponder for a moment before remembering, “oh, I was going to meet an old coworker from my last gig for lunch, looks like we both got a little wrapped up.” You laugh a little, “he should be alright too. He called me while I was at the hospital, looks like he made it out with just a few scrapes.”  “Wish you were that lucky..” He murmurs smoothing his palm over your head. “Honestly I needed an excuse to ask for a few days off anyhow.” You sit on the edge of your bed and he hums as you continue, “but now that I think about it maybe this is a sign I should just hang out where I am a little longer.” You wave with a laugh. “Were you meeting about a new job?” He perks up at the new bit of information and you shrug. “They have an opening, a charge nurse. He was gonna show me around the floor today after lunch.” You murmur noncomittally, “though now it seems a bit cursed doesn’t it?” You watch him unmake your bed, fluffing up various pillows and pulling the sheets back.  “No way babe, you deserve a better job if you want one. I always say how I think you should be in charge anyhow.” He pats the open space and you laugh but shuffle over to him.  “Yeah..and plus I’d be closer to you.” You look up at him for a reaction as he starts to wrap up the icepack in a cloth. He sputters.  “Well..that’d be nice.”  “Though if you ever get bored of being a hero, you’ve got the makings of a pretty good nurse, then we’d be plenty close, wouldn’t we?” 

Gang Orca/Kugo Sakamata: “Are you mad at me?” You ask, partially slung over the taller man’s shoulder.  “I am not mad at you.” He responds flatly.  “You sound a little mad at me.” You murmur, drumming your fingers on the back of his neck, “Come on Kugo, don’t be mad at me.”  “I said I’m not.” He reaches into his pocket for his keys.  “Then stop acting mad at me.” You retort as he unlocks his front door.  “I’m sorry.” Is all he offers to that. You can’t help but grin a little. “My ribs hurt-” You whine and he sighs.  “Yes, well mine would hurt too, if some hopped up villain body-slammed me into a bus. Maybe you should have considered that before jumping in front of a dog-”  “Well, what was I meant to do?!” You warble, knocking your fists off his back, “don’t be such a brute Kugo.”  “I’m not being a brute.” He sits you down on his sort of comically large couch, “I just wish you would have a little more self-preservation.” He kneels in front of you, “is that unfair of me?”  “...no..” You shake your head compliantly.  “Well then there.” He places his hands high up on your thighs, “I can’t help being worried about you when you get hurt, you’re not meant to. I know you like to think you aren’t, but you are just a civilian. And yes, maybe you’re my civilian, but you’re still a civilian. It’s my job to protect you.” He sighs as you take his hands, he continues, “I was cold, I’m sorry.” He apologizes, “you’re right. I shouldn’t have acted upset with you. I was just so worried about you. Do you have any idea how much worse that could have gone? What would have happened if I, or at the very least someone else, wasn’t there to help you?” “Well I..” You don’t know exactly what to say, “I just..moved without thinking. I don’t know..”  “You need to think. For my sake at least.” He takes your face in his hands, “it makes me happy that you wanted to do the right thing, I just wish you’d be less self-destructive when you did it.” He stands up, “let me get you some medicine, you’re probably in a lot of pain. Maybe a warm bath would help the tenderness.” He keeps your face in his hands, pulling you up a bit by your jaw, “does that sound alright my love?” That makes your stomach flutter, a pleasant bubbling floats up into your albeit bruised ribcage as you nod dumbly at your boyfriend.  “I thought it would.” He huffs out a quiet laugh, “how badly does it hurt? You’re lucky you didn’t break anything. If that villain had been any larger I’m sure she would have crushed you.” You hold onto his forearms, “I’m a pretty lucky person..” He hums affectionately. “Yeah it, sure looks like you are. I’ll start a bath for you okay? Wait here, try to get comfortable.”  You have mixed results, but he’s back soon enough, helping you up. Once you make it to his bathroom he’s helping you out of your clothes, careful not to let you move or contort too much.  “Kugo?” You ask quietly as you sink down in the bathwater.  “Mhm?” He’s already wetting your hair with the warm water, slicking it back with large, soft palms.  “You don’t think I’m weak, do you? Wouldn’t you rather date a hero or something? Someone who can hold their own? That you don’t have to worry about so much?”  His hand pulls away a bit, he seems surprised. “Of course I don’t. Being a hero is my job, I don’t think lowly of people who need my help because I’ll need their help one day too. Do you have a poor opinion of everyone who comes to you and needs help fixing the awful haircut they gave themself?” He drags a soapy hand over your shoulder and you shake your head at that,  “no, I guess I never saw it that way..”  “I worry about you because I love you, not because I think you’re weak. I’d worry about you if you were the no. 1 hero just as much as I worry now. Don’t put thoughts like that in your head they’re not worth the space they take up. Let’s get you cleaned up and a little more comfortable, okay?”

Vald King/ Sekijiro Kan: “Oh? Hey! Look who’s awake.” Sekijiro is sitting beside your bed when you open your eyes. Well you think it’s your bed.  “Where....am I?” You turn to look at him and he sits up a little,  “you’re at my place.” So his bed. Same difference.  “What..what happened?” You rub your head, or you try to but picking your arm up makes you hiss.  “You don’t remember?” He leans toward you, worry etched into his face, “then maybe I should take you back to the hospital-”  It started to come back to you at that, You were on a bus, some sort of villain attacked, there was a pretty big car accident from what you remembered he was trying to drive the bus off a bridge into a free way below, you’d tried negotiating with the guy but he just gave you an uppercut. Though in the time you wasted pestering him he’d lost his window of opportunity, instead he just crashed into a wall. You must have gotten to a hospital somehow...But how’d you get back here? “Oh..the attack..” You wrestle yourself up and he flails up to stop you,  “hey maybe not right this second! The doctors say you hit your head pretty hard, and you broke your collarbone.” He presses you back down into bed, “plus a whole bunch of other bumps and bruises. If I didn’t know any better I’d say you’re cursed or something. But when you woke up in the hospital they said I could bring you back here as long as I kept an eye on you.” He pats your thigh under the blanket.  “my head hurts..” You groan and he hums sympathetically, “yeah I figured you’d say that. Here.” He holds up a bottle of pain meds, “you want 2 or 3?”  “5.” “I’m not a doctor but I think that’s too many.” He hands you three and a glass of water, “need help?” You shake your head and he nods, sitting back in his chair.  “You could have sat in here with me.” You say after downing the pills.  “I didn’t wanna spook you when you woke up.” He shrugs, “let me get you some ice. It’ll help with the swelling, I’ll be right back.”  True to his word he only takes a few minutes before he’s back at your side, “you want me to get in bed with you?” He laughs at the way you’d pulled the duvet back, clearly making a spot for him.  “I guess I owe you that much.” He climbs into bed with you and holds the icepack to your shoulder. “We talked with some of the witnesses from the bus jacking, the ones who made it out with just a few scrapes...we owe you big time.” His other hand rubs your thigh, “if you hadn’t started talking to that guy he would have driven that bus clean into the freeway, you saved a lot of people by being your usual thoughtless self.”  “Well he did punch me in the face.” You murmur, free hand rubbing your jaw and the bruise that blossomed under your palm, “I think you’re rubbing off on me Seki..”  He laughs a little and wraps an arm around you, pulling you into his side, “I don’t know how happy I am about that yet. But I owe you a huge thanks at the very least. You did a really impressive thing today, even if it got you hurt.” “I’m just a secretary.” You wave, “being talkative is my job.” He grins at that, “well I guess you’re right about that..” He presses a long kiss to your temple.  “I was really worried you know..when I figured out what bus that was, that you were on it..when I was talking to the witnesses it barely took me 2 conversations to figure out you were the idiot who tried talking a villain down.”  He sighs, “I guess I can’t be too mad at you though..”  “No you can’t.” You preen and he huffs, “you’re grounded though.”  “Grounded!?” You gasp, “Sekijiro you can’t do that we’re both adults!”  “Don’t wanna hear it. You’ve got my number, call me when crazy stuff like that happens. I’ll be there. I’d rather it be me who gets punched in the face. ‘S sorta my job. So you’re grounded. Like it or not I’m not letting you out of my sight. You aren’t allowed to lift a finger until you’re all healed up, maybe even after that I haven’t decided. Anyways, I already called your boss. So don’t bother trying to go to work tomorrow she’ll just send you home.” “Sekijirio!” You gasp and he catches your hand before you can shove his chest.  “And you’re gonna like it. Come on, come here.” He accepts you into his chest, wrapping both arms around you, “lucky you the break isn’t so bad, you’ll just be in a sling for a bit...” He lets out a long sigh as you slump into his chest, “I was so worried.”  “I’m sorry..” You turn into him and he leans into your hair, “you did the right thing. I love you and I’m proud of you...You made the hero play. So..don’t be sorry just...be more careful from now on, okay?”  “...Yessir...” You wrap your free arm around him. “Thank you.”  “I was thinking of leaving my office if I don’t get a promotion soon..and after my run in with that villain today I think I’ve got the makings of a pretty good sidekick huh?” You tease and Sekijiro shudders.  “Please I don’t know what I’d do if I was this worried about you all the time. I’m really happy being in love with a secretary I think we should keep doing that.”