#why is this man creeping up in my subconscious out of nowhere???

[bright-light]

Dreamed Theo was video calling me. I didn't wanna talk to him but the phone slipped and I accidentally took the call. He started talking to me in portuguese with a PT accent and I was like "Bitch, I'm brazilian, bye!"

[malfoys-demigod]

The One Where Chandler Takes You In

Chandler x F!Reader

Summary: Chandler lets you sleep in his and Joey's apartment after you had to evacuate yours. Chandler's genuine and over-the-top kindness results in confessing his feelings for you.

Word Count: 1.9k

A/N: My first Friends fic and it's on Chandler! I hope you like it!

Tag: @bellarkeselection

There was a knock on the door.

“That must be Y/N.” Ross suggested, noticing the clock. So there were times when you’d be late for anything, such as Monica’s daily dinner. But to be two hours late? That was something new.

Monica stood up from her chair from the dining table and walked over to the door saying, “It’s about time you showed up-“

As the door opened, she was met with a messed-up version of yourself, with wet hair, wet clothes, tired eyes, and a self-depreciating smile on your face.

“Hi, everyone.” You greeted the gang, who looked at you with worry.

“Oh my gosh, Y/N, what happened? Are you alright?” Monica gasped, wondering why you were all so relaxed despite looking the opposite.

You laughed at yourself as you entered the apartment, taking the empty seat beside Chandler, “As of tonight, I’m officially homeless! The entire apartment floor happened to have some caught fire. I wasn’t really aware of this until there was water sprinkling over me like crazy from the ceiling. There wasn’t any fire from my end but their sprinklers must’ve been jammed and continued pouring on my room until, well, everything started messing up my place. Hard-headed me didn’t leave the apartment without a few boxes of clothing and other necessary items so yeah, that’s why I look like I showered with my clothes on.”

“That’s terrible, Y/N!” Rachel said in despair, “Where are all your boxes then?”

You gestured to the outside of the apartment with your finger, “Just outside in the hall.” You said in a cool tone.

“How are you so calm about this? You literally have nowhere to go now!” Monica commented, wondering.

“The apartment company made arrangements for us apparently. I just have to call this number,” you said, withdrawing a piece of paper from your jacket and showing it to the gang, “And have them confirm where I’m staying for awhile.”

“Well why don’t you call them now?” Phoebe asked.

You shrugged, listening to her question. You stood up from the dining chair and headed over to the balcony, attempting to call the number.

After a few tries, nobody picked up. You weren’t having this. You turned around and went back inside, now irritated.

“Nobody picked up,” you announced, frowning.

Chandler, who wanted to be the first one with the proposition, proposed, “How about you stay with me, Y/N?” Then stuttered, “I mean with me and Joey? You know, we could take you in for as long as you want, you could take my bed and I could take the couch and it’ll be fine!”

There was a smile that grew on your face, heart melted from the kind gesture of your friend. You placed your hands on your heart, “Aw, Chan, sure, thanks. But I can’t let you take the couch.”

“Why don’t the two of you share the bed then?” Joey whispered to Ross, who chuckled like a child, which Rachel and Monica heard the both of them, rolling their eyes. They all may or may not have thought that Chandler had a thing for you.

“Hey, whatever floats your boat, Y/N,” he agreed, “Do you need help with the boxes?”

“Sure,” you nodded.

—

“Alright, and we’re all set!” Joey said, finally placing the couch into a couch bed.

“Thanks, Joe,” you said, patting him on the shoulder.

You turned around to see Chandler staring at the two of you from the kitchen, to which he started moving away from and towards you since he felt like a creep from the back, “Uh, I guess that’s it for the night. There’s a lot of water in the fridge if you’re thirsty, and if you really need anything, don’t hesitate to knock on my door, alright?”

“Yeah, thanks too, Chandler.”

Joey yawned as he stretched, looking a little tired now. “Well, I’m gonna head to bed. Night, Y/N.”

“Night, Joe!” You waved as he retreated to his bedroom.

Chandler gave you a small and shy wave, “I’ll get going too, see you, Y/N.”

“Sweet dreams, Chandler,” you said, smiling at him. He smiled, turned around, and headed to his room.

When everyone was gone, you tucked yourself into bed and closed your eyes shut with a smile, knowing that you’re being taken care of by your two good friends.

Sometime at 3am, Chandler woke up. He was quite thirsty, which was odd since it was in the middle of the night. He needed to satisfy his body, so he got out of bed and slowly made his way out of his room without making any sound.

As he made baby steps from his bedroom, his eyes darted to the couch-bed. Somehow, he wasn’t in the mood for water anymore. He was curious to check up on you.

He made his way over to you and found you looking like a sleeping beauty. You were dead asleep, but looking so graceful and at peace.

But he knew you could be feeling more comfortable if there was an upgrade to your sleeping situation. He did something he never thought of doing EVER.

He scooped you up from the couch-bed smoothly and made his way to his room. Like the gentleman he was, he placed you on the other side of his bed with ease, placing his blanket over you.

That should do it.

Then he made his way to his side of the bed and closed his eyes. He was at peace. Or at least thought he was.

Five minutes later, he felt your body near his. You were subconsciously snuggling with him, making him feel so flustered about him yet he felt happier.

“Sweet dreams, Y/N.” He murmured to himself, then closed his eyes.

—

Joey woke up to an empty couch-bed as he made his way to get a glass of milk from the fridge. Hm. That was weird. You weren’t the type to wake up early and leave. Well, why would you leave? Your stuff was here. Well, you could be at Monica’s for breakfast but again, it was too early.

An idea popped up in his head. He smiled at himself, hoping he was right. He tip-toed over to Chandler’s door, opening the knob slowly and pushing the door quietly to see you and Chandler, in the same bed together.

He noticed how your arm was spooning over his waist, as his hand was over yours. The both of you look so at peace and so comfortable that Joey wanted to take a picture of you two.

He couldn’t contain himself. Oh man, he had to tell the rest of the gang.

He slowly closed the door and rushed to Monica’s.

—

“YOU WOULD NOT GUESS WHAT GLORIOUS THING HAPPENED OVER AT MY PLACE!” Joey announced himself in a loud tone.

Phoebe, Ross, Monica, and Rachel looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

Phoebe guessed, “You had sex with a girl!”

Joey pointed at her, “Good guess, but no!”

“Well, spit it out, Joey!” Monica demanded, now curious since it wasn’t that.

Joey sat in the dining chair with excitement over his jazz hands, “Okay,” he started, “Y/N started her night with sleeping on the couch-bed, right? Then when I woke up, she wasn’t there. So I checked over at Chandler’s room and SHE WAS SPOONING HIM! Oh man, they just looked so cute together, you know, especially with how Chandler likes her, and even his hand was over hers!”

Around the dining table, everyone’s faces became in awe, as they were surprised it finally happened - something between you and Chandler. Rachel’s opened mouth turned into a proud smile, clapping her hands together with joy, “Well that’s just great! I’m so glad something finally happened. Would you know if she went over to him or if he brought her over to his bed?”

Shrugging, Joey shook his head with no answer, “Nah, but I bet he made the first move. I can tell.”

“Well, are they still asleep?” Ross asked

“They should be awake in a few minutes probably,” Joey replied.

—

Over at Chandler and Joey’s apartment, you and Chandler had just woken up at the same time.

As your eyes started to open, you noticed that your surroundings seemed different. You sat up, quickly turning to the side to see Chandler flashing a small, awkward smile at you.

“Oh, Chan,” you said, as your heart was racing, “Did I sleepwalk or something over to your bedroom?”

Chandler sat up properly now, stroking his hair with a small laugh released from his system, “Uh, no,” he replied, “As a matter of fact I carried you to my bed last night since I figured you’d feel more comfortable here. I hope that was alright.”

“Oh, yeah,” you blushed, appreciating his gesture, “It was comfortable, thank you.”

“Of course,” Chandler replied, smiling.

You then looked away casually, not knowing where this conversation could now lead since there was a potential of it becoming dry sooner or later. There was one thing that you wanted to ask though, now that Chandler had done something out of the ordinary for you.

You looked back at him, feeling a bit stunned since he was staring at you this entire time. He then jittered and started murmuring things that you interrupted by shooting the question, “Chan?”

“Yes, Y/N?” He instantly replied, feeling saved from embarrassing himself even more.

Gulping since this may or may not have been an out-of-the-blue question, “I’m just curious but why would you do this for me?”

“Carrying you over to my bed?” He bluntly asked, raising his eyebrow. You shook your head, “No, I mean yes, but everything on top of that, you know - taking me in. I mean, I know Joey wouldn’t carry me over to his bed or quickly be willing to take me in. Either of the girls would’ve done that but you stepped in so genuinely. How come?”

Chandler looked down, feeling guilty but embarrassed at the same time. He started scratching the back of his head, knowing that it had to come out sooner or later.

“I guess it’s because I-I like you, Y/N,” he confessed, looking up to see your reaction with a hint of fear and anticipation in his face, “And you don’t have to reciprocate if you don’t feel the same way but I’d kinda do anything for you whether you like me back or not.”

You were internally gushing so hard that your heart started beating even faster, seeing how Chandler was basically giving you heart eyes right about now. You placed a hand over his shoulder, and another over your chest with a fluttering feeling, “Oh, Chandler, believe it or not, but I like you too actually,” you confessed back with a blush on your cheeks.

There was a wave of relief and happiness that came from Chandler’s body, as he exhaled with pure joy, “Oh boy, really?” He asked, laughing.

“Yeah,” you nodded, “I was probably just better at hiding it, but yeah, I like you Chan. I wished I started the night last night in bed already with you,” you teased. He smirked, gaining confidence to kiss you on the cheek as he said, “We can make up for that and stay in bed for as long as we want instead.”

“What about the gang?” You asked genuinely. He shook his head and threw a hand gesture saying, “Nah, I think Joey can take a hint and should be over there without us right now."

“Alright, I like the sound of that,” you said, laying your head back on the pillow, which Chandler imitated, as the two of you started getting cozied up again.

“As do I.”

[licensedqueerio]

sup! could you do a vader and a he/him male reader? romance/close platonic with angst, pretty please. I'd like some headcanons with a reader that was a jedi but switched to the empire as they don't exactly agree with the rebellion either. perhaps vader ends up figuring it out and has to kill them, even though he really doesn't want to? I'd love to see it.

the dynamic would be 'I hate everyone but you', and maybe in vaders perspective?

I hope this meets your expectations! And I just wanna say you were my first request, so thank you!!

---

Word Count: 1.8k

Pairing: Darth Vader x Male!Reader

Warnings: Implied Death

---

“General.”

“Lord Vader,” the man greeted, looking up from whatever he’d been working on. A smile graced his lips. “A pleasure, sir. What can I do for you?”

Vader didn’t know much about the man. It was strange. He was strange. He had appeared out of nowhere a handful of years ago, impersonating a stormtrooper. Vader had wanted to kill him. Desperately. But the man...was a change in his orderly system. And Vader had been intrigued.

So, Vader made the man a Corporal, and he’d swiftly made his way up to General. His loyalty was fierce. And he didn’t seem to fear and cower before Vader like everyone else. But the fact that the man kept everything hidden, even his thoughts, was irritating. Vader wanted to know just where he learned to use the Force. If he was even taught or if he was just that force-sensitive that he was hiding his thoughts and presence subconsciously.

So many secrets. Vader himself couldn’t figure out why he didn’t just kill him. He didn’t like secrets. Secrets meant a person wasn’t trustworthy. And untrustworthy people had no place in his Empire.

And yet here the man stood.

Vader had even become fond of him. He looked forward to their next interactions and found the most ridiculous reasons to see the man. He let him get away with a lot more than he would anyone else. There was just something so...enticing about him, secrecy and all.

“I believe I needed those battle plans yesterday. Yet here I am, General,” he said flatly. As if he was bothered.

The man stared at him for a moment. He looked down at the plans that laid splayed in front of him, then back up at Vader. His gaze turned accusatory as he looked at the stormtrooper. “You were supposed to inform me before it became a new day,” he sighed.

The stormtrooper remained silent for a moment. “I...tried, General,” they said quietly.

“Not hard enough,” he huffed, rubbing the tip of his ear. He turned back to Vader, now apologetic. “My apologies. I was going over strategies based on the current status of our soldiers-”

Vader held up a hand, cutting them off as he walked slowly around the table. He sidled up beside him, looking down at what he’d come up with. It was impressive, the ideas he had helped the Empire snuff out the rebels immensely. They wouldn’t be anywhere close to where they are now without the man.

“...What do you think, My Lord?” He asked once Vader had a chance to look it over, looking up at him, a flush creeping up his neck.

“It is acceptable,” Vader says rather than voice his true thoughts about the plans.

The man smiles anyway, bowing his head. “A high praise from you, My Lord,” he replied, sounding bashful. “The rebellion will be dealt with swiftly and you shall reign victorious,” they said, the smile turning into a grin.

Vader found their attitude infectious and inclined his head. “Very well. Come along,” he said. “Bring your plans.” He didn’t bother waiting for him and began to walk away.

“Where are we going?” He asked, startled but quickly scooped his plans up and followed, rolling them back up as he walked. “My Lord?” He asked, hurrying to keep up.

Vader slowed his pace and looked down at him. He answered his question with a question. “Why do you know so much about military strategies?” He asked. “Even when you were just beginning, you’ve always had an...intriguing knowledge of battle plans and military strategies.”

“I used to read a lot,” he answered immediately, rubbing the tip of his ear, though when he realized what he was doing, he immediately dropped his arm back to his side. “I was often bored as a child. Books were my source of entertainment.”

“Books on military strategies?” Vader asked unimpressed. He didn’t believe him. It should have made him feel angry. Not curious.

“Why not?” He replied, looking up at him. “After all, all who came before us had to have done something right,” he said.

Vader nodded. “I suppose,” he mused. “You must have been a boring child if that is how you spent your time.”

Y/N turned to him, mouth agape. “...did you just make a joke?” He asked. “The first time I see your sense of humor and you make fun of me,” he scowled. “My Lord,” he added under his breath.

Vader really shouldn’t have chuckled. He shouldn’t have. If anyone else dared to speak to him that way, he’d have killed them. But Y/N wasn’t like everyone else. He was better.

“And now you’re laughing? I must be dreaming,” he said, a wide smile on his face.

Vader waved a hand to try and silence him.

“And I was a wonderful child, for your information. I got on great with everyone else,” he defended, apparently hung up on the joke.

Vader shook his head with a huff of amusement. “Yes, I’m sure,” he responded.

Y/N glared fiercely at him.

Vader smiled underneath his mask.

---

“Lord Vader, sir.”

“Admiral,” Vader replied, glancing at him briefly before his gaze returned to the windows, gazing out at the stars. He had been planning to go and see where Y/N was on the new program for the stormtroopers. He had pitched an idea and Vader had liked it and approved it for further development.

But here was the Admiral, bothering him and wasting his time. His fingers twitched impatiently. He wanted to go, not talk to the Admiral about whatever problems he thought Vader had to be informed about instead of reporting to his higher up.

“We’ve received new information from our spy, My Lord. I thought you’d want to be informed immediately,” he said, stepping forward and holding out the device he held, swallowing thickly. He was nervous.

Vader sighed in irritation and turned around. He took the device from him and looked down, reading what was displayed. “What is this?” He eventually asked. This wasn’t possible. No. Y/N was mysterious, sure, but he wasn’t- he couldn’t-

“My Lord,” the Admiral spoke quietly. “Y/N is-”

Vader silenced him with a force-grip around his neck. He looked back down at the information displayed. It was an old file, a picture of a small child attached to it.

Y/N.

The file listed a different name, but there was no doubt it was him. He could change his name, but not his face. Not his eyes. The same eyes Vader looked to stare into. The eyes he’d stare into as Y/N lied to his face.

He was listed as force sensitive. He’d been taken on Alderaan by the Jedi Order and recruited to their order when he was just a boy. That’s how he hid his thoughts and presence. He had been trained. He was a Jedi. Worse than that, he was a traitor.

Vader tossed the Admiral to the side as he stormed out of the room, his cape billowing behind him. He was filled to the brim with anger and betrayal. His thoughts were running amuck, and he drew his lightsaber. He’d been blindsided. He let a traitor into his ranks- into his inner circle and they were nothing more but another Jedi! Another person who’d inevitably try to tear down his Empire.

He couldn’t let the man live.

“Y/N!” He barked when he found them. “Get out,” he ordered the stormtroopers and others in the room. They did so without question.

“My Lord?” Y/N asked, stepping back as Vader closed in, brow furrowed. His eyes were trained on the red lightsaber clutched tightly in his hand. “My Lord, what’s-”

“You’re a Jedi,” he cut off.

Vader watched all color drain from his face as he quickly put space between them, nearly tripping over his own feet. “My Lord,” he started. “It’s not what you think,” he pleaded. “That was a long time ago, I’m not-”

“Do not lie to me,” Vader seethed. “You’re a Jedi. You’re force sensitive and you’ve hid it. All this time. You hid among my ranks. You gained my trust. Were you simply serving as a spy to the rebellion all this time!?” He demanded.

“No!” Y/N shouted. It’s the first time he had ever raised his voice to him. “No! I’m not a spy, I never was! I’m sick of the Jedi! They’re stifling. All their rules. Emotions were forbidden, I could never...I could never be attached to anyone because that was a great evil, apparently. I couldn’t- I couldn’t do it! Would you be able to live life knowing you’d never be able to have anything or anyone!?” He demanded. It was as if he’d been suppressing all of this since he switched sides.

Vader realized then that he had drudged up all of these emotions from deep within him.

“And the rebellion? I can understand democracy. But it just won’t and can’t possibly be successful with so many systems in the galaxy. The only possible safe and smart decision would be the empire! My Lord, I’m not a traitor and I’m not a spy!” He repeated.

"I cannot trust you any longer," Vader said.

Y/N's face crumbled. The anger melted into sadness. "Are you going to kill me?" He whispered, his posture dropping as he curled into himself. He looked defeated.

"You forced my hand," Vader said quietly. "You've forced me to bring harm to you. You could have told me what you were from the beginning-"

"Would you have let me live?" Y/N fearlessly interrupted. "Would you have honestly let me live? Let me become general? Let this grow?" He asked, gesturing between them.

Vader didn't know the answer. “I don’t want to kill you,” he said.

“Then don’t,” Y/N said, a tear falling, rolling down his cheek. “You don’t need to tell anyone. I’m loyal to you, I would never spy on you. You know this.”

“An Admiral knows,” Vader said quietly. “And a spy who discovered the information. I cannot let you live. Then they'll think this is acceptable and it will be chaos,” he said.

Y/N sighed heavily and nodded. He rubbed his eyes harshly, raggedly inhaling. “...I understand,” he said, his voice thick with pain. He stepped closer to Vader, head lifted and staring into his mask.

Y/N raised a hand, Vader caught it in his gloved one.

A huff of bitter amusement left Y/N’s lips as he looked at their hands. “How cruel, Vader,” he murmured. “The one time you hold my hand, will be the last,” he said. He squeezed Vader's hand. “I really like you.”

Vader didn’t know what to do. He was conflicted. He didn’t want to kill the man. He didn’t want to kill...whatever they had going on before it even truly started. Apparently, he had been silent for too long.

Y/N’s face fell and he nodded, taking his hand back and stepping away. He sniffed, putting on a brave face. “Do it fast?”

Vader exhaled softly. He nodded. "I'm sorry," he said.

He lifted his lightsaber.

[colorseeingchick]

Period Pains (Atsumu, Akaashi, Sugawara)

Periods. Suck. Mentally, physically, and emotionally. But maybe they can make it suck less.

A/N: Y’all can probably guess how my week has been :D. So this is mostly self indulgent and has definitely made me fall in love with all these boys much more. I may or may not stan Miya Atsumu now but we don’t talk about it (yet)

Warnings: None really! Fluffy and domestic wholesomeness. Post-timeskip.

Miya Atsumu 

Atsumu starts to stir from his sleep when he hears a loud prolonged groan next to him. 

He presses his eyes closed when the lights suddenly turn on. Ugh.

He opens his eyes to see you waddling away to the bathroom with your hand pressed to your stomach. Hmm?

He looks down and sees a relatively large splotch of red staining the sheet. HAH!

Suddenly, Atsumu is very alert.

“Babe what happened! Did you get hurt?”

Mans throws (I mean THROWS) himself out of bed and pulls a pair of shorts on as he stumbles to the bathroom to check on you.

“Baby are you-” 

He sees you by the sink, washing your shorts, the water discolored as it runs off. 

Ohhhh yeah! You were on your period. 

Headass’s mind blanked while in a sleepy haze.

You sigh. “Yeah I’m… fine-ish. I guess.”

He smirks and comes up behind you, wrapping his hands around your waist, one hand gently rubbing over your long sleep shirt, right over your lower belly. 

He presses a slow kiss into the side of your head and rocks you side to side while you continue to wash. 

“Did ya wake up cuz of the pain, babe?” 

“Mhm. And I saw the stain then too. Ain’t my luck just great?”

He groggily laughs and presses more kisses along the side of your face and holds you tighter. 

“You got this, babe. I’ll bring the sheets here, yeah?” 

“Kay.”

This, in its own way, is enough to make you feel… less bad. 

You were far from feeling okay at this point, but Atsumu knowing the drill and nonchalantly helping out at 2 am made things feel less apocalyptic than they were in your head.. 

Atsumu strips the bed of all its sheets, rubbing his eyes as he tries to keep awake. 

Handing the sheet to you, he leans against the wall as you washed out the immediate blood stains. 

Once you wash it out, he takes it from you.

“Clean yerself up babe.” 

He takes the sheets downstairs and throws them into the washing machine. 

He goes to the kitchen and grabs a banana and some dark chocolate (because we healthy in this household).

And some ibuprofen from the medicine cabinet.

And runs back up to find you coming with new sheets in hand. 

Putting your snacks down on your bedside table, he helps you pull the fresh sheets over your bed. 

Sitting you on the bed, he hands you the food and sits next to you, leaning his head on your shoulder while you munch. 

He gives you the medicine when you’re done. 

“30 minutes- not bad. I think that’s our new record.”

He shuts off the lights and crawls into bed, opening his arms as you slide your legs under the comforter. 

Snuggling into him, he nuzzles your forehead as he holds you close. 

“Feelin better, babe?”

“Yeah… I’ll probably fall asleep in a bit or something.”

“Well, if ya wanna press up against me if that’ll make you feel better, ya can. And wake me up if ya need anything.”

“I will, Atsumu. Thanks.”

“G’nite, sweetheart.” 

BONUS: you wake up late the next morning, Atsumu still holding you flush against his body. 

Now that you slept well (thanks to the meds and Atsumu) and woke up without pain, you’re suddenly in a very affectionate mood. 

Wiggling up, you find your way to Atsumu’s face, giving him a couple of soft pecks to his lips. 

He stirs in his sleep, kissing you back. 

But even after you had pulled away, he kept kissing at the air, trying to find your lips in his sleepy haze.

It was pretty funny. 

He’s a headass, you’re not gonna lie. 

But he’s your headass! And that’s all that matters. 

Akaashi Keiji 

Before even coming home, Akaashi knew you were going to be on your period today. 

Your period tracking app was synced to his phone, so he knew when to prepare for your worst days with snacks, supplies, and lots of affection.

He hated how busy he was, that he couldn’t be home to take care of you. So making sure you had everything you needed was the best he could do. 

But when Akaashi comes home and can’t find you anywhere, he starts to worry. 

Where were you? You would usually always greet him when he came home, even when you were on your period.

He gets his answer when he hears sniffles and hiccups coming underneath the lump of blankets on the couch. 

Akaashi knows that if you were ever fully underneath the blankets, there was something really wrong. 

Taking his jacket off and throwing it over a chair in the kitchen, he rushes to your side and pulls the blankets delicately off your head. 

“What’s wrong, darling.”

“H-hi Keiji. I’m s-sorry I didn’t m-mean to *hic* hide from you I j-just don’t feel too g-good.” 

Your breath was so shaky and Akaashi’s heart shattered watching you. 

“Please, tell me what’s wrong, dear.” Akaashi asks you in a whisper. 

“My tummy just hurts so so much and it won’t go away I-” your sobs begin to rack through your whole body. 

“Did you take medicine? Heating pad?” He asks gently as he runs his hands through your hair and wipes the tears off your face. 

“N-no… I hate taking medicine Keiji you know that. But I took a hot shower and I hoped it would help and it didn’t.” You attempt to stifle your cries to talk coherently, misery wrapping around your soul. 

“Alright then, give me a second, darling, and I’ll do whatever I can.” 

After changing, Akaashi comes back downstairs to the couch and makes his way over to you. 

He pats your head gently, “can you sit up for me?”

He swings his legs up onto the couch and opens his arms and legs so you could place yourself between all his limbs. 

Crawling up to him, he turns you so that your back is pressed to his torso. 

Immediately, Akaashi’s hands snake around your waist and find their way to two sides of your lower stomach.

His fingers gently message you, moving around to try and find which spots need his attention, all while he coaxes you into being relaxed.

“Shhh darling, you’re okay. I’m here and I’m going to shower you with my love. Just relax and let me take care of you, okay dearest?”

You nuzzle back against his chest, letting his words, touch, warmth, and smell fill all your senses. 

“Keiji… how was your day?” You murmur, tilting your head back in an effort to look at him. 

He smiles, warmth spreading through his body as he realizes even while in pain, you still want to carry on your daily check-in on him post work. 

And so Akaashi tells you all the stories from the day- his new assignment, how panicked he got midday when the office went into crisis, a surprise visit from a certain owl during lunch time.

You listen attentively, but your hands subconsciously move his larger hands to the center of your lower abdomen, where he starts to gently rub, leaving your skin tingly and chest lighter. 

“Do you feel better, Y/N?” after sitting in comfortable silence for a little, he decides to ask. 

But when he got no response, he cranes his neck to check on you. 

You had fallen asleep in his embrace, a sweet smile slowly creeping across your face. 

He smiles too, overjoyed to know that he was able to relieve you of some of your pain. 

“Goodnight, my love.” He whispers to you, his eyes slowly shutting, arms still on your stomach. 

BONUS: at around 2 am, Akaashi wakes up, realizing he was still on the couch. 

You, however, were nowhere to be seen. 

Getting up, Akaashi heads to the kitchen to grab water, assuming you were already in bed. 

Instead, he found you in the kitchen too, the smell of pancakes flooding the space. 

“Keiji! We never ate dinner. I’m sorry I made you fall asleep without eating.”

A small smile appears on his face and he rubs his sleepy eyes. 

“It’s okay, dear. I’m just glad you could sleep some.”

“Do you want pancakes?”

“I would love some.”

Sugawara Koushi

Like Akaashi, Suga knew what was about to happen when he got a phone call from you as soon as he was leaving school.

Regardless, hearing you sniffle over the phone activates every protective instinct in his body.

“What’s wrong baby?”

“Koushi, do you love me?” 

A dumb question, obviously. Suga showered you with affection and endless praise on a daily basis for you simply just breathing. The most supportive of boyfriends!

But alas, insecurity still creeps up at times. And Suga gets it. 

“I love you more than anything else, Y/N.”

“Can you come home, Koushi? I miss you.”

“I’m on my way, love. Give me 10 extra minutes, okay?”

Suga hopped into his car to head home, stopping by the store to pick up a few things. 

He grabbed a pint of your favorite ice cream, your favorite chips (because do you want sweet or savory today? Only time will tell), and some flowers before heading home. 

The moment he steps through the door, you throw your hands around him and groan out of frustration, pain, and just general dejectedness (don’t @ me for projecting I swear). 

Suga smiles down at you, knowing that he can bring you some peace, and pulls you against him, flowers and bag still in hand. 

“Let me go change, my love. These are for you.” 

Your generally miserable disposition shifts as your nose is filled with the aroma of fresh flowers. Sweet and gentle scents always managed to lift your spirits, and Suga knew that. 

“Mkay.”

Once Suga came downstairs, he headed to the kitchen to warm up some water to pour into a water bottle. 

“Sweet or salty?”

“Salty.”

He grabs the warm water bottle and the bag of chips and makes his way over the couch where your eyes were begging him to shower you in love (which he was more than happy to do). 

Sitting down and opening his arms, you pull yourself against his side, hugging him tightly and nuzzling against his chest.

He rubs your head before sliding his hand down, soothingly rubbing circles onto your back. 

His other hand goes to place the warm water bottle on your lower abdomen, which you hold in place by pulling your legs up to your torso. 

“Koushi, why do you love me?” You murmur against him. “I’m so whiny and clingy and annoying and insecure and you’re perfect… you deserve the best. You shouldn’t have to put up with someone like me-”

“Hey.” Suga gently but sternly cuts you off. 

“That’s my girlfriend you’re talking about, and I don’t appreciate you talking about her like that.” He looks down at you and melts as he sees your puppy dog eyes staring back up at him.

“Koushi, I’m not wrong though. I am all those things.”

“And? I love you for it. I love that you whine for me and cling to me- it makes me feel wanted. I wouldn’t call you annoying, that's not your call to make. And insecure? That’s natural, my love. Everyone's a little insecure. I’m a little insecure. You’re not perfect and neither am I. And that’s okay. I don’t wanna love perfect. I want to love you and only you, okay?” 

Tears prick your eyes but you feel better with Suga’s words of reaffirmation. He’ll tell you no matter how many times you need to hear it. “Thank you Koushi, I love you so much.”

“Shh, my love. Don’t cry. I love you, too.” 

His grasp on you tightens as you relax against him, your breathing synchronizing. 

“You wanna watch some TV?”

“Yes please.”

“Chips?” 

“Mhm.” 

Single word exchanges and the warmth of Suga’s sweater keep you connected as you allow yourself to forget your physical and mental pains.

Suga always knew exactly what you needed to hear, and never hesitated to tell you. No matter how ‘out of the blue’ or random it may have felt, he was always there for when you needed him. 

BONUS: you guys settle on watching a romance movie, Suga feeding you chips while popping some into his own mouth as well. 

But once the movie got to the really sad part, you started crying (sometimes movies just made you cry, but hormones made it so much worse).

“Baby, don’t cry, it’s just a movie.” 

“But Koushi, you’re crying too!” 

In honesty, Suga’s face was very tear-streaked as well, his sniffles hushed. 

“Okay fine, we can both cry together.”

And so you did! Both of you cried, emotions fully invested in the movie, chips still being munched on while sobs shook your bodies. 

It would have been a goofy sight to any onlookers, but it was the pinnacle of your relationship- emotionally vulnerable, intimate, and domestic. True perfection, if you were to ask me.

[crystaljins]

Endless

Characters: Yoongi x Reader

Word count: 7.4K

Synopsis: You aren’t the chosen one. You’re not gifted with any special powers, or secret abilities. You’re just a plucky orphan who decided you’d come along for the ride. 

Bringing down an empire is no biggie, right?

Yoongi x reader

Notes: I actually really don’t like this fic, in all honesty. It’s definitely one of my weaker ones, but since I put a lot of effort into writing it, I thought I’d post it anyway! I’m having a real big writer’s block and everything I write just feels.... jilted and inauthentic. IDK. I feel like I’ve lost my ability to tap into what a character feels T.T ANYWAY even if I don’t like it, maybe you will! So please try and enjoy

This is written for @thebtswritersclub​ March prompt, “Adventure”!

Warnings: Poss some fantasy type violence? Sparring, Yoongi is a little mean sometimes but he has RESPONSIBILITIES! Lots of conversations from very not-socially-distanced positions. Mentions of wars and evil empire

Genre: Fantasy, angst-with-a-happy-ish-ending

It’s easy to see that Yoongi is angry. From the heavy thud of his boots against the firmly packed dirt to the furious hunch of his shoulders, everything about him screams that he is livid. Even the way his travelling cloak flutters about his form is ominous, like the dark roil of storm clouds on a distant horizon. 

You follow closely behind, meek and sufficiently scolded. He’s been like this for the better part of the afternoon, ever since you left the previous town behind. 

“Um,” you pipe up, hoping to power through the stormy silence that hangs over you. You’re rewarded with a lethal glare- no one does cold fury quite like Min Yoongi.

Hanging your head, you sigh, continuing following at a dutiful three paces behind the furious man. You find yourself missing Jungkook, sure that he would have the ability to overcome this kind of tension, were he here. Or even Jiyeon, as much as you dislike her- perhaps the “chosen one” wouldn’t trigger such ire in her fated mentor. Really, any sort of third companion would do, if not to pacify Yoongi, then at least to keep you company. Long silences aren’t really your thing, after all. 

You square your shoulders, straightening. At the next town, Jin and Hoseok await your arrival, and then you will have at least two more companions to chat to when Yoongi enters one of his “moods”.

Not that his “moods” happen very often. For a man who is almost infamously gruff and who seems to permanently have a scowl etched upon his face, his actual personality is fairly calm and unbothered. Years of journeying across the realm of Adlentur have resulted in an attitude where there is very little that can truly throw him off. 

Apparently, you possess that unique ability, for the calm mask he often adorns is nowhere to be seen. Even when you’d followed him out of your hometown and demanded to accompany him a lick of ability, magical or not, to warrant your accompaniment, he hadn’t batted an eye. He had merely squinted thoughtfully at you while Seokjin and Hoseok insisted that you would merely be deadweight, before turning around and announcing that if you couldn’t keep up, you’d be left behind. 

He’s doing his best to leave you behind now; you’re struggling to keep up with his rapid pace. It’s so speedy that you feel a twinge in your freshly-healed ankle. With a wince, you stumble a few steps, and the ground comes rapidly rising up to meet your face. Before it can make contact, however, a stabilising hand encircles your elbow and you’re yanked upright. 

Yoongi stares at you, a delicate but angry flush creeping across the high points of his cheek bones and down his neck. 

“Thanks.” You offer sheepishly, before gingerly setting your weight upon your foot once more. The healers had warned you that the fractures were severe enough that even with the extensive healing you’d likely still be a bit tender for the next few days. 

“Does it hurt?” He demands, and you wince. You straighten and shake your head. 

“It’s just a bit weaker than normal.” You rush to assure him. These are the first words he’s said to you since you woke up in the clinic of the village you’d been staying in. Since then, he’s sort of just stormed around in a furious silence. 

The incident that had set him off had been an attack on said village. Of late, the sporadic surges of nightmarish beasts that left few survivors and decimated village populations were becoming more frequent, and this particular village was no exception. This village was lucky in that it had a protector; Yoongi is gifted with special abilities and highly trained in combat. You have no idea where he got the abilities from and why he is so skilled, but it saved your life when he first came to your village, and it didn’t take him long to begin saving lives in this village. 

But Yoongi is only human (you assume), and the beasts were numerous and powerful. People can slip under the radar in times of chaos and he hadn’t noticed the small child in the path of danger. 

You had, though. You had seen the oncoming danger but unlike Yoongi, you are not trained in combat. You aren’t gifted with special abilities. You’re just an orphan who witnessed what he could do. You’re nothing special. 

But you couldn’t just leave the child to die. 

According to the healers that Yoongi had carried your broken, bloody body to, you had gotten off easy. A broken ankle, a shredded arm and deep lacerations across your body. The healers had been skilled and Yoongi had supplied them with some of his own magic to give them the ability to heal your wounds- within just twelve hours the only remnants of your scuffle with the monster was a slightly weakened ankle and some ugly scars from some of the deeper wounds that even the healing magic couldn’t overcome. 

Despite his foul mood, Yoongi’s hands are gentle as he guides you to sit on a nearby rock. He crouches before you and reaches for your ankle- his hands are warm as his thumb slides against the ball of your ankle. He’s so careful as he rotates your ankle upwards, testing the range of motion. Even in his anger, he treats you like you’re made of glass. 

 He hadn’t treated you like this when you first started out. He’d just kind of begrudgingly tolerated all your quirks, watched as you bulldozed your way into his little travelling party. But then, as time went on, he’d become more tentative. More careful. He’d tell you to hide when an attack came on the village so you didn’t get in the way. You’d meet a new person and his arm would come up in front of you, like he’s shielding you from a threat. It’s almost subconscious. But it’s annoying. 

“It’s fine.” You say, tugging your ankle away from his grasp as sitting straighter on the rock. You feel like a haughty child when he raises weary eyes to glare at you. 

“It was shattered yesterday.” He reminds you. “If we’d been in any other village, you’d probably be out of commission for months. And I would’ve left you behind because we have to save-“

He cuts off abruptly but you can fill in the blanks of what he’d say. 

An ugly thought overcomes you; what if I were her? It’s poisonous and burns in your chest. Jealousy is an ugly emotion but you’ve been familiar with it a long time. Ever since Yoongi and his crew arrived at your village in search of the long-awaited “chosen one”. It’s probably a dream every orphan harbours; that they are special and unique and wanted, and the murmurs that followed Yoongi’s arrival had probably triggered a similar feeling of longing across the many orphans that take up residence in your village. 

Alas, that chosen one is not you; you remember your parents very clearly. Warm, kind, loving. They succumbed to the plague that had left the orphanage you grew up in overflowing. In such a full and overwhelmed establishment, it is easy to sneak in an extra child. And that’s what Jiyeon had been. Always on the outskirts, a little special and unique. She could never quite fit in with the other kids and for some reason you’d always resented that. Not only that; the way she never even seemed to try. She possessed some unique spark, some unfathomable dignity. Alone, dirty-cheeked, unwanted even in an orphanage, and yet there was always something special in her. And it never left her even as the two of you grew up and took your leave from the orphanage.

It hadn’t taken Yoongi long to find her- apparently Seokjin had some sort of specialised divination powers and he’d known who she was the instant he’d laid eyes upon her. Agnes, the local breadmaker, had taken her on as an apprentice and you’d even been in the store when they entered, seeking her out. There’d been something mysterious and terribly exciting about them- it had felt like the opening scenes of those adventure novels Jungkook would read out to the other kids in the orphanage. 

And you’d witnessed the disaster that had followed- the attack on the village, your home, by those merciless monsters, the death of people you’d known, and Jiyeon’s ensuing kidnap. Someone apparently didn’t want Jiyeon taking up the mantle of her destiny.

You’re not sure why you insisted you come along on the journey to save her- you never liked Jiyeon. You didn’t know Yoongi or Seokjin or Hoseok. And your closest friend was adamant that he’d stay behind to assist in the rebuilding effort of your village. 

Maybe it was something ugly; a desire for it to have been you instead. The one with special, hidden powers and an endless exciting adventure before you. As Yoongi looks up at you, you could believe that maybe that was your motivation. Maybe you wanted to be the one he was looking for.

“I would have caught up.” You finally say, instead of sharing any of those ugly thoughts. “If you’d left me, I’d have hunted you down and followed.” 

Yoongi gets abruptly to his feet, and you nearly tumble off the rock in surprise. 

“You’re a fool!” He cries. Your eyes widen, but he’s lost to a tirade. Alabaster skin has flushed a furious crimson and the dark points of his eyes have hardened- they glint at you like unyielding steel. “Don’t you understand what we’re doing here? We have to rescue the chosen one or the world as we know it is over. We’re on a time limit! This isn’t some fun whacky adventure with friends- peoples’ lives are at stake! And you’re just throwing yourself around like a thoughtless child!”

You stiffen defensively. 

“I’m not being thoughtless-“ you protest, anger heating your words as you spit them out, but Yoongi cuts you off.

“You are! What powers do you have? What abilities? None! I allowed you to come because I didn’t think you’d get in our way so much!” He snarls at you. You throw yourself to your feet, your eyes blazing and your heart thundering furiously in your heart. “Instead you’re throwing yourself into fights you know you can’t handle! You should have left the kid to me!”

“So I was supposed to just sit and stay where you’d left me? Like a dog?” You cry. “When people are dying around me? When a child was about to lose his life?”

“You were supposed to not get hurt!” Is what Yoongi shouts. 

And then he goes abruptly silent, his mouth closing so violently that you hear his teeth click together. He cups a hand over his mouth and turns abruptly away, shoulders hunched. 

The change in mood is so sudden that you feel like you have whiplash; you almost lose your balance with the about-face. Yoongi keeps his back to you for a long moment, and there’s something hurt about the way he curls himself away from you. Finally, he takes a long, shaky inhale and when he finally turns back to you, his eyes are glazed with emotions you can’t understand. It’s not fair that he gets to stare at you like that, that he gets to make you feel two feet tall. 

“Why did you come?” He finally asks, levelling you with a wary look. 

The air feels heavy. You and Yoongi have had a good relationship from the beginning- he’s a little protective and a little bit gruff, but on the whole he’d looked out for you and if anything, you felt closer to him than you did to Seokjin or Hoseok. So this is likely the first time the two of you have clashed like this. 

It’s probably the question he should have asked when you first demanded you accompany him. He should have questioned your motives. He’d had just enough interaction with Jiyeon to work out that she was a bit of an outcast before she’d been kidnapped; he should have known that she’s not your friend. Maybe that’s why you’re so fond of Yoongi; because he hadn’t asked any of those things. He’d looked at the plucky orphan and given you a chance. 

You’ve questioned your own motives many times; why are you on this journey? Why didn’t you stay in your rightful place with Jungkook back at the village? Why did you insist you help rescue Jiyeon? There are motives you can’t shake; that it was for glory. Recognition. So that you could play at being hero. So that you could catch the attention of the mysterious, handsome stranger who is currently eyeing you like you’re an unfamiliar but dangerous beast. 

But you want to believe the motive in the depths of your heart is true; that are your core, you are good. 

She’d met your eyes, the moment before those beasts grabbed her. She’d stared straight at you and begged you for help.

“Because people need help.” You finally say. You gaze straight at Yoongi, willing him to understand. Willing him to believe. Willing him to see the good in you that you want to believe is there. 

Yoongi offers you a searching gaze; deep, dark eyes seem to pierce through to your very soul. He’s always had sharp eyes- he picks things up faster than anyone you’ve ever met and he notices things that no one else would even think to look for. It’s terrifying and exhilarating to have all the focus directed completely on you, even if it is only for a heartbeat. Like he’s disassembling you, piece by piece. 

And then he turns away, shoulders stiff and posture ready like a well-trained soldier, and he begins to march off. 

“You get two days of recovery. And then we start your training.” He glances over his shoulder at you. “If you’re to accompany the chosen one on her journey, then you must be able to defend yourself. Otherwise, if you continue to burden us like this, I shall chain you to your home at the village personally.”

And you can’t read his expression for the life of you, but there’s just something fond about the way the light glints off his steely eyes. 

++

“Can’t I train her?” Seokjin complains, chewing through a mouthful of dried meat. He looks you up and down like he’s seizing up your weakness and you stick your tongue out him childishly. “I think she needs some work on her defensive skills; perhaps I can come at her with a stick and she can try and fend me off.”

“That just sounds like you want revenge for the mouse she put in your bedding this morning.” Hoseok offers helpfully. 

Yoongi chews through his rations slowly and thoughtfully before levelling a glare a Seokjin. 

“You can train her as soon as you best me in a fight. If you’d like, we can test that out right now and I can give (Y/N) a day off-“ 

“That’s fine.” Seokjin hastily cuts him off. “You know what, actually I think I need to do some meditation this morning, make sure they haven’t shifted Jiyeon’s location and that we’re still heading in the right direction.” He scurries off, not sparing a look behind him and you resist the urge to snort in laughter. Perhaps the mouse had been unnecessary, but some sort of revenge had been required after all Seokjin’s recent comments on the amount of time Yoongi had been taking to train you. 

It had been months now, since Yoongi had decided you needed training; you were still a beginner by all means but Yoongi is a good teacher and with each day that passes you grow more adept. It leaves you a little sad; had he been able to mentor Jiyeon and cultivate her special abilities like he intended, perhaps the world would already be saved and the growing evil sealed permanently. 

“You never did say why you decided to start learning to fight, (Y/N),” Hobi comments conversationally; though he is just as much a coward as Seokjin, he does have some sort of immunity to Yoongi’s withering glare. This leaves him undeterred by Yoongi’s subtle hints that he is unwelcome at your training sessions, for the most part. 

“If she’s coming along on a dangerous journey, she needs to learn to defend herself.” Yoongi cuts in. He finishes the last of his meal, and gets to his feet. He stretches languorously, like a  cat, peering at you through squinted eyes. “I’ll give you an hour and then we’ll get started. We’ll make camp here for tonight and cross the river in the morning.” 

He wanders off, leaving you with Hobi. Hobi watches him go with mild curiosity. 

“What happened between you two when we got separated?” Hobi wonders aloud. He tilts his head and stares at you. “Something just... seems different with you two.” 

You pause to consider; true to his word, Yoongi had given you another couple of days to recover, and then he’d started his training. The two of you would spend the day hiking and in the evenings when you’d made camp for the night, he’d teach you the basics of combat. But despite his rigorous training, there was no denying that Yoongi treated you differently after that day. Not hugely different- his protectiveness hadn’t changed, and he wasn’t any less gruff than usual. He just seemed... a little warmer. Kinder, even. Except when he was training you and then he’d turn into a demon spawned from the depths of hell. 

“Nothing we haven’t already told you; a village got attacked, I got injured, and Yoongi decided I should be trained in combat to stop it happening again.” You recall. Hoseok shakes his head in absolute bafflement. 

“See, those all sounds like standard things for Yoongi, but then he also doesn’t seem like Yoongi. He’s so... different with you.l Hoseok admits. “I’ve known him for years now, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d say he...” he trails away, before looking at you curiously. “Ah.” He makes a little noise of understanding. 

You lean forward eagerly. 

“What?” You ask. Hoseok holds a thumb and forefinger to his chin thoughtfully. 

“Nothing. I just want to try something. Hold still.” And that’s all the warning you get before Hoseok dives at you. Your eyes widen as you lurch back, but you are caught off guard and so Hoseok is able to pin you easily. 

“Hobi!” You cry in protest, but he just grins and leans in close. You can’t help but notice how compromising the position you are in is, pinned beneath Hobi, and when he drops down low enough for his mouth to tickle your ear, you can only imagine what the pair of you look like to a third party. 

“Yoongi’s the jealous type, by the way.” Is what he whispers, and that’s all he manages to tell you before a very loud throat clear interrupts him. 

Hobi leans back, settling on his heals but not bothering to get off you. Yoongi stares down at him, unimpressed. His lips are pressed firmly together, but otherwise his expression is unreadable.

“Ah, Yoongs,” Hoseok says cheerfully. “I was just thinking I’d test (Y/N)’s reflexes. See how your training is going for myself.” 

“Hoseok.” Yoongi says cooly. He smiles but it has no warmth in it. “Surely you’ve seen me fight enough; are you doubting my ability to train her?” 

He offers a hand out to Hoseok, who accept it cheerfully. Freed from Hoseok’s grasp, you sit up, brushing dirt off your tunic and then glaring at Hoseok. 

“Never.” Hoseok says warmly. He’s entirely too cheerful and smug and you don’t know why.

“What the hell, Hobi-“ you snap, but Yoongi cuts you off. 

“I changed my mind, (Y/N),” he says abruptly. He pins you with shimmering dark eyes. “We’ll start our training now; Hoseok has just helpfully pointed out some shortcomings.”

“You’re welcome.” Hoseok offers, before taking his leave to find Jin.

He’s gentle as he helps you to your feet. 

Everything about him is almost overly careful, as he leads you away from the camp site to a small clearing. There’s a tension to his figure that you don’t quite understand- it reminds you of the fight you’d had, where he’d turned away from you, overcome with emotion. 

Yoongi takes a long, deep breath. 

“Are you ok?” He finally asks, when the tension has bled from his posture. You nod cautiously, and Yoongi nods awkwardly to himself, before sighing heavily. He shoves a distressed hand through his hair, and the dishevelled look makes him look younger, somehow. Yoongi hasn’t been very forthcoming with personal details about himself, particularly his age, but normally he looks just a bit older than you. But the look he gives you now is almost boyish, like a confused child lost in the woods. 

“Hoseok’s always been nosey.” He comments. “He likes to do unhelpful things because he thinks he’s helping me.” The almost frazzled way he says the words is so unlike the composed man you know; you feel like you have whiplash and you don’t even know the reason behind his sudden and unexpected fluster. 

“You mean pinning me?” You wonder. Yoongi nods, agitated, before stepping close to you. 

“What did he say to you?” He asks. “When he was... he was... I saw him say something. What’d he say?” 

You pause to recall the cryptic words- that Yoongi is the jealous type. It’s certainly an interesting little tidbit to know; a small part of you wonders if that jealousy would ever be directed at you, but you dismiss it just as quickly. But for the life of you, you can’t think why Hobi might have brought it up in such a context, or why he even thought it appropriate to pull the stunt in the first place. 

“That you’re the jealous type.” You share, wondering if Yoongi will offer any further clarity or insight into the situation or if he will keep his thoughts to himself like he often prefers to do. 

Something sparks in Yoongi’s eyes, and this, at least, is an easy emotion to interpret; irritation. 

“Let’s just get started.” He grumbles. He guides you through your regular warm up. You’re thankful you’d eaten earlier than the others for you’re sure you’d have a nasty cramp if you hadn’t. Yoongi is short and clipped in his delivery and it’s clear the hounding from his peers earlier has left him in a foul mood. 

Finally, after a series of difficult drills that he’s been practicing with you, he allows you a brief reprieve. 

“You’ve come a long way.” He observes, while you take a long drink from a waterskin. When you stare at him questioningly in response, he settles down next to you and offers something close to a smile. It’s a little terser and a little awkward, but there’s a warmth to his eyes that you’ve steadily become acquainted with despite the rarity of its appearances. “Give it another few months and you’ll be able to keep up with even Jin.” 

“I probably won’t.” You remind him. “Jiyeon’s being held at the next town- you’ll probably be too preoccupied training her to have these sessions with me.” 

Yoongi stiffens, just slightly, but you’ve become accustomed with the way he expresses himself throughout the journey and you know the statement throws him. 

“I can manage two pupils. It might even be helpful for her to spar with someone closer to her skill level.” He finally says. You nod, getting up and stretching, bouncing from heel to heel as an indicator that you’re ready to go. 

“I suppose it might.” You offer, but now your mind is preoccupied. In the next few days, the four of you will enter into the territory where Jin can sense Jiyeon is being held, and they will begin her rescue mission. Following that, Yoongi had planned to withdraw to his hometown where he can safely train her in preparation. From there, the campaign begins; they must raise up an army mighty enough to take on the Empire and remove whatever curse upon the land the Shadow Emperor has wrought. It’s a long, arduous path ahead of them, one you definitely hadn’t thought through. But with your meagre, beginner fighting skills, surely you shall be more hindrance than help, as pointed out by Yoongi all those months ago.  

Yoongi picks up on your distraction when he’s able to pin you in a fairly simple maneouvre. He plants a forearm against the base of your throat and pins your legs beneath the weight of his body. His body is warm against yours and the force of the blow that sent you sprawling has you breathless. You bring up your hands, trying to dislodge his arm, but he’s stronger and surer than you and it doesn’t budge.

“Distraction can cost you your life.” He comments, and his voice is a low rumble. His breaths come deep and heavy- warm puffs of air tickle your skin and his torso heaves against yours. 

“Sorry.” You mutter. The pressure against you eases as Yoongi sits back but he doesn’t shift his weight off you. 

“I was distracted too.” He admits. He rolls off you and straightens, dusting off his pants before extending a hand to you. “Let’s leave it here and pick up tomorrow. It might even be our last training session without Jiyeon so I expect you to work hard.” 

You take his hand and the mention of her name has something dark and ugly churning in your stomach. This whole situation has your heart sitting cold in your chest like unyielding stone. You had confessed to Yoongi that you had come along on this journey because someone needed help- what about after? What role did you have to play in all this? Yoongi had just assumed you would continue to accompany them, but is that really what you should do?

“I’m the jealous type too.” The words come out of you softly, unbidden- you almost don’t realise you’ve said them until you see the way Yoongi stiffens. 

“What?” He asks, turning back to face you. His expression is about as readable as a blank page- you’re sure the Emperor’s fortress would be easier to breach. 

You swallow deeply and steel yourself. You’ve already said the words- it’s time you faced these pesky feelings before you make a decision you regret. 

“I’m the jealous type too.” You confess, a little louder. “I don’t want to be your second pupil. I don’t want to be someone along just so Jiyeon’s less lonely and has someone to spar with. I like training with you. I want to keep training with just you. And the thought of sharing this time with her... it makes me feel jealous.” 

Yoongi is silent, staring at you in confusion. It takes him a few baffled blinks before he manages an answer. 

“We don’t have enough time for two separate sessions.” Is what he offers, the words slow and almost slurred in confusion. “And Jiyeon’s training takes priority.” 

It’s a slap in the face, even if Yoongi doesn’t mean it in the way you’re thinking. He doesn’t seem to understand, but you want him to. You want him to comfort you and take away the ugly feelings storming inside you. 

“I’m not talking about training.” You finally say. “I’m talking about us. You and me.” 

Yoongi looks like you’ve just punched him in the stomach- the look of absolute bewilderment on his normally calm face would be funny if your heart didn’t feel like it was about to plummet straight through your body into the ground below you. 

“I have feelings for you.” You blurt. “And I’m scared. Because Jiyeon’s the chosen one. She has to be your priority. The world needs that. But if she’s the priority... if she’s the one that needs to be trained and cared for and raised.... where does that leave me? Less useful than a packing mule.”

Yoongi’s expression is stony, but you can see the emotion shining in his eyes. His normally composed exterior is completely shattered, and for just a brief second you catch a glimpse of fragile, vulnerable longing. 

And then his expression steels and it’s like a door slamming shut. 

“I don’t have time for feelings.” Is what he says. He’s brusque and his words are firm and if you hadn’t caught that glimpse of emotion, it would almost seem cruel the way he delivers them. “And if this is what you are spending your time worrying about, then I think it best you return to your village.” 

And then he leaves you, alone in the clearing to clean up the mess you’ve made of your own heart. 

++

Despite his rough dismissal, you do not go home. You’ve come too far to not at least see Jiyeon safe and rescued. What comes after is something you can worry about when it actually happens. 

Seokjin and Hoseok can tell something happened, but they are awkward and unsure about how to proceed since both you and Yoongi refuse to speak of it. Instead, the two of you arrive at some sort of wordless truce; he won’t send you home and you won’t bring up your feelings again.

The four of you arrive at the town where Jin can sense Jiyeon’s presence. It’s a fairly unremarkable town, just small enough that it’s hard to enter without people noticing your presence but just large enough that they probably can’t guess at your motives. It takes a few days of reconnaissance to discover where Jiyeon may be; this town happens to house a small, undercover faction of the emperor’s top mages, and a days’ hike out of the village holds a secret dungeon. 

The decision is made to leave you behind, and though normally you’d insist you accompany them, a piercing glare from Yoongi has you meekly agreeing to stay overnight in the in . Your instructions are simple; if the four of them do not return by 6am the next morning, you are to cross the country and head to the town of Sabre, Yoongi’s hometown. From there, you should find the aid necessary to rescue the chosen one, and from there it will be up to Yoongi’s friends and family to replace Yoongi’s role as mentor and teacher to the chosen one. 

You’re seeing the them off under the cover of night when Yoongi finally acknowledges you.

You’re about to turn back to the inn and retire to the room that you’d hired out when he calls your name. You turn back in surprise; Jin and Hoseok watch in confusion as Yoongi walks towards you. He shoves a hand through his hair in distress before coming to a halt before you. 

His expression is oddly soft as he casts his gaze over you. 

“I’m sorry.” He murmurs. It’s soft enough that Jin and Hoseok can’t hear,  but you hear the words as loud as day. “I’ll... I’ll see you in the morning.”

Despite everything, despite the ache in your chest, despite the overwhelming worry and concern, despite the fear, you smile at him. He looks surprised for a moment before you notice the slightest curl form at the edge of his mouth in a weak smile. 

“I’ll see you in the morning.” You promise. 

You do attempt to sleep that night; after all the plan is to leave straight away and flee to Sabre as soon as Jiyeon is rescued. You have a long an arduous journey ahead of you and you’re the only one who has the luxurious option of sleep. But you only manage fitful bursts, filled with nightmares. Finally, the dawn rolls around, though you do not feel rested in the slightest. 

You rise with a sigh, readying your scant belongings and changing into appropriate travel gear. 

And then, you wait. Waiting is agony- that’s something you learn as you settle beside the window of your small room and watch the sun peek between imposing stone buildings. The sky warms from a dull grey into a blushing pink, and then a bright blue. And all the while, you catch no glimpse of your friends. Six am comes and goes. No one had warned you how deeply terrifying your role would be. Waiting and uncertain. Are they dead? Captured? You do not know- they didn’t grant you the luxury of any information; just left you behind to deal with the mess, under the guise of “safety”.

Stiffly, you rise from your position. You do not dare check the clock. You do not want to know how long past the meet-up time it is though it must be at least a few hours. Your instructions had been to leave strictly as 6am lest people

come looking for you, but that hour has come and gone.

“You’re a liar.” You mutter to yourself as you step out into the crisp morning air. It had only been last night that he’d promised to see you again; so quickly he broke his promise. 

You kick the dirt aimlessly before beginning a quick stride for the edge of town, your head down. “A coward and a liar.” You assert, though your voice is thick with unshed tears. 

You’ve just stepped into the woods that surround the edge of the town when you hear the crunch of boots in dirt and the clink of armour; soldiers are out and about. Perhaps they’re searching for your friends after a successful mission and Jiyeon is safe; perhaps they’re searching for any backup to exterminate and ensure her continued imprisonment. 

You’re searching for a way to conceal yourself when an arm wraps around your bicep and nearly yanks you off your feet. You stumble back into a firm, warm presence, and one hand covers your mouth while an arm snakes around your waist, stifling your cry. 

You don’t hesitate to utilise the momentum of your fall. You swing your elbow around to where you estimate your attacker’s abdomen is. They release a soft “oof” and you utilise the way that their arm goes slack to swing forward in the same moment you bring the heel of your foot slamming down over theirs. 

They grunt and hunch over in pain.

“It’s me!” A familiar voice hisses, releasing you so that you can whirl around and see your attacker.

“Yoongi?” You say, before remembering the approaching guards and lower your voice. “You’re here?!”

“I am.” He comments softly. “Jin sensed you hadn’t left yet and I.... came to get you.” He confesses. 

A clank of armour and the distant sound of voices has the two of you freezing; now is not the time for reunion. There will be time for catch up and explanation later. For now, you are in imminent danger until the soldiers pass you by. 

Yoongi secures a hand tightly around your wrist and guides you through the undergrowth in a low crouch. He moves in the opposite direction of the voices, brushing branches out of the way. 

“There’s a hollow ahead; we can hide there until they pass by and then we’ll make for town. The others will be waiting for us there.” He glances at you over his shoulder. 

You don’t know what passes through his expression, but you feel his grip tighten just a fraction and his pace quickens. 

The hollow he speaks of is a tree- rain has washed away the soil that the tree clung to. In its place, twist, skeletal roots knot and weave to form a dark space just large enough to hide some if they scrunched themselves up very tightly. You pause to raise an eyebrow at Yoongi. He pointedly ignores your scepticism, pressing pointedly on your shoulders until you obediently crawl into the space. He is not far behind- you feel the warmth of his form as he crowds you in. You’re about to comment that you don’t feel particularly hidden when you feel the brush of his magic; the shadows around the roots thicken. It’s a spell you’ve seen before- people’s eyes seem to just slide over the places that Yoongi’s shadows conceal. 

“So are you going to tell me why you’re still here and not halfway to the next town when we agreed you’d leave three hours ago?” He murmurs from where he is crouched over you. Crushed up against him like this, he is a large, foreboding presence. Were it not for the glint of warmth to his eyes, the relief at seeing you safe, you could almost be afraid of this terrifying man. If he is, indeed, a human at all. 

You could do a lot of things in that moment- pour out the anxiety and worry and misery and anger you feel and watch him boil in it; instead you release the fragile shard of vulnerability you had been trying to keep a tight hold on. 

“I couldn’t accept you’d died.” You confess. 

Yoongi’s eyes soften, and he drops his head so that it rests against your shoulder. His hair tickles the side of your neck and you feel the heavy weight of his breath as he exhales slowly. 

“I’m sorry.” He confesses. You shake your head, attempting to shift back. Some distance would be helpful to the loud racket your heart is currently making. 

“It was out of your control.” You remind him. “It’s hard to be punctual when you’re fighting against an empire.”

His arms tighten- a hand lifts from the soil and fits into the curve of your waist, anchoring you against him. 

“Not about that.” He confesses. “About.... about what you said earlier. About your feelings- I can’t stop thinking about it. About you. I have so much I must do and I can’t afford distractions and yet...... there is so much I want to be distracted by, (Y/N).”

He feels your surprised inhale, the way your ribs hiccup beneath his palm.  

“I’m supposed to be protecting Jiyeon and yet when Jin told me you were in danger...”

He doesn’t have to finish the story. Here he is, holding you desperately against him like at any moment you may crumble. He left the chosen one vulnerable, unprotected and untrained to save you. The plucky orphan who should have never been apart of this tale in the first place. 

Against your volition, you hand comes up to slide against his cheek. His eyes squeeze shut at the gesture- it reminds you of a cat, the way his eyes squint in contentment. 

“I understand.” You admit. “I.... It’s not your fault.”

Those are the only words you can muster. How else can you articulate the way it has clicked in place? The burden Yoongi bears; the long, scary road ahead of him. He cannot afford to be thinking of the things he cannot have; and he cannot have you, as much as you both want it. 

You know he understands what you meant; that your words have lifted a heavy burden from his heart. He did not want to hurt you; but he cannot drag you in. 

You lean up, tilting your head up just slightly so that you can have a brief taste of the life you could have had; if you were born in a time of peace and prosperity. Perhaps you could have wedded. Had children together. Grow old with your hands linked together, smiling with recollections of a life well-lives. His lips are soft but firm, and the kiss is filled with sadness. 

++

You eventually make the decision to go home. It’s not inmediatelt; you persevere for a while. You accompany them on the arduous journey back to Yoongi’s hometown. You assist with Jiyeon’s training as Yoongi intended. But eventually you come to accept the truth; this isn’t your journey to be on.

Jiyeon, who was suspicious of your presence at first given your history, is the one who protests the most, oddly enough. Perhaps you are the small piece of familiarity in a sea of chaos and fear, to her. And oddly, you are sad to say good-bye. Despite never liking her as a child, as an adult you begin to see it. The heart for others, the unwavering compassion and determination. She has the heart of a hero. 

But that’s why you must return home; a hero needs a home to fight for, after all.

Yoongi’s goodbye to you is subdued. He does not voice his sadness- Jiyeon even goes so far as to scold him to his dismissiveness. But you know; you can see it shining in his eyes. If he lets go, he will break down. And you are leaving to prevent that; your goodbye will be for naught if he lets himself crumble here. 

“It’s not forever.” You reassure your friends. Jin nods, tearfully, while Hoseok rests a comforting hand against his shoulder- normalky he would be the one sobbing the loudest, but he is to chaperone you home and then he will rendez-vous with the others in Yoongi’s hometown. “I’ll see you when the war ends. If any of you die, I’ll be very cross with you.”

That does it; the briefest, weakest smile from Yoongi. 

And so ends this chapter of your adventure.

 Epilogue:

The war lasts five years. Villages are ravaged, lives are lost and empires are brought to their knees. Joyous bells ring throughout your town when the news reaches you; the emperor has fallen. 

For you, you don’t think much of it. The war had left countless children orphaned, and to the best of your ability you take as many in as you can handle. Ever since you and Jungkook took over the orphanage, funds have been tight and there have been endless mouths to feed. So the news of the war ending leaves you surprisingly underwhelmed. The end of the war will not mean food appears from nowhere or make these children un-orphaned. If anything, your job gets harder now; as people lick their wounds and the fallen empire recovers, you will have your hands full with your children. 

You’re informing Jungkook of this opinion quite loudly in the tavern one evening. It’s past curfew for the children and old Bertha had offered to keep an eye on things so the two of you could have a night off. 

You’re surprised when a nearby customer snickers. Casting your gaze, you notice four hooded figures seated around the door. That in itself is not suspicious, for many travellers prefer to keep their identities concealed as they pass through. 

What is suspicious is the brief glimpse you catch of one of the hooded strangers, the slight tilt of a smirk that seems almost familiar. 

Having noticed your attention is drawn, one of the travellers lean forward. 

“Do go on.” A familiar voice sounds. You nearly drop your glass as you blink a few times. Suddenly, your heart is racing. 

“Do you know these people?” Jungkook asks curiously, eyeing the group with mild interest. 

You’re too stunned to reply, so the initial traveller, the one who had snickered answers for you. He tugs his hood off to reveal chestnut hair, a heart shaped mouth, bright glittering eyes. 

“I sure hope she does since we came all this way to find her.” Hoseok cries enthusiastically. 

You distantly hear the sound of a chair sliding across wood and then realise the source is you, leaping from your chair. 

“H-hoseok?” You cry. He grins. 

“The one and only!” He caws. He gets to his feet to engulf you in a monstrous bear hug. 

The other travellers take the opportunity to tug their hoods free; first Jiyeon appears, beaming at you, then Seokjin. 

And then Yoongi. Five years has not aged him, though you always had considered the possibility that he is immortal. 

Hoseok seems to realise he’s lost your attention, for he releases you and begins interrogating Jungkook. 

You’re far too preoccupied with the man before you. 

“Yoongi.” You breathe. 

The smile he offers you is surprisingly light and warm. Like a cat blinking contentedly in the rays of the morning sun. And despite it being nearly half a decade since you last saw him, your heart races just the same. 

“You did say it wasn’t forever.” He offers you simply. 

And as your eyes water and fill with tears, you offer him a weak smile. 

And so begins the next chapter of your adventure.

[hiddendreamer67]

Giant Mers are Good Mers

That's right, it's MerMay baby! Introducing my new bois. Caspian is a giant siren with influences of Mediterranean monk seals and leopard seals. Beckett is a lil' human who was in the wrong place at the wrong time. This piece is a completed oneshot, but I've got a couple ideas for more oneshots with this pairing, including a few ideas for alternate universes (especially after seeing all the fun @ibis-gt seems to be having with AUs of their bois).

Word count: 6,001

Initial prompt idea: human was taken by a giant siren but then let go (on a whim / siren got bored) but human doesn’t know why they were spared so they come back to thank the siren. The siren doesn’t even remember doing that because it was such an insignificant event to them, but now it’s interesting because humans never came on their own.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Beckett had always been a simple fellow. He grew up in WhiteBridge, on a small town farm with his three older sisters picking on him ceaselessly. While he loved WhiteBridge and its quaint charms, Beck found his true passion in books, and studied at Oxford for several years before scouring the globe for his passion. In his quest for knowledge, Beckett chose to join a month-long excursion out at sea, and found himself regretting that decision a few weeks later.

“Steady on there.” One of the sailors, Michelle, handed him a pair of earplugs. “You’ll need these where we’re going.”

Beckett eyed the little pieces of foam dubiously. “And just where might that be?”

“Siren territory.”

Beck hardly believed in such fairy tales, but to calm the sailor’s superstitions he inserted the plugs as instructed. Siren tales aside, Beckett found himself growing as twitchy as the sailors. The coastline hadn’t been visible for ages due to a large amount of fog accumulation. The stormy skies were foreboding as well, indicating that proper precautions would need to be taken. This far north, the weather reports often indicated rocky waves far beyond what should be normal.

Would Beckett sink, out here in the middle of nowhere? Was that to be his fate? The young man began to fret, hastening to make himself useful as the first rolls of thunder sounded off and the waves grew steadily higher.

And then, he heard it. Beckett paused, arms slack on the rope as he attempted to hear that haunting melody. Was the weather playing tricks on him, or was someone calling out to him.

“BECK! EARS!”

Beckett blinked, stunned to find himself standing on the slippery railing. When did he get up here? Beck hastened to climb down, noticing the rest of the crew had their hands firmly clasped over their ears, even with the ear plugs inserted.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t enough. Even with the double protection, the voice grew in volume, its booming voice penetrating into their heads. Every single person on board fell victim to its call, the ship’s captain turning the wheel to head towards the beckoning beast. Beckett climbed back up to the railing, plunging overboard into the crashing waves.

With a sputter, Beckett fought to keep his breath, legs kicking desperately against the current. Even in his desperate survival state, the voice called to him, and instinctively Beckett swam in the right direction to answer its call.

Every time the voice paused to take a breath, Beck would regain control for only a moment, his heart pounding as his fate flashed before his eyes with nothing to be done about it. Between one blink and the next, the sky grew darker, a looming shape breaching in the distance. Another blink, and Beckett’s face lost all complexion staring up at his demise.

A great sea serpent, half man half beast, towered with its human half over the pitiful human. With a single shift of its body, the beast created waves that threatened to pull Beck under. Those sharp features and piercing blue eyes were unforgettable, and subconsciously Beck realized this was the last face he would ever see.

Another blink. This time, when the serpent let out a hum, Beckett remained conscious but still out of his own control. His body was lax but his mind manic. The siren reached for him, slimy claws surrounding his form and making Beck shudder as he was raised 50 feet in the air in seconds. Beckett whimpered, coughing out sea water as his gaze was drawn down to the siren’s lips. The creature grinned and revealed its razor-sharp fangs. Taking a deep breath in, the siren revealed the cavernous depths beyond as it prepared to inhale its next meal.

Beckett pleaded nonsense pitifully, tears pouring down his cheeks as the haunting nothingness washed over his mind yet again. Would he even wake once more? Was the beast merciful enough to let Beckett go in his sleep?

When Beckett woke up, he thought he was dead.

He squinted, the sun too bright for his eyes. The sun? What happened to the storm? Stranger yet, the water that had soaked him to the bone was no more. Beck was dry, wrapped in blankets in a stranger’s bed.

“You’re awake.”

Beckett turned his head, his sore muscles protesting the movement. Beside him sat an older looking fellow, hair greying with age. “Who’re you?”

“The name’s Seymour.” Seymour introduced himself. “And who’re you?”

“Beck.” Beckett’s voice felt like he hadn’t spoken in days. “Am I dead?”

“No, but you tried awful hard.” Seymour assured him. “Found you passed out on the shore two days ago. Guessin’ you were part of some shipwreck? Though there wasn’t much wreckage to be found. Awfully impressive for you to have swam that far.”

Is that what happened? Beck frowned, trying to parse out the details. His body ached something terrible. He did remember swimming for a great distance. Had the siren all been a strange vision of his adrenaline-infused thoughts?

“...huh.” Beck settled back into the pillows, looking up at the ceiling. “I… didn’t know I could do that.”

“Well that, or an angel saved you.” Seymour chuckled. “You’re one lucky soul.”

Beck squinted in thought. If that’s what angels looked like, he could understand why all biblical depictions had humans cowering in fear.

(...was it an angel?)

Beckett spent some of the most confusing weeks of his life recovering from the shipwreck. Even as his physical form healed, Beck couldn’t seem to wrap his mind around the events that transpired that night. He couldn’t get the notion out of his head that the giant sea serpent was real. It had all felt so lifelike, the claws and the fish breath and the dark melodious tones that haunted his dreams…

Seymour was kind enough to open his home to Beck, offering the traumatized lad a position maintaining his lighthouse while Beckett still fought to gather his wits. “Yer’ not the first.” Seymour assured him with a chuckle. “It’s no water off my back if you want to keep me company while you figure things out.”

You’re not the first. Beckett had cleared his throat, wanting to address that thought. “The other people who wash up on shore… did they ever… see anything?”

Seymour raised a patient eyebrow. “What do you mean, seen? Figure you lot have all seen a lot, what with the wreckage.”

“No, I mean, out at sea.” Beck felt foolish, twiddling his thumbs a bit. “Like a… like a merman.”

To his credit, Seymour did nothing more than a slow blink. “A merman.” He repeated.

“But, not a regular merman.” Beck winced at his own words. Just what was a regular merman? “A big one, like a hundred feet long, and pale white skin, and white locks of hair, and piercing blue eyes-”

“Kid.” Seymour cut him off. “I’ll tell it to ya straight. No, I ain’t ever heard nothing like that.”

Today, Beckett found himself on the cliffside, safely back from the edge as he watched the distant waves. His knees were tucked up to his chest, chin atop them as Beck sat lost in thought. Somewhere out there, Beckett’s giant captor- and later savior- was out there.

Why did the beast let him go? Even further than that, the siren had gone out of its way to give Beck a chance at life. There’s no way Beckett could have made it all the way to the shore on his own, disoriented as he had been.

Despite his better judgement, Beckett had to know the truth. With this foolish notion in mind, Beck set out a few months later, having rented a boat from one of the local fishermen. It took a lot of practice for Beckett to learn how to guide such a vessel, as every crest of a wave made the poor lad jump.

Seymour must think he was mad. Often the kind old man reminded Beckett that he didn’t have to conquer his fear of the waves directly, but Beck had just shook his head. Seymour couldn’t understand the debt Beck felt to the creature that had saved his life, and his curiosity kept him captive. Beckett wouldn’t be free until he had answers.

Of course, once he was out on the waters, Beck realized how foolish of a plan this truly was- he knew nothing about aquatic navigation. Every part of the ocean looked the same to him. Even worse, his memories of the last sea journey were extremely muddled. How on earth was he going to find the same location?

And even as Beck drifted in waters that may or may not be similar, the human realized he had no surefire way of gaining the siren’s attention. He settled for calling out often, hoping his carrying voice would be enough. Did the beast understand english? It was deceptively human-looking.

Beckett’s throat grew parched, and Beck sat down a moment to take careful sips of water from his dwindling bottle. The sky was growing darker, and a familiar fog had begun to roll in. An eerie chill began to creep up the back of Beckett’s neck. Suddenly, this plan wasn’t feeling so wise.

That’s when he heard it. The familiar song of his dreams was echoing across the water. Beck had forgotten the feeling, his limbs stiffening against his will like a marionette pulled taunt.

Blink. A gigantic fish tail, just the tip cresting the waves. Blink. Beckett found himself in the waves, gasping as he kicked frantically to keep his head above water. Blink. All too soon, Beck found himself clasped between those claws, water dripping from his locks as he stared at those terrifying chompers.

Oh god. This was a terrible idea. What should he do? What was there to do? All the blood left Beckett’s face, watching the siren lick its lips. It raised Beck higher, dangling the human by the back of his shirt above a now gaping maw. Beckett let out an unholy screech, realizing he had made a terrible mistake.

Beckett squeezed his eyes shut, forcing the words out of his lungs before he never got the chance again. “WHY DID YOU SPARE ME?!”

To Beck’s great relief, he didn’t find himself lowered onto the beast’s tongue. Instead, after the longest pause of Beckett’s life, he opened his eyes to see the siren’s mouth had gone slack.

“What?”

Beck’s eyebrows shot up into his scalp, shocked to hear the siren actually speak. Guess that meant it understood english, too. Beckett cautiously raised his gaze, meeting the siren’s eyes instead of its teeth. The creature looked confused, to say the least.

“You-” Beck cleared his throat, knowing he had to keep the siren’s attention lest he become a meal. “You spared me.” The siren’s brow furrowed further. Beckett frowned. “You… you saved my life? I mean, first you threatened it, but… 3 months ago? You- our ship, and the song, and… I woke up on the shore…”

Unfortunately, despite being the most momentous occasion of Beckett’s life, the giant sea serpent didn’t seem to have given the night a second thought. Beck couldn’t stop the sinking feel in his chest, knowing this whole journey was pointless after all.

The siren slowly shook his head. “That sounds unlike me.”

“It’s true!” Beckett insisted, especially because his life seemed to be on the line. “I was baffled too, but for some reason you spared me, and-and I don’t know why either! It’s been driving me insane. Why else would I sail all the way out here trying to find you?”

“You came looking for me?” This, at least, caused the siren to raise an interested eyebrow. “That would be a first.”

Beck nodded quickly. “Yes! I’ve been shouting for you all day. And before that I’ve been training for weeks, saving up for a downpayment to borrow Ben’s boat, which I’ll probably be losing now that I have no idea where that ended up…” Beckett grimaced, once again meeting the siren’s gaze. “Sorry, I’ve been told I have a tendency to sidetrack conversations in uncomfortable situations. Boat’s not important. Please don’t eat me.”

To both of their surprise, the siren let out an amused snort, the hot fishy air rustling Beck’s hair.

“I apologize for that.” The creature had the decency to look sheepish, even as its words curdled Beckett’s blood. “It’s nothing personal.”

“Wait, what?!” Beckett immediately began screeching, attempting to squirm out of the claws still holding him captive.

“Stop!” The siren hissed, his grip tightening painfully around Beck’s ribs. “You will fall with that behavior.”

Beck winced, continuing to struggle against the crushing appendages. “That was kind of the idea. I choose waves over teeth.”

“Waves over…?” The siren shook his head. “No, you misunderstand. I will not eat you.”

Beck found that hard to believe. He squinted, judging the gigantic face before him even as the pressure stayed tight around his chest. “So, you were going to?”

“Yes.”

“But now you’re not.”

“Yes.”

“...why?”

“Because you’re quite interesting, little human.” The siren admitted. “Your question confuses me. Do you want to be eaten?”

Beck chose wisely to avoid that question. “My name’s Beckett.” He said instead. “Beck, for short. Not little human, or anything.”

The siren blinked. It must be strange putting a name to your not-food. “My name is Caspian.”

Caspian. For some reason, Beck hadn���t actually pictured the siren having a name. Or talking. Or generally possessing much humanity at all… the self-reflection made him feel a bit guilty.

“It’s nice to meet you, Caspian.” Beck greeted. He glanced around, realizing the sun had finished setting. “Can we circle back to the boat issue? I mean, I’m glad this hasn’t ended fatally, but it is getting late.”

“Hold on.” Caspian frowned. “You spent all that effort to reach me, only to leave? Little Beck, your story has holes.”

“No, no no no.” Beck quickly shut that down, hastily trying to avoid any possibility of a vengeful siren. “No that’s not it at all. It’s just, your time must be very valuable, and I don’t want to intrude. And also, contrary to popular belief, I'm not a great swimmer. Hence the boat.”

“Hmm.” Caspian seemed to consider this for several moments. The giant seemed to reach a conclusion, but Beck was uncertain what it was as he was raised up above Caspian’s head. “Climb on.”

“Climb on?” Beck repeated, confused.

“And hold on tight.” Caspian advised, opening his palm and tilting it so that Beck slid off with a yelp. “I was under the impression you need air to survive?”

“YES! Yes, that is- yes, I need that.” Beckett confirmed, quickly grabbing onto Caspian’s hair as best he could. Not the easiest task in the world with how everything, including himself, was soaked. Nevertheless, Beck was wise enough to prepare himself for whatever a massive sea serpent might have planned.

Without further warning, Caspian lowered himself into the water, only keeping the top of his head above the waves for Beck’s benefit. Beck hastily lowered himself onto his stomach, not wanting to slide off Caspian’s head as the mer began to swim through the ocean faster than a speedboat.

“Where are you going!” Beck shouted above the wind whipping at his face. He squinted, trying to see where the siren was headed but having no luck. Were they swimming to the boat? Had Beck really gotten so far away from it?

Unfortunately, the siren himself offered no answers. The night sky and fog did not help Beck’s visibility. In these conditions, he was practically blind.

After several minutes of this less-than-ideal water travel, Caspian came to an abrupt stop. Beck frowned, finding himself staring at a rocky cliffside shore. Was Caspian trying to return him to the lighthouse again? But none of this looked familiar…

Caspian raised his head above the waves, sending Beck scrambling to keep his hold. It didn’t matter, as those familiar claws came up and plucked the human from Caspian’s hair.

“Hold your breath.” Caspian advised. This was Beck’s only warning as he was cupped between Caspian’s hands, the mer diving beneath the surface.

Thankfully, Beckett was intelligent enough to take the warning to heart. He held his breath, eyes squeezed tightly shut to avoid getting saltwater in them. The pressure became quite intense as Caspian dove several dozen meters down with ease. It made Beck feel like his head would pop at any moment. Was Caspian trying to drown him? But why go through all the effort of telling Beck to hold his breath, if only to drag it out?

Just as Beck could take it no longer and felt on the verge of passing out, Caspian breached the surface. Immediately Beck began to suck in large gulps of air, snorting to get the water that got stuck unpleasantly up his nose.

Despite being above the surface, Beck couldn’t see anything. He tried not to panic, heart racing thanks to all the uncertainties of the situation. “Where- where are we?”

“Home.”

Caspian’s answer only brought on further questions. Home? What kind of home did a gigantic merman have, anyway? Slowly his human eyes began to adjust to the darkness, noticing that bioluminescent moss seemed to give the space just enough light to see the outlines of shapes. It appeared they were in some sort of underground cavern, the water lapping against a craggy water-worn shore.

“Ah, yes. Of Course. Home.” Beck tried not to think about the several deadly reasons a wild animal might welcome him into its living space. But thankfully, Caspian wasn’t just an animal. He could talk, he seemed half human- that had to amount to something, right?

Of course, Caspian had still planned to eat him. So. There’s that.

“You’re still not gonna eat me, right?” Beck asked, not about to leave something so important to chance.

“Right.” Caspian sighed, as if the question were a mild annoyance and not tied to Beckett’s entire livelihood. “But you have disturbed my hunting time. I’m hungry.”

“Not sure that’s entirely my fault…” Beckett murmured to himself.

Caspian lowered his cupped palms to the rocky shore, setting Beck down away from the water’s edge. “Stay here.”

“Wha-? Stay here?” Beck became alarmed, taking a few nervous steps to catch his footing on the slippery slope. “Where are you going?”

“Do not worry.” Caspian assured Beck, easing himself back into the water. “I’ll bring you back something to eat as well.” With that, Caspian dove back into the water, leaving Beck alone in this dark murky cave.

Beckett blinked, shocked to find himself alone in this enclosure. “I don’t think he knows what humans eat.” Beck grimaced, not eager to see just what Caspian would be bringing back for him. Would it be wriggling? Slimy? Would it be human? The thought made Beck want to throw up.

Beckett shivered, feeling chilly now that the adrenaline was beginning to wear off. He found himself in an unknown underwater cave off the coastline somewhere, still soaked to the bone in his wet rags. The icy temperature in here was freezing, and the water wasn’t any warmer. Was Beck going to die of frostbite here? How long was Caspian planning on keeping him prisoner?

Beckett walked up and down the shore, looking for any driftwood or materials to make a fire. He had no luck, of course, but even if he had Beck didn’t know the first thing about starting a fire. So with nothing to warm himself, what should Beck do? Beckett knew from all the books he’d read on environmental conditions that staying in his wet clothing was one of the worst strategies for survival, but standing around naked in the freezing cave didn’t sound any more appealing. Not to mention, Beck had no way of drying his clothes even if they left his person. He would just have to put the soaking wet rags back on eventually.

Making a foolish decision, Beck kept his clothes on in the hopes that his own body temperature would help dry them eventually. Coming from the man who went out to sea to search for his would-be murderer all day, perhaps Beck shouldn’t be treating himself as a good source for advice.

“What was I thinking?” Beck murmured, pacing back and forth to try and keep the blood flowing to his extremities. His fingertips were growing numb, and Beck shoved them in his armpits to try and keep them warm.

Should he try and escape? Beckett guessed there must be some underwater entrance to this cavern, but there was no way of knowing how deep he would have to dive to reach it, how long the tunnel itself was, nor how high he’d have to swim to reach the surface on the other side. Beckett wasn’t known to be a particularly decent swimmer. Even just the idea of getting in the water right now made Beck shudder, not eager to get soaking wet once more.

Beckett let out a yawn, the excitement of the day catching up to him. He was cold, and tired. Nothing sounded better than stripping off these clothes and lying down in a warm, dry bed back at Seymour’s.

Oh gosh, Seymour. What was the old man gonna think when Beck didn’t return home like he claimed? He knew Seymour had little faith in Beck’s sailing abilities, but Beckett had foolishly promised to be careful. Would Seymour mourn him? Worse yet, would Seymour try to send out a rescue? What if Caspian found him and wasn’t so merciful?

Beckett was dead on his feet by the time the water began to shift. Beck slapped himself out of his stupor, standing to attention in his semi-dry clothes as the giant merman emerged.

Caspian pulled himself partially up onto the shore, holding out one hand to Beck. As expected, none of this looked edible in its current form. There was a live octopus, still wriggling around, a half dozen oysters, a few slimy eels, and a few other squirming entities Beckett wasn’t certain how to classify.

“Oh, thanks.” Beck tried to keep the disgust off his facial features. Even with not eating all day, Beck didn’t have much of an appetite. But would Caspian be mad if Beck didn’t eat it? It’s not like Beckett asked for it in the first place...

“I was uncertain what you would like.” Caspian admitted, a soft frown gracing his features as he nudged the human with his fingertips, encouraging Beck to eat. “Will this be good for you? Do not be shy, I ate my fill already.”

Beck cleared his throat. “Well, uh, some of this is what humans can eat, but we don’t eat it… raw. Or alive, usually.”

“Hmm.” Caspian considered this for a moment, taking one of the eels between his claws. Caspian raised the creature to his lips. In one swift motion, Caspian used his fangs to tear off the eel’s head, sending a small spurt of blood spattering down.

Beck cried out, quickly covering his head with his arms to try and avoid getting caught in the rain. “COOKED! IT NEEDS TO BE COOKED!” Beck hastily corrected, turning a bit green as Caspian tried to once again offer him the bloody corpse. “It needs to be prepared right, too, I don’t think I’m supposed to eat a lot of stuff found in live fish, they usually gut ‘em and stuff, and I’ve never been one for sushi in the first place.”

Caspian licked his lips, clearing away the blood stains as he tilted his head like a pup. “What do you mean, ‘cooked’?”

Beck slowly uncovered his head, thankful Caspian seemed to have backed off for a moment. “Right, cooked.” Beck nodded to himself. “Guess you wouldn’t know what that is, living in the ocean and all. Um, do you know what fire is?” It was Caspian’s turn to nod. “Wait, you do? How?”

“Fire chokes out life.” Caspian explained. “It creates the smoke and the ash that destroys the shores.”

“Well… yeah, I guess it does do that, sometimes.” Beckett admitted. “But we use it in smaller, healthy doses. You use it to cook your food, usually heating it up and changing it to be healthy.”

Caspian seemed more confused the further this conversation went on.

“Unfortunately, there’s no fuel here anyways.” Beck gestured to their surroundings. “And I don’t know how to make a fire anyways, so-”

“No fire.” Caspian said sternly. He sounded more like a stern parent, banning experimentation with firecrackers in the house.

“No fire.” Beck confirmed. He glanced at the ceiling. “Probably wouldn’t have been the best idea anyways, all enclosed like this. But anyways, no. I can’t accept your fish. Thank you, it was very kind of you, I’ll be forever grateful, but if I eat that I will be sick.”

“...hmm.” Caspian looked- disappointed? Frustrated? It was hard to tell the mer’s emotions, but Caspian at the very least seemed to understand Beck’s meaning, as he pulled his handful of fish back to himself. With a thoughtful expression, giving Beck one last option to protest, Caspian tilted the whole mixture into his mouth, chewing it into a paste and swallowing with ease.

Gross. Beck kept this thought to himself, grateful he was not on the other side of Caspian’s abs himself as the pleased merman gave his stomach a few pats.

“Then what will you eat?” Caspain asked, laying down to be more at eye level with the little man.

“Well, uh, I suppose I can always eat after I get home.” Beckett chose his words carefully, still uncertain what Caspian’s intentions were. “My friend would usually make meals with me. Stew, most of the time.”

Caspian’s eyebrows furrowed. “I can make stew with you.”

“No, you can’t.” Beck corrected. Gently. “No fire, remember? Fire’s needed for stew, too. And we don’t have any of the other ingredients. Vegetables, seasonings, broth, cooked meat… stuff like that. And any we got in here would be soaked with sea water, and that’s not great for humans either.”

The giant siren seemed displeased with this answer, obviously intent on keeping the human alive. This, at least, was one positive note in a storm of negativity for the evening.

With a displeased hum, Caspian reached out his hand towards Beckett. Instinctively Beck flinched away, worried the siren had gotten bored and wanted to do away with him, but all that happened was a giant digit began carefully stroking the top of Beck’s head and down the length of his back.

“Uh...what are you doing?” Beck asked, still stiff as a board.

Caspian didn’t seem inclined to answer. Instead he tilted his head, curious blue eyes intently studying Beckett. “Can you sing?”

Beckett blinked. “Can I what?”

“Can you sing?” Caspian repeated, and after Beck gave a nod: “sing for me.”

“Oh, well, I can sing, but not very well, mind you.” Beck admitted, looking a bit sheepish. The stage had always been his sister’s forte. “Certainly not to your caliber. I don’t think you want to hear me sing at all, actually.”

“Yes I do.” Caspian insisted gently. “Sing.”

Beck let out a deep breath, mentally preparing himself for such a task. What song does one even use to serenade a siren? After careful consideration, Beckett selected an old nursery rhyme from his childhood, both for its brief length and easy melody.

“Twinkle, twinkle, little star-” Beckett began, his voice shaking. He cleared his throat, trying to project a bit more even as Caspian leaned in to hear. “How I wonder what you are. Like a diamond in the sky, up above the world so high…”

Beckett had shut his eyes, trying to forget about any pressures to perform. A nice benefit to this impromptu concert is that Caspian had paused his petting to allow Beck to focus. “Twinkle twinkle, little star… how… er, ...up… ah…y’know what? I’ve forgotten the last line, actually.”

Beck grimaced, opening his eyes. Caspian was as difficult to read as ever, the siren’s face passive as Beckett awaited any sort of review.

“That was it?” Caspian clarified.

“Yeah, not a very long song.” Beckett agreed. “Meant for children, y’know? Just to… well I don’t know the point of it, actually, I guess it’s just something to sing.”

“Ah.” Caspian drummed his fingers along the rocks. “It was…”

Beckett waited not so patiently. “Well?” He spoke up. “I told you I’m a lousy singer.”

Considering the siren made no effort to disagree, Caspian held the same opinion, yet he wore a pained expression. Perhaps Caspian had held out hope for Beck after all? But then again, even if he were a renowned opera singer, how could a human voice ever possibly appeal to a siren?

“I thought everyone could sing.” Caspian admitted quietly.

For some reason, this bashful admission is what finally set Beck roaring with laughter. Beck clutched at his sides, doubled over with mirth as a concerned siren watched. Caspian let out a noise of concern, reaching out his hand to prod Beck in the side.

“No- I’m good!” Beck hastily assured him, pushing away the finger as if he had any chance of telling the siren what to do. “It’s just- ah, fuck. What a day, you know?” And with that, tears began to pour down Beckett’s cheeks, the poor exhausted boy helpless to stop them as he alternated between laughing and sobbing.

Now Caspian let out a whine, the trill noise echoing across the cavern walls as Caspian scooped the human up into his hands. Beck gasped, momentarily without air as he was forced against Caspian’s chest. “Shh, shhh.” Caspian hushed him, patting his back like he was a child.

Well, what did it matter? Beck felt like a child. He was tired, and hungry, and cold, and he just wanted to go home. Unable to work on any of those things, Beckett tried instead to take the comfort that was given to him, so overwhelmed by the day that this might as well happen.

Beck hiccupped, his tears still coming but too exhausted to keep wailing. Beckett leaned into Caspian’s chest, the smooth seal texture feeling surprisingly warm and dry for a creature that spent most of its life in the ocean. If he focused, Beck could hear a rhythmic thumping. It was Caspian’s heart, just on the other side of this ribcage.

“I wanna go home.” Beck murmured, more to himself than the siren who wouldn’t listen. “I just wanna go home.”

A rumbling sensation filled Beck’s ears, which he slowly recognized as Caspian’s singing. Beck closed his eyes, allowing himself to succumb to the call.

…

“...Beck?”

---

“-OI! Wake UP!”

Beck coughed, startled awake as he found himself once again doused in sea water. He blinked, disoriented to feel the surface beneath him was rocking like a boat. Before Beck could ponder that out, a bright light shined directly in his eyes, making him squint.

“Blimey, you look half dead.” Seymour whistled, taking stock of Beck’s appearance.

“I...what?” Beck frowned, looking around. They were on a boat. What happened? Last thing he remembered, Caspian had been coddling him like a wounded babe. “Where’s Caspian?”

“Who?” Seymour didn’t have a clue.

“Caspian! I- the giant siren!” Beck looked around, trying to spot anything in the darkness of night.

“Boy, I think you swallowed too much seawater.” Seymour shook his head, easing Beck back down. “Take it easy, you’re lucky to be alive.” Seymour pulled out an emergency orange blanket, wrapping it firmly around Beck’s shoulders. It was only then that Beck came to the startling conclusion he was naked, stripped of his wet clothes entirely. At least he could see them lying on the deck as well.

“The voice.” Beck insisted, staying down only because his head felt dizzy. “You must have heard him singing? He was singing. What’d I miss this time?”

Seymour had no answers, as far as giant sirens went. Instead, he explained his side of things. “When you didn’t come back yesterday, I came out to look for ya.” Seymour explained. “You must have a guardian angel after all. Caught you in my sights only by change with the spotlight, adrift in the waves. No idea how the hell you’ve got a speck of life in you, jumping in without a liferaft or lifejacket or nothin’. Holy hell son, ya got a death wish, there’s easier ways of going out.”

“I- what?” Beck frowned. “No, that… that’s not what happened.”

“Hypothermia can cause hallucinations.” Seymour swore under his breath. “Shit, you’re in a worse state than I thought. Never should have let you come out here alone in the first place, nevermind with Ben’s boat. He’s gonna kill ya, y’know, if you do manage to survive the night.”

“Didn’t mean to lose the boat.” Beckett rubbed at his eyes. “Got left behind on the way to the caverns.”

“To the caverns, he says.” Seymour rolled his eyes, handing Beck a warm thermos. “Drink. Sit. And don’t fall asleep.” With these last instructions, Seymour moved over to the captain’s chair, starting the motor and steering the boat back towards shore.

Beck stared at the waves passing by, sipping gently at the contents of the thermos. Tasted like hot lemon tea. Beck would have preferred hot chocolate, if shipwreck survivors were allowed to have preferences.

Was it a shipwreck? Did he jump in? No… no it was Caspian, wasn’t it? Dumb seal’s fault for it all. That, Beck was certain. Too bad he couldn’t charge the siren for Ben’s boat.

Before, Beck had barely escaped with his life, lost and confused about his potential giant savior. Now, he knew so much more than he had before. Caspian was real. Caspian’s name was Caspian. Caspian had intended to eat him, didn’t, and then let him go. Caspian had forgotten him.

Would Caspian forget him again? Why did that notion make Beck feel so uneasy?

It wasn’t like Beck owed Caspian anything, truly. The guy had saved his life twice now, but only after endangering it in the first place. But why did Caspian let him go this time? It seemed as if Caspian was intent on keeping him around like some sort of amusing lil’ pet. What had changed?

Beck’s mind was too tired to process through such things. He sipped more of the tea, growing drowsy.

“No sleeping!” Seymour yelled.

“Yes sir!” Beck jolted upright, regretting it when his head pounded. The sound of the waves had changed. Beck could hear them crashing against the shore, indicating they were almost to the dock.

Seymour expertly steered the ship into the harbor, a feat which took a good deal of skill in the middle of the night. Once securely fastened, Seymour offered Beck a hand, hauling the boy to his feet and keeping Beck steady all the way up to the lighthouse.

“Alright, in you get.” Seymour instructed, easing Beck into bed. He piled more blankets onto Beckett, disappearing briefly to grab a warm compress which he placed on Beckett’s forehead.

“I really did see him.” Beckett murmured, closing his eyes as the warmth lulled him into a deep slumber.

Seymour let out a low sigh. “I’m sure you did.” Seymour murmured, patting Beck’s arm.

[kim-ruzek]

Girl Crush

Summary: This time, Sylvie does not laugh at the bluntness of Kim’s words, instead blushing a fierce shade of pink. She was only half looking at Kim when she said those words, but now Sylvie looks at the other woman more directly. She is greeted by Kim looking at her—although, maybe staring would be more accurate. It’s an intense look, a look her friend has never given her before, a look that says that maybe Kim doesn’t want to be just her friend tonight.

Or; at the end of 3x23, Sylvie doesn't go home with Roman-- but instead with Kim. And gets the fucking she deserves.

Warnings: Smut, smut, smut. This is just my excuse to give Sylvie the orgasm she deserves and the one she clearly did not get with Ratman. And so there's also Roman bashing bc Roman is trash.

Word Count: 4.5k

Read on AO3

Notes: For @gilbxrt-blythe bc Abby started™ something in my mind on Sunday, thus leading me to writing this all yesterday bc,,, our girls deserve so much better than Sean Roman and this fandom needs more wlw content. Let's save our darling girls!!

Someone’s hooking up tonight.

Chili’s words go around in Sylvie’s head all night. Largely, she ignores them—or rather, tries to—just focusing on the beer she’s sipping faster than usual and the joyous atmosphere in the bar but there’s those moments it creeps into her thoughts.

Her PIC is right about one thing, the thing she said about volcanoes. The firehouse has been so tense of late and she can tell that a weight has been lifted off them, and Sylvie thinks that’s quite like a volcano. But she—perhaps, stubbornly—refuses to admit Chili might be right about the hooking up part.

If anyone was to know Sylvie’s thoughts, know that she’s trying, more vehemently that she should, to deny that, they question why. To which Sylvie would just claim that it’s because she hates gossiping about her co-workers, people who are her friends are family, and that she doesn’t like speculating on their sex lives.

Sylvie even tried to insist this to herself, not that it works. How can it when she can feel her toes curl slightly at the thought of just... Throwing everything to the wind and just enjoying some pure, unadulterated primal ecstasy. That she finds herself subconsciously looking around the bar, as if she’s trying to find a suitable candidate.

She has always felt the weight of her friends’ turmoil so heavily. Empathetic to the core, her father said, when he grinned at her becoming a paramedic, telling her it’s what she was born to do. She likes it, she does. She likes caring about those important to her, to care about anyone who’s a decent human—and even those who aren’t—but it gets tiring, feeling the weight of their unhappiness on her shoulders.

It’s not even like she was directly wrapped up in the drama going around in the house, but it was so intense—a volcano getting ready to burst. And something tells her that she won’t be able to shake it off with just getting drunk amongst her friends.

“Hey, Brett,” Sylvie looks to her left, seeing Sean Roman slip into the seat beside her. The paramedic smiles at him, ever polite, turning so she’s more face on to him. He was close to her before she shifted, and she thought that would be annoying, if he wanted to converse.

Only, Sylvie quickly gets that he doesn’t have talking on mind.

The patrol officer is quick to close the space between them again, shifting himself and resting a hand on the back edge of her seat. She could get away if she wanted, but it gives off a certain trapped vibe, a vibe that shows exactly the kind of intentions Roman has.

There’s a twist of uncomfortableness in her stomach. Roman is sort of attractive, she guesses, although she doesn’t know if she’d fully trust her taste in men yet; there being too many wrongly stacked choices compared to the right. But even if he was the hottest specimen she had ever seen, there’s something off putting about his approach, leaving her with the impression he doesn’t want her to move away from him.

But there’s that volcano inside her, wanting to explode, and the alcohol is already coursing through her veins, so despite the sober parts of her brain metaphorically screwing up its nose at the officer, Sylvie doesn’t attempt to move again, instead leaning on her arm, interested in whatever he has to say.

“I’ve got a few more interesting stories like that, if you want to hear more?” Roman smiles hungrily at her, his eyes making her feel like a piece of meat. He had just finished telling her an amusing story from patrol and she gets the impression that’s his hook, and that now he’s trying to reel her in.

“The bar’s a bit loud, though. So we should go back to mine,” There it is, the beginning of the reel. He’s looking hopeful at her, and there’s an attempt to look appealing, sexy. It doesn’t work, but Sylvie finds herself shrugging, thinking that she could do a lot worse that Sean Roman.

“Hey, Sylvie. Roman.” Before she can agree, Kim appears, seemingly out of nowhere.

The brunette is on the other side of her, her arm lightly touching her as she greets them. In a way, Kim is affectively penning Sylvie in like her partner did, but it doesn’t make her stomach twist in that same uncomfortable way. There’s some meaning to that, she knows, but she doesn’t bother to reflect on what.

“Hey, Burgess.” Roman seems irked. He’s looking at her rather rudely, and Sylvie doesn’t like that. She cares about her friends and Kim is one of her first Chicago friends who doesn’t work with her. So she grins at her a little wider then she already would, wrapping her arms around the other officer.

“Hey, Kim!” If Roman picks up on the pointedness in Sylvie’s tone, he doesn’t let on.

“Hi,” Kim smiles at her again, repeating a greeting before continuing and Sylvie must be a little more tipsy than she thought because her mind is immediately drawn to how pretty Kim looks when she smiles. “Chili had to leave early and asked me if I could drive you home instead. She said sorry, but there was a cute guy who she needed to know a bit better,”

Sylvie knows instantly that Kim is lying. Chili asked no such thing, considering she wanted to get absolutely wasted tonight and had no intention of driving herself home, let alone Sylvie. This lie is an anchor, a get out of jail card, a bailout. For who, she doesn’t know—doesn’t think that she’s too drunk to need it, but she takes it anyway.

“Oh, she promised she wouldn’t!” Sylvie goes along with the lie Kim has spun. “I’m sorry for inconveniencing you,”

“Eh. It’s no problem.” Kim shrugs her off with a wave of a hand.

“I was actually about to leave myself. I can take Brett, you can just relax. That way I can continue telling her some patrol stories,” Roman inserts himself back in the conversation but Kim has no patience for him.

“We’re partners, I can tell her the stories. C’mon, Sylvie, let’s go.” Kim gently encourages Sylvie up. There’s a disappointment at not being able to expend all this tension away, but girl code is more important, and girl code is telling her to go with Kim.

“We have to walk around the block—I don’t actually have my car, so we’ll have to call a taxi.” Kim tells her when they leave Molly’s, arms linked. Neither of them are anything more than tipsy, but Sylvie finds herself giggling at her words.

“Then why did you drag me out? Was a guy bothering you?” She asks.

“Oh, trust me, I did that for you. You’d regret that so much tomorrow. The guy’s my partner and all, but he... I was on patrol with his ex. Going there—that wouldn’t give you any sort of satisfaction.” Kim explains, and Sylvie widens her eyes, giggling again.

“Really?” The irony of Sylvie spending the evening denying that she cares about gossip saying this, leaning in with intrigue, is not lost on her.

“Jenn didn’t say anything outright but... I asked why she got engaged so quickly and she expressed that he—her fiancé—is very talented with his tongue, if you get what I mean. I inferred the rest. A man who won’t eat out his girl is not a man worth your time.” Kim says very manner of fact, and Sylvie laughs at it, the brunette joining in shortly after.

“It’s the truth!” Kim insists through her laughter. They’ve walked around the corner, now, Kim quickly dialling for a taxi through her laughs.

“My ex fiancé never did.” Sylvie confesses when their laughter died down. Kim lifts an eyebrow.

“Never?”

“Never. He said it was disgusting. Didn’t stop him wanting me to suck him, though.” Sylvie can’t help the bitter edge to her words, thinking about Harrison and thinking about how she could waste her time on him. Kim, evidently, thinks the same.

“Life is too short for those kinds of men.” Kim says. Her words are assured, confident, just a statement and Sylvie just hums in response, thinking that Kim probably never wasted years like she did.

“Hey, Sylvie. I don’t mean that like... You deserve so much better.” Kim picks up on her sudden drop of mood. “I don’t know why we lower ourselves for arses like that, but you deserve so much better. Better than people like Harrison and Roman.”

“So do you—if your exes never..?” Sylvie quickly adds on and Kim lets out a snort.

“Oh yeah. I’ve dated my fair share of arseholes.” She nods. “I don’t know why they’re like this. You’re so pretty, I don’t know how anyone could want to fuck you and not completely worship you.”

This time, Sylvie does not laugh at the bluntness of Kim’s words, instead blushing a fierce shade of pink. She was only half looking at Kim when she said those words, but now Sylvie looks at the other woman more directly. She is greeted by Kim looking at her—although, maybe staring would be more accurate. It’s an intense look, a look her friend has never given her before, a look that says that maybe Kim doesn’t want to be just her friend tonight.

It deepens Sylvie’s blush.

The air between them immediately shifts, and it feels almost so natural, Sylvie finds herself questioning whether the air always felt this thick and charged. The air is heavy, and there’s this certain kind of electricity between them; an electric energy of sorts that reminds her of when she was eighteen and her friends and her caught a ride into the nearest big town and snuck into the club—and of Sylvie waiting outside for her friends after and sharing her first—and only—kiss with a girl.

“That’s cos we’re women, though? We know what we want.” Sylvie tries to push all those thoughts aside.

Tries to ignore what she feels building in the air—because surely, it’s just in her mind? Just because she was thinking about throwing caution to the wind and having a night of passionate, explosive sex—and tries to not focus on how pretty Kim looks, how she looks like she’s the best and worst decision she could ever make wrapped up in one.

On how Kim is looking at her with such intense eyes, almost hungry eyes, eyes that says she wants to be one of those men.

“That’s not just why. I wouldn’t just eat you out until you come screaming because I’m a woman, I’d do it because I want to make you come undone at my doing—like you deserve.” Kim’s words sends pulsating throbs through her body, and she can feel herself getting turned on, her body feeling like Kim has just found the secret code to her with just her words. Sylvie stares at Kim, with shock.

“You... I... What?” Sylvie splutters, unsure of what exactly Kim is saying.

“I’m just saying. You’re hot, Brett. I can see why Roman tried.” There’s a pause. “I’m not trying to ruin our friendship. Tell me if I’m wrong, that I’m not picking up on some things and I’ll shut up and just get you home. But if I’m right, I’ll fuck you right.”

“I...” Sylvie is facing Kim dead on, now, the space between them feeling like too much, electric and heavy. It’s dark, the only light being the street lamp. But it catches the side of Kim’s face, lighting it up in such a pretty way and it stirs something deep and primal inside her.

The dark, positively hungry eyes Kim is looking at her with doesn’t help, either. It’s not like earlier, with Roman, it doesn’t make her feel like a piece of meat. It makes her feel like she’s the world’s most precious delicacy and that Kim would give her left arm just to get a taste.

“You’re right.” The words are barely out of her mouth when Kim is closing the space between them. One of her arms slips around the blonde’s waist, pulling her flush to her, the other gently resting on the bend of Sylvie’s neck as she kisses her.

Kim’s lips are soft, her touch gentle. The kiss starts off slow, although Sylvie wouldn’t have thought it with the way her body immediately responds, aching and her heart beating. But then Kim deepens the kiss, encouraging her mouth to open wider, slipping in her tongue. Sylvie responds eagerly, her arms wrapping around Kim, practically grabbing hold of her so she can return the kiss more fiercely.

If this was a preview into the abilities of Kim’s tongue, Sylvie doesn’t think that she’ll have to work her long before—to use Kim’s words—Sylvie’s coming undone at her doing.

When the taxi arrives, honking it’s horn on the two, busy kissing each other like they’re the only people in the world, the alcohol running through their veins and their and respective tiring days edging them on, making them so filled with want for this, they pull apart, out of breath, chest heaving.

They share smiles, little light-hearted giggles as they pull apart, climbing into the taxi. Kim opens the door, grabbing at Sylvie’s hand as she does so before moving swiftly out the way so she can climb in first.

They don’t make out in the taxi. They’re not even jammed up too close together, their bodies just turned towards each other. They are close enough for them to still have their hands interlocked, although it’s more like their arms at places and for their feet to lightly tap at the other’s, playing a footsy kind of game but they’re friends, they shared a taxi before, they’ve even had this ease of physical contact before.

Sylvie would almost wouldn’t be able to tell that the line between friends and lovers had been blurred for tonight, if it wasn’t for the electric energy between them, from how Sylvie’s just waiting until they can get back to hers, and how whenever Kim moves her fingers up and down her arm, gently running against her skin, it feels like little shocks.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been to yours,” Kim says as Sylvie leads her up the stairs. They’re deviating between holding hands and not, joking around as they make their way. Sometimes Kim’s spinning ahead of her, their hands dropping from their grip, and sometimes Sylvie is.

“We have only known each other a year and we have busy jobs.” Sylvie points out. Kim sticks out her tongue playfully and Sylvie has to stop herself from capturing it, and kissing Kim again. “This is me.”

Sylvie goes in first, opening her front door and placing her keys in her pot. Kim follows, and Sylvie watches as the brunette kicks off her shoes immediately, shrugging off her coat. For someone who’s never been here before, Kim fills the air with a confidence and it only fuels Sylvie’s need, her own confidence as the volcano erupts.

With a swift kick, Sylvie shuts her door and then her hands are on Kim, pulling her close. She grabs her hand, stopping her from moving further away from her, pulling her to her and capturing her lips in a kiss.

“Hm,” Kim moans against her, kissing her with a casual, yet urgent force. The melodic hum is tinted in amusement, and she pulls away briefly, to Sylvie’s disappointment. “So, we’re going straight to this? Aren’t even going to ask if I want a beer?”

Her words are said in an amused tone, but Sylvie still finds herself blushing, cursing herself slightly.

“Oh. Right. Sorry. Do you—” She’s interrupted by Kim kissing her.

“You’re so easy to tease. Don’t worry, I don’t want anything to drink. Eat, maybe.” Sylvie goes to panic again but then she sees the glint sparkling away in her eye and she blushes, getting the play on words.

“Hm, well there’s only one thing on the menu if you’re,” she pauses, “Hungry,”

Sylvie could swear that Kim licks her lips but then the brunette is kissing her again and all thoughts go out of her head, the only thing on her mind being the taste of Kim and getting her to her bedroom as soon as she can.

Neither of them are determined to disconnect from one another for long, not even in the interest in getting to her bed unscathed from injuries. Kim hits into the sofa and Sylvie nearly trips over something she left on the floor, but the two stay touching, kissing each other hungrily and needily.

Sylvie would love to say that she savoured the moment Kim took off her top, but any clothes removed is done hastily, urgently, the clothes feeling too much, too intrusive. All Sylvie can do is give Kim a quick, appreciative look over after she tosses off her top.

Although, she thinks, that could do more with that Kim then helps her get her top off, and rewards her with her lips on her neck immediately after.

“There,” Sylvie manages to gasp out, pointing at which door is her bedroom’s, as Kim pushes her up against her wall, attacking her neck, nipping and sucking at the flesh. She’s going to have a mark there tomorrow, but tonight, tonight she doesn’t care, just tilting her head aside for her to have more access, her hands just grabbing at Kim as she does so.

Despite the urgency to get this far into her apartment, Kim has apparently decided they don’t need to finish the stretch right now, focusing on kissing along her collarbone, back up along her neck and jawline, stealing kisses from her lips before heading back down. She doesn’t go too far down with her kisses, but it’s enough to send Sylvie’s mind haywire, especially when she brushes along with her teeth.

All Sylvie can do is grab at Kim’s hair, the other hand resting on her waist, running up and down her back with her nails and moan at the kisses, grasping at her. One of Sylvie’s legs loops around Kim’s in a kind of way, pulling her lower body closer to her own, in the perfect place for Sylvie to grind against, needing to alleviate some tension.

It’s only when Kim’s hand snakes away from it’s current position and runs along the waistband of her jeans, deftly undoing her button and slipping inside does Sylvie gasp, pushing at Kim slightly. Kim’s hand is still cold from the cool Chicago night air, and Sylvie can feel the cold as Kim runs her hand against the cotton of her panties, lightly brushing over her throbbing clit.

“Bedroom. Kim, bedroom,” Sylvie gasps.

“Hm. Impatient, are we?” Kim grins at her, and Sylvie can’t help comparing it to a wolf looking at it’s prey. The brunette is so sweet and kind, Sylvie never would’ve guessed that she was like this—so confident and devious—in the bedroom. Or, rather, the hallway. But Sylvie wouldn’t have it any other way.

Kim steps away from Sylvie then, and she immediately misses the warmth of her body, and her hand's presence from where it was so close to where she wants—no, needs—her. She’s going into Sylvie’s bedroom, beckoning the blonde to follow.

Sylvie is starting to rather feel like putty in Kim’s hands, and she’s never been a passive participant in her sex life—well, except when she lets men (Harrison) rule how she should be—and she’s not about to start.

She follows Kim on through, and she already has an advantage knowing the layout of her bedroom. Sylvie’s hands are on Kim again, and she’s leading, practically pushing, Kim to her bed, the brunette having no choice but to lie down on it, Sylvie immediately straddling her.

“Not a very good cop, are you?” Sylvie teases her, and when Kim goes to protest, she grinds down slightly, knowing exactly where it’ll cause friction. It has the desired effect, Kim moaning, her eyes fluttering shut slightly. Her hands are resting of Sylvie’s hips, and they go up then, stroking at the soft skin of her stomach.

“Bra, off. Now,” Kim says, running a hand along the edge of the bra. Sylvie grins wickedly at her, wondering why Kim ever thought she still had the upper hand, to doll out an order.

“Yes. That’s a good idea.” Sylvie shifts down Kim slightly, resting more weight on her own kneeled legs, allowing for Kim to sit up. The brunette clearly thinks it’s so she can help Sylvie with the bra, but Sylvie catches her hands, stopping her, and instead undoes Kim’s bra.

Sylvie’s never been intimate with a woman like this. There’s been those dreams—day dreams and actual dreams—that she spent a while trying to ignore, and thinking she’ll never act upon. But she’s never, physically, been with one and whereas her confidence has gotten her this far, she falters as Kim takes off her bra.

There’s that hesitation, that hesitation that she wants Kim—needs Kim—that this is exactly how she wants to explode tonight, but there’s that knowledge that she’s inexperienced in this, hitting her as she’s confronted with Kim’s naked chest.

“Is this too much?” Kim picks up straight away that Sylvie is having a moment, her eyebrows furrowing, turning concerned. “We can stop or just make out. Whatever you want—consent still applies with two women, y’know, and I won’t mind.”

Sylvie looks at her, Kim’s voice so gentle and caring, her big, brown eyes only filled with concerned, and something inside her throbs and Sylvie’s hesitation wears off as she realises that there’s nothing to be intimidated by, and Kim won’t mind if she has to guide her a little.

“Nah, I’m just taking your beauty in.” Sylvie jokes, before adding more seriously, “This is exactly what I want, Kim.”

“Good.” Kim smiles. “Because I’m feeling that we should even things here.”

Sylvie should’ve know that Kim would take off her bra as soon as she could, the brunette raking her eyes greedily over her body. She grabs at Sylvie’s thighs, positioning her in a way that she can sit on her and they can kiss with ease.

Kim doesn’t spend long kissing her lips before she’s travelling again, her fingers gently tracing patterns on her back as she kisses down her neck, collarbone, going between kisses and nips. Sylvie tries to adjust herself so that she can kiss the dip of Kim’s shoulder as she does so, but Kim tries her hardest to stop any attempts, not wanting to be restricted in her own explorations.

When Kim’s mouth gets to her chest, she pauses. Sylvie has barely any time to wonder what will happen next when Kim’s hand is palming one breast, making her gasp in surprise. The brunette lifts her mouth from her body, instead taking advantage of her agape mouth, kissing her deep. And then she’s moving them, laying Sylvie down, shifting who’s winning this lustful game of cat and mouse they’re playing.

Kim doesn’t straddle her like Sylvie did earlier, just making them vertical, Kim between her legs. She’s squeezing her breast again, and then her mouth is around the other’s nipple, rolling her tongue around it, and Sylvie lets out a loud moan she’d almost be embarrassed about if it didn’t feel so good. Kim works her like this for god knows how long before switching.

And then Kim is once again pulling away and Sylvie pouts, to Kim’s amusement.

“Don’t worry, baby,” Kim coos at her. “I’m just taking off your jeans so I can fuck you with my mouth.”

Sylvie never knew hearing Kim swear could sound so hot.

“Your jeans too. I was you as naked as I am,” She doesn’t know how she still has brain power to compose thoughts, focused so much on the needy ache in her body.

Kim steps off the bed so that she can shimmy off her jeans. Her panties match the bra she was wearing and Sylvie couldn’t even describe how much that made her desire spike. She wonders if Kim was working today and if she changed before going to Molly’s—curious to know if Kim wore such lacy stuff to work.

Surely not? Sylvie sure as hell doesn’t, let alone wearing a matching set.

“Like what you see?” Kim flirts before climbing back onto the bed, immediately getting to work on helping Sylvie get off her own jeans. There’s a moment when they’re off that Sylvie gets momentarily self conscious of her near-naked body, but then Kim’s running a finger along her panties again, pressing down on her clit through the fabric.

The sound it elicits from her is a mix between a gasp, moan and whine.

“Kim,” Sylvie practically begs as she releases the pressure, resuming to gentle barely there strokes as she returns her mouth to her breasts, collarbone and neck. Kim seems to get the message because then she’s—with skill that makes Sylvie wonder just how many times Kim has done this—hooking her fingers around her panties and taking them off.

She doesn’t hesitate to resume her actions, now without the fabric in the way. Kim dips a finger inside her, her thumb brushing against her clit with differentiating levels of pressure and Sylvie can’t help but shut her eyes and moan at the sensation, Kim working her with her talented fingers.

“You’re so wet,” Kim whispers into her ear, nibbling against her jawline before adding another finger. She laughs hotly against her as Sylvie tightens, squeezing Kim’s fingers. She’s just about used to the feeling, and the motions, a pressure inside her building, but then Kim’s pulling them out and she’s whining.

And then Kim’s pulling away from her, and Sylvie just about opens her eyes, lifting up her head, in time to see down her body, looking devilishly. And then Kim’s licking her and it’s everything she’s wanted, needed, and her head is falling back down. Kim works her with her mouth, and all Sylvie can think is about how indeed, Kim is mightily skilled with her tongue.

The tension in Sylvie builds quickly, fast approaching her orgasm, Kim lapping at her and using her fingers to add that extra sensation, rubbing and pinching, alternating between making she’s in place and fondling her breasts and Sylvie’s gripping at her covers, gasping and whining as she writhes, overwhelmed at the sensations.

All thoughts have left her mind, and all Sylvie can focus on is the quick approaching climax, not caring about how lost in it she must be—not caring how loud she’s being, how unfiltered and uncontrolled she is, just focused on how good Kim is making her feel.

And then she reaches her climax, Kim is taking her over and she gets her wish—it’s everything Sylvie has needed, and she screams, full of ecstasy, her body overcome with sensation, toes curling as she comes around Kim’s tongue, the brunette continuing to lap at her, guiding her through her orgasm.

“That...” Sylvie pants as soon as she can. “That—exactly what I needed.”

It’s not perfect grammar, but she thinks Kim gets it, if how she smiles and moves so she’s cuddling against Sylvie, is any indication.

[ssamie]

eight. i’m calling the police

oikawa tooru x fem langa!reader

(hq x sk8 the infinity)

warnings: spelling mistakes, swearing, 2k+ words, adam, u have langa’s blue hair sorry 

gen masterlist.            “snow” masterlist.

"we're sorry!" the three boys exclaimed

"why are you sorry?" she asked in confusion as she stared down at them with furrowed brows "it wasn't your faults, oikawa-san, matsukawa-kun and hanamaki-kun." she reassured them "and you've been apologising the whole day.. its not like you need to anyways" 

"no, we still feel guilty" hanamaki chuckled "since it was our idea in the first place"

"well i was the one who skated so its fine. you don't need to apologise" she smiled at them

"but you're so sad!" oikawa groaned out dramatically "you look so heartbroken!" 

"im really not" she sweatdropped

"will you forgive us if we kneel down?" they asked "we already are, just in case!" y/n sweat dropped as she peered down at their grovelling forms and shook her head. "please don't kneel for me" she said

"its fine. i think i'll manage a few days without it" she said

"so why's your eyes all puffy?" iwaizumi deadpanned

"i cried" she replied with a straight face

"i see." iwaizumi hummed.

"hey, y/n-senpai!" kindaichi called out from the gym. "i think this is yours!" she looked up at him with a look of confusion ran over to where he stood. "what is it?" she asked 

"its your skateboard." kindaichi replied "it's in the gym for some reason" he said. y/n's eyes sparkled as she picked it up and hugged it to her chest. "wow! did you get it back?" she asked him 

"ah no.. it was just there when we entered the gym. kunimi found it" he said as he pointed towards kunimi who was too busy looking at his phone 

"thank you!" she beamed at them 

"no problem. maybe the teacher decided to give it back" he said 

she grinned and happily inspected it for damage just in case. though her smile quickly fell as her eyes trained themselves on a card plastered across the snow monster design's face. she plucked it off and wearily read over the neat letters written in gold ink. 

"you'll need this for later.. " she read with furrowed brows

she flipped the card over and paled as she saw the name that was signed. "love, adam" she shuddered 

"who's adam?" oikawa asked as he peered over her shoulder to read the card 

"um. he's-" she was cut off by the gym lights suddenly shutting off, causing her to jump in surprise. "what happened?" she asked oikawa, who shrugged in response and held her closer to him 

"my eve~" a voice cooed, accompanied by what seems like a sigh of delight and pleasure

she shivered and subconsciously backed up into oikawa's chest as she recognized the voice. "hey, what's wrong? you know that creep?" oikawa asked with a frown 

"its adam." she said 

everyone watched in confusion as the mysterious man entered the gym in an unnecessarily dramatic way. a red carpet rolled from the outside until the spot where y/n stood, and the gym lights turned on but were dimmed. 

"i hope you like my little gift" adam cooed as he skated towards her with a grin "you'll need i for what i have in store, as stated in my letter" he said 

y/n didn't answer but simply looked at him with a grimace, silently praying to whatever god out there that he just trips and dies or something. 

"though i have another gift for you, SNOW" he cooed as he came to a halt before her. adam grinned as he pulled out a huge bouquet of roses "these flowers are red, which symbolise one thing.." he said

"passionate love" adam cooed as he held it before her, making the petals fly around and making her hair sway. 

oikawa blinked once, and twice. he looked at the masked man in both fear and ick. just who the hell as he, anyways? "hey-what the?! aren't you like thirty?!" oikawa accidentally blurted out as he pulled y/n away 

adam simply ignored the brunette and kept his eyes trained on the girl. he waited patiently for her to accept the flowers. 

y/n pursed her lips and reluctantly took it from him. "thanks." she said. 

"you're accepting that??" oikawa groaned out as he looked at her in dread and confusion. 

she shrugged and gently placed the bouquet on a random bench. "adam--" she cut herself off with a squeak as she felt his hands gently grip her waist and pull her closer 

"come to this location i picked out." he whispered into her ear as he handed her another card. y/n stiffly nodded and quickly snatched the card from him, wanting nothing more than to get out of that situation.

"amazing!" adam exclaimed as he, finally, pulled away from her. "you never fail to entertain me, SNOW." he grinned "i knew coming here will be worth my while" he chuckled. 

"ah. right.." she muttered as she looked at him weirdly "wait, did you follow me?" she asked with a raised brow as the realisation finally dawned upon her. 

"other factors do not matter, my eve" adam mused as he took her hand in his and grabbed her hip with his other. "meet me later and let us dance like old times, okay?" he cooed with a smirk 

she looked away in discomfort and reluctantly nodded her head. "right.." she mumbled 

the boys, who were standing right there to witness the whole thing, looked at each other with a look that embodied the term 'what the fuck' and mentally agreed to step up and help her. 

"excuse me." iwaizumi cleared his throat, making adam side eye him with a look of disinterest 

"who are you and what are you doing with y/n?" he asked as he placed his hand on y/n's shoulder to try and pull her free from his grasp. "let go" oikawa said with a scowl as he pried adam's hands off her

"who are these nuisances, my eve?" adam asked her as he completely ignored their presence. "i thought i've already gotten rid of that redhead, and yet new names will be added into the list" adam hummed with a smile 

y/n gulped as she took note of the faint hostility behind his tone. "they're my friends." she said as she backed away from him and into oikawa’s arms once again 

"i'll meet you for a beef later but that's all" she said as she turned away from him "after that, please leave, adam." she requested with a sigh as she picked up the bouquet and her bag 

she gathered the boys and pushed them all out of the gym, quickly ushering them to run off along with her. she looked back one last time, only to be met with adam's eyes which seemed to be comically glowing red under his mask, paired with a grin 

she gulped and set him a curt nod. "bye" she said 

"goodbye, my eve" adam cooed as he watched her run off to the boys 

"hey hey! what the hell was that?!" oikawa exclaimed as he hugged y/n tightly in his arms "that creepy mask man came out of nowhere!" he said "and why'd he start touching you?" 

"yeah, who was that?" iwaizumi asked her

"his name is adam, or atleast that's what we call him" she replied "he's just like that, don't mind him" 

"uh no, i think i'm gonna mind him, thanks very much" oikawa scoffed "what did you mean when you asked if he followed you?" he asked with furrowed brows 

"oh.. well there's no other way he would've known i was here" she replied as she leaned back against his chest 

"also, oikawa-san.." she trailed off

"yeah?" he hummed 

"why are you still holding me?" 

oikawa blinked and slowly retracted his arms with a hint of reluctance. "haha, sorry" he chuckled 

"why does he call you eve?" matsukawa sweat dropped. "it has something to do with his name. adam, and eve.. like lovers" she answered with a look of distaste 

"..." 

iwaizumi let out a sigh before pulling out his phone and dialling a number. "im calling the police." he said 

"ah, don't do that" she waved her hands dismissively "i don't think that'll do much anyways" 

"well, he's clearly sick in the head so maybe they'll take him somewhere else other than jail" matsukawa mused. "ya know.." hanamaki chimed in "like the psych ward or something" 

"well when you put it like that.." y/n sweat dropped 

oikawa had a frown on his lips as they chatted. he wasn't joining in like he usually would, and was simply thinking to himself. y/n side eyed him and nudged him with her shoulder. "would you like to have dinner together, oikawa-san?" she asked him 

oikawa's eyes widened as his head instantly snapped over to hers "what?!" he spluttered "did you just ask me out?" 

"... i asked if you wanted to have dinner" she said 

oikawa bit back his tongue as he yearned to say 'that's the same thing!' but fought against it. "ah, sure!" he agreed with a grin. she smiled back and nodded. "great. i needed to stop thinking about adam" she said 

"also, will you guys come with me later?" she asked them 

the boys raised laughed and immediately nodded. "well, i was going to tell you not to go but.. i guess it'll be fine with us there" iwaizumi said. "yeah. if that dude does something sketchy, i'll seriously call 911" hanamaki laughed 

"oh, you can't." she said. "or else you and i will get involved. the skating i do isnt really appreciated by legal forces." she chuckled nervously 

"what?" 

"its kind of illegal." 

"...y/n.." iwaizumi trailed off with a sigh. 

"no way?! cool!" oikawa exclaimed as he gave her a high five. "it is, isn't it?!" she grinned as she and oikawa laughed together 

"jesus christ." iwaizumi deadpanned 

"that dinner was great!" she grinned as she sent oikawa a thumbs up 

"ah you're right.." he agreed with a meek laugh. "though it would've been better without them." he muttered as he sent the iwaizumi, maki, and mattsun a glare 

"oh cmon captain!" hanamaki mused "you love us!" he laughed. "no i don't" oikawa huffed and crossed his arms. 

"well, i love you guys" y/n interjected with an innocent smile

oikawa jumped and hastily waved his arms about. "no! no you don't!" he exclaimed. "why.. why not?" she sweat dropped 

"that should be saved for a special someone!" he said "cough. me. cough." 

"you're right!" y/n beamed with a grin "like reki!" 

oikawa dramatically sulked, kicking rocks by his feet and muttering under his breath as a gloomy aura surrounds him. "reki this reki that. why is it always reki? hmp" he muttered bitterly to himself 

iwaizumi sweat dropped and simply dragged him along "shut up, shittykawa. this is just getting sad" he said. "also, y/n where exactly are we going?" iwaizumi asked her as he looked around the dark and unsettling part of the woods they have entered 

"adam said he set up a course for us tonight" she answered with a shrug as she pushed her way through random bushes "it has to be hidden but we're very close, don't worry." she reassured 

"that's the problem. we're close." iwaizumi sighed. "just so you know, im still against this whole thing" 

"don't worry iwaizumi-san! it'll be fun!" y/n said with a grin as she pushed through one last bush, revealing a bright light from behind. 

"ah, there she is!"

y/n covered her eyes as a bright light shone against her "my eve!" adam announced followed by multiple cheers and shouts

"what the hell..?" matsukawa muttered as he looked around the abandoned looking part of the forest which was littered with skaters cheering and watching. "what the hell is this place?" she muttered as she recognised a few faces from S "is this S..?"

"my eve" adam cooed as he skated towards her "do you like it?"

"i've gathered everyone here to see you skate!" he exclaimed "everyone has missed you. but not as much as me" adam grinned as he tucked a single rose between her ear, making her shudder and warily poke at the flower.

"is reki here?" she asked with widened eyes as she looked around for a certain redhead

"that boy is not needed, is he not?" adam rebutted with a scowl "so there was no need to invite him."

her face fell at the statement and peered up at him with a frown. "don't say that about him.." she muttered

adam hummed and lit up a cigarette. "if emotions could be seen by the eye, what shapes would they be?" he mused

y/n brows furrowed as he listened to him. "i believe it will be a spring. and that spring will have different amounts of water depending on the occasion." he said "my spring is currently completely dry. because i don't have even one millimeter of interest in that.. reki..." he said with a grimace 

"but you.." adam trailed off as he threw the cigar away. 

he skated towards her and grinned, encaging her in a bubble her as he skates around her. "good.. you're good.." he said with a sigh of pleasure 

"it flows out... it gushes out!" adam exclaimed 

"that's right. the prize of this bet shall be you!" he announced as he gripped her waist and pulled her closer to him so their chest were touching "and what shall you ask for if you win, little y/n?" adam cooed as he tilted his head with a grin 

y/n sheepishly looked away from him and muttered. "if i win.. you have to go back and leave me alone.." she said 

adam's smile momentarily fell. he then grinned and nodded along. "what a cruel request" he mused "but if that is what you want then so be it.." he chuckled 

"but that just means i have to win no matter what, right?" 

y/n looked at him with dread. she didn't answer but simply turned away from him and faced the boys. "hey, i think we should leave" oikawa suggested with a nervous laugh "that guy is crazy!" 

"and what's with this place? i thought for sure he'd just bring you to a skatepark or something" he said as he eyes the various skaters who were chatting along 

"you'll see oikawa-san." 

everyone watched in anticipation as the lights blink one by one, a buzzing sound acting as a count down for them. as the last ringing of the buzzer filled the air, both adam and y/n skated off.

"holy shit" matsukawa cursed in surprise

they had done so in immense speed and force, that they'd even left some skid marks and a trail of dust and rubble behind

"yeah! go SNOW!" "im betting on you, SNOW!!" "SNOW you better win!"

oikawa watched with widened eyes as the crowd around them cheered and hollered, shouting her alias along with some encouragement. "snow?" oikawa hummed in confusion "is that like a nickname or something?" he muttered

"yes. we like to keep our personal lives apart from our skating activities." a guy chimed in "and that includes our given names, so we make up aliases or nicknames, as you said."

oikawa looked up at the man with a mask and nervously chuckled "i see." he said "what's your name then, sir?" he asked, only to quickly correct himself "or ma'am? uh-"

"cherry." he answered

cherry looked oikawa up and down and brought his eyes up to the screen displaying y/n and adam. "also im a guy." he said with a sigh. "ah right, sorry" oikawa chuckled

"its the hair isn't it?" a new voice cooed followed by a laugh 

oikawa watched as cherry sighed and irritably glare at the green haired guy that skated towards them. 

"sup kid" joe greeted with a nod "i heard you came with our rookie over there" he mused as he stared up at the girl through the screen. "im joe. im a friend of hers" he said with a grin as he held his hand out for him to shake. "cherry here is too" 

"oikawa tooru" oikawa said as he accepted the hand shake "im also her friend" he smiled at them 

"stop talking and watch. she brought you here so you better make the most of it" cherry interrupted their conversation 

"right.." oikawa nodded 

"YEAH GO SNOW!" "she's speeding up!" "ADAM's totally catching up though!" 

oikawa's eyes glistened in wonder and amazement as he watched her sharply turn a corner and flip her board around, using the edge to balance herself from the steep curve of the concrete. 

"its here!" adam exclaimed in delight 

y/n turned back with a cautious gaze as she watched in partial dread and confusion as adam does some type of dance as he skates. though she wouldn't lie, it was kid of impressive for him to keep his balance. but still.. 

" here, here! right in my heart!" adam exclaimed with a light squeal, continuing to dance and spin around, only making her dread what was to come next even more. 

"now, little y/n.." adam cooed as he suddenly appeared behind her to grab her waist and drag her closer to him, causing their boards to bump. 

"dance with me!" he said with a grin as he took her hand and maneuvered their way through the curves and turns of the course 

"what the..?! that's dangerous! shouldnt this be against the rules or something?!" oikawa exclaimed as he watched the scene play out in fear 

"no. there are no rules when it comes to S." cherry explained. "it may be dangerous but, the moment she agreed to the beef was her brushing off the consequences she may face." 

oikawa gulped and look back up, watching on distaste as adam spreads her feet to make her lose her balance 

iwaizumi, matsukawa and hanamaki's expressions were just about the same. they didn't really know what they were expecting when she brought them here but it surely wasn't this. 

adam chuckled as he pushed her, making her stumble and almost fall off, only for him to catch her by the small of her back and dipping her as if it was a dance. 

"okay, this is going too far.." iwaizumi muttered as they watched her expression through the screen 

y/n gritted her teeth as she glared up at him, only for adam to smile at her in amusement. 

"y/n.." oikawa muttered with a frown as he felt the worry build up inside of him 

"we're approaching a big corner now!" adam taunted her. he intertwined their hands and grinned mischievously as he lifted her up and started spinning her around. "here we go!" he exclaimed with a laugh

it was a total contrast to her screams of pure dread and adrenaline, tightly gripping his hands so she wouldn't fall and injure herself 

"this is so fun, SNOW!" adam cooed as she finally was able to place her feet back on her board, although they were still spinning 

everyone watched as the camera zoomed in on them, showing her widened eyes and gritted teeth as she stared up at adam, who was smiling tauntingly at her. "oh? is something the matter?" adam cooed "please don't tell me youre scared." 

it seems everyone, including adam was pleasnatly surprised as a small but noticeable smirk carved itself onto her lips. maybe it was adrenaline, but it seemed like it was out of enjoyment as well. after all, it's been a while since she's skated properly against someone. 

y/n grinned as she narrower the space between them, pushing herself against him as she took turn to maneuver them against the turn 

"she narrowed the turn radius to speed up" joe said as he stared up at the screen with a proud and amused smile "still the same as always" 

the boys looked at him and gulped. they had no idea what was happening whatsoever, except for the fact that she can literally die or injure herself with one wrong move. 

"love-love-love-lovely!" adam exclaimed with a laugh "wonderful!". y/n panted as she pulled away and finally managed to get a grip of her board once again 

"he's gonna do the love hug" a new voice filled the air 

the boys whipped their heads around to see a redhead rushing towards the scene with two other guys, one younger. 

"love hug..?" oikawa tilted his head in confusion as he peered down at the vaguely familiar redhead. though his attention was averted back to the screen as the atmosphere seemed to have grown heavier 

adam was grinning as he spun back around, spreading his arms as he looked at her through his mask. "come here.. into my arms!" adam cooed "love hug!" 

"Y/N!!" reki exclaimed as he shifted anticipatingly in his place, dropping his own board in the process 

as comical as it was, she somehow managed to hear his scream. maybe it was because everyone else was quiet due to suspense. but reki's voice echoed throughout the cleared out forest loud enough for her to hear. 

"reki..?" y/n spluttered as she immediately jumped over adam, performing what looks to be a snowboarding trick. she stayed in the air for longer as she eyed the area she planned to land. 

"YEAH! GO SNOW!" cheers erupted among the audience, filling the tense air with noise yet again. 

"she did it!" reki grinned as he watched her through the screen 

"reki?" oikawa mumbled with widened eyes as he looked at the redhead with a new sense of intimidation and wariness. though his eyes were quickly averted back to the scene before him. as unexpected as it was, he'd still rather focus on y/n skating rather than some kid he didn't know. 

"adam's not having it." cherry sighed as he watch adam try to keep up with her speed but struggle due to the advantage she had received

"she's gonna win!" reki grinned as he watched the two skate in anticipation

and just as he had predicted, loud screeching of her board's tires were heard as she passed over the finish line. "ah-ah shit!-" she cursed as she lost her balance and toppled over, causing her to wince in pain 

"ouch.." she sighed as she sat up on the ground, rubbing her head and checking her board for damage since the course was rockier than usual 

"y/n-chan!" oikawa exclaimed as he, along with the three boys rushed over to her, given that the finish line was a few yards away from them. "oikawa-san!" she faced him with a grin as she opened her arms for him to drop into "i won!" she said

"i know! you were so cool!" oikawa gushed as he stared up at her in admiration

"ehem." iwaizumi cleared his throat

"oh right." oikawa muttered. "but that was really dangerous!" he scolded her, a total contrast to his reaction before. "are you injured? your hand is probably wounded with how much you skidded it against the rocks!"

she smiled sheepishly and shook her head "im fine, oikawa-san" she reassured him "my hands and feet are kind of sore but it's alright"

"also.. was reki here? i heard him" she asked as she looked around the place, trying to find the redhead 

"i've lost" adam said as he stopped before her 

"you.. you do remember what my request was right?" she asked him with a wary gaze. "of course, my eve" adam mused. "i'm not very happy with it, as you may know" 

she looked down at her shoes and gave him a quick bow "sorry." she said "but a bet is a bet. and i won." y/n looked up at him and sent him a faint ghost of a smile. "it was fun skating with you, adam. but you have to distance yourself from me.." 

adam gazed at her with pursed lips, not looking too amused about the situation, but nodded nonetheless. "im glad i've left you satisfied, my eve" he cooed as he took her hand in his and placed a quick peck onto her knuckles 

the boys around her sweat dropped as they witnessed the strange and awfully uncomfortable interaction. "right well.." iwaizumi cleared his throat as he hesitantly pushed them apart. "we'll be going now." he said "this place is dangerous and you shouldn't really be making her participate in reckless things like this. do better sir." 

y/n smiled at him and chuckled as he dragged her away along with the others, more that eager to leave that place. 

"you're never skating ever again." iwaizumi said to break the silence 

"what?! no way!" she whined "didn't you see that iwaizumi-san? it was so fun!" 

"that guy was a creep and you were on the verge of dying." 

"well.. it was fun though" she huffed as she realised she couldn't even disagree with his statement 

"well, i think it looked fun" oikawa whispered to her with a cheeky wink, making her chuckle and suppress a smile 

"anyways.." she started as they had finally reached the exit of the forest. "i asked you before but.. was reki there? i heard him" she said 

"reki? well..." oikawa hesitated as he nervously looks around the place. "was he there, oikawa-san?" she asked him with an innocent smile 

"he-" 

"Y/N I FOUND YOU!!" 

i just used the whole beef langa had w adam on ep.5 here lol </3

sorry for the spelling /grammar mistakes if there are any :> 

[songfell-ut]

Happy birthday to:

@venelona! I set out to prove that I could do a gift on time, and even if time zones have come between us, it’s totally the 4th right now for me, dammit. So here you go, stolen directly from your conversation on @lailosh‘s server and based of course on these comics.

(Omfg, I told my daughter I was happy I finished a birthday gift on time and now she’s nattering to her class on Zoom about how today is her mom’s friend’s birthday and the teacher is asking if we’re doing anything)

Anyway

The bedroom was quiet. Not too quiet—the air conditioner hummed and traffic noises filtered in from the busy street outside, as usual. It was just the quiet of an early-evening bedroom with no one in it yet, sleeping or playing on their phone or doing you-know-what…

…Not that the room’s usual occupant ever did much know-what. In fact, she never did any of it. He definitely would’ve noticed. He noticed everything.

For example, he knew the moment the sun’s last rays finally died out and warm, sweet darkness began sinking into the room, pooling under her bed and creating the ideal space for someone – something – like him to emerge.

Nightmare permitted himself a tiny grin, letting his tentacles writhe in anticipation. He’d been resting and gathering his power for over a month, building enough strength to invade the waking world. Let her think he’d grown tired of trying to reach her again after…after that, her shocking indecency, showing him all that soft warm naked skin and touching him with no he had to focus

Yes. She probably thought she’d won and driven him off with her horrible wiles! Well, what would she say when he came for her—no, when he completely platonically attacked her in her own world, where she thought she was safe? There was nowhere to run from him in her nightmares, but she could always wake up. Here, though…

Nightmare took the magical equivalent of a deep breath, running his tentacles along the barrier between his world and the reality inhabited by humans. It was a delicate process, but he used the barest touch of power to find the barrier’s weak spot, nudge the folds of subspace aside and insert his tentacles one at a why did this feel so inappropriate time, until he was through!

The space under her bed was…not spacious. In fact, if he hadn’t been so viscous, Nightmare could well have found himself stuck. It was enough to make him contemplate giving up and slipping back into his own world, where an eldritch being could stretch properly and not think terrible, untoward things from something as innocuous as penetrating into her wo—

No! As a being of infinite cosmic horror who fed on the suffering of lesser creatures, Nightmare had no intention of backing out now…not the least because he couldn’t back up any further without hitting the wall. What kind of pathetically undersized dwelling was this?

At least he knew her routine, and that she’d be in here soon enough: she was doing the dishes, and then it was time for her shower. Should he strike while she was rummaging in her closet for her favorite cotton robe, the one with the stupid pink flowers? Or lie in wait until she came in afterward, threw her towel off, and eventually got into her pajamas? …Assuming she bothered wearing any. He never watched that part, no matter how much he…well…

Nightmare squeezed his eye shut. Things would be different after tonight, he vowed. Once he’d given her another glimpse of real terror, she’d never taunt him again! He would unleash his most hideous abominations upon his not-scantily-clad victim, and her fear would make him strong enough to finally see—

—a set of dainty black paws wandering in through the half-open door. The skeletal creature froze, slipping a little further back under the bed. Since when did Frisk have a damned cat? And where was it going?! Surely the beast wasn’t stupid enough to approach him?

The cat took a few hesitant steps, then stopped and growled under its breath, tail lashing. Good! Let it make all the noise it wanted. If it got close enough to grab, he’d—

Nightmare was so busy thinking of ways to make the cat sorry for existing that he didn’t notice one of his tentacles eagerly creeping out from under the bed, reaching to grab the little animal…until the cat’s paw went whapwhapwhap and smacked him with needle-sharp claws. “Oww!” he snarled. “You…!”

The kitchen was just down the hall; to his alarm, Frisk had turned the water off. “Nero?” she called. Her footsteps drifted toward the bedroom, and Nightmare crammed himself back against the wall. “Ne—geez!” she yelped as the cat came rocketing out of her room. “What’s wrong with you?” the young woman demanded, her voice trailing after him. “Come back here and answer me, you little…!”

That was too close. Nightmare breathed a sigh of relief, and considered reaching across the room to shut the door; his powers of telekinesis had all but vanished as his…other talents developed. But no, she was an intelligent young lady, and she’d wonder why it was suddenly closed. Besides, the substance coating his limbs would leave telltale greenish-black traces. He just had to hope she wouldn’t notice the flecks of it on the carpet that had been whacked off—that had been forcibly removed by the cat clawing his tentacle.

So the skeletal abomination settled himself to wait, very patiently, as befitted a creature of his age and magical stature. He was always happy to pass the time devising new tortures to inflict upon his victims. Frisk never failed to disappoint him, provided she had clothes on, and once he’d had his way with—once he was finished platonically terrorizing her, she’d never say any ridiculous things about naked or marriage ever again!

Only a minute later, Frisk came back down the hall. “I know, Mom,” she was saying, presumably on the phone. The hall light came on; Nightmare steeled himself for the bedroom light, but to his intense relief, she went to the bathroom instead. “Yeah, I’m gonna go to bed early tonight. I’ve got new contacts, and they’re giving me a headache.” There was a rummage through her medicine cabinet, then some vaguely cloth-sounding noises. “Of course Nero’s doing fine. He just got his wet food, and…he’s already heading to the litter box again. Goody.” Sigh. “Are you guys having fun on your amazing cruise that you wouldn’t take me on?”

Ah. That explained the cat’s presence. And it was also excellent nightmare fuel: he could make her see her parents out on the ocean, having a wonderful time until, say, the walls of the ship split open and grew teeth to begin devouring the passengers, or some kind of disease started spreading that made people turn inside out…Frisk was always susceptible to body horror. Oh, yes, he knew how he could take advantage of her. …Platonically!

“Thanks, Mom,” she said loudly, breaking in on his definitely-not-filthy thoughts. “Have fun. Love you.” He heard her set something down in the kitchen, then sigh, padding back down the hall.

Nightmare settled down to wait again, only to flinch at the sound of sudden, rapid footsteps: Frisk burst into her room and leapt onto her bed with a little “Whee!” The mattress flattened beneath her weight, mashing into his skull; he cursed silently in the tongues of a thousand mortal worlds as Frisk flopped onto her back. “Oh, man, what a day,” she muttered. “Stupid contacts.” Yawn. “Don’t care about the shower, do it in the mornin’…”

That was…remarkably cute, Nightmare thought, then tried to un-think it as she rolled onto her side, relieving some of the pressure. If only they were in his realm! Her mind would be an open book, and he could effortlessly seize her subconscious and steer it in any direction he chose. In this world, he had to wait till her breathing slowed, then grip the carpet and glide out from under the bed on a layer of the noxious stuff coating his body.

Once his torso was free, he silently eased his legs out and rose to his knees. His tentacles quivered with eagerness as he started to turn toward the b—

“Gotcha!”

…If Nightmare had had any friends, and one of them had asked him the likelihood of his next victim not just taking him by surprise, but grabbing him by the neck with rubber kitchen gloves? He would have laughed, and then killed them, because they were clearly insane and he didn’t have any friends.

But by all that was unholy, his theoretical dead friend was not insane. Instead of giving Frisk a (perfectly chaste) glimpse into her own personal Hell, Nightmare found himself being scruffed like an indignant kitten and hauled toward the light switch; instead of latching onto her and ripping her flesh from her bones, his tentacles had just enough time to form a protective seal over his eye before the room was flooded with foul, searing light.

“Oh my God, shut up!” Frisk shouted over his wails of pain. “It’s just one lightbulb!” She shouldered the door open and began dragging him down the hall. “You’re not melting or anything! But if you want to, go for it—it’d probably be an improvement!”

“How dare you!” The eldritch skeleton flailed with both arms and kicked at random, to no avail. “Release me now!”

“Why?” she snapped. Nightmare made another series of agonized noises as she pulled him all the way into the brightly lit bathroom. “I’m not letting you go till you apologize and we get everything cleaned up!” She slammed the door shut and locked it for emphasis. “Got it?!”

He still couldn’t bring himself to uncover his eye. “How? How did you know—”

“The cat had a bunch of gross slime all over his paw! Who do I know that gets gunk everywhere and smells like a hot dumpster? Gee, let me think!” Frisk still had an iron grip on his neck, fingers digging between the vertebrae. With her other rubber-gloved hand, she banged open the linen closet and began pulling things out, piling them on the toilet lid. “I had to scrub it off him so he wouldn’t eat it and die or something. So then I thought to myself, Wow, Self! I already had to wash one dumb thing I didn’t want here! Why not go for a double?”

The implication hit him as she yanked a knob and started the shower full-blast. “You wouldn’t dare,” he hissed.

Frisk stopped dead. For a moment, Nightmare entertained hopes of mustering enough strength to break loose and reach the light switch. When one tentacle eased free, though, she pivoted until he was fully facing the vanity lights, holding firm as he writhed in agony. It felt like miniature suns burning into his slime and bone…

…but only for a moment. The next thing he knew, Frisk had turned him away again, leaning over to shield him from the light. “Believe it or not, I don’t like hurting you,” she said severely. “But you’re in my world now, literally, and you’re not Mr. Big Scary Hentai Monster. You’re more like a vampire in a crappy horror game—all I have to do is turn the lights on. So, you’d better behave. Got it?” Her grip somehow tightened. “Here we go. Hold your breath!”

Nightmare didn’t have time to request any further details, because she was already ripping back the shower curtain and stepping into the tub with him, holding him under the water as she pulled the curtain shut. “There! I’ve been wanting to do this for a while,” she said cheerfully, patting his topmost tentacle. “Doesn’t that feel nice?”

It did not feel nice. The hot water felt like…like…it was bad and he hated it. Yes. It was terrible, and not oddly pleasant or soothing once he got used to it, not at all like being massaged by a thousand tiny hands. In fact, he hated it so much that he relaxed, telling himself he was tricking her into dropping her guard.

Behind him, Frisk hummed in satisfaction and reached out of the curtain. Nightmare’s tentacles began to loosen almost imperceptibly, but constricted again as the human tapped on them. “Hold still. I don’t even know if this stuff hurts when it gets in your eyes…well, eye. But like I said, I don’t get off on torturing people.” Something – probably a bottle – made a sploot sound as she squeezed it. “You just smell really bad.”

Nightmare couldn’t help flinching at the first cold, rough touch of the shower loofa. “I do not ‘get off’ on it,” he informed her. “I can’t help what I am, can I?”

“Hmmm. Yeah,” she said absently. “Yeah, you absolutely can. At least, you can control what you do.” A strange floral scent filled the room as she began a brisk, gentle scrub-down, removing most of his protective slime; he unconsciously folded his legs to sit forward more comfortably, letting her angle the showerhead so that more water streamed over him. “Would you die if you went too long without scaring the crap out of someone?”

The skeletal monster had to suppress a shudder as her fingers slipped between two of the tentacles. No one had touched him like this in…ever, or at least as far back as he could remember. “Probably,” he muttered, telling himself to calm down. It was perfectly innocent, just a wretched human daring to lay hands on him, earning the most terrible punishment imaginable— “Would you die if you went for too long without eating?” he added.

Scrub. Scrub. “Well, duh. But if I want a burger, I don’t sneak into the cow’s house to taunt it first.”

Nightmare did shudder this time as her hand glided over the same spot over and over again, leaving a very sensitive layer of ectoplasmic flesh. His tentacles were stirring with interest, and the more firmly he told them to stop it, the more they all wanted to be washed. One was actually angling itself to let her rub it harder. “I…fine! Just hurry it up.”

“Aww, see? It’s not so bad,” she chirped. The tentacle stretched luxuriously, and Nightmare fought to keep another one from rising to demand the same treatment. “At this rate, you’ll be nice and clean in just a few hours!”

Hours?! He did his best to open his eye, raising one hand to protect him from the light. “You’re joking. Right?” She made an indifferent noise, and he tried to grab at the loofa with his other hand. “Let me do it, then!”

“Nope,” said Frisk, giving the shower curtain a threatening nudge with her elbow; he twitched as the light flickered around its edge. “Just relax, okay? Let your loving wife take care of you~”

He felt his entire skull flush bright green. “You are not my wife!”

The human made a pouty sound. “How can you say that, honey? After all we’ve been through together!” The scrubbing intensified. “I know you wanted more romance. Is that why you came all the way here to see me?” The scrubbing paused. “How did you get into the real world, anyway?” she asked, much more seriously.

Nightmare willed more of his tentacles to peel themselves off his skull, and to behave themselves. “With magic. Don’t waste my time with stupid questions.” The light was just a bit dimmer in here through the shower curtain – enough for the pain to start receding – and he needed to adjust to it; no point formulating an escape plan if he couldn’t see what he was doing.

Frisk slowly removed her grip from around his neck. “Okay, then. I see how it is.” She heaved a sigh, then picked up the bottle again.

This was his chance—Frisk was distracted, with both hands occupied, and his vision was clear. Nightmare grinned in silent malice, flexing his bony fingers as they lay in his lap. Most of his power was still depleted from entering this world, but he had more physical strength in one tentacle than ten mortal men. And this was one slim, soft, pliant young woman! He could take her—he could overpower her with virtually no effort!

It would be ridiculously simple: turn around, grab her, and force her to turn the lights off, for starters. Then they could talk about how she had treated him like a misbehaving cat, and—

She chose that moment to drop the body wash and make him jump. “Crap! Sorry,” Frisk said.

The monster made what he hoped was an agreeable noise and picked up the bottle, which was pretty slippery. “Here,” he murmured. “If you’re going to—”

Without warning, Nightmare sprang to his feet and whirled around, backing the startled human against the shower wall. “Now,” he snarled, “you daaaaaaaaaaaaaugh”

Frisk watched, disbelieving, as the dripping-wet monstrosity jerked backward, arms flung up to shield his eye, as though she had turned a spotlight on him and also thrown some holy water. “I was wondering if you’d noticed,” she remarked. “Did you think I was actually talking with my mom that whole time? I just didn’t want you to know I was taking my clothes off.”

“Why?!” he nearly shrieked. “Why would you do that?”

“‘Cause I didn’t want them to get gunked up! That stuff doesn’t look like it washes out. You’d better help me get it off the carpet, by the way.” Frisk chuckled, and that teasing note crept back into her voice, the one he’d heard so many times in his own nightmares: “If I lose my security deposit, it’ll be your fault. How do you plan to compensate me for that, I wonder~”

Nightmare couldn’t speak; he just emitted a stream of “Y-y-y-y-y—”

“Yyyes, I’m naked,” she agreed, retrieving the bottle. Almost against his will, Nightmare’s eye cracked open in time to watch her set down the loofa, peel the gloves off, goop some body wash onto her hand, and begin blithely rubbing it over her skin. “No offense, but I don’t want you all over me yet.”

The monster’s eye bulged so hard that Frisk snorted. “I meant this, dummy!” She indicated the slimy loofa, and leered at him. “What did you think I meant?”

It was tempting to throw himself out of the shower and hope for death’s sweet embrace, but to his steadily increasing horror, the skeleton couldn’t move his feet. As his gaze swept unwillingly up and down her body, the way her skin glistened as her hands squeezed and stroked it, Nightmare’s desire to grab her shifted…and his tentacles agreed.

Frisk was opening her mouth to say something when one appendage snaked up and began petting her shoulder, which was somehow even warmer and smoother than it looked. “Whoa,” she remarked, looking from it to him and back with wide eyes. To his dismay, her mouth quirked a little. “What happened to romance, Nightmare? Didn’t you want to dance in the moonlight, eat Peking duck, or whatever?”

“I’m n-not—” Nightmare tugged at the errant tentacle, first with his hand, then his magic. To his very dismay, Frisk was reaching up to poke at it, giggling as it brushed her cheek. “What’s wrong with you?” he demanded of the world at large.

As if mocking him, another tentacle lurched at the young woman, making him stagger forward till he had to catch himself with his hands on either side of her. Frozen in place, Nightmare unwillingly watched a few errant suds trickle down her neck, sliding merrily off her collarbone and along the side of her breast before continuing to the brave new worlds beyond—

“Um,” said Frisk, still sounding more amused than perturbed. Her eyes met his, then flicked to her left meaningfully.

Aaaand of course another tentacle had slid around her wrist and along her arm. “Oh, my,” she said, bemused. Nightmare’s soul did a backflip as the young woman moved forward, the tentacles drawing her closer, till her breasts were nearly touching his soaking-wet jacket. “Are you actually coming on to me, or—eep!”

That was probably due to yet another tentacle worming around behind her and running up and down her back, eliciting a little moan. The skeleton wanted desperately to wrench himself free, or at least tell her to be quiet, but…

Frisk was flushed, her breath coming quick and shallow. Nightmare watched her hands come up to rest on his ribcage, picking off bits of slime. “What now?” she murmured.

Nightmare wanted to tell her that she’d won, and please go put on clothes now so he could leave and never come back. He also wanted to tell her that this wasn’t how he’d envisioned their next encounter, or that young women in his day knew better than to trap extradimensional beings in the shower with them; he wanted to be very stern about doing this kind of thing the right way, because she deserved the right way, not…this.

He wanted to stop himself as his fingers rose to brush her damp hair off her face and his skull drooped to rest on her bare shoulder…but he didn’t.

He didn’t want to give up and let his tentacles wind around Frisk to pull her against him, or to put his arms around her, encasing her entire body. But he did.

“Nightmare?” Frisk whispered.

It wasn’t romantic. But if she didn’t care—

Nightmare summoned his scant reserves of magic, and raised his hand long enough to snap his fingers.

The lights went out.

 ~

 Not long afterward – just a few days after her parents got back and collected Nero, with only a few inquiries as to what that smell was – Frisk went on a shopping trip that raised several eyebrows: she bought several shower curtain liners, a dozen bottles each of Amber Sunrise and Moonlit Jasmine body wash, every single Stain Stick on the shelf, and a steam cleaner.

If that wasn’t strange enough, her neighbors soon started complaining about odd noises in the middle of the night, and at least one of them made rude remarks about how she had to be hoarding trash or something. When the landlord came in for an inspection, though, all he saw was a scrupulously clean apartment with a faint, lingering odor that he couldn’t identify.

It was hard not to see a heap of folded plastic in the corner of her room, but there were no bloodstains – or recent unsolved murders that he knew of – and anything else she chose to use it for was none of his business; Frisk accepted his admonishment to keep it down, whatever it was, and promised to maintain her new cleaning schedule.

Her neighbors didn’t hear much of anything after that. There was nowhere to run from him in her nightmares, but that was fine—she was in no hurry to wake up. After all, she wasn’t the one who’d been caught, was she?

[chelsfic]

Leftovers - Part 11 - Nandor the Relentless x Reader Fanfic

For Previous Parts: WWDITS Masterlist

Summary: Guillermo shows off some of his cool, new vampire powers and the reader tags along on a hunt. What could go wrong?

A/N: DON’T @ ME ABOUT THE PATRIOTS DIG! I’m from New England! It’s finnnnneee. Also, previously I said this might be the final chapter. It’s not. There’s one more to come after this.

Warnings: Peril!, Blood drinking

---

“So...what’s it like!?”

You’re sprawled across your bed watching Guillermo stand in front of the full-length mirror amusing himself by picking up various knickknacks from your bureau and making them float in the reflection. He’s dressed as he usually is: a pair of khaki slacks, a button down shirt and a thick, striped sweater on top. The one adjustment he’s made to his wardrobe is the addition of a black leather duster that’s currently folded at the foot of your bed. Very Spike.

He turns to you with a wide grin, his newly minted fangs on full display.

“It’s...wonderful!” he gushes, coming to sit by you on the bed. “I can fly! I can turn into a bat! And did I tell you I worked out my special vampire power!?”

“Guillermo! Show me!” You sit up, bouncing the mattress excitedly.

“Okay, okay!” He glances around your room for a second, his eyes darting from your cluttered bureau to your overflowing closet to the floor that’s littered with laundry. He raises his hands and does a little flourish. Suddenly your discarded clothes are floating through the air, folding and neatly stacking themselves, the objects on your bureau are rearranging and tidying themselves and your closet is swallowing up the overflowing clutter. 

“Oh...my...g--” you stop yourself just in time and throw him an apologetic look. “--gosh! Your secret weapon is housekeeping!?”

Guillermo gives you a deadpan look as he corrects, “Telekinesis!”

“That’s...so...awesome! Guillermo! You’re like Matilda!” 

If he could, Guillermo would be blushing under your praise. As it is he’s smiling wide enough to dimple his cheeks. 

“Guillermo!” Nandor’s voice booms through the house. “Are you ready to come hunting with us?”

---

Nandor grumbles about taking you along hunting. But when you hint that you don’t want to be left alone with just Colin Robinson for company--and Nandor spots Colin sneakily setting up his Scrabble board--he...relents. He’s been doing a lot of that lately and he’s secretly very worried about word getting round the vampire community. So, he pretends that it is his idea.

“Yes, we should take the human with us. For cammy flogs,” he nods knowingly into the camera.

“Cam...camouflage, master?” Guillermo suggests, his eyes narrowed in confusion. 

“As I said, Guillermo!” Nandor snaps, irritably. “Let us away to sate our dark appetites!”

With you tagging along the vampires are forced to walk to the park and there’s a good deal of complaining going on even from your steadfast booster, Nadja. 

“Sorry, guys,” you honestly do feel a little bad, especially since you can tell Guillermo is itching to stretch his wings, so to speak. “But, hey! Maybe you’ll run into someone on the way who looks good to eat?”

Nadja sniffs petulantly, “Now that we are forced to acquire our own meals every evening because Guillermo has shirked his duties!”

Even Nadja’s entitled griping can’t drag down Guillermo’s ecstatic mood. He’s almost floating with happiness--no, he’s actually floating, you note that his feet are several inches off the ground.

“I’m not a familiar anymore, Nadja!” Guillermo explains for the umpteenth time. “You guys are lucky I’m still doing so much of the cleaning with my special vampire power.”

Nandor stalks beside you, his long cape billowing out dramatically in his wake. He bares his fangs and interrupts, “Well...let’s not be too hasty, Guillermo. You’re still kind of my familiar...my servant...my...cool...vampiric...underling…”

He trails off as you dart a warning glance in his direction.

“What!?” he whines, shrugging his broad shoulders with a nervous grin. “Someone needs to do the dusting and help me with my hair!”

“Don’t worry, master,” Guillermo sighs, not without affection. “I’ll still take care of you. We’re a family now!”

You feel like your heart might burst and you clutch your hands together and gush over how sweet that is, even as your boyfriend hisses and grimaces in distaste. 

“Guillermo!” you skip over to him, tugging on the long leather coat and making grabby hands. “Piggy back ride!”

He nods with a laugh. You jump up onto his back, squealing in delight as he glides above the concrete. 

“Don’t go too high!” you whisper into his ear, fisting your hands into the leather of his jacket. 

“Hey, be careful there!” Nandor grouses. “Guillermo, control your baby vampire bloodlust! If you eat my girlfriend I’m going to be really annoyed!”

You roll your eyes but send a smile in Nandor’s direction all the same. As Guillermo would say, he has a funny way of showing he cares.

Guillermo’s still effortlessly lugging you around when you enter the darkened paths of the park. There are a few late night joggers about, some homeless people and couples walking arm in arm. Your group splits up, so as to attract less attention. Nadja and Laszlo go off together and Nandor sticks with you and his new fledgling. 

“Help me pick someone out who looks kind of...villainous…” Guillermo says to you over his shoulder. He’s still coming to terms with taking human life.

“Sure,” you chirp, scanning the park for a likely victim. This is part of the reason why you wanted to tag along tonight. Not just to see your newly vamped friend in action. But...to see if you can deal. “How ‘bout that guy? He’s wearing a Patriots jersey. He must be at least a little evil…”

Guillermo snorts, but his eyes track the fellow with a hungry gleam.

“His face is...really red,” he mutters under his breath, baring his fangs and practically drooling with blood lust.

“Human,” Nandor says, coming up behind you and lifting you off Guillermo’s back. “Time to get away from the hungry vampire now.”

He sets you down in front of him, wrapping his arms around you and shielding you from the chilly night air with his cape. You both watch as Guillermo transforms into a bat, gliding soundlessly over to the man and then taking his human form right behind him. He drags him behind a nearby bush. The whole thing takes seconds and they’re almost entirely obscured from view except for the man’s kicking legs. 

“Wow…” you whisper, suddenly feeling very frail and very human. “That was...so quick!”

Nandor tightens his arms around you and leans down to whisper in your ear, “Soon, my little human. Soon you will conquer the nights with us! In the blinks of the eye it will be your turn…”

He drifts off and you crane your neck around to see that his eyes are trained on the shuddering bush, his mouth open in hunger as he subconsciously reaches out. 

“Nandor… It’s okay if you want to go take a bite. I’ll be fine,” you offer, edging out of his arms. 

“Just a quick…” he mutters and then he’s flying forward faster than you track with your human eyes.

You creep closer to the bush, not willing to stand out in the open like a baby gazelle in a park that is apparently a vampire hunting ground. Guillermo and Nandor are hunched over on either side of their victim. The sound effects they’re making as they tear into the man’s throat are not...all together without their charm. Sure, the squelching, liquid suction of their feasting is kind of gross, but Nandor’s deep, feral growls stir something inside of you. You find yourself fantasizing about kissing those bloodstained lips…

“Hey, boo. Long time, no munch.”

The familiar voice comes out of nowhere. Faster than you can react--faster, even, than Nandor and Guillermo can pull away from their meal--you’re grabbed from behind and suddenly launched into the air, soaring into the night sky over the park. 

“What the shit!” Nandor shouts from below.

At first you flail your limbs out madly, shrieking and clawing at the hands on your shoulders. But when you finally catch a glimpse at the retreating ground below you, and realize how high up you are, your body goes slack. You desperately clutch the wrists of the vampire holding you and slam your eyes shut against the dizzying sight of your legs dangling, suspended hundreds of feet above the ground.

“She said she wanted to join the club--mile high! I said, that’s easy girl, I can fly! One quick thing, though, ur gonna die…”

The vampire twists you around until you’re front to front, but you keep your eyes stubbornly shut. Tears leak out as you whisper, “Don’t drop me, don’t drop me, don’t drop me…”

“Count fucking Rapula!” Nandor’s voice suddenly tears through the sky and you dare to open your eyes, craning your neck around to see him with Guillermo, Laszlo and Nadja all floating in mid-air behind you. 

Rapula--you guess that’s his name?--shifts your body around casually like you’re nothing more than a bag of potatoes. Now he’s holding you under only one arm so he can point dramatically at your vampires.You let out a whimper and cover your face with your hands to block out the view of the ground beneath you.

“Nandy? The...Remorseful? Is that it?”

Nandor growls and lunges forward but Laszlo puts out his forearm to keep him back.

“Careful there, old chap. He’s the only thing standing between our roller warrior and the ground below!” Laszlo turns to Rapula, “Now, I say, unhand our human thrall, Count Rapuleeeehh!”

There’s a beat of silence during which you hear nothing but the sound of the wind whipping around you. Rapula’s arm on you tenses momentarily as he answers, “Whatever you want, old-timer…”

And then you’re falling. 

And screaming.

And falling some more.

Until suddenly you’re not falling anymore. But instead of the solid, final impact you expect, you find yourself landing in a pair of outstretched arms. Nandor cradles you to his chest, his grip on you is borderline painful but you’re not about to ask him to loosen it. You snake your arms around his neck, burying your face into his shoulder and holding on like your life depends on it. Because, well...it does.

He says your name, softly at first and then more insistently, “Okay! Okay! You can stop shouting now! I’ve got you.”

You didn’t even realize you were shouting until his words break through and you snap your mouth closed, subsiding into tiny whimpers as he floats back up to join the other vampires. 

“WE’RE GOING TO RIP OFF YOUR DANGLY BITS AND SHOVE THEM UP YOUR ASSHOLE!”

You’ve never felt more appreciative of Nadja’s hyper aggression. Guillermo and Laszlo are restraining Rapula between them and Nadja hovers before them, clawing her nails down the leech’s face as she unleashes her unholy diatribe.

Rapula’s bravado has melted away and he’s begging in a soprano squeak, “I didn’t know she was under anybody’s protection! You shoulda put a label on her or somethin--”

Laszlo turns to Nandor with raised brows, “That is true, Nandor. You were meant to write your name and the date on her with the marker pens. We might have avoided a lot of bullshit if you’d followed your own rules for once.”

“Shut up, Laszlo!” Nandor, Nadja and Guillermo all cry out at once.

“Master, why don’t you take Smash home? We’ve got this situation in hand,” Guillermo suggests, he pats his leather duster and you spot the end of a sharp wooden stake sticking out of his pocket. Seems like a bit of a hazard for a vampire to be walking around with one of those…

Nandor scoffs, “No! I will be the one to do the avenging. Guillermo, fly home and fetch my head-ripping gloves!”

The other three vampires look skeptical and you peek up at Nandor with a pleading look.

“Please, Nandor. I just want to go back to the house. And the ground, back to the ground, please.”

Nandor looks from you to the group with an obvious frown. Finally, he sighs dramatically.

“Very well, human! Yeesh, you’re really ruining my reputation over here,” he complains but there’s no heat in the words. He turns back to the other vampires. “After everything that happened with the Council. I think it’s probably best if we refrain from killing him. Simply dismembering him and scattering the parts in the ocean will be sufficient, alright? I’ll see you all at home.”

With that matter-of-fact proclamation, Nandor tightens his arms around you and soars away, gradually descending into the park until he touches down smoothly into the grass. 

“We’re on the ground, my human,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Do you want to walk or you want to do the pig ride like you did with Guillermo?”

You huff a laugh and look up at him with a coy smile, “You’d really give me a piggyback ride? Even if it made you look silly?”

Nandor glances around at the empty park as if he expects a panel of judges on vampiric coolness to pop out from behind a tree. He looks back at you with an abashed grin. 

“I will do it. Although I never look silly. Now come on.”

He slings you onto his back and rises onto his toes until he’s gliding just above the ground.

“Wee!” you squeal, throttling his neck in your excitement. It’s...exhilarating to feel so safe and happy after nearly dying--again.

Nandor glides the whole way home, casually hypnotizing passersby so that they ignore the odd, floating man and the cackling girl straddling his back. When you finally make it back to the house he pauses at the door, depositing you onto your feet and looking down at you with a hesitant expression.

“My human,” he begins, drawing out the last syllable as he searches for words. “I know that you wanted to wait a while before your unholy transition. But I was thinking...maybe we better get it over with before you...accidentally get eaten or dropped from the sky or something.”

You snort at his wording before your face turns more serious and you admit, “You...might be right.”

“Is that a yes?” Nandor asks with a hopeful sparkle in his dark eyes.

You look up at him and for a moment your head spins as you contemplate how far you’ve come. You went from victim to thrall to roommate to lover to...well, what exactly will this mean for you two?

“Nandor...Nadja turned Laszlo into a vampire and now they’re married. Does that mean this is, like, a proposal?”

Nandor’s face blanches in surprise and his eyes go shifty as he answers, “A proposal to eat up all your yummy yummy blood and replace it with some of my own thereby turning you into an immortal vampire, yes.”

You shimmy back and forth on your feet playfully as you prod him further, “And then…? What comes next after that?”

“And then…” Nandor echoes, “we will see.”

You laugh at your goofy vampire and walk ahead of him into the house. 

“Alright...you make a good point. So...tomorrow night?”

Nandor’s mouth splits into a wide, vicious grin as he answers, “Tomorrow night.”

---

A/N: There’s one more chapter to come! I thought this was going to be the final one but--the demons demanded otherwise!

Tags:

@festering-queen​ @kandomeresbitch​ @strangestdiary​ @glitterportrait​ @scuzmunkie​ @redwoodshadows​ @sarasxe​ @rileyomalley​

[pekorosu]

just a lil “if ash lived” headcanon that i need to unload somewhere bc i've been holding it in for a long time

- set within the manga ‘verse

- takes place when ash and eiji are in their early 30s... so around the mid 1990s?

- i don’t get the weird animanga trope where older = longer hair, so they’re gonna look the same... maybe with slightly shorter hair bc they get regular haircuts now 

- (note: i've always interpreted long-haired eiji as symbolic of the fact that he couldn't move on from ash’s death)

- ash and eiji will continue living in the states, idk if still in NYC or somewhere else. they’ll move around a lot though.

- ash will mostly remain underground as he had to fake his death after lao’s stab, but he does it in a "hiding in plain sight" kind of way. only a handful of people know he’s still alive.  

- ash spends most of his time on the computer, mostly coding, hacking, being a nerd, among other fun stuff.

- he also takes on “jobs” anonymously, and occasionally from max (who’s still into investigative journalism) when he needs info that can only be obtained through Dubious Means.

- i also like to think that ash's a bit of a hacker robin hood lol. but he isn’t doing it purely out of the goodness of his heart, as part of it is a subconscious need to atone for his “sins” and cleanse the gnawing and persistent feeling of shame that gets amplified when he’s around eiji.

- also whatever he’s up to these days would ofc still be Highly Dangerous and Illegal, but it keeps him busy and would sate the part of him that’s still hungry for adrenaline without him having to engage in stuff like active bloodshed or substance abuse. basically that’s how i imagine he’d try to cope with life the only way he knows.

- eiji continues to do photography and other part time gigs bc he does not like the idea of mooching off ash forever, and he slowly makes a name for himself.

- ash and eiji live together but they are NOT together in a romantic sense... not yet >:)

- therefore eiji will probably date other people in the meantime, which gets a little troublesome bc it's not like he can bring them home to where his secret Very Important Friend is secretly hiding.

- ash will maybe have one-night stands every now and then. or not. idk. this isn’t a very important detail.

- anyway there will be lots of clueless but mutual pining :)

- ash especially, is of the opinion that they should start living separately bc someone will eventually track him down, maybe someone who has a past or present grudge on him. combined with his current activities, it’s only a matter of time before eiji would unwittingly get dragged into his problems again.

- eiji is v adamantly against that plan bc he's sorta developed a debilitating sense of paranoia that ash might just get killed somewhere while he’s not looking. not that ash isn’t paranoid either, but his insecurities often tip the scale over to “eiji is safer away from me” than “with me”.

- basically they’re doing their whole “stay. no, leave. no, stay” dance all over again, but like, dragged out over MANY YEARS.

- you thought eiji’s letter would’ve cleared up any crossed wires? 

- HELL NO

- like yea, there was probably a beautiful honeymoon period of about a year or two after they reunited, before their respective trauma and issues started creeping in and fucking things up again.

- esp on ash’s end, i think he’d engage in a lot of self-sabotage. and eiji is only human, he has his own limits and baggage too.

- there will be a government conspiracy plotline but on a smaller scale compared to canon that i am unfortunately not knowledgeable enough to worldbuild on, but it will probably have something to do with cybercrime/cyberterrorism/stuff like that bc it needs to tie in with ash's hacking shenanigans.

- i've heard that sing ends up becoming some sorta political big shot in yasha? idk, i haven't read it myself, but since china’s rising status was mentioned in GoL i imagine the plot should relate to that somehow.

- therefore sing would also get to be in this story! 

- i guess this means yut-lung would come into the picture at some point as well, and it would be a good opportunity for a redemption arc but i haven’t given it much of a thought bc i’m indifferent to his character orz SORRY.

- look i can’t do plot, but i am basically envisioning a political thriller with a side of slow burn romance (wait, you mean like a rehash of canon?)

- i’m thinking max is the one who kicks off the story by bringing something fishy to ash, and they just end up uncovering more and more and MORE stuff as they keep going.

- so for like 80% of the story, ash and eiji will be separated bc ash will be busy spying or infiltrating something... and being at the center of Plot Things, while max and eiji will be more on the outside dealing with the journalist side of things. i’m fond of max-ash interactions but i’m also REALLY CURIOUS about max-eiji’s dynamic :D

- meanwhile sing will be like, half in and half out i imagine. he's versatile like that lol

- ...i did NOT mean that in a dirty way

- anyway, this will provide ash and eiji ample space to work out their issues separately, as i think living in close quarters for so many years has actually been aggravating them. ofc those issues don’t get 100% resolved by the end, but some time apart from each other to cool off and spend with other people should provide a bit of perspective.

- i want ash to make some NEW FRIENDS (!!!) that are on the same wavelength as him bc there’s only so much that he can tell eiji and i’m sure he gets rather lonely, so there will be OCs that he will meet in the middle of Plot Things.

- ash will get trapped at some point. preferably with sing so they can have a much needed heart-to-heart talk. they’ll have a lot to hash out, ranging from the events in BF, shorter’s and lao’s death, all the way to ash’s love life. 

- btw i like the idea of eiji and sing being close drinking buddies who confide in one another but ash is kinda, justalittle, not very happy about that LOL 

- i mean, it's not like eiji can confide in ash when ash is the topic at hand, ya get me? as for sing, he’s similar to ash in the sense that they live dangerous lives, so i imagine he just finds it nice to be able to hang out with someone mundane like eiji every now and then.

- not to say that ash and sing aren’t talking to each other at all, but i think they’d have a bit of a rift between them. sing probably does feel some resentment, both at ash for killing lao AND at himself bc he knows deep down that given a choice, he would’ve saved ash over his own brother. ash can sense that tortured vibe, so eiji’s like their middle man. AND THAT’S WHY THEY NEED A HEART-TO-HEART TALK

- (SIDE NOTE: i want akira to have a role in this too. i actually have a separate headcanon that happens prior to this story... kinda like an alternate GoL? 

akira goes to the states to visit eiji, but ash is also there, yeah? akira and ash start out sorta prickly with each other bc ash is all weird and standoffish and always cooped up in his room. she probably mistook him as a jobless model mooching off eiji at first since 1) eiji and ibe have never spoken about him back in japan (cuz he’s supposed to be dead), 2) why would eiji be living with some random hot guy? unless they met during one of his photography gigs? right??? 

and then she ends up witnessing them in the middle of a tiff, which makes her not like ash even more bc HOW DARE HE YELL AT POOR OKUMURA-SAN??? UNGRATEFUL JERK!!!

but over the course of her visit, she snoops around learns a bit about their history and gathers hints as to why their r’ship is kinda strained. also ash and akira somehow end up bonding (reluctantly) over their emotional insecurities and part on a friendly rivalry to win over eiji’s affections (which eiji is completely oblivious to. also akira may have been 100% serious but ash was just jokingly playing along with her (OR WAS HE???)). anyway long story short, ash teaches akira some cool tech/IT stuff along the way so that leads to her gaining an interest in the field. 

she won’t be able to do much in this story, but a minor role would be cool :)

 ^ a lighthearted gyoza-making scene amid all the angst)

- (SIDE NOTE #2: i ALSO want cain to feature in this, but bc canon provided very little bg info on him it’s hard for me to figure out where he’d fit. but i suppose that’s precisely why it would be great to include him, since i can just make up my own backstory! lol. for now, i think he should be connected to one of the new OCs to make him more central to the plot. or heck, he can be involved himself! ...yeah, i’m just salty about how cain was treated more like a convenient plot device compared to the other major side characters. we barely know anything about him even though he was one of ash’s most trusted allies. #caindeservedbetter2k20)

- anyway, back to the main story. ash (and his new "friends") barely escape where they’re held hostage. ash would be rusty with combat now as he’s spent the past few years doing only stealth work and being rather sedentary. 

- so there’ll be lotsa old man!ash jokes like them poking fun at him whenever he complains about his back hehe

- when they finally emerge outside they find themselves in the middle of nowhere! they then hijack a passing pickup truck and do a roadtrip back to civilisation. ROAD TRIP FTW

- at this point, quite some time has already passed and ash even has a fuzzy beard and mane and all. he’s standing at the back of the truck with a small smile on his face and the wind blowing in his hair, thinking GONNA GO BACK AND SEE EIJI, MISS HIM LOADS, HELL YEA 

- (bonus: this song and this scene is the catalyst for this entire headcanon btw)

(drew this about a year ago. i was trying to imitate the manga’s art style... and the ash i had in my mind was a little different. i’m too lazy to redraw, but he’s fuzzier now okay! MORE FUZZ! like an actual freakin LION!)

- meanwhile, eiji and max will get into some deep shit around this point? 

- eiji in the pic above was me imagining that the Bad Guys had tossed some damning evidence (eg. severed body part?) on the ground like “ash’s dead/ash’s in a lot of danger now so hand over all the info u have”

- and eiji and max are like. SHOOKETH

- this would be the 3rd time ash has “died” after all, and as they say... 3rd time's the charm...

- eiji almost gives in, but then max spits in their face like fuck no and then... yeah. they get beat up and taken away or something lol

- EDIT: hmm... what if the Bad Guy is someone IN the government, and he uses his power to get eiji and max arrested for aiding and abetting a wanted fugitive (ash). and then ash has to rescue them... JAILBREAK STYLE

- also it might be cool to introduce ash's mom somewhere in this story... maybe SHE'S the villain! mwahaha *drama intensifies*

- anyways they will get saved by ash and gang bc that’s just the way things go, BUT! only on the condition they already made it out at least 80% of the way bc GODDAMN IT👏LET👏EIJI👏BE👏BADASS👏FOR👏ONCE👏 

- (that is, after he overcomes the initial shock of ash possibly being dead again... again...... again............)

- there will ofc be moments of “oh my god, you’re okay” "i thought i lost you...!"

- something like this, because one can never have enough cheesy reunion scenes

- this will eventually lead to REVELATIONS (of the romantic kind, yes) 

- buuuut they will never say "i love you" directly to each other bc ash is too emotionally constipated and eiji is too japanese. it's okay, they will communicate it through heated stares 👀

- i would love for there to be a scene where they have to be separated again for Plot Reasons and ash sorta hesitantly goes all "...will you wait for me?" as a direct parallel to canon!eiji's "i'll be waiting" and it’s like,

- FINALLY! 

- FINALLY!!!!!!!!!! ash has finally allowed himself to ask for this, to let himself want it! 

- and eiji would be like OF COURSE I WILL YOU BIG DUMMY, ALWAYS AND FOREVER

- but i think it'd be hilarious if eiji pops up while ash's in the middle of the final showdown and ash's like WTF I TOLD YOU TO WAIT FOR ME and eiji's like I WAS WORRIED OKAY YOU WERE TAKING SO LONG

- idk how this is supposed to end...

- oh wait! since the plot is government-related, maybe Someone will be able to pull strings to wipe out ash’s criminal record (past and present) and give him a brand new 100% legal identity, as thanks for his efforts? or maybe ash (or sing) just does it himself somewhere along the way LOL. anyway, he’ll be able to start over with a fresh clean slate and finally work on recovery FOR REAL NOW. yes this is a happy ending AND it didn’t require him to go to japan /flips off canon

- ...i realise it’s never going to be that simple but W H A T E V E R

- (also they probably will visit japan in the future with that shiny new passport... gotta meet the in-laws and all y’know)

- who do i gotta pay to write this cheesy self-indulgent fic for me

[khoicesbyk]

Beloved.

A/N: I'm officially obsessed with Wolf Bride and what does one do when she's obsessed with a certain book? She writes an AU about it! 😁 So, Talley Ho! *in my Sherlock Holmes voice*

Rated: Mature. | Contains sexual content and strong language. (You know? The usual from me. 😁) | Bolded and/or italicized words are conversations and thoughts of the characters. | Main Characters: Roman (LI) and Naia Evans (MC) | All Characters and names: (except MC and original characters created by me) are property of Pixelberry.

Current Word Count: 4,040 words. (more or less. I stop counting after editing and re-editing. 🤷🏾‍♀️)

Song And Story Inspiration: Bittersweet-After 7

Tag List: @shewillreadyou @rideordiechronicles @pixie88 @txemrn @lucy-268 @shannonsaid @shannonwrote @bebepac @imturaxamara @blackkingliamstan @queenjilian @secretaryunpaid @ridgy--didge @theworldofprompts @choicesficwriterscreations

This series is rated Mature. It is NOT reading material that is safe for those under 18. Reader discretion is STRONGLY advised!

This series may contain spoilers. If you wish not to see spoilers, please do not read any further.

Prompt Time! Today I’ll be using @theworldofprompts prompt “What do you want me to do, dress in drag and do the hula?” it'll be in bold in black. Also I know that I can’t be the only one who’s excited that they picked the greatest Disney movie one-liner as a prompt.

(Also this series is a slight deviation of the original story. In the original story, the werewolf hunter is a woman. But in this series the hunter is a man.)

Missing a chapter or want to read a chapter again? I got you covered! Click ——> Here!

If you’d like to be added to my tag list. Just reblog or dm me and I will gladly add you! 😁😘

A/N 2: I had a time writing this chapter. Writers block and all out forgetfulness is a bitch! But I did it! *pats self on the back*

TW: paranormal activity. Communication with the dead. Reader Discretion Is STRONGLY ADVISED.

Chapter 22.) Reflection.

It′s crazy how you flaunt your passion.

When you let meaning of them worth take over you.

You stare into my soul like that.

Makes me wonder when you ain't get by the side of me.

It′s pain and pleasure.

To love someone so.

So much you, you hate them.

Push me over the edge then.

To go catch you, your love is.

It's bittersweet.

(What you want from me, want, want)

I build you up, then knock you down.

It's bittersweet.

(What you want from me, want, want)

You stay quiet and I get loud.

It′s bittersweet.

It had been 3 days since Naia was rushed to the hospital because of Wolfbane being in her system. Her parents, especially her mother, were both distraught and furious that their daughter had gotten herself caught up in the tireless war between The Pack and The Knights Of Ossory. Those three days felt like years to them. Both took turns sitting vigil over their daughter.

The only saving grace was that her condition hadn't changed. It hadn't gotten better but Laurie and Shane were thankful it hadn't worsened. They just wanted her to open her eyes. Laurie needed her daughter to wake up. She had to hear her voice again. And every moment that she didn't the more she went crazy. Laurie would just sit at Naia’s bedside holding onto her hand and pray Naia would squeeze her hand. The agony of waiting was going to kill her.

“Anything?” her husband asked as he entered the room with coffee in hand.

Laurie just shook her head no.

“It'll happen, baby. It has to. She'll wake up and we'll be able to breathe again.”

She never said a word to him. She just held onto Naia’s hand as Shane set the cup of coffee he brought her down. Laurie's eyes were red and puffy and her face was a mess. She blamed The Pack and The Knights Of Ossory but mostly she blamed herself. She swore to protect her daughter from all of this. To prevent her from going through the hell she went through over 30 years ago. And feels like she failed. A pain no mother wants to go through.

Laurie rubbed Naia’s knuckle silently, willing their daughter to wake up.

“Have you eaten baby?”

Laurie shook her head no.

“You should go eat something baby.”

“I don't want food. I want our daughter. I want her to wake up now.”

Shane sat beside her and placed his hand over hers.

“I know, baby. I want that too. I need it. You need it. But it's not good for you not to eat something.”

“I can't leave her! What if she wakes up and I'm not here?! I have to be here!”

Her frantic tone worried Shane.

“Baby listen to me! You need to go eat something. I'll be right here. I will watch over her. If anything happens I swear to you that I will tell you immediately.”

“But Shane—”

“No buts! Go eat something. Now! I won't let anything happen to her. I swear that on my life.”

Laurie looked at him before getting up and going to the door. When she looked back towards Naia, Shane smiled softly at her.

“It's okay baby, I'll keep her safe.”

Laurie nodded sadly before walking out the door.

Shane turned his attention back to their daughter, his worry, resentment, rage, sorrow, protectiveness, and anxiety all on high. His little girl. His flesh and blood. She hadn't moved or spoken since he last saw her. He was thankful for the hospital staff. They were able to get her allergic reaction to Wolfbane under control but she was still unconscious. None of the meds she was on seemed to be working.

It′s so easy to listen.

When your tongue is an innocent prisoner of war oh yeah.

And it might bе wrong but we never еnd that.

Damage is done, always pain and pleasure.

To love someone so.

So much you hate them.

Push me over the edge then.

To go catch you, your love is.

It's bittersweet.

(What you want from me, want, want)

I build you up, then knock you down.

It′s bittersweet.

(What you want from me, want, want)

You stay quiet and I get loud.

It's bittersweet.

It didn't take Laurie long to come back from the cafeteria. When Shane looked up she walked in with food for them both.

“I'm not the only one who needed to eat.”

Shane smiled softly as she handed him a sandwich.

“Still nothing?”

“Still no change. But I'm not giving up.”

Laurie smiled at her husband's resolve. They sat together and ate their food in silence. Their eyes went from Naia to the IV drip machine she was hooked up to.

“Don't worry baby. Our girl will wake up.”

“I know she will. She has to. And when she does…we have to tell her the truth.”

Shane looked at his wife confused.

“Are you sure? Are you sure you’re ready to do that?”

“Look at her Shane! She wouldn't be here, hell we wouldn't even be here if she knew the truth. It's time. So when she wakes up and is lucid enough to hear it we'll tell her everything.”

Shane took his wife's hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“Okay. If you’re ready and you're sure. Then I am too.”

Laurie offered him a small smile.

Yeah I know you know me.

That′s why you the only one can push my buttons.

Sometimes it's like you speak another language.

Got me like adios buenas noches baby.

Oh it′s pain and pleasure.

To love someone so.

So much you hate them.

Push me over the edge then.

To go catch you, your love is.

It′s bittersweet.

(What you want from me, want, want)

I build you up, then knock you down.

It′s bittersweet.

(What you want from me, want, want)

You stay quiet and I get loud.

It's bittersweet.

(What you want from me, want, want)

I build you up, then knock you down.

It′s bittersweet.

(What you want from me, want, want)

You stay quiet and I get loud.

It's always bittersweet.

While her body was still, Naia was subconsciously awake.

“Naia…”

Naia slowly opened her eyes, and looked around frantically and confusedly. She couldn't see anything or anyone.

“What? Where am I?”

That's when she heard a woman's voice.

“I've been waiting to meet you.”

When Naia turned around she saw a figure she didn't recognize.

“Who’s there? Who are you? What is this place?”

The figure in front of her soon materialized into an elderly black woman. One that she recognized.

“Oh…my…God! You’re…you're…Delia?”

She smiled at Naia.

“Hello, my dear. It's wonderful to finally meet you.”

Naia’s jaw dropped.

“But how?!”

“I thought you…you died a long time ago!”

“I did. 3 years ago.”

“Wait! Am I dead?”

Delia laughed softly.

“No dear, you’re not dead. You are in the world between worlds.”

Naia blinked in realization.

“I was here with Roman. Where is he?! Is he hurt?! Did Trent shoot him?!”

Delia placed a calming hand on Naia’s shoulder.

“All will be revealed shortly. I promise.”

Naia took a shaky breath then nodded.

“Now come sit with me. We have much to discuss.”

Naia followed Delia to a bench that appeared out of nowhere. When they sat down Delia cocked her head to the side at Naia curiously. Making her feel super awkward.

“Is there something on my face?”

“No. I’m just curious about you. You’re as beautiful as I imagined you’d be.”

Naia couldn’t keep the blush from creeping up on her face.

“A ghost just called me beautiful. I must be hallucinating.”

Delia chuckled.

“You said we had much to discuss. What are we discussing?”

“You, my dear. Your connection to the town, the people, and especially Roman.”

“I mean I’ve been in town for a few months. I don’t know anyone outside of my uncle Trent and the Pack.”

Delia nods.

“And what are your impressions of them so far?”

Naia chewed the inside of her cheek.

“Can I be honest with you?”

“Of course dear. That’s why we are here.”

“I understand why my mom doesn’t want me around Roman. Because to be honest, he’s terrifying. But at the same time…I can’t stay away from him. I can’t get enough of him. He makes me feel safe. And loved. And wanted. And I…”

“Yes?”

“I care about him. A lot. But I don't know if I'm ready to give up my life for him. I don't know if I'm ready to be his mate.”

Deli nodded.

“It is a lot to ask of a young woman. I would know.”

“How did you decide Delia? Or was it decided for you?”

Delia chuckles softly.

“It wasn’t my intent to be Xander’s mate when I first came to Hunt’s Peak.”

Naia blinked in confusion.

“You’re not from Hunt’s Peak?”

“No. Originally from the Pittsburgh area.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“I grew up in foster care so it wasn’t like many had missed me when I left.”

“So what brought you to Hunt’s Peak?”

“I was hired as a 5th teacher. I loved my job. Teaching children became my passion.”

“And how did you meet Xander?”

“I’ve always been a Wolfkin and I knew it was my destiny to become the mate to a member of The Pack but I never thought I would be Xander’s mate. But to answer your question, I was walking along the creek when I saw him and his father Ferdinand. We were smitten at first sight.”

“Oh…did his father accept you?”

“Yes, he did. And after some convincing so did his mother Cecilia.”

“When did Xander become Alpha?”

“Shortly after we met. Maybe 6 months or so.”

“Is that when you became his mate?”

“Yes. He courted me until he became Alpha.”

“Courted how?”

Delia smiled as if lost in a memory.

“He would come by the school. Regale my students in wild tales of werewolves as knights and kings and sorceresses and sorcerers. That sort of thing. But the biggest thing he did for me, was he planted a single night flower and let it blossom into a field full of them.”

“Sounds like he was a romantic at heart.”

“He used to be but when he became Alpha, responsibility and obligation replaced flowers and romance.”

“Was it hard?”

“No. Not at first. I always understood my role as The Alpha’s mate. And I cherished it. Becoming a sort of Den Mother gave me a purpose.”

“What changed?”

Delia looked at Naia with a new curiosity.

“He met your mother.”

Naia swallowed.

“Mommy told me how she met him.”

“I remember that. I remember when he told her no at first. I was furious at him. So I not so subtly encouraged him to reconsider not protecting her and your uncle.”

“Why did you do that?”

“Your mother was a child at the time. And your uncle couldn’t protect her as he should have. Only Xander and The Pack could do that.”

“She also told me about the day he offered her The Pack’s protection.”

“I remember when Xander told me about Bobby Giles threatening her. He was furious and I was disgusted. But we both knew that he couldn't just charge into town and rid it of him. Well, he could but it wasn't in his nature at the time. So he sent a few wolves in their human forms to investigate.”

“She told me that too. And the time that Bobby pulled a gun out on Xander.”

Delia snickered.

“The fool. He believed that his gun would scare Xander. But he learned the hard way that day.”

Naia shifted in her seat.

“Mommy showed me the necklace that Xander gave her.”

“I know about that. He gave it to her on her 18th birthday.”

“She also said that she was bonded to him.”

“She's right. She was bonded to him until he died.”

“Are you angry about that?”

Delia went quiet

“To be honest, I was very angry with her. Jaded and bitter even. But I realized after she left that my anger was misplaced.”

“Misplaced how?”

“After she left I found out that Xander was telling her that she was to be his new mate. And at that time your mother was a young impressionable girl.”

“He was manipulating her?”

“Yes, he played with her heart and preyed on it.”

“My God. Why did you stay with him for so long?”

“I was bound by Pack Law to stay with my mate until his death.”

Naia shuddered.

“Will that happen to me?”

“If you choose to be Roman’s mate you are bound by Pack Law to be at his side until his death.”

“Well, that explains what my mom said about you and Xander being married on paper.”

Delia nodded.

“If I was the mate of any other Pack member I could leave. But I was Xander’s mate. As was your mother. As yet…”

“She ran away.”

“Yes.”

“Can you tell me about Xander?”

“What would you like to know?”

“What did he look like?”

Delia waves a hand and a picture of Xander materialized in front of them.

“Whoa…”

“That is Xander in all his glory.”

“He and Roman look just alike.”

Delia smiled softly.

“Yes. He has his father's looks and stubbornness but he also has my heart.”

“Will I meet Xander?”

“No my dear. You won't.”

“Crisis averted.”

“So, will you be Roman’s mate or will you go back to your life as a human woman?”

Just as Naia was about to speak another panel appeared in front of her and Delia.

“What's this?”

“Roman. He's trying to connect to you through your bond. We are about to look at life through his eyes. These panels that appear are what life is like.”

“Why can’t he connect with me?”

Instead of responding, Delia put a finger to her lips then pointed to the panel. When Naia looked at the panel she was transported into Roman’s mind.

She and Delia were looking at a memory of them.

She had convinced Layla to let her turn Buck’s into a mini-movie theater for the pups and their parents. To give them something fun to do. When Roman heard about it he was both curious and thrilled. The girls decided on watching Lion King. With Gino and popcorn in hand, Naia snuggled next to Roman.

“So this movie is about…cats?”

“The circle of life. And lions.”

“…lions are cats are they not?”

Naia shook her head at the memory before turning to Delia.

“I remember this.”

“Do you?”

“Yes. It was the day I learned that your son doesn’t like my impressions.”

Delia chuckled. They turned back to the memory and as they did, they came upon Naia’s impression of one of her favorite scenes in the movie.

“Hyenas. I hate hyenas. So what’s your plan for getting past those guys?”

“Live bait.”

“Good idea!…hey!”

“Come on Timon, you guys have to create a diversion.”

“What do you want me to do? Dress in drag and do the hula?”

Roman groaned.

“Are you going to be like this the rest of the movie?”

“What? Gino likes my impression. You don’t like my impression?”

“…no.”

“Everyone’s a damn critic.”

Roman rolled his eyes. But he would soon find out which scene is her favorite scene in the whole movie.

“Hey! Who’s the pig?”

“Are you talking to me?”

“Uh oh! Did he call him a pig?”

“Are you talking to me?”

“Shouldn’t have done that!”

“Are you talking to me?!”

“Now they’re in for it!”

“They call me: Mr. Pig!”

And just as she got Pumbaa’s yell Roman clamped a hand to her mouth.

“Beloved…how am I to enjoy this movie you’ve chosen with your incessant talking?”

Naia just giggled as the panel changed to a more recent memory. One that Naia didn’t recognize.

“My…room?”

“Yes, my dear. This was just a few days ago.”

“But I don’t remember this.”

“Because you aren’t there.”

“What?! What do you mean?”

Delia pointed to the panel as it showed Roman walking into her room. He looked distraught as he looked around. Naia could feel his anguish in her chest. When his eyes fell on Gino sitting on the bed, she felt tears on her cheek as he held Gino close to his chest.

“I don’t understand.”

“The one he considers to be his mate is missing.”

“His mate? You mean me?”

“Yes, my dear.”

“But why is he looking for me?”

“Because your bond with him is disrupted. He’s trying to reconnect with you.”

“But why?”

Delia turned back to the panel as it showed Roman in wolf form curled up on her bed with Gino under his jaw. She felt his agony and his pain as well as his longing as he whimpered. He was missing her. He was needing her. Her presence. Her smile. Her laugh. It broke her heart. She stood up shouting to the panel.

“Roman! Roman! I'm here! I'm right here!”

Delia put a hand on her shoulder.

“He can't hear you. This is only a vision of what has already been.”

Naia turned to Delia with pleading in her eyes.

“You said that he couldn’t connect to me, why can’t he connect to me?”

With a wave of a hand another panel appeared. This one showed Naia lying in a hospital bed hooked up to an IV with her mother at her side.

“I–I–I…it can’t be! You said I wasn’t dead!”

“You aren’t Naia. You’ve been injected with Wolfbane. It’s a toxin that can be deadly but thankfully you were taken to the hospital in time to save you.”

“Injected?! How?!”

“You don’t remember?”

Naia stood there confused until it hit her.

“The tranquilizer dart! The one that Trent was using! Am I right?”

Delia nodded.

“If I’m on an IV then why haven’t I woken up?”

“Because the spirits aren’t ready for you to wake up yet.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

Delia looked at Naia.

“Answer this. Why do you think you’re here?”

Naia didn't know how to answer that question.

“I don't know.”

As soon as those words left her mouth another panel appeared. This one was of Trent after he left the hospital. He was in his boss’s office going off about Wolfbane.

“What is wrong with you Moses?!”

“The tranquilizer! You said it was harmless!”

“It is harmless! It effects those beasts and their ability to shift!”

“What about humans?”

“It doesn’t effect humans!”

Trent eyed him with an intense yet calm fury.

“What is Wolfbane?”

Bernard blinked in confusion.

“Where did you hear that name?”

“Answer the question!”

“It’s the name of the tranquilizer. It doesn’t effect humans.”

“Yes it does.”

“No it does not!”

Trent pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Naia was hit by one of the tranquilizer darts.”

“The young woman you brought here the other day?”

“Yes. She collapsed after being hit and is now in the hospital fighting for her life. According to her mother Wolfbane is a poison that you and Xander created.”

Bernard looked at Trent genuinely confused.

“Her mother?”

“I didn't stutter.”

“What was her last name again?”

“Evans.”

“I knew someone with that last name but it was a he not a she.”

“Probably her dad. Her mother’s maiden name is Roberts.”

Bernard’s face lit up.

“Roberts? As in Laurie Roberts? Zane Roberts sister?”

“Yes.”

“I knew that girl looked familiar!”

“What are you talking about?”

“I know her mother. Which means Xander was right. She did run off with Evans. I can’t believe she finally came back home.”

“Is what her mother said true? That you created this with Xander?”

“Yes it is but he took it too far. It wasn’t designed to be lethal. I tried to stop him but you can see what good it did.”

“So Xander truly was a monster?”

“Ohhh yes my boy. A monster indeed.”

As she watched with Delia, Naia wasn’t entirely convinced that Bernard was totally innocent.

“I don’t like him. I don’t trust him.”

“That’s Bernard Sayre for you.”

“Has he always been this way?”

“Oh yes. Even when I was amongst the living he and especially his motives were always questionable.”

“Why does the town let him do what he does?”

“Only the town can answer that.”

“I guess…”

The panel showed Trent in his cabin sitting on his couch with a bottle in his hand. Naia could feel his guilt and shame as well as his anger. His anger at his boss and anger at himself. He didn’t mean to hurt her. She just came out of nowhere. By the time he pulled the trigger it was too late. He didn't see her at first but when she dropped to the ground his heart dropped when she did. He wanted to be there at the hospital with her. To tell her how sorry he was. How much she means to him. How he wishes he could take it all back.

But at that moment he couldn't. All he could do was wallow in his festering grief and simmering anger. The same as Roman. This war had taken away a lot for both of them but this was the final straw. Trent wasn't about to lose to Roman again. And Roman had finally had enough of Trent being a thorn in his side. Both had subconsciously decided that this was an all-out war.

All of it broke Naia.

“They aren't serious are they?”

“Yes. Both are hurt and angry. Both at themselves and each other.”

“But I don't want this! I don't want them fighting!”

“Then you've found your reason for being here.”

“What do you mean?”

“You asked me why you were brought here. My dear, you were brought here to heal what is broken.”

“You mean Roman and Trent?”

“And your family. Your mother, especially.”

“Mommy?”

“Yes. She is hurting. And angry. And confused. And you are the key to healing her wounds. And theirs.”

Naia nodded.

“How do I do that?”

“You can start by answering your mother’s prayer.”

Delia turned back to the panel that showed Laurie. When Naia looked up, her mother was holding the necklace that Xander gave her. She looking out of the window to the moon in the sky.

“Spirits of the earth,

I don't know if you can hear me or that I even have the right to ask this. But I come to you with a simple prayer. I ask you to heal my daughter. She doesn't deserve to be here. She doesn't deserve this. She's innocent. If you're angry with me for abandoning The Pack and my duties as Xander’s mate I understand. But I beg you! Don't make my daughter suffer because of me. I beg you, please bring her back to me. Let her eyes open again. Let her speak again. I just want my little girl back. I need her back. Please! Heal her.”

Delia turned to Naia with a question.

“Now that you know your purpose, are you ready my dear?”

“Yes. I am ready to heal all that is broken.”

Delia waved her hand and the panels disappeared. They were replaced by a doorway.

“Then go. Your mother is waiting for you.”

“Thank you, Delia.”

Delia smiled at her.

“You're welcome, my dear. Tell my son that I miss him and that I love him and that I'm sorry.”

Naia smiled at her.

“I will.”

Naia stepped through the doorway and was transported back to her hospital room, just as her mother finished praying. She had moved her head slightly which both startled and excited Laurie.

“Naia? Naia baby are you awake?”

Naia’s eyes fluttered open and when she spoke her voice was weak.

“Mommy…”

Laurie had tears in her eyes.

“I'm here baby. I'm right here.”

Laurie was overcome with joy and relief.

“You came back to me!”

“I missed you, mommy.”

“I missed you too, baby girl.”

“We…have…much…to…talk…about.”

Laurie nodded resolutely.

“Yes, we do. It's time for you to know the true reason why I left.”

[thosetwistedtales]

What’s with Higgs’ smelling & licking people?

I told some of you that I had thoughts and that I’d be sharing them sometime soon, and so--- now I am. 😈 And I think I’m gonna try to break this down into three parts cause Higgs... is a rather complicated man.

Conscious | External 

Starting with the obvious here in the reason why Higgs busts past these very obvious personal boundaries is because he’s an asshole with ISSUES. Listen---, Higgs spent his childhood getting the shit beat out of him by his uncle. He had nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, no real means of defending himself when he was a child in comparison to his adult-sized ‘guardian’. He had no control over what happened to him. His life was literally in the palms of his uncle’s abusive hands... And he damn near ended it. Would’ve in all likelihood if Higgs hadn’t defended himself and eliminated the threat of him altogether. 

Point being in the aftermath from what we know of canon Higgs started off as a freelance independent porter, who eventually built up his own porter company, and later became partners with Fragile as Co-Ceo’s of their companies. Since teenhood, Higgs has never let himself be put in a position where someone else was in charge of him. And within the narrative of canon events its made CLEAR Higgs has a thing for flexing just how powerful he is, how little control those who come across him truly have.  “♪ I’ve got the whole world in the palm of my hand.~♪” & “The name’s Higgs. The particle of god that permeates all existence.”

Subtle right? 😂. The way he invades the personal space of others like those boundaries mean less than nothing to him, like social norms like polite space are unspoken rules that happen to other people but not him, how he literally licks people just because he knows he can, wants to prove it. Licks them because he knows just how damn unsettling it is. Licks people like---.                             “ I  l i c k e d  i t  s o  i t ’ s  M I N E. ”  a.) he does it cause he can b.) he does it cause he’s an absolute dickweed  c.) he does it cause he’s a fucking wacko weirdo who likes messing with people 

Subconscious | Internal 

“...We have five senses, but only two that go beyond the boundary of ourselves. When you look at someone, it’s just bouncing light, or when you hear them, it’s just sound waves, vibrating air, the way touch is just tingling nerve endings. Know what smell is? It’s made up of the molecules of what you’re smelling.”

...Ya’ll catch on to how Higgs is lowkey really into ancient civilizations and how the people of old as dirt times interacted with each other and the world around them? There’s his whole fascination with ancient Egyptians, we also get bits from his monologuing to Sam during that good old fashioned boss fight on the beach. He talks about the first tools of mankind but doesn’t get into the physical ones that we’re all born with. OUR SENSES. The ones he tends to use himself a lot specifically... Scent & Taste.

 As human beings, we use what we have to survive. We rely on our senses to navigate how to interact with the world. Because both scent & taste have to do with the stimuli involved in taking into the body these senses are often referred to as gatekeepers. As senses go both of these are extremely hard to lie to or manipulate. You can’t exactly control the concentration of airborne molecules or how your tastebuds experience oral stimuli. They are arguably our first line of defense, our natural armor. We use them as our personal alarm system (smoke, disease, other potential threats), component of flavor (quality of food before we eat/ingest it), physical communication (pheromones). I mean they’re the basics of survival. What smells/tastes BAD = not good/dangerous? What smells/tastes GOOD = good/safe!

As someone who had to use everything he had growing up to ensure his own survival, as a man who chose a profession that relied on his senses and instincts it makes every bit of sense to me that on a subconscious level at least..., Higgs would choose to continue to use them in how he interacts with the world around him, especially for those he has a keen interest in, or feels a connection to... He is a rather tactile individual after all.

Deep Dive | Intimate

Lastly, both pieces tie into this... Want & Instinct. Fragile was arguably one of the few people Higgs’ has ever connected with on a level beyond mere survival. Beyond what he NEEDED, and stepped into want. Into living. Partnering with her was a smart business move and while it may have been her DOOMS abilities that attracted him in the first place I think from an observer’s stand point just how he chooses to interact with her both in the flashback and their reunion.... 

We may never know the complexities of their relationship but Fragile clearly meant a great deal to him. Even if he hated her at one point, was jealous of her (her abilities, the childhood she had, the relationship with her loving PROUD father), you don’t look at someone the way Higgs’ looked at Fragile during the final moments we see them together on the beach, you don’t lean into their touch, and you certainly don’t leave them a personal note in your bunker asking them to forget you, to give up the bitterness and desire for revenge that’s clearly destroying them. The opposite of love is not hate, it’s indifference. Something Higgs CLEARLY doesn’t have when it comes to his ex partner... For better or for worse Higgs cares about Fragile.

A similar argument can be made for how he may feel about Sam given the context of his actions within canon. Sure most of the non-lethal interactions we see between them can still be chalked up to Higgs being an asshole and having made a hobby out of fucking with everyone’s favorite porter just for funsies. But------ I doubt that’s all there was to it. 

As I’ve said, Higgs’ is a complicated individual. A grown-ass man with grown-ass feelings and given his journals and what context clues we’re given in scenes it's my opinion that Higgs was fond of both Fragile & Sam.  And with what limited experience he had making friends--- it’s not out there to think the oddity and the abrasive way he handles social interaction with them both is a might bit awkward. A tad CRINGE. Not unlike that of a youngster picking on the kids he finds fun and mayhaps develops a kind of crush on and wants to get to know better but doesn’t quite know how or knows what to do with his interest and feelings.

Yeah in that context the thing with the licking and smelling thing is still hella creep but makes a bit more sense no?

Keep in mind that scent and taste are the senses most closely linked to memory. The memories we get through experiencing stimuli through these senses tend to be the most vivid and easily recalled. Thinking about that, and thinking about how both are the only senses we have that go past the boundary of ourselves, that only occurs when we take in something other inside us, how in its way that’s a kind of connection is it not? And perhaps at the end of the day, in his heart of hearts, that’s something Higgs wanted from Sam & Fragile. And was willing to take it in whatever form he could have it. Even if only the mockery of one. The memory of it.

@team-trash-panda​ , @maskedprepperkid​ , @goldenbridgessss​ , @chiralcrystallization​ , @savage-rhi​ , @argetlam007​ , @chloe-3-price​ , @ruinerofcheese​

[boymeetsweevil]

Watch Yourself

Grouping: Reader x Hoseok

Word Count: ~7770

Warnings/Themes: Peeping Tom-ish/Voyeurism, Hoseok is a closetexhibitionist, (and apparently so it OC) public sex, fingering, so much boob stuff, penetrative sex, too much talk centered around Hob’s hands, this is basically just pwp guys that second p is questionable

Summary: It starts with an invitation from your ex. It ends with Hoseok’s hands down your pants in said ex’s kitchen.

Part of the Masterlist for Group 2 of the @btssmutclub Summer Project

tagging: @jeoneric @betysotelo18

There is something utterly sad about visiting the tiny local strip mall before 11am on a Saturday. Sadder yet is the fact that you are there by yourself, with no friend in sight. Said friend was supposed to come with you for moral support and to give his valued opinion on the swim wear you were there to buy. But, of course, something had to go wrong. Wonho, your fashion student friend, called you this morning to tell you that he pulled a muscle in his groin at the gym that same day and sent you a Snapchat of him in the campus clinic with an ice pack as proof.

As you pay for your tea for the morning from a small kiosk, you take in the fact that even the old ladies power walking around the floors of the mall and the elementary schoolers running to the arcade have their friends with them. You make a mental note to guilt trip Wonho a little bit when you see him next. Which will probably be at the pool party that necessitated this outing in the first place.

When you started attending your university, you came in with a high school sweetheart of sorts. Your ex had been one of the kindest guys you knew, albeit a little insecure. You thought he’d grow out of it, you were sure of it. But once he got accepted into his frat of choice after much ass-kissing, he changed. You endured it for 3 years too long before finally getting fed up in the middle of fall semester of your senior year. Since then, it had been smooth sailing, but also radio silence on your ex’s end.

It’s now the summer following your graduation and this invitation to his pool party seems to be coming from nowhere. Your friend Irene bluntly suggested it wasn’t because he really wanted you back in his life, but because he wanted to show off his new girlfriend to his old girlfriend. Your other friend, Monica, showed you the new girlfriend’s picture. She was pretty, into horses, and did charity on the weekends.

(1 week prior)

“She seems nice,” you sniffed at the image on Monica’s screen before cutting into your pancakes from your favorite brunch spot. They were a little too thick this time and the force of your cutting shook the little table you were all seated at.

“Her style is a little 2008,” Wonho commented as he scrolled through the pictures on the girl’s account. “I didn’t think people still did the tunic and black cropped leggings thing anymore.”

Irene pinned him with a dirty look. “Lots of people still do that. I do that.”

“Yeah, you do,” he frowned disapprovingly.

You and Monica watched Irene and Wonho bicker about statement belts for a moment before she turned to you abruptly, shoving the phone back in your face like a bad omen.

“You know you have to go to that pool party, right?”

“Uh, yeah. We said we were all thinking of going, right?”

“I mean, maybe. But you specifically need to go.”

“Why?”

“Because you need to show him that you’re onto him and that he made a huge mistake losing you.”

“But I don’t care about him anymore,” you said innocently through a bite of eggs.

‘It’s the principle of the thing,” she sighed. “Your bathing suit has to be amazing, none of this—this,” she waved her hands in the air as if trying to conjure up the right phrase, “monochromatic one-piece mess.”

“What’s wrong with my one-piece?”

“It doesn’t do any favors for your body.”

“Wait a second, I—”

“It’s true,” Wonho turned to you, eyes so serious they make you lose train of thought. “You have a great silhouette and you rarely do it justice.”

“Yeah,” Irene chimed in and gestured to your hoodie, “I’ve been meaning to ask you why you have so many of those...shirts.”

“For comfort, maybe? You guys ever heard of that?”

The three of them blinked owlishly at you before Monica reached out to pat your hand. “It’s okay, sweetie. You’ll figure this bathing suit thing out.”

You follow the various signs hanging down from the mall ceiling telling you the names of various shops and start browsing.

With your friend’s voices in your head, you try not to rely on your basic instincts too much and instead go to the stores you’ve heard Monica praise or seen Wonho shop at when buying clothes as birthday presents. You pass by one store you know all of your friends would approve of. But it positively reeks of sophistication and trendiness, so you circle the entire floor before eventually after coming back empty from the other stores. This one boutique has dim and flattering lighting and there’s an expensive smelling perfume wafting around the place when you push through the front door.

Instantly you get the urge to turn and walk out. All the other people in the store look like they walked out of fashion catalogs themselves. Even the employees refolding garments and waiting at the cash register are all perfectly proportioned, symmetrical, and statuesque. You thank the universe that you chose a neutral outfit: dark jeans Wonho bought for you after taking your measurements with painstaking care and a plain black tank top to beat the heat.

You consider sending a text to the group chat to ask for help when you enter the swimsuit section, but your pride and stubbornness rule that option out. So you just pick a bunch of swimsuits you think would look good on you and head over to the changing room. The attendant there is organizing the rack of returned garments and has his back to you when you enter the changing room hallway.

“How many items,” the attendant asks.

“It looks like I have 3,” you mutter after counting.

“Be right with you.”

You spend the time he takes to finish grouping items to take in his appearance.The back of his head and his voice are oddly familiar.

“Um, this might be a weird question, but are you Hoseok? Jung Hoseok?”

“I thought that was your voice.” The man in front of you turns and nods, a shy, but brilliant grin creeping onto his face. “Long time no see.”

“Yeah, it’s good to see you.”

Jung Hoseok had been one of your ex-boyfriend’s frat brothers and former “friend”. If there was no one closer around, your ex would hang out with Hoseok and a bunch of other guys not in his inner circle. And when there were closer guys around, you ex would ignore you. So you’d talk with Hoseok. He kept you company many a night when your boyfriend was nowhere to be found and you were alone at the frat parties you were only attending out of girlfriend loyalty.

From what you remember, Hoseok was an architecture and dance double major. He always had good jokes, good weed, and a flirty vibe about him. You’re a little ashamed to admit that you flirted back despite the fact that you were often around him as someone else’s date. But it never progressed into anything more. Not even after you broke up with your ex and were attending the parties to spite him briefly after the break up.

Hoseok would smoke you out and crowd you into the kitchen corner while you passed a blunt back and forth, exchanging banter and heated glances but nothing more. You spent more nights than you’re willing to confess to thinking about the comfortable press of his hand on the small of your back.

Now, he still looks the same as he did half a year ago, but with the addition of a golden tan from the part of the summer that’s already passed. He looks good in his impeccably white t-shirt and uniform slacks with his artfully tousled hair. Among the other model-like employees he fits right in. It’s a little unfair.

“You enjoying your summer,” he asks while giving you the perfunctory little card with a number 3 on it before leading you through a hall of changing rooms.

“Sort of. I moved into a new apartment with one of my friends, and we just finished getting settled. I’m gonna start teaching in the fall.”

“Teaching, huh? Whereabouts?” Hoseok selects one of the large fitting rooms all the way in the back. The ones that can fit packs of friends who are very invested in the outfit picking process.

“You know the Montessori school out by the northern part of the city?” He nods in recognition. “It’s that one.”

He lets out a low whistle at the mention of the small private elementary school that all the city’s most wealthy inhabitants bring their children to. “Sounds like it’ll be a good move, then. You’re living the dream, huh?”

“Yeah,” you duck your head modestly as you linger in front of the changing room door. “What about you? Are you here for the summer?”

“For the summer,” he confirms, “Then I’m moving into the city too. Near the Big Hit park to work with a firm there.”

“Are you gonna be interning?”

“I’m gonna be leading a project with my own design, actually.”

“Oh, Hoseok, that’s great! It’s really early in the game too. You’re going places.”

“Yeah, its—” he stops to look around the area and takes a reluctant step back. You realize then just how close you two were standing to each other. “I don’t want to hold you up if you’ve got friends waiting on you to pick something out.”

“Oh, you’re good. I came here by myself. My friends were supposed to help me get something, but they all...got busy.” You roll your eyes.

Hoseok returns to his station and continues organizing his area once more, but raises his voice so it carries to you. “That sucks. I’ve had stuff like that happen a few times.”

When you don’t immediately respond, he figures you’re busy changing. Almost instantly his thoughts gravitate towards your swimsuit choice, wondering what you picked out. Are you a fan of string bikinis or athletic cuts? His ears subconsciously strain for the rustling of clothes before he cuts the wandering thoughts short. He leaves to go get some extra work from his supervisor and give you privacy.

In the changing room, you’re having a bit of trouble. The first suit is nearly on, but won’t zip past your bust like it's supposed to. You underestimate your strength as you try to force the zipper up and end up ripping the tab off the little sliding bit. You let out a quiet curse before resolving to buy the suit since you broke it. Perhaps it was your fault for thinking you could fit into a size you normally never wear, though it looked like it would fit you when you draped it over your torso earlier. Unfortunately for you, there weren’t any larger sizes either.

Pulling the tag hanging off the side of the suit, you check the price curiously only to find that the suit bandeau is heinously expensive on its own. You have no idea how much the bottoms cost, but you’re fairly certain they’re sold separately. You panic at the thought of having to pay so much for the suit and fumble with the sliding body of the zipper again, trying to get the top off of you, but it won’t budge.

“Hello?” Your voice rings out with uncertainty. You’d heard footsteps leaving the fitting room area earlier, but you didn’t hear them return.

When you get only silence as a reply, you open the door to your changing stall and poke your head out. You’re about to tip toe out to hopefully flag down one of the women working in the front of the store when Hoseok walks back into the fitting room area. He’s busy with whatever is on his phone and doesn’t seem to see you at first. You curse to yourself, hoping he doesn’t see you. To keep an eye on him, you start to walk backwards towards your changing room, but your bare feet squeak loudly against the polished wooden floor.

He looks toward you in that moment to chase the sound. His hand holding his phone drops and eyes linger on your form for longer than could be considered merely professional appraisal and his head turns quickly once he realizes this. Inside his chest, his heart is flutters at the after image of you behind his eyelids. You look good. Really good. While he might think a broken zipper would ruin the look, the fact that the bandeau is only half zipped and straining to contain your breasts makes you look like a classic pinup.

It takes a conscious effort to stray from mentally retracing the path that your curves made in the suit. The voluptuous flare of your hips and shapely legs both grab his attention even more than the bright candy apple red fabric of the suit. He turns abruptly, about to act as though he’s needed in the stock room when your voice sounds out, embarrassed.

“Hoseok?”

“Yeah?” His voice cracks a little, suddenly flustered, and he covers it best he can with a low cough. “What’s up?”

“I’m really sorry but,” you avert your eyes as you walk forward. “I think I broke this suit.”

“Huh?” Your exposed skin looks soft in the gentle lighting of the hallway, and somehow the sight of it is loud enough to muffle your confession. “You broke something?”

“It’s the zipper on the top. I was gonna buy it since I broke it. But the suit is, like, a million dollars. Is there...any chance you can give me a friends and family discount?”

“Oh.” He jumps at the chance to go back to being a helpful professional person again. “That’s okay. I’ll just tell my boss that it broke off in handling. We just put those out today.”

Your eyes go round with hope. “I don’t have to buy it?”

“Nah,” he waves away your offer, eyes now glued to his own shoes. “I got it.”

“Really?” Your face lights up beautifully, relief softening your features. “That’s amazing, thank you.”

He watches for a brief moment while you go back into the changing room. Surprisingly—or perhaps unsurprisingly, with the way his day is going—your ass is amazing, if the way the suit stretches in an almost heart over the cheeks. His throat is suddenly very dry and he nearly downs the entire water bottle he keeps near his station. Hoseok is only allowed a few moments of silence to recover.

“Hey, um, do you...do you think you could come here?”

Faltering in his steps, he walks back down the hallway with a rising sense of suspicion. He’s not sure what will come next, but he knows deep in his gut it’ll be odd and possibly enough to get him fired. Still, he stands in front of the door with uncertainty roiling in his belly.

“What’s up?”

“Come in,” is all you say in a muted hiss.

His hand is sweating when he turns the knob leading into the changing room. He tries to open it cautiously, give himself enough time to peer in and give you time to cover anything you don’t want him to see. But you merely yank him in by the collar and shut the door quickly before locking it. At his wide-eyed, nervous expression you quickly move to make things less awkward.

“Sorry,” you toss over your shoulder while testing the door knob. “I know this is weird, but I can’t get the suit off. It’s too tight to pull over my head and the zipper won’t budge no matter how hard I pull on it. Can you...help?”

Hoseok can only nod in response with nerves halting his tongue. He approaches you slowly, making sure nothing he’s doing seems threatening. Or overly enthusiastic. You’re pressed against the door with your back to the exit and it doesn’t take long for him to close the distance between you two. You’re careful to keep your breathing light so as not to draw extra attention to your chest despite the fact that Hoseok is now eyeballing it like its a complicated puzzle.

“I think the only way to get it off is to just brute force the zipper,” he says after a while.

“Okay.”

You wet your lips nervously and let out a shaky breath that you pray he’ll ignore.

“You might wanna, um, hold your...” he gestures vaguely at your ample cleavage. “So they don’t fall out if we get the top to open.”

Gingerly you cup your breasts to hold the fabric covering them together like he suggested. Hoseok brushes your fingers when he finally attempts to pull the zipper down for the first time. He mutters a quick apology and tries as best he can not to graze you again with his knuckles as his hand shakes. The other hand is behind his back, tightly fisted in effort to maintain his cool. From your vantage point, you can actually see his hand and the way the veins in his arm flash by looking at the mirror on the changing room wall.

A few more harsh tugs gets the zipper’s sliding body down the chain about halfway, but it’s not enough to get the straps of the suit off your arms.

“Maybe you should use two hands,” you hedge. He nods and holds the sides in one hand and the zipper with the other.

Hoseok lets out a steady breath before pulling the zipper down as hard as he can without ripping the suit. He can maybe fib to his boss about the zipper coming off, but not the top ripping in two. Luckily, the zipper stutters open wide enough for you to be able to slip it off now. The only problem is that you forgot to keep a firm grip on the halves of the top and your breasts almost spill completely out of the top.

You stand there, still holding your top up, and chance a look up at Hoseok. He’s gazing down at your chest but senses your gaze and locks eyes with you then. Something in the air between you changes, shifts, clicks. There’s an electricity that you can practically feel crackling under your skin and you take a step forward without thinking. Hoseok’s eyes fall closed as you approach, lashes fanning out prettily across the apples of his cheeks. Before you can chicken out, you ghost your lips over his slack mouth. It’s only a fleeting moment, but you still feel a jolt of something from the contact that has you letting out a small gasp.

Hoseok leans in to touch his forehead to yours almost as if he’s about to initiate another kiss, but a woman’s voice rings through the changing room area, letting him know that they need him to help his supervisor comb through the main part of the store and reset all the displays. Something about all the normal folders and floor monitors being out on their lunch break.

“Yeah, I’ll be out in a minute. Just trying something on,” he lies.

He peers down at you again with a look that’s more subdued but still smoldering, eyes hooded dreamily, smoothing tingling palms against his work pants. Your cheeks heat up with the intensity of his stare, but you back away. The atmosphere isn’t quite the same after having the tenuous balance disrupted by his coworker. With your back against the door and so much of you still bared to him, you suddenly feel so vulnerable. Part of you is scared because that does something to your insides. Tying them up with excitement.

“I should go,” you sigh as he backs up.

He looks like he wants to say something, but stops himself. He slides back out while you’re collecting your actual clothes. When you finish changing, you shuffle passed Hoseok and purchase the expensive broken bathing suit with a grimace.

A few days later, Hoseok is in the main part of the store replacing some items that were knocked over by a careless customer when a coworker comes over and taps him on the shoulder.

“What’s up, man?”

“There’s a customer here who wants you to start a dressing room for her. She wants a selection of bathing suits, too.”

“Cool,” Hoseok hands the employee the clothes he was dealing with. “She say what size?”

The guy relays the size information to him and with that Hoseok makes his way to the bathing suit section to pick out a variety of styles in the right size. With his arms laden with different pieces, he heads back into the changing room area. It’s empty but that’s not unusual at this day and time. It was the store owner’s idea to make it so there weren’t ever that many employees working a shift at a time to give off a minimalist, unbothered vibe.

“Miss,” he calls out to the customer, looking for a sign of the woman by looking for her feet in the cracks of the stall doors. “I have some pieces for you to try. I’ll be right outside in case you don’t want anything or you want a different color. Or if you want to check out as well. I can ring you up.”

“Thanks,” your voice sounds from behind the final door of the hallway. You push open the door to reveal your face.

Hoseok’s cheeks bloom rosy from behind the tiny mountain of bathing suits he gathered unwittingly for you. A strong wave of deja vu washes over him as he’s taken back to the last time he saw you here. The memory of the (almost) kiss is still fresh in his mind like it was yesterday because, at this point, he’s replayed it in his mind dozens of times. A couple of those replays involved the tissue box and bottle of lotion he keeps by his bed. During those times the moment was stretched out and embellished thanks to his industrious imagination.

“I’ll take some of those,” you say with arms reaching to a portion of the suits. “You said you’d be nearby?”

“Yeah,” he breathes.

“Good.”

Like a doting assistant, Hoseok leans on the wall outside your stall, eyes pitching across all parts of the room to occupy his thoughts and time. His gaze bounces from the opposite end of the hallway where his post is normally, to the other stalls, to the mirror lining the wall adjacent to him. There he sees his reflection as well as a reflection of all the stalls. Small movement in the mirror catches his eye, a quick flash of skin. With a hesitant look back at your stall, he realizes the door is cracked. Just enough for him to catch a glimpse of bare arm. A sliver of the mirror inside, through which he swears he sees you looking back at him.

He whips his head back to stare down the hallway, biting harshly on his tongue when the rustling of clothes stops and the sound of the door’s hinge gives a prolonged creak.

“Hoseok?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you give me that green one you have there and I’ll give this one back to you?”

“Oh,” he blinks. Surprised but relieved at the fact that you didn’t tear him a new one for being a peeping Tom. “S-sure.”

He looks away as best he can while handing you the suit you asked for before waiting patiently for you to remove and return the first one you tried. He wants to say something to you, ask about the other day and why you left so abruptly. Why you bought the suit that he said he would take care of. But all of that gets dashed away when his eyes wander instinctively back to your stall and the door is now half closed at best.

With the door angled like this, he can see your reflection perfectly from where he’s standing. You’d be naked if it weren’t for the delicate pair of underwear you’re wearing to safely try on the suits according to store policy. Hoseok can’t drag his eyes away from the sight of you examining the hunter green string bikini’s intricate tie system before attempting to put it on. The green bottoms lovingly hug the curves of your hips but leave little to the imagination with the way they’re bunched up. You skim your index fingers under the elastic of the bottoms to snap them back into place and cover more of your ass. He mourns the change in the view briefly before migrating up the slope of your bare back up to the loose strings dangling from the bikini top.

“Can you help me with this,” you give him a pout that he can’t say no to.

Suddenly he’s scrambling into the changing stall to put the clothes he was holding down on the small bench inside. He comes up behind you and recalls the intended weaving before deftly knotting the strings together in the right place. The end result is a pretty lattice pattern that contrasts with the simple triangles covering your breasts in the front. You test the support and bounce a little, cupping your chest lightly before letting out a pleased hum at Hoseok’s handiwork.

“What do you think?”

He gulps. “It’s, uh, it’s nice.”

“Just nice?” Your voice comes off as coy. You know you look better than nice, but inside you’re fighting the urge to gnaw at your lip self-consciously.

You knew that you were making a big gamble the moment you decided to request Hoseok as your personal shopper not even an hour ago. But ever since you rushed out of the shop a few days prior, the only thing you could think about was Hoseok. Hoseok and the way he looked at you. The way his palms trembled subtly as he reached for you that other day in the stall. The need was palpable and radiated from him like summer heat off dark concrete. It had been a long time since something like this made your breath hitch, and this was the mere memory alone. The memory itself was simultaneously addicting and not enough. So here you are, acting like you were filming a bad porno so you could chase that fleeting moment from last time. His supervisor wouldn’t be able to get you to back down this time even if she was banging on the stall door.

“I like it,” he mumbles quietly after some time.

“Me too. I’ll take it.” Your eyes meet his in the mirror and you watch his expression carefully. “Help me take it off?”

His mouth drops open just a bit. It’s such a small gesture that you might have missed if every instinct in you wasn’t curled tight with giddy lust. His fingers are feather-light against the skin of  your back as he loosens the binds he just did. All the while his gaze never leaves yours in the mirror. Almost as if he’s trying to communicate with you. You give a miniscule nod and then he’s giving the final tug.

The bikini top slithers down your front into a cool, smooth pile of ribbon at your feet. You’re bare like the other day, but your back is almost proudly straight this time and you fall back against him easily.

His hand comes up to lay on your shoulder. The weight is bureaucratic and safe enough that for a second you’re expecting a rebuff.

“Are you sure you wanna do this here?” The tip of his nose skims gently near your temple. Your breath hitches in anticipation. “Because once you say the word, we’re doing this. And I’m not closing that fucking door. I wanna see you backup all that strutting around you’ve been doing.”

You nod again. A shaky breath leaves you and you reach a hand back to creep up his front, fingers grazing collar and tugging needy. He takes a few steps forward, forcing you to stumble forward as well, before placing both hands on your hips. His hands push into the plush skin exposed there as if to test your solidness. The grip is warm and firm as he pushes your hips out until you have to lean forward and brace both hands on the full-length mirror on the changing room wall for balance.

“I don’t want you looking around all distracted at the door. Only look in the mirror. I want you to watch yourself and watch me with you. Okay?”

“Okay,” you sigh.

With that, he tugs down the bikini bottoms to reveal the underwear you had underneath. While you step out of the swimsuit bottoms and kick them to the side, he slides his hand down the front of your panties. The pads of his fingers part your folds easily with no resistance thanks to the copious amount of arousal already there.

“I’ve been thinking about how the other day would have played out if I never left for two days now,” you explain.

“You been touching yourself to it?”

“Yes,” your breath hitches when he swipes over your clit roughly.

“Me too.”

He nuzzles into the crook of your neck. The sweetness of the gesture contrasts starkly with the obscene wet noises coming from where he plays with your wet center. It's not loud enough to compete with the music playing through the store. And definitely not enough to grab anyone’s if they were seated at Hoseok’s post at the end of the hallway. But you still have to fight the instinct to look back at the half open door of the changing stall to make sure no one will catch you.

“You paying attention?”

Your eyes refocus on the reflection in the mirror and zero in on the way Hoseok’s hand barely fits in your underwear. Still, his middle and ring fingers are obscured by the front of your underwear and all you can really see is the way his hand movements speed up. A second later the tightness of the figure eights he rubs into you registers in your core and the wave of pleasure that hits has your knees buckling slightly. Luckily you’re already holding onto something—the mirror.

The slick noises coming from your center get louder as more arousal leaks onto Hoseok’s rapidly moving fingers. In the mirror, you can see that his brow is furrowed in concentration, or perhaps subtly dialed back lust. Meanwhile, his mouth hangs open slightly in silent, sympathetic moans. He must sense your gaze on his face because he looks up then and locks eyes with you in the mirror.

“It feels good,” you whine out the last syllable when he flirts with your entrance for the first time. Already, you’re clenching around a phantom something, eager for things to speed up.

“That’s good.”

His response sounds nonchalant, but you can feel his hardness nudging against your ass if you push back enough. He’s careful to keep it away from you, though, so he can focus on you. It’s not exactly attention that you’re used to after so many years with your ex, but you welcome it all the same. Hoseok is attentive and competitive in the way that he seeks the things that accidentally draw moans from your parted lips. Soon enough, your arms are shaking from a combination of the effort of holding yourself up against the mirror and your first orgasm’s approach.

Hoseok is now grinding the heel of his other palm into your clit, fingertips pistoning against one spongy area of your walls after seeing the way you had you stuttering and your hands sliding a bit against the glass. The first hand wandered up your torso some time ago. He meandered a path along the soft valley of your stomach before coming to cup your breast. With your arousal still shining dully on his fingers, he tweaks your nipple until it draws up and out. Testing various pressures and grips, he finds a perfect rhythm of rolling and pinching that makes you clench around his other hand. His fingers are elegant and long, but not quite thick enough even in a pair. It drives you slightly crazy and you instinctively push your hips back to grind harder against him, mewling shamelessly.

“Please,” your plea comes out crumpled from in between ragged breaths. “I want you.”

“Hmm?” The sharp curl of Hoseok’s smile appears in the mirror. It matches the mean humor that sneaks in to his cooing tone. “You wanna be full?

You nod, cheeks warming from the begging. “I want your dick.”

“Someone’s greedy,” he pulls his fingers out, marveling at the squelching sound the motion makes. “Don’t want to get off on just fingers, huh? You wanna be stuffed full in the middle of this changing room where anyone could walk in and see you.”

You can only moan in affirmation as Hoseok finally tugs down his own bottoms and kicks them to the side. Your eyes take in his muscled legs, landing appreciatively on the line on his thighs where his tan stops and his shorts must have protected his skin from the sun one day. Hoseok spins the two of you then, while you’re lost in thought about how one of his thighs would feel between yours.

With your back against the wall, Hoseok nods to himself like he’s satisfied with his work and begins laying soft, wet kisses against the skin of your throat. He pulls back only to slowly peel off his work shirt, teasing you with the slow exposure of his equally toned torso. You have a nice view of the way back muscles flex under smooth skin now that he’s facing away from the mirror.

“Watch yourself carefully this time,” he warns you with a hand on your chin to direct your gaze to his momentarily.

When he’s sure you’re watching your reflection obediently, he returns to your breasts. He really does think they’re a work of art. So he recites a soundless sonnet to them, tongue flitting against each twin peak with ardor. Your skin becomes almost blotchy in the heat of your moment. Heeding Hoseok’s words, you take in your appearance.

With a heaving chest and parted lips, you look wanton to say the least. Your eyes are at half mast and fighting against the pleasure Hoseok’s plucking fingers bring. Then you see him reaching down to grasp himself before turning to smirk at the mirror, almost as if he’s giving another audience you weren’t aware of, a show.

There’s not much warning. There’s only the gentle nudge of his knees tapping your already lax ones apart before he’s hitching one of your legs over his slender hips. In his grasp, the head of his erection runs along the length of your center. He’s hot and swollen against you, smearing precum on your folds on his journey to your entrance.

“You’re so wet,” he bites out with the same soft incredulity as a curse. His head pops up so he can pin you with a pleading look, almost like he can’t believe you’re you. “What if someone saw you like this? All spread open and dripping for me.”

“Maybe I—ah—wouldn’t mind.” You watch your own hand come up to thread through the soft hair at the nape of his neck. You tug gently on it like its a lifeline as he lines himself up, excitement bubbling up in your stomach. “Mmh, fuck.”

He takes his time bottoming out to make sure you have time to see your expression evolve as you encounter every ridge and swell of him. The stretch has your eyes rolling back, but you don’t let yourself close them. Instead you take in the way your breasts bounce now that Hoseok has begun pumping into you experimentally. The force of his thrusts causes the walls of the changing stall to rattle loudly and for a fraction of a second you worry someone—a customer or another employee seeking assistance with something—might hear the noise and try to see what the source was.

But then your leg is lifted a bit higher and the angle changes. Suddenly he’s going deeper, stretching you slightly more, all the while your clit is bombarded with the brush of his pelvis with every stroke. The leg you have on the ground shakes from the intense bolt of pleasure and you let out a desperate moan.

“Hoseok, oh my god, I’m—you feel so good,” you do the best you can to keep your voice low.

“I can’t hear you. Louder.”

“I said you feel good.”

“Where?”

“In-inside me. I can feel all of you and I’m so...you stretch me out so good,” you pant out.

“Are you close?” His teeth are gritted with the effort it takes to push back his own oncoming orgasm. “Shit.”

“Yeah, I just need—”

Before you can finish, Hoseok is tapping lightly on your lips, pulling the bottom one from between your teeth. You open up and take his thumb and suck it. Once he’s sure its wet enough, he lingers for a few beats to enjoy the feeling of your tongue lapping at him. Then he’s collecting his hand back with a pop and snakes it down between your two writhing bodies. The effect of his spit-slick finger against your clit while he continues to plow into you is instant. It’s just the thing you needed to really kick things into overdrive. Soon you’re chasing the glorious feeling by bringing him in impossibly closer with two hands on his petite ass and by flexing the thigh you had holding his hips in place. In this position, he’s too constricted to really move in and out, so he adapts and begins a rough, circular grind.

The moans you let out are high and breathy, inappropriately loud, and your eyes dart back to your reflection just in time to see your pornographic expression. Hoseok seems to enjoy it too as he leans in to nuzzle at your forehead before cupping your face in one hand and bringing you in to kiss you sweetly. You’re not sure how he manages to make sweet the amount of tongue he’s using, but it works and you sigh dreamily against his lips.

Your orgasm surges through you again when he surprises you and sucks on your tongue. He pulls back then and watches with awe coloring his face. Or perhaps it's the fluorescents and the light sheen of sweat. Either way, the sight of you has him pulsing inside your already convulsing walls. With quick reflexes, he’s pulling out and replacing his dick with three fingers. He strokes himself—slowly to stay hard but not to bring himself to climax just yet—and watches you come down from your high.

When you’re done, you let your leg flop down from its perch on his hip bone. You’re a little wobbly from holding the pose for so long and you fall to your feet gracelessly, not thinking about how disgusting the floors may be. It’s then that you’re able to really look at Hoseok’s dick for the first time when you’re basically at eye level with it.

“Where do you wanna come?” Your eyes look impossibly large from where he’s standing and for a moment he almost answers ‘your face’ before your cleavage grabs his attention.

He mumbles then, ducking his head as his cheeks flush prettily.

“What?”

“...On your tits,” he gulps, not sure of your response.

You merely cross your arms under your breasts to lift them. A disbelieving little laugh leaves him before he’s kneeling down in front of you. The angle is a little awkward, but it’s better than it was when he was standing. He reaches out then and rubs fondly at the area where your shoulder and neck meet with one hand while pumping himself with the other.

It doesn’t take long. Hoseok’s been rock hard since he realized the changing room door wasn’t closed and the fact that you just agreed to let him come on your boobs almost made him swallow his tongue. They’re really something, he thinks to himself. They look soft and he knows if he stuck his face in between them, they’d smell good too if your perfume from the other day when you walked by him is any indication. They’re the perfect size, too. His hips stutter in their rhythm as he thinks about all the other things he could be doing to them. He could be fucking them while you hold them for him. Or, If you let him, he’d spend hours just lapping at them until they were sensitive enough to have you squealing under him. He bites down on his tongue and speeds up his strokes while imagining nipping at you, sucking bruises into the warm skin of your chest.

“I’m—now,” he chokes out before spilling over your breasts. His eyes closed momentarily when the high first hit him, but he opens them quickly enough to see one of the last spurts shoot out and paint a nipple white. “Fuck, that’s hot.”

He collapses into his own pile of exhausted limbs in front of you and grabs at the boxers he was wearing earlier. Like a switch has been flipped, the environment changes. It’s not exactly awkward but everything feels fragile and tentative all of the sudden.

Leaning forward, his wipes the remnants of his release off your chest. The two of you make shy eye contact a few times while he’s in your personal space. He hesitates a bit before leaning closer to slot his lips over yours. The kiss is heated, but not overly passionate. A simmer. Soon he’s wiping his hands before tossing away the soiled underwear and gingerly cupping your face in both his warm hands. He kisses you so thoroughly, so well that you end up unconsciously chasing his lips once he pulls away.

“Good?” He chuckles when you finally open your eyes. You’re not sure when you closed them.

“It was alright,” you sniff. “But I think you might have to do that again some time, ‘cause I’m not 100% sure.” He grins and swipes a thumb over your cheek.

“Name a time and a place and I’m there.”

“What about Saturday at 2,” you blurt out.

“Oh, uh, that’s very specific—”

“Sorry! I’ve been meaning to ask you if you wanted to go to this...thing with me. It’s a party at my ex’s house and I thought it might be less painful if,” you trail off, suddenly embarrassed at your speediness. You don’t even know if Hoseok wants anything more than hookups and here you are asking him to be your plus one to a pool party.

“It’s specific, but I’m free. Should I bring my swimsuit?” Your answering smile is infectious and he can’t help but kiss at it briefly.

“Of course. I’m bringing mine,” you mumble between his lips. “I gotta pay for it first.”

“You’re really wearing the green one?”

“Yeah. It’s my color and it makes my boobs look nice.”

“True,” he nods seriously. “Come on. Let’s get dressed and I’ll ring you up.”

While you’re clothed and at the register, you fight to ignore the knowing stares of a few of the other people working on the floor. Hoseok seems unphased by their looks and actually seems to be glowing. He hums and smiles to himself while carefully folding and wrapping your bathing suit in some tissue paper. When he turns the little monitor around for your to pay with your card, he’s still humming to himself.

“I get off for the day in half and hour,” he blurts out while you sign for the bathing suit.

“Is that so,” you humor him and raise an intrigued looking eyebrow.

“Yeah, so, uh...” The girl who’s behind the counter with Hoseok and had been collecting hangers snorts to herself at Hoseok’s sudden shy disposition. “If you’re gonna be around, I can show you the best place to eat in the food court. If you’re hungry, I mean.”

You pretend to mull it over while putting your card back in your wallet. “Alright. But I don’t eat mall pizza.”

“Hoseok,” you hiss as he presses himself against your backside while you search your ex’s kitchen for more plastic cups. “Someone will see us.”

“I don’t care,” he grinds against you, displacing your bottoms enough to expose the entire left globe of your ass. “I hope someone does. I hope he does.”

You turn around then, hoping to disrupt his fun, but he just brings both his hands to cup your breasts. The little green triangles do little to protect your modesty and, if anything, made his hands itch even more to touch you. He squeezes them in his hands, and when you don’t say anything, he pushes the material up and over them. Like he expected, your nipples are hard and have been since he started eye-fucking you earlier from across the pool.

“You’re insane,” you gasp. Partly because you’re functionally topless when any one of the partygoers, including your friends, could come around the corner in search of ice. And partly because Hoseok has latched onto one of your breasts and is now suckling at one nipple. “It’s like you—oh—want to get caught.”

He pulls off just long enough to speak. “Why should I care if anyone sees me making you feel good.”

“You know, in hindsight, I should have realized you have a thing about public sex.”

“You really should have. I gave you all the signs.” He has enough manners to shift so he’s covering you should anyone walk into the kitchen. His hand slides into your bathing suit bottoms, fingers immediately getting coated with your slick. “But it feels like you might be a little exhibitionist yourself.”

The sound of Monica and Irene laughing in the next room has your whole body tensing up with nerves, but it also has you sucking his fingers deeper into your center. Footsteps of more people who probably want a break from the sun enter the room, some sounding dangerously close.

“Oh god,” your head falls forward onto his shoulder as the wet sounds of your pussy get louder as he massages your clit. “Hoseok, we’re gonna get kicked out.”

“Not if you’re quiet.” He starts kissing your cheek, making a path to your mouth. “I’ll take care of you, baby.”

[pocket-clown]

Comforting Arthur Fleck after he has a nightmare may include;

// original request: I was thinking of Arthur having a nightmare and the reader waking him up, comforting him. You know, something sweet and fluffy.

thank you for the request, @gwynplaine89!

Words: 1,614

minor content warning for brief mentions of Arthur’s trauma/abuse 

A good night’s sleep is a rare luxury for Arthur. 

For years, his nights were spent bent uncomfortably on the couch; he’d wake up with knots in his back, a pulled muscle in his neck, and his legs sore due to the short length of the couch preventing him from properly stretching them out - and that was if he actually managed to sleep. 

The concoction of medication he was on left his sleeping habits erratic; some nights he only managed restless, two to three hour spurts of rest, then other nights he either didn’t sleep at all - or his already severely fatigued body was hit so hard by his sleeping medication and he wound up sleeping so deeply he’d barely move all night, waking up stiff and groggy.

So on those rare nights that Arthur was beside you, so sound asleep that the gentle rising and falling of his breath was enough to lull you to sleep as he slept so deservedly peacefully, did you do everything in your power to keep his rest uninterrupted.  

But sadly, a true break for Arthur was rare, and even in moments so serene and peaceful as those spent in the bedroom well past 2am, with only the dim blue light from the television that had been left on at the foot of the bed illuminating the room, were you reminded of that fact.

It was nearing 2:30, and you had been up for quite some time - truthfully, you’d been struggling with your own bout of insomnia, but it was bittersweet as in your nights spent awake were you allowed the rare treat of seeing Arthur get some rest. Unless he was knocked out cold he was a rather light sleeper, and sadly that left you not quite as cuddled up to him as you wished that you were, fearing that worming your way under his arm would stir him too much and you’d spoil his rest. 

As the light from the TV made your already tired eyes burn, you kept your attention on Arthur’s face as he slept soundly at your side. Every now and then would his eyelashes flutter ever so slightly and he’d take an especially deep breath, his exhale then so soft that it took every ounce of will power in you to not reach a hand out and run your fingers through his messy curls, lest you accidentally wake him up. 

After about an hour of your eyes flicking between Arthur and the film on the television did you notice something was up. 

You were turned on your side, your neck bent in a way that allowed for you to see both Arthur and the television as long as you glanced their respective directions, and out of nowhere did Arthur almost bonk you in the nose with his shoulder as he turned over abruptly. 

You bit your lip as you slowly pulled yourself up, about to slip down the bed to switch the TV off as you thought it was too bright and bothering him, but then you heard it -

A slightly breathy, undertone “no” from Arthur.

“You want me to keep the TV on…?” You whispered, keeping your eyes on him - but a response never came. 

It wasn’t until he whimpered, and turned over again did you realize what was going on;

He was having a nightmare.

Shit - he was having a nightmare. 

You knew how bad Arthur’s nightmares could get; the majority of them played on his traumas and abuse, forcing him to re-live and re-experience them with the added weight of his subconscious rendering him even more powerless than he had been, and very upsettingly had he informed you after a recent one that a lot of his nightmares now had to do with you. You, being torn away from him by crooks, punks, murderers, fires, disasters - or you, telling him that you were disgusted by him; mocking him for his illnesses, for his condition, for his job, for him being him.

Arthur never got a break, and while you knew the rule of never waking someone up during a nightmare, you didn’t care. The day after a nightmare was spent with Arthur in a haze; his eyes looking through things, not at them as he tried to cope with the weight that the terror the night before had put upon his already heavy mental state, and you were not about to let that happen. 

Immediately did you scoot up to his side, bent at the waist as your hand gently came to rest on his shoulder as you pressed feather light kisses to his temple, whispering as softly as you could as you could feel his restlessness again;

“Arthur, it’s okay, it’s okay,” You shook him gently, not hard enough to startle him but enough that he stirred ever so slightly in response. “I’m right here, Artie, you’re okay -” 

Your fingers found their way to the tuft of his bangs that had fallen over his forehead, brushing it away as you leaned over him further so you could press a chaste kiss to his skin.

Arthur was never much of a sleep talker, but whenever he was having a particularly rough nightmare did you sometimes catch him rambling; his voice was soft yet raspy, his occasional pleading stops and nos and waits breaking your heart as you tried to pull him from the dream as gently as you could, praying you didn’t make anything worse or accidentally scare him.

You were about to give him a firmer shake, seeing as your gentle ones were barely doing much, but before you could his eyes opened wide, and he immediately rolled onto his back, knocking you off of him. His face was flushed red, his lips parted slightly as his chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath - he looked petrified.

“Shoot- Arthur, are you okay?” You were hesitant to go to him a second time, your worry being that the sudden close contact may be entirely too overwhelming as he worked to come down from the rise that the nightmare had given him, but your hesitation flew out the window the second you heard his soft whimper as he reached for your arm.

You dropped to his side, draping your arm over his shoulders as your hand moved to hold the back of his head, your fingers threading through his hair ever so gently as you hushed and shushed him as he pressed his face into the crook of your shoulder, his breath tickling your exposed skin. 

“Do you wanna talk about it?” You asked once he settled down, his arms both wrapped so tightly around your midsection that you almost couldn’t breathe, but you didn’t care. Arthur’s comfort triumphed your own; you’d gladly sacrifice your own comfort in favor of his. “It might help, darling.”

You could feel him shake his head, a gentle albeit firm “No” spoken along with it, and you didn’t argue. “Just don’t go anywhere, please…” A request that he punctuated with a gentle kiss to your collarbone.

“I wasn’t planning on it,” You hummed in response, pressing yet another kiss to the top of his head. “I’m staying right here. Do you want the TV off?” 

He pulled his head away for a second, his eyes glancing at the television then up at you, then back to the television. “Mm, it’s fine for now. What’s on?” 

“The Wizard of Oz, I think,” You spoke as you dropped your head back down onto the pillow. “Haven’t really been watching it, just you.” 

“Watching me…?” Something about the way he questioned you was so childlike, yet still so endearing. It was rare moments like these that he truly allowed himself to be completely vulnerable around you; more often than not was he trying so hard to hold himself together and act like a man for you, wanting you to feel protected by him and longing to feel needed by you, so when Arthur allowed for you to see his vulnerability in such a way spoke more than any verbal words could’ve about how much he did, truly, love and trust you. “Why would you wanna watch me?”

You gave him a look. “Hey, mister, I’ve woken up to you watching me sleep before. This time it was my turn.” Your playful chiding got a smile from him, though it was a brief one as the second it graced his face did he yawn deeply, his seemingly perpetual exhaustion creeping in once again. “You’re safe, Artie. I promise you that. Do you want’ta go back to sleep?”

He shrugged, his mumble of “I don’t know yet” barely heard over the rustling of the blankets as he shifted into a more comfortable position, and the two of you settled into a comfortable silence after that. You moved so your chin was resting atop his head as he nestled his body into yours, a comfortable albeit slightly awkward position as he was a bit longer than you, but you made it work. From your position you couldn’t see if his eyes were open, closed, on the television, or what - but you could feel the rise and fall of his chest against your own, and that told you that he was, at least, calming down some. 

You couldn’t see the clock from your spot, but you had to guess it was nearly four in the morning by this point, and you were beginning to lose the fight that was trying to remain awake. Thankfully, neither of you had to work the following day as it was Sunday, and eventually the soothing rhythm of Arthur’s breathing as he held you tight against him became too hard to ignore, and it was enough to lull you into a sleep of your own.

———————————————————————————————————–

taglist;

@tahliamalfoydepp​ @tsukiakarinobara​ @smol-nari​ @ajokeformur-ray​ @lavenderheartz​ @lady-carnivals-stuff​ @darknessisafriend​ @emissarydecksetter​ @soulsdontbreaktheybeeend​ @fleckcmscott​ @oldloverhippiemusic​ @hearthurfleck​ @sgtsavoytruffle​ @honking4joker​ @art-hurfleck​ (let me know if you’d like to be added)

[witchy-anna]

Play with Fire (Dabi songfic)

Quirk: Homeostasis- the ability to force someone’s body back into its stable condition. Requires physical touch to activate. Examples are regulating the body's blood pressure, heart rate and temperature. Disadvantage: May cause the person to go into shock if the quirk works too quickly.

A/N: I’m going to go with vigilante fem!reader, sorry it took so long Fox! You’re a Doll 😘 Each section is essentially a time skip. 

Warning: cursing (I curse a lot, can’t control my potty mouth)

Taglist: @soldier76sbabygirl

Message to be added to taglist

Insane, inside the danger gets me high Can't help myself got secrets I can't tell

Another string of deaths caused by the serial arsonist. When will it end? The news anchor reads off the prompt with obvious faux concern. Is this another travesty caused by the League of Villains? Find out tonight on the Hero News Network.

You sigh and grumble, “What a crock of shit.” 

A husky voice says close to your ear, “You sound more irritated than concerned.”

Without startling to the closeness you crane your neck around and level a glare at the person intruding in on your space. 

A raven haired man stands close, sunglasses obscuring his eyes and shirt collar pulled high covering the bottom half of his face. How strange. 

You tsk and turn back to the screen now playing an expose on a local pro heroes love life, as if that matters. Gesturing vaguely at the screen you spit out, “They sound so..fake...People are dying and instead they focus on who crawled out of bed with some pro.” 

“This world is so full of suffering, who can blame them for being desensitized to it,” the man says with an oddly cheerful tone.

“I suppose so,” you say but it falls on deaf ears. Gone. 

In other news, the police and pros are still on the lookout for a masked vigilante...You spin on your heels before the news anchor can finish their report. With a quickened pace to trudge another monotonous day of desk work. Fun stuff.

I love the smell of gasoline I light the match to taste the heat I've always liked to play with fire

Another night, another secret patrol, hood pulled high, mask secured, and ass kicking boots laced with vengeance. Monotonous desk job during the day and vigilante at night. 

Illegal being the operative word, the one floating in front of your vision akin to an annoying bug. Following you around each and every night you took off on an excursion.

This night was the same as any other night, some unsuspecting fool thinking they could pull one over on you. Sorely mistaken darling. Your quirk may not be the most suited for combat but you had worked hard to get where you are now. 

Again and again late into your sleepless nights you question why you are doing this. Why pick up what the pro heroes leave behind. 

The words etched into your mind of popular top ranking heroes saying: My quirk isn’t suited for this. Let someone else handle it. Over and over again. 

You want to scream in their face, Neither is mine but you don’t see me giving up!

Bitterness will get you nowhere in life, so instead, you chose to focus that venom on helping those left behind. At least, that’s how it was at first. 

I ride (I ride) the edge (the edge) My speed goes in the red

The concussive shock of an explosion nearly knocks you off your feet. Without a second thought you take off in a sprint to the source. 

“No,” you whisper. Just a moment too late. To slow, what you wouldn’t give for a speed quirk. 

Blue flames roar, reaching and clawing high in the sky. There is the distant scream of sirens signaling their approach. Someone is crying, a wail, a whimper, the harsh dissonance of fear. 

Ash falls like snow, blue and black tinted snow. It’s eerie but strangely beautiful. 

Emergency lights reflect off shattered pieces of glass littering the sidewalk and a single silhouette stands framed by the flames. The wind picks up causing ash and debris to fly everywhere; and almost comically his beat-up coat to flair behind him. 

A dry humorous laugh escapes much to your dismay. What is this an action movie? 

Intense eyes matching the azure flames turns to you, meeting your own (e/c) and rooting you to the spot. A flash of stark white teeth stretches the skin at the corners of his mouth, cut in half by scarred skin. No fear, no panic of being caught. 

“Wait!” you shout, desperation evident in your voice. “Stop!” Something nags at your subconscious, that feeling when you leave the house and your mind insists you forgot something but have no inkling what it could be. 

The man leisurely lifts a hand from his pocket and waves without turning around, disappearing around the corner. A wave that says: Until next time. 

Hot blood (hot blood), these veins (these veins) My pleasure is their pain

Another week passes before you see him again. Lying to yourself, you had dropped everything to sprint to another howling blue fire, drawn to it like a moth to a flame. To save people? Or to...no don’t finish that thought, you grumble internally. 

The stench of burnt flesh makes your stomach churn and you stifle a gag even through your mask. Steeling yourself you search for the source, is it a body or a person in need?

You follow your nose to the source. “Oh,” the word leaves your mouth with barely a sound. Just a puff of air really. 

There he sits, reclined against a trash bin partially hidden in shadows. If not for your keen sense of smell he would have stayed hidden. The smell is strong enough to make your eyes water. He watches you with narrowed luminous eyes, the only thing visible in the dim light. You step closer and he raises an open palm pointed at you, the blue flames dance and kiss his skin.

Steam rises from his skin and he pants, clearly in pain. 

“Your quirk hurts you,” it’s a statement not a question. “Let me help.” 

His eyes narrow to slits before he gives a quick nod and you carefully moved to kneel beside him. The palm with the flame clenches closed to extinguish the flame but stays poised to react if you try anything. He lets out a heavy breath that literally steams the air, he’s overheating.

“I need to touch you,” you warn and slowly reach out your own hands. “I can cool you down.” 

There’s a pause and he nods again, staying silent. Up this close the amount of scarred skin is jarring, as well as the staggering amount of piercings or are they staples? No matter, your hands slowly reach up to cup his cheeks and let your quirk kick to life. The steam rising from his skin slowly dissipates as your quirk works to regulate his temperature, cooling him down to his body's normal level. 

Part of you wonders why he is even letting you touch him so...intimately. His temperature now back to as it should be but your hands remain. 

“Is anyone there?” a stern voice calls from the entrance of the alley causing you to jump. Someone shines a flashlight down the alley, it’s a police officer.

“Leave now,” you hiss to him and stand quickly to move out of the cover of shadow. To the police officer you call out a soft, “Hello?”

His mouth opens as if he wants to say something but snaps it closed. Without a word he stands to leave but not without throwing a curious glance at your retreating form. Mask now gone but he can only see the back of your head, he watches as you put on an act for the police officer.

“Interesting,” he says to no one in particular.  

I love to watch the castles burn These golden ashes turn to dirt

And again, he’s toying with you. This is a game to him. 

It’s a mansion this time, his flames eating up the opulence like a cavity. Eating up the perfect expensive abode and turning it to rot; to ash. “How cliche,” you mutter to yourself. “What an idiot.” 

A low chuckle sends shivers down your spine, “I have a name.”

With a half interested turn of your head, you glance back over your shoulder. “Oh? And why would I care?” Lie.  

Another chuckle, but closer this time. He calls you out on your bluff, “Oh Doll, we both know that’s a lie.” 

Right behind you now. You sense no malice, only curiosity coming from the man. 

Your entire body locks up when you feel the barely there brush of a single callused finger at the base of your neck. It flicks the spot where your mask is tied and a breath of hot air sends goosebumps crawling across your skin.

“Dabi,” he whispers. Another long finger adds to the first, pads whispering against the soft skin of your neck. Heat radiates from both the fire in front of you and the man at your back. He tugs gently enough at your mask tie to not remove it, yet. “Why did you help me?”  

That’s a good question, why did you? Because he’s a pretty face or someone in need, regardless of villain or civilian status. 

You dodge the question, “Why did you let me?”  

“Maybe I just want to unmask a certain little vigilante,” he chuckles again and it vibrates against your back. A single finger slips underneath your mask brushing against your cheek and dips to ghost over your lips and you let him. 

“And maybe you’re just a pretty face,” you say, just a tad breathlessly. 

He hums, “Oh so you think I’m pretty?” He chuckles at the blush creeping over your neck but then curses when there’s a shout about a pro arriving on the scene. 

Dabi says directly into your ear, “Until next time Doll.” Gone.

I've always liked to play with fire Play with fire Fire, fire Oh, watching as the flames get higher Oh, I've always liked to play with (mm)

This time, he finds you. 

“Are you following me?” you ask. It’s quiet where you sat, luckily far away from the view of any passing civilians as he could be easily recognized.

He sits beside you, stretching his long legs out and crossing them at the ankle. “You never answered my question last time,” it’s a statement, ignoring your attempt at deflecting. 

“I- I don’t know,” you admit staring down at your hands as if they hold all the answers. They clench and unclench in your lap. 

You are the antithesis to his sturm and drang. A man who clearly is the type to take what he wants, simply sits beside you, waiting and watching the war going on inside of you. 

“Don’t hurt yourself,” he teases. “It was a simple question.” 

Little did you know at the time it would only take one little push, or rather a gentle pull to flip your already wavering resolve. A hand catching yours, rough calloused thumb rubbing a line across your knuckles distracting you. The other shoots out and releases the tie of your mask before you can react. 

“Maybe I just want the satisfaction of turning a vigilante hero to our side,” he says but spits out the word ‘hero’. 

That’s what you get for letting your guard down. That’s what you get for letting a villain get so close. 

“Get away from me,” you snarl and shoot to your feet. Reaching to yank back the mask he took from you but he keeps a firm grip on it. With a frustrated growl you rip the mask from him and storm off, face lit with a flush. 

A dry raspy laugh sounds from him, and he says those stupid infuriating words again, “Until next time. Doll.”

Right of passage classic maverick Match in the gas tank Ooh that's wretched Unstoppable legendary animals (mm)

Just in time, you find him face to face with a pro, no, it’s a sidekick but dangerous nonetheless. The sidekick is clearly a newbie, shaking slightly in their boots but standing firm against the notorious villain. 

Dabi has clearly overexerted himself again, the steam rises from him in waves, a drip of blood leaves a trail that disappears below the collar of his shirt. 

Both swivel to face you. One pair of stern eyes that immediately recognize you as that vigilante. The other pair of eyes at first looks annoyed at the new addition but then relaxes to an easy expression, one of familiarity. 

There’s a challenge in those azure eyes, asking what will you do? Who will you side with? 

The sidekick starts to advance turning their attention away from you. You sprint, desperate to get to Dabi before the sidekick does. 

Dabi sends out a flare of him fire directly at the sidekick but aims it away from you, over your head. What? Impossibly warm arms close around your waist, shielding you from harm. Again, what? 

A camera flash. At the last second you realize your mask must haven fallen off in the chaos. 

Right time for them; wrong time for you. Shit.

Digital justice Now you're gonna know us

Your face is displayed across tvs, newspapers, online articles, everything. 

Vigilante Hero unmasked. Connections to the League of Villains?

An entirely unflattering picture from your workplace displayed beside the picture from the previous night. You, held in the arms of Dabi. 

Your apartment had already been raided and is being watched by the police. An entire lifetime of stuff out of your reach in an instant. What did you expect to happen with this type of lifestyle anyway? Only the clothes on your back and a long since smashed cell phone tossed into a dumpster. 

You go back to the place where he first took your mask, bearing your naked face to the world. Baring your face to him. 

Hail to the king and queen of the ruckus Yacht Money wired No denying I've always liked to play with fire

“There’s no going back now Doll,” he says in a hushed tone. There is an edge uncertainty hidden under his usual bravado, maybe even vulnerability. 

You shake your head, “Who said anything about going back.”  

Azure eyes meet your own (e/c) and matching grins split both of your faces. Rough callused fingers slip into your palm and twine through your fingers, tugging until your nose to nose. His tongue darts out to taste the ash stuck to his scarred lip, it floats all around you both like a gentle but haunting snowfall. 

“No going back now,” you repeat the sentiment before sealing your now flipped resolve with a kiss.

I've always liked to play with fire