#wide awake all of a sudden and literally have to force myself to fall as sleep again

[apricotluvr]

.

[helliontherapscallion]

(Y/n) and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Week: Wednesday

Monday     Tuesday     Thursday (Part 1)     Thursday (Part 2)     Friday     Saturday     Sunday

Spotify Playlist (collaborative)

Warnings: panic attacks, swearing, getting outed, f slur and d slur, homophobia, puking, toxic friends

Word count: 5,160

(A/N): woah, thank you all so much for all the positive feedback, that really makes my day! 

The room was quiet with the exception of the clacking of the keyboard and the soft chirping of crickets outside your open window. The stars twinkled in the sky as the night droned on and on. There was a loud rustling outside your window, but your sleep deprived mind didn’t think anything of it. It wasn’t important at the moment, the only important thing right now was finishing your work. 

Throughout the night, you worked endlessly on your friend’s work. The essays were relatively easy because Adrian and Annie had luckily chosen topics that you’re somewhat interested in, so at least finding the sources was enjoyable. You had gotten your essay completely written and proofread, Annie’s outline finished, and Adrian’s sources analyzed. You would start on Sammy’s presentation after you finished Adrian’s outline. Hours upon hours passed by you as you worked, yet you didn’t notice the time once. You worked uninterrupted with no breaks. Well, one break to talk to your dad about how you weren’t hungry, but you got back to work right after he left your room. You couldn’t waste any more time than you already have.

Your eyes felt heavy as you typed on your keyboard, working on putting Adrian’s sources together cohesively so that the writing would flow seamlessly. You paused your typing to rub at your tired eyes so you could keep working, you couldn’t afford to fall asleep. You had to get these done as soon as possible if you wanted their forgiveness. 

The blaring of your alarm startled you out of your focus, making you fall backwards out of your chair with a yelp. Landing painfully on your back, you laid on the floor trying to calm your racing heartbeat. You looked out your window. Hints of pinks and yellows were starting to make a gradient with the lightening dawn sky. Shit, you were so focused on getting your work done that you didn’t take account of the time. You just knew today was gonna be long. At least after school volleyball practice was shortened because of finals tomorrow. 

You groaned as you pulled your tired form off from the ground. You made your way downstairs and plopped yourself down at your usual place at the table, burying your face into the crook of your arm. You felt yourself drift off into a blissful sleep, the wood of the table suddenly seemed very comfortable at the moment. Not long after, you were jolted out of your peaceful sleep by a loud crash. Jumping up and looking around with wide eyes, you saw Tubbo looking at you apologetically. There was broken glass in front of his feet on the floor. 

“Sorry, (y/n).”

You just stared at him blankly as you slowly blinked. Philza didn’t spare you a glance as he whisked the short boy away from the glass. “(Y/n), can you please go get the broom and sweep this up?”

You nodded, hauling yourself to your feet and walked over to the storage closet, pulling out the broom and dust pan. You mindlessly sweeped up the glass, your limbs feeling heavy. After throwing the glass away, you rummaged in the cupboard and pulled out a mug. The bitter smell beckoned you welcomingly, working its way through your nostrils and digging itself deep into your brain. Just as you were about to pour yourself a cup, a hand snatched the coffee pot away from you. 

“You shouldn’t be drinking this.”

“You let Techno and Wil drink it, so why can’t I?”

“(Y/n), you’re a full year younger than them and you haven’t eaten anything since breakfast yesterday.”

You felt your eye twitch, “I’m only a year younger than them! There’s literally no-”

“(Y/n),” his warning tone cut you off, putting the pot back into the coffee maker, “you aren’t going to drink this. That’s final. Get a glass of water.”

You huffed and pushed past him to the sink to fill your coffee mug with water. You’ve been drinking coffee for a while behind his back, so you were used to its effects on your body. You supposed that you’d just beg Wilbur to take you to the cafe so you could get your sustenance. He always relented for you. 

You heard him chuckle, “you’ll thank me when you’re older.”

“Mhm.”

You plopped down next to Tubbo nursing your mug of water, trying to make small talk with him. One by one, your brothers made their way to the table. Tommy was talking and gesturing wildly to Tubbo like he normally did, Wilbur looked as dead inside as you felt, and Techno made it a point to ignore you. When someone pissed him off, he can hold a grudge better than he could hold onto his knowledge of Greek mythology, and that’s saying something. Man is obsessed with Greek mythology. 

Breakfast went by in a daze with you struggling to keep your eyes open. At one point, you almost fell asleep sitting up, only to be woken up by Tubbo shaking your shoulder to get your attention. When breakfast was almost done, you had only eaten about half your breakfast. 

Drifting off again, you were startled awake by the screeching of the chairs against the wooden floor and loud shouts coming from your brothers. You didn’t have the energy to race them to the bathroom like you usually did, you’d just freshen up after they were done. You tried to stand up to go to your room to get dressed, but you were stopped by a hand on your shoulder forcing you to sit back down. Looking up, you were met with the concerned, yet stern eyes of your father. 

“You’re not leaving this table until you’ve eaten at least a few more bites and tell me why you’re so tired.”

“I just stayed up later than I normally do finishing up some homework, it won’t happen again.”

“It better not or else I will make you stay home next time. When’d you go to bed last night?”

You avoided his eyes, “around one thirty or two.” You couldn’t tell him that you didn’t actually go to sleep last night, he’d flip. 

“You know, you’re a terrible liar.” Shit.

Looking him in the eye, you spoke more confidently. “Three in the morning.”

“(Y/n)-”

You felt a sudden rage start to twist inside you as he started to lecture you about taking better care of yourself. He was treating you like a child and you were not having it. 

“-young kids like you need to- are you even listening?”

You set your jaw and willed yourself not to explode at him. “Dad, I’m not a child. I know how to take care of myself.”

You saw him narrow his eyes and purse his lips in frustration, “well, obviously you don’t if you’re not eating or sleeping well,” his eyes softened. “I’m starting to worry about you.”

“Well, you shouldn’t because I’m fine,” you snapped at him. “I’m going to get ready.”

You stalked out of the room and stomped upstairs. Passing a shocked Tommy and Tubbo, you made your way into the bathroom to get ready. The person that stared back at you in the mirror looked pale and had dark eye bags accentuating her tired eyes. She had red pimples dotting her face more than she usually did. She was ugly, revolting. The girl you remembered her being was confident in her appearance and walked with an air of importance. Now, she was a decrepit thing that was run down and scared of her own shadow. You couldn’t recognize the girl that stared back at you anymore. You should’ve been able to;  after all, she was you and you were her.

You rushed through your morning routine in the bathroom avoiding looking at yourself in the mirror. You opened the bathroom door only to be met with Wilbur’s chest, his hand poised in the air in a closed fist ready to knock on the door. He stepped back.

“We’re gonna be late if you don’t hurry up.”

You glanced at the clock on the wall. “Wil, we still have twenty minutes before school starts. We don’t have to leave for another ten minutes.”

He gave you a smirk, “well, you want coffee, don’t you? You look dead.”

“Oh thank god. I feel dead, I didn’t sleep at all last night.”

“When’d you go to bed?”

“I didn’t.”

“Christ, (y/n) I knew you were a dumbass, but not that much of a dumbass.”

You rolled your eyes, walking around him and into your room. You felt a stab of hurt in your heart. “Fuck you.”

Before you could close the door, he shouted out a cheeky “love ya too (y/n)!”

You took off all your clothes slowly and stood in front of your open closet deciding on what you should wear today. You figured that since you felt like absolute shit, you should probably put a little bit more effort into your appearance. Picking out your favorite flannel shirt and favorite pair of pants. Smiling at yourself in the mirror in your room, you felt slightly more confident in your appearance. You felt like you could walk around the hallways at school without as many peering eyes trying to figure out your every secret. But maybe that was just the sleep deprivation talking. You tend to be more impulsive and emotional when you’re sleep deprived.

You slung the backpack onto your back with less difficulty than in the previous days. Your back was healing faster than you thought it would. Now, it barely hurt and the swelling completely went away.

You went downstairs and slunk past the kitchen where Philza was talking to Tommy and Tubbo. You didn’t want them to notice you, you felt somewhat guilty for snapping at your dad. You slipped through the front door and hopped into the passenger seat next to Wilbur. You three usually rotated seats counterclockwise and took turns driving each day. Now, you were just waiting for Techno.  

“Well, you look less homeless today.”

“Thanks Wilbur, I just felt like looking a little nicer than usual.”

“Who’re ya dressing up for? Is it Adrian?” He asked with slight disgust. He hated Adrian almost as much as he hated Annie and Sammy. He thought he was nothing more than a fuckboy looking to get into your pants. Little did he know you were secretly a raging lesbian so deep in the closet that you’re froliking with Aslan through the flowerfields of Narnia.

“Wilbur, I’m gay why would I-” you froze, cursing your sleep deprived self for lacking a filter. Your breath caught in your throat and you felt anxiety start to seep into your veins and pump around your body, filling every single nook and cranny with dread. You could feel tears welling in your eyes as you stared at your shaking hands horrified at yourself. How could you just… just out yourself like that? How could you be so careless? So stupid?

You barely felt it when Wilbur reached over to press a gentle hand on your arm. “(Y/n), are yo-”

“I-tha-that was a joke, I’m not gay, I’m straight.” Your words came out in frantic jumbles, desperately trying to fix your slip up. Oh god, you really fucked up this time.

“(Y/n), brea-”

“I swear I’m not gay, I like men, I do. I-”

“(Y/n), breathe with me.” Wilbur’s firm, yet gentle voice demanded. He placed your hand on his chest and took in a deep breath, held it, and released it slowly. You tried your best to follow him, but after about ten minutes, you were slowly but surely calming down. It was a lot faster calming down from a panic attack when you had someone helping you breathe. You’ve never gotten help with a panic attack before, it was nice. Becoming more aware of your surroundings, you took notice of the soft fabric of Wilbur’s sweater, the gentle thumping of his heart, and his worried expression. You also became aware of the extra hand rubbing small circles into your shoulder from behind your seat. It was Techno.

Taking in a shaky breath, you took your hand out of Wilbur’s grip and clasped your hands tightly in front of you, shrugging Techno’s hand off from your shoulder. 

“...Can we please leave? I don’t want Dad or Tubbo and Tommy seeing me like this.”

Wordlessly, Wilbur started up the car and pulled out of the driveway. At the intersection, he turned in the opposite direction of the school. “Wilbur, where are we going? The school’s the other way.”

“We’re going to the cafe for some coffee, my treat.”

“But school starts in five minutes, we’re gonna be late if we go to the cafe.”

“Actually,” Techno’s deep voice chimed in, “school started ten minutes ago. If we’re already late, there’s no harm in skipping first block.”

“Tech, I literally have no idea what’s going on in stats.”

“I’ll give you my notes.”

“Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to bother you.”

Wilbur pulled into the cafe’s parking lot, “don’t be stupid, (y/n). You can never bother us.”

You didn’t say anything as you left the car and headed into the cafe. You could think of plenty of ways you could bother your older brothers. You bothered everybody just by being in their presence. You just had that effect. 

Your brothers followed you into the cafe, glancing at each other worriedly. You three quickly got your orders and sat in the secluded back of the cafe. Soft jazz music drifted throughout the quiet cafe. 

“(Y/n), we need to talk about what happened. Was this your first panic attack?” Wilbur asked you gently.

“...No, I’ve had them before.” 

“Were they always this intense? You’re still shaking.”

“That one was nowhere near as intense as the ones I usually have.’

“Usually? Do you have them often?” Tecno asked.

“Yeah, usually a couple of them a week since the middle of freshman year. Nothing I can’t manage.”

“So you’ve been doing this on your own for three years? You could’ve gotten us to help you.” 

You sighed, looking down at your steaming cup. “...I couldn’t’ve. Don’t get me wrong, I know you guys could help me, but I-I just couldn’t. No one was supposed to find out.”

“Promise us that you’ll come to one of us when you have an attack. We care about you, (y/n).”

“I… I’ll think about it. Thank you.”

The table fell into a comfortable silence as you all sipped at your drinks, the comforting taste of the bitter coffee dancing across your tongue.

“Ya know, we don’t care that you’re gay. A lesbian called me ‘actually pretty funny’ once and I’m still riding the high.” 

“Yeah, you’re still you. Nothing changes the fact that you’re our little sister.” 

You smiled as you felt warm inside. You knew your brothers loved you, but you didn’t know that they loved you for being you. You didn’t think anybody loved you unconditionally like that, and that made you feel genuinely happy.

“Thank you guys, for everything. I-I can’t put into words how much that means to me, I love you guys so much!”

“We love you too,” Wilbur smiled before he dropped it into a stern frown. “But if any girl hurts you, we’ll have a stern talking to her.”

“Yeah, we can’t beat up girls. We’ll put her in her place alright.” You snorted into your coffee, almost spilling it on yourself. Quickly setting it down before you could baptize yourself with the scalding liquid (though, you did consider coffee to be holy), you wiped at your teary eyes. 

“And that’s why I love you guys.”

“We’re serious, she’ll be wishing she got beat up after we’re done scolding her.” Wilbur said seriously before he broke into a grin and started laughing. 

The conversation carried on about your sexuality, how you found out, when you found out, if you’ve told anyone yet (they were honored that they were the first people you’ve told, even if you did it accidentally mid-panic attack). Eventually you had to go back to the school before your second block started. You three split ways to your separate classrooms. 

Annie and Adrian were locked onto you as soon as you walked through the door. They looked angry at you. What’d you do this time to piss them off?

“Where the fuck were you this morning? We were looking everywhere for you,” Annie seethed.

“Yeah, you wasted so much of our time looking for your sorry ass. You ditch us again?”

Oh, that. “Look, I didn’t mean to skip out on you guys again. It was a rough morning.” 

“That’s funny because we also had rough mornings, yet we still hung out with each other. You aren’t special.” Adrian rolled his eyes at you.

“It’s gonna take more to apologize. We don’t let things like the little stunts you pull go off scott free.”

“Oh, Annie I have the best idea,” Adrian squealed, bouncing on the balls of his feet excitedly. 

“What is it Dri?” Annie’s eyes shone.

“Our little (y/n) can set you up with one of her brothers and she can go on a date with me on a double date! It’s foolproof, not even someone as dumb as (y/n) could fuck it up.” 

“I don’t think that’s a good id-”

“It’s perfect Dri! Can it be with Wilbur? He’s literally so hot! Oh, the way his fingers can work that guitar…” Ew. The thought of Wilbur and Annie together made you scrunch up your nose with disgust.

“I’m sorry, but Wilbur’s actually dating Sally Fishmin right now. They’re actually really cute together-”

“God, how could someone as hot as Wilbur go for Sally Fishmin? She’s disgusting, always smells like fish,” Annie gagged, then gasped. “Wait (y/n) do you actually think that she’s more deserving to be with him than I am?”

“No, I nev-”

“Really? Cuz you just did. Glad to see you care about me, (y/n).”

“Annie, you’re literally so beautiful. I never said that you don’t deserve him. You deserve the world. I can’t split them up, but I can do more homework for you.” She perked up immediately, “awe, thanks love! That’s what happens when you actually put effort into how you look.”

“Speaking of, did you get that shirt out of the trash? It’s really not a look.” Adrian snickered to himself. There goes what little confidence you had. You actually thought you looked decent today. You felt grateful for your friends, they always told you the truth about how you looked when everybody else lied to you. 

Before you could respond, the bell rang and everybody took their seats. Luckily, Mr. Todd assigned today as a work day for your final research essays. You had finished Annie’s and got Adrian’s thesis done before the bell rang. While you were working on their essays, they were mindlessly scrolling on their phones and texting someone. 

You, Adrian, and Annie met up with Sammy and went into the lunch room. You tried to line up in the lunch line with them, but they laughed and told you that you’re fat enough and you needed to lose weight. What did you do to deserve such considerate friends? You really owed them one for always looking out for and putting up with you.

While you were waiting for them, you pulled out your phone. To your surprise, Haley texted you a screenshot of her conversation with Unknown. You felt a chill run down your spine. All four pictures were of you. You rubbing your eyes as the light of your computer provided the only light in the room. Your bare back facing the camera as you stood in front of your closet this morning. You sleeping a day ago (you felt sick as you realized that whoever took the picture was standing directly over your bed). Lastly, you and Haley holding each other’s hand under the moonlight last night. Attached to the pictures, Unknown had typed “you have one more day or else sleeping ugly gets it. Do not tempt us.”

Hales : )

(Y/n), how the hell did they get these pictures of you

Did you seriously leave your window open???

Why wouldn’t you close your curtains

Oh god, do you think they saw us in your driveway????

(Y/n)

Haley calm down 

Hales : )

I know you’re not telling me to calm down right now

You have a stalker

One that can GET INSIDE YOUR ROOM

(Y/n)

We’ll get to the bottom of this

Like I said, I don’t care if my pictures get leaked

I care about your pictures

Until we figure out who’s doing this, we need to lay low

Hales : )

Hanging out last night was a mistake

I shouldn’t have gave you a ride

I shouldn’t have tried to kiss you

I’m straight

And you are too

You said it yourself

We can’t talk anymore (y/n)

(Y/n)

I’m not straight Hales

I’m gay

And I like you

Like

Like you like you

Hales : )

I’m sorry (y/n)

But I’m straight

We can’t talk anymore

Goodbye.

With each text she sent you, you felt your heart drop deeper and deeper into your stomach until you felt your heart shatter in your chest, the pieces lodging themselves deep within you and ripping you open from inside out. How could you be so stupid to think that soemone as perfect as Haley Andrews, arguably the prettiest girl in the senior year, go out with (y/n) Minecraft, a known trainwreck. Annie’s shrill gasp sounded right next to your ear, making you gasp and drop your phone onto the table with a loud bang.

“OH MY GOD (Y/N) YOU’RE A FAGGOT? WERE YOU HITTING ON ME EARLIER? YOU FUCKING PERVERT.”

The entire cafeteria fell into silence as they listened to Annie’s shrieking. Whispers started to meld together.

“(Y/n)’s gay?”

“How gross”

“Damn, I was gonna hit it”

“We have a dyke going to this school?”

You felt like you were suffocating as the whispers and Annie’s yelling jumbled together in a disorienting cacophony. Adrian and Sammy both glared at you from behind Annie with a hatred that you didn’t know they had for you. You tried stuttering an apology, but you were quickly shut up by Annie harshly slapping you across the face.

“I don’t wanna hear it, fag. You’re going to finish our essays and you’re never gonna talk to us again. Do you understand me?” When you didn’t respond, she slapped you again. “I asked you, do you understand me?” 

You frantically nodded your head, grabbed your backpack, and sprinted out the door without any real destination in mind. You sprinted before you found the bathroom that nobody used. Ducking into a stall and slamming the door, you felt yourself start to hyperventilate. You couldn’t feel anything except for the tightness of your chest. You couldn’t see anything. You couldn’t hear anything. You faintly tasted bile rising up in your throat as you bent over to empty your stomach. You threw up everything in your stomach until you were left sitting on the dirty floor painfully dry heaving. 

You sobbed on that floor for what felt like hours. Everybody knows your secret now. Your dirty, dirty secret. God, you were a pervert weren’t you? You made people around you comfortable by just being you. Faintly, you felt your phone start to buzz in your pocket, your shaky hands scrambling to fish it out. They were all texts from your brothers.

Wilby

(Y/n) I heard what happened

Are you okay????

Please answer me

Where are you

Technology Sword

I’m gonna kill them

I swear to god they’re dead

Blood for the blood god

(Y/n)

Pls dont do anything or hurt anyone

I’m fine

I’ll see you two after practice

Wilby

Tell us where you are

(Y/n)

I’m fine

I’ll see you two after practice

You silenced your phone and put it back into your pocket, once again feeling yourself start to dry heave again. Your sobs and gags echoed throughout the bathroom. This is by far the worst panic attack you’ve had yet, and it doesn’t seem like it’s gonna stop anytime soon. You heard the final bell ring and students start to rush to their lockers to get home, so you tried to muffle your shaking sobs the best you could. You had at least an hour before you had to go to volleyball practice. Until then, you would stay in the bathroom trying to ground yourself. 

Luckily, you managed to calm down to the point where you stopped crying and dry heaving. You were only shaking slightly. You felt numb and completely drained from your panic attack, practice today was going to be a struggle. You cautiously walked through the empty hallways jumping at every little noise. When you finally reached the locker room, you made a beeline past Zara and Jazzy to your locker. You pulled out your uniform and changed in one of the bathroom stalls.

Practice went by with the girls on the team giving you sympathetic looks and Haley ignoring you. Not that you noticed, you were ignoring everyone and putting all of your focus on the ball. The entire practice, you felt light headed and drained. Fortunately, practice ended right as you felt like you were going to pass out.

You changed as fast as you could and pulled out your phone.

Dadza

Come outside, I’m here to pick you up

You felt a dread pool in your stomach as you stared at the text. Did he find out? Was he going to kick you out for being gay? Wilbur and Techno wouldn’t let him do that to you, right? Reluctantly, you left the sanctuary of the bathroom stall and rushed out of the locker room and out of the school. Sure enough, your dad’s car was parked in the parking lot. You glanced over to where Haley’s car was parked last night and saw glimpses of you and her chasing each other and laughing into the night sky without a care in the world before you ripped your gaze away to stare at your walking feet.

You reached your dad’s car and sat in the passenger seat. Your dad grinned at you. “Hey hun, how was practice?”

You merely shrugged your shoulders at him. You didn’t have the energy to talk to anyone at the moment. You felt extremely drained.

“What’s wrong, did something happen? You can talk to me.”

“...I’m just sad that the season’s over tomorrow.”

“Don’t be sad kid,” a gruff voice coming from behind you made you jump. “That’s pussy shit.”

You yelped and whipped your head around to look at whoever said that. Your uncle’s cocky grin greeted you. You felt yourself grin back at him. 

“Uncle Schlatt!”

“The one and only.”

“How was your business trip? You’re home early.”

He rolled his eyes, “boring as hell. I’m so fucking glad I got out early, I woulda blew my brains out if I had to stay there any longer.”

“Schlatt!” Philza reprimanded him, glancing at him through the rearview mirror.

“What? I’m just telling the truth. I woulda!” He defended himself.

Your dad gripped the steering wheel. “You didn’t have to say it in front of (y/n).”

Schlatt scoffed, “please, she’s heard me say worse.” 

As they bickered, you felt yourself zone out as you looked out the window. Houses and street signs passed by in a blur as the car moved down the road and pulled into your driveway. You got out as quickly as you could and made your way into the house alongside your uncle and dad. As soon as your uncle walked through the door, Tubbo barrelled into him and pulled him into a tight hug. Schlatt laughed loudly and bent over to pick him up into a hug. You smiled at the father and son as Philza gestured for you to follow him into the kitchen. He opened the oven to check on something cooking inside of it and turned to face you, leaning against the counter.

“So what’s really wrong?”

“I already told you, I’m sad the season’s almost over.”

“It’s something more than that,” as you opened your mouth he quickly added, “and you can’t say that it’s because you’re tired. I wasn’t born yesterday.”

You sighed and mimicked his actions. “...It’s just been a long day. I really don’t wanna talk about it.”

Without warning, he pulled you into a warm hug, your face being shoved into his shoulder and him rubbing circles into your back. “That’s okay, just talk to me when you’re ready. I won’t push you.”

That broke you. Throwing your arms around him, you started to sob into his shoulder. He started to rock you back and forth whispering reassurances into your ear. 

“That’s good, let it all out.”

“I love you so much.”

“I’m here for you.”

With each sentence to fall out of his mouth, you felt more at ease and safe. Your dad always did a great job at making people feel safe, that was just his natural talent. After a while, you pulled away from him.

“Do you feel better?”

You smiled tiredly at him, “Yeah, I really needed a hug.”

He turned around to check on dinner, “I bet, you look like you’ve been to hell and back. You don’t have to tell me what happened, but just know that I’m always here for you and I love you.”

The rest of the family flooded the kitchen after a while of you two talking. Dinner went by with Schlatt laughing loudly and telling stories about the people he met on his business trip. Every now and then, Wilbur and Techno would glance at you, but you ignored them. You just wanted dinner to end so you could pass out in your bed. Once dinner was over, you helped your dad gather everybody’s plate and put them into the sink. The rest of your little family went to the living room to start a game of Monopoly. The last time you all played that ended in fresh bruises and shed tears.

“I think I’m gonna go to bed, I have to get some rest for finals tomorrow.”

“But (y/n), it’s Monopoly! You love Monopoly,” Tommy exclaimed.

“That’s alright, you look dead on your feet kid. Go get some sleep.”

“Thanks Uncle Schlatt. Goodnight everyone, love ya.”

A flurry of goodnights and love you’s follow you as you leave the room and drug yourself up the stairs. Without a second thought, you closed your curtains and plopped face first onto your bed. You passed out without even making sure you were fully on your bed.

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[eddiesfaerie]

Pet

Summary: You accompany the Supreme Leader to one of his meetings. Unsurprisingly, you become desperate for attention. (2.2k words) ao3 link here

Warnings: NSFW, noncon/implied noncon, f!reader, exhibitionism, memories of sex lol, thigh riding, canon typical violence, violence against reader??, Kylo Ren is not nice, choking, slapping, mentions of blood, bondage i guess (let me know if i missed anything!)

@elmidol: Kylo + “Tell them to fuck off.” okay so maybe i went off with this request... i literally couldn't help myself so i hope you enjoy!!!

The transparisteel of the throne room is always cold beneath your knees, you flinch anytime your thighs come into contact with it if you shift your position too much. It often left you with purpling bruises on your kneecaps, ones that never seem to fade anymore.

You accompany the Supreme Leader in any and every meeting he wants you in, which as of late, has been to every single one. If he asks for you, you’re there. At this point, you assume it’s just some form of punishment; because as much as you’re expected not to speak, you’re expected to stay awake and attentive.

Half the time you let your mind wander off into some fantasy. Sometimes it involves the Supreme Leader, remembering how he fucked you the night before, wondering if he’d do that thing with the Force again.

Other times it was about escaping. You were punished by him for both sorts of daydreams. Now you just try to keep your mind as blank as possible. Sometimes you almost manage to reach a meditative state if the meetings are long enough.

The air of his throne room is cold. Everyone else is dressed normally, of course. You don’t doubt that you’re the only one shivering in your own flesh. The thinnest scrap of useless silk cascades down your body, completely see-through and hides nothing of your body for anyone who dares sneak a glance in your direction.

Besides the scrap of material you think someone referred to as a dress once, the only other thing you wear is your collar and chain - a heavy, thick metal, one they definitely use on the ships and TIE fighters, you’ve concluded. It’s sturdy and basically indestructible to anyone who wasn’t Force sensitive.

The metal was branded ungraciously with anything but fancy letters or delicate swooping and curling. No, your Supreme Leader didn’t care to spoil you with niceties. Thick capital letters branded on to the front of the collar spelt out R-E-N.

Ren.

You're his. His thing, his object. Whatever he wants you to be, you became that. You belong to him. And you’ve long since accepted that. Once you stopped struggling, it became easier and at times… enjoyable.

You also think that the Supreme Leader’s become more comfortable around you as time has passed. He’s not as harsh with you anymore, not nearly as cruel as your first few weeks with him. He was nowhere near easy, or nice, or kind, or loving. He was none of that, but you were starting to like how sharp his edges were, how cold he could be.

It became a little game of yours; seeing how long it could take for you to crack him on certain nights, how long until he let you massage his shoulders, his arms, his thighs or let you suck his cock on your own accord. It’s rare but it actually works sometimes. Sometimes he lets you in.

If he’s tired enough, fucked out enough, or just had enough, he’ll let you do as you please, like a little fish cleaning up after the shark’s mess; he’ll let you have some scraps.

Sometimes, he hand feeds you the scraps. Like right now.

Your head is resting on his thigh as he sits back extremely reclined, leisurely, unbothered yet so, so bored. And his hand is on your skull, fingers scritching at your scalp.

It was intoxicating, he was intoxicating. You could fall asleep just like this -

But you can’t. The rule. The rule! You have to stay awake even though he’s visibly slacking right now, probably dozing off to some fantasy as he mindlessly scratches at your head.

You sneak a peek up in his direction only to find his eyes already on you. You nearly squeak as you look away, back at the people congregating in his throne room for whatever ‘important’ reason.

His eyes burn like suns, they welt and blister your skin and you try to clear your mind, making it a place of disinterest to him so he doesn’t feel the urge to go swimming in and around your thoughts as he so often does.

A quiet murmur resonates throughout the room, coming from no direction in particular, it’s just simply there. It’s the incoming of his voice through the Force, you know this now, you’ve become accustomed to it. It ripples towards you like tiny waves in a pond before you hear his voice clear and deep in your head.

“Come.”

His hand steadily leaves your scalp, coming to rest gently on his thigh; his way of asking you to come sit on his lap. He’s never asked this of you while in a meeting before, he never really cares to give you that much attention, fearing it'll give you an ego, make you think you're special or something.

You worry your bottom lip between your teeth, uselessly debating over something you have no say in.

Having already wasted enough of his energy on asking you politely, the Supreme Leader pulls on your chain, sending you hurling up off the ground and straight into his lap. You make an ugly noise, one of surprise and fear as you fall into him almost gracefully thanks to the tiny invisible touches of the Force along your skin.

He steadies you against him with one hand on your waist and the other pulling your chain tight, pinning your back to his wide chest. You straddle only one of his enormous thighs - bare cunt pressed flushed to the rough material of his pants - and he keeps you there, holds you still while you try to regain your breath from being moved so quickly yet so effortlessly.

You keep your eyes squeezed shut in an attempt to block out the several pairs of eyes that are taking in the scene before them, trying to tame your nerves and swallow down your shame and embarrassment. You're so visibly flustered, no doubt the Supreme Leader's getting a kick out of this.

You hear more rippling murmurs approaching you. Then a smooth leathered hand on your thigh, squeezing the flesh tight in his crushing grip.

“Eyes open, pet.”

You hesitate too long, still trying to regain your breath. That same hand on your thigh comes down hard, smacking your skin and letting the sound of slapped flesh and your wanton cry float through the room.

You try to curl towards him, to hide yourself in his broad frame but he holds you and your chain tight. His voice fills your head.

“You do as I say.”

You begin to answer him with a nod of your head but he cuts off your attempt.

“Out loud.”

You close your eyes and take in a deep, shuddering breath. Nothing could have prepared you for this unique type of degradation today. “Yes, sir.”

Only a few heads turn, no one daring to stare at you for too long. Like he had called you, you were his pet, that granted you some level of security.

The Supreme Leader makes some sort of contented sound with his throat. Whoever was speaking continues on with their speech while you finally manage to come down from such an overwhelming ordeal.

His hand stays on your thigh, tenderly massaging the flesh where he had hit you, emphasizing the sweet sting and letting it resonate throughout your body until it finds its way to your clit. The little pearl buzzes, needy for attention but you refrain from begging for mercy, for him to finish you off.

It's too easy for him to get you worked up. He must have been experimenting on you or something, like Pavlov's dogs or whatever. Anytime he touches you, even in the slightest, it sends you reeling for more, it turns you into some desperate whore, needy for whatever he would give you, whatever he deems you worthy of. Whether it was his spit or his flaccid cock in your mouth, you take it and accept it eagerly-

“Quiet.”

His sudden booming voice fills your head and sends you squeaking a silent apology back to him, your hips involuntarily jerking on his thigh. He pulls on your chain again, your back becoming flush with his chest, the length of your pussy dragging along his thigh leaving an embarrassingly sticky trail in its wake. You keen at the sensation, wondering if he was doing this to you on purpose.

“Doing what?”

You huff out a non-response, telling yourself you would roll your eyes right now if it wouldn’t get you-

“Punished.”

You audibly groan, rocking your hips onto his thigh on purpose this time. Fuck, he was so infuriating, so difficult to deal with. You’re thankful you’re just his plaything, not someone who has to deal with him professionally. He’s impossible.

You ignore the heads that turn in your direction this time and focus on the unsatisfying clench of your pussy around nothing. You know he feels it, feels the way your pussy is throbbing with its own heartbeat for him right now. He knows how desperate you are, he must…

Silence.

No response from him.

Maker, you could cry right now. He's usually so easy to rile up. So easy to frustrate, to annoy, to anger.

Yet he gave you no bruising grip on your thigh or waist, no warning for you to stop. Nothing.

His hand retreated from your thigh and now lounged on the armrest of his giant throne. His other hand doing the same. You feel the warmth radiating off of his chest leave you as he leans back against the throne. He was spreading himself out so wide and so far away from you.

You know he must still be wandering around in your mind, he has to be. There was no way he wasn’t doing this on purpose.

So you project.

You imagine all the ways he’s taken you, all the places and surfaces he’s bent you over just to relieve his tension, his anger, not caring if you came or not. You often did but it was never with any special care from him, just the pure shock and intensity of his fat cock, impaling you over and over again until you couldn’t help but cum all over him and sob from overstimulation, begging for more despite the pain, despite the blood-

The lights in the room flicker and whoever’s speaking stutters at the sudden distraction, but then continues on discussing… whatever it was they’re discussing.

You continue as well, remembering all the different way he’s punished you: for accidentally chanting his name as if in prayer when you’ve become so cock drunk and fucked out that it was the only thing that you could possibly think of.

Kylo, Kylo, Kylo.

You remember how he’s slapped you, hit you with the unforgiving and weighted metal of his lightsaber hilt. How he’s bruised you, burned you, marked you with his teeth, his lips, his weapon. You remember it all and you shamelessly rut yourself against his thigh, the building pressure in your clit making your mind blank to anything else except getting yourself off on him.

Fuck, you need him. You need him so badly, need him like the moons need their planet, like a planet needs their all devouring sun, a celestial body to rotate around or else they become meaningless, drifting off into space without a serving purpose.

Your body withers against his, your back threatening to arch off his chest if it weren’t for the death grip he’s got on your chain right now, keeping you in place like an obedient dog.

The lights continue to flicker. The muruming waves return and you scramble for what’s about to come next.

“Tell them to leave.”

His voice is steady yet it crackles with hopeful embers threatening to combust into something fiery and deadly.

What?

The lights in the room buzz loud and shine brighter than they ever have, like the stars in the sky before something magnificent happens. They shriek with strain until they burst, sending shards of glass flying throughout the room as they burn out, no doubt cutting people in the process.

A figment flies by your cheek and slivers your skin. You hiss at the contact, feeling something hot and thick roll down your cheek in its wake.

“Tell them," his voice booms, "to fuck off.”

“L-leave.” You speak, voice small, unsure and terrified. You’re not certain if anyone even heard you based on the minimal reaction you got. A few heads turn, surprised to hear the timid voice of the Supreme Leader’s pet.

Yet no one budges.

Your Supreme Leader’s hand snakes its way up to your throat, resting above your thick metal collar and crushes your windpipe in warning. You try again, this time, like he asked.

“F-fuck off.”

Someone, an idiot, dares to speak up with a voice quivering worse than your own, “S-Supreme Leader?”

“You heard her.” It’s the first time he’s spoken in hours. His voice is terrifyingly calm and sickeningly deep, you feel it resonate throughout your entire body, landing in the depths of your belly. You whimper pathetically, anticipating whatever storm is about to come.

Everyone stands, chair scraping against the floor and they file out through the giant throne room doors, letting the thick and heavy material seal you two away until your Supreme Leader is through with you.

[mxvladdy]

Diavolo- True Form

Whoooooooo weeeee! ‘Pologies for the wait on these longer posts. I’ve been hit with a one two punch of house emergencies and sudden costly ass repairs, so my creative juices have been rightly squashed as of late.

Plus side I got my drawing tablet and drafting table back so I can neaten up my blog lay out now (yay!) 

Anyway this one was a challenge in the best possible ways. I really like Diavolo because of how little we know about him so it gave me some wiggle room. Or at least what I know of him- im only on like chapter 23 of the stories. Idk if I did him justice as this is angsty af but I sure had a blast writing it!

Hope ya like! Next up: Beelzebub 

Trigger warning: Mention of blood, and swearing. 

Diavolo-

He'll never show you, so don't ask. His true form is god-like in its own right and such knowledge, such truly raw demonic power in its natural form is not for your mortal eyes.

No matter what your lineage, it would break you. And despite his roles and being the literal devil, he doesn’t want you suffering.

Sometimes when he thinks you wouldn't notice he relaxes his hold on reality, just a fraction. He wants to relieve some of the tension that is always building just below the surface. Like closing your eyes when you have a tension headache. The mental energy he has to exert to keep face is enormous. Regular glamour doesn’t work nearly as well as his own, or Barbato’s magic.

But you see hints during your downtime spent in his company. A ripple in his reflection on the window pane. Unexplainable shadows dancing across his exposed skin. Too many teeth in his mouth when he laughs. Sometimes when you stare into his eyes you see something indescribable staring back behind them. His usually warm and inviting gaze darkening. A barest flicker, a hulking bestial thing kept locked behind in his golden gaze. It's enough to freeze the blood in your veins.

On certain nights when you can slip away from the brothers you stay in his room. Lying  awake, you watch his magic wane and shift as he slumbers. Sometimes you see runes, or at times letters. You are tempted to write them down and ask Solomon. But something stops you each time.

The worst images are the faces. Unknown souls trapped beneath his flesh clawing to be freed. Silent screams fading back into his body as he dreams. Your fragile fingers trace the patterns they leave as you wait for the next day wrapped in his embrace.

Only once have you seen more of his form then he would ever wish. The depths of his strength and mental fortitude were unknown to you so the slip up took you both by surprise. He masks the error well, but the sudden shift in energy in the room couldn’t be suppressed .

You are suddenly so aware of the oppressive weight of gravity on your frame. Your bones grinding together under the force of his aura. You panic, desperate by the need to breathe, but are unable to draw even the smallest bit of oxygen as it is robbed from the room. Time and reality wrapped too, distorting in ways only you thought only Barbatos could do. You knew in that moment the sudden dread of death, how mortally was but a rusty shackle tethering you down.

He collects himself, dispelling the energy and locking his glamour down tight to protect you. But that split second of fury felt like an eternity to you as you sink to the floor. You hiccup a shaky sob and shiver. Your fragile human mind bowing under the strain of what it cannot comprehend. Scolding hot tears fall from your cheeks, before splashing crimson the stone below you.

You didn't approach him again for over a month. No matter how strong you are, some things were better off unseen.

Mini Fic

He didn’t know. For once in his ancient pitiful existence, he had been unaware of his surroundings. It had been for just a moment, one tiny crack in his veneer. The foolishness of Mammon and Belphegor’s actions finally poked the right nerve. He wouldn’t hurt them, for Lucifer’s sake. That prideful demon would never forgive him if he did. But he could scare them. A quick look at his true self; a flash of the deepest bowels of hell. Enough to give them a reminder of their positions and standing in his court. He had expected their whimpers of fear, could taste the acidic tinge of it exuding from their pores. What he didn’t expect though was your blood curdling screams alongside.

Ironically, he would have to thank the second eldest later. His fast thinking is the only thing that saved you from complete damnation. His body shielded yours, taking the brunt of the stronger daemons hellish might for you. What little magic Mammon still had left used to protect you. Though, while your vision was blocked, you could still feel his oppressive presence. It racked your mortal flesh. Diavolo knew what affects his power had on humans. He spent years breaking and consuming damned souls with zeal after all.

The brothers had run from him after that, screaming for Simone. Barbatos following close behind, a look of consternation on his usually impassive face. You had been so limp in Mammon's arms. Diavolo could do nothing, shocked by his own weak will and realization that he might have ruined everything. You had been whisked away so quickly by his faithful servant and the brothers that he hadn’t had a chance to look you over himself. But the brief moment he saw will haunt him for years to come. Your eyes red from the sudden haemolacria, the blood staining your clothes and face. Your fingers digging away at your soft skin, black and purple blotches staining what he could see. Mouth opened wide on a silent scream. He knew what you must have seen. The souls of the damned trapped under his glamour breaking free to latch on to your unmarred soul trying to drag you back with them.

Against his butler's advice he stands at your door now days later trying to see you. He couldn’t sit around and just hear updates second hand. The brothers had been keeping guard most days in a valiant attempt to keep him away. But he could only be waylaid for so long before he used his rank against them.

He had arranged a full council meeting. Every one of the brothers knowing full well it was to get them out of his way. Yet, the order was absolute. This time none of the brothers could reject it. Barbatos would keep them in that room for eternity if he so wished for it. He hated using his age and power against them, but he saw no other way to get to you.

It was foolish now, standing as he was in front of your door. A part of him hoping you would turn the knob and let him in. Let him comfort you for once, instead of the asinine distractions the brothers offered. He could help too. Hells, he wanted to. He wanted to be closer to you. Power discrepancy be damned. The other part of him knowing it was for the best that you didn’t. Your guardian and tormentor all in one. He listens to your muffled sobs for a moment fighting with his feet to stay cemented to the floor instead of heading back in defeat.  

"When my father was still around he took me down to the deepest depths of the kingdom. Where the worst of the traitors and sinners are imprisoned." His deep baritone rumbles through your door during a break in your crying. "It’s a place few seldom go; even now I have yet to return. Back then he told me ‘there will never be a human soul that is undeserving of punishment. Even the ones destined for the celestial realm are tethered to sin.’ At that time I believed him. The things I saw in your realm... " The prince chuckles wearily.

He remembers the ever present scowl on the old King's face. His dark eyes looking out at the sea of damned souls he controlled. Even as a young daemon, fresh into his wings and still sharpening his horns to impress others he could tell how much his father detested his position. How it had warped him, turning him bitter and cold, even to his mate and only child.

Diavolo never wanted to be like that. Not to the ones he supposedly cared for at the very least. "I think that is why he hated the other realms so much.” He continued. “Humans, for their ability to choose which realm they would eventually end up in after they pass. That even the worst sinners could find redemption enough at the last moment to get to the pearly gates. While daemons, no matter how well they served, or the duties they did for the good of their own would never be seen as equals to our celestial counterparts or yours. That this existence is all we'll ever be destined to have. Nightmares and monsters, stories to tell little human children to keep them in line.” He pauses, collecting himself. “I believed wholeheartedly that every human deserved the punishments only my kind could dowel out. But, in this past year I have spent with you, I find myself changing. You are so undeserving of such torment. Somehow you are understanding and forgiving beyond measure to us. You handle our ill tempers with such grace. For daemons such as us, it is staggering, and humbling. I regret that I have hurt you so deeply and have broken your trust. I swear it as the head of this realm I would never intentionally do so." He looks at the door handle willing it to open. " I am so sorry."

Your crying picks up again. Huge heaving sobs that rattle your chest. Great Father, he just keeps making it worse. Clearing his head Diavolo turns.

Rejection of this nature was new to him. No one had ever dared to ignore him, especially such as this. The royal in him- his father's blood- seethed that he would even stoop so low as to grovel to a short lived thing like yourself. Even deeper yet, it demanded another taste of your essences. You little soul kept safe behind your rib cage. He wanted it added to his collection, kept tucked away deep within his maws.

It was sick; it was wrong. He chokes on the idea. The intrusive thought burrowing deep. How deplorable was he? Perhaps the angels were right to keep him out of heaven.

You didn't show to class the following day, or the days after. Unsurprising to him and the seven of the inner council. He figured the other day wouldn’t change anything. But it was utter agony to him. These days trapped in his office only getting short and curt updates on your health from Lucifer. It had been a special kind of torment.

Today he sat once again at his desk staring at some godforsaken bitching of a royal cousin. He knew this whelp. Some backwater thrice removed eons ago. Yet he was demanding an audience? The gall. The ink of their eligible handwriting makes him cross eyed. Would this day ever cease? He looks to his hourglass, the sands within seemingly frozen in time.

"My Lord, perhaps you should take a moment to stretch your legs?" Barbatos moved from his corner. Gloved hand coming to rest on top of the same three lines he had been reading for the past two hours. "This work could wait another evening I’m certain ."

"Did I do the right thing my friend?" Diavolo doesn't even bother answering the question his servant posed. They both knew he wouldn't. "This program. Our human exchange students. Solomon is one thing, but-"

"Your will and path is absolute." Barbatos states. "There are no mistakes within you, merely stumblings onto different paths."

With a gentle push Barbatos moves the hulking demon out of his way to collect and organize the scrolls and letters scattered about the large desk. "You made the right choice bringing them here. Look at what they have done. They are entertainment to you are they not?"

The prince rose knocking his desk aside and descended on his butler. His true form out in all its unholy glory now. His highly condensed magic distorting the study as if he was a black hole. The axis of the room shifts. His priceless collection of books and toys disintegrating from the cold radiation he emits.

It was all for show really. There was nothing he could do to an ancient being such as Barbatos. So he lashed out, throwing a tantrum in the security of his office. The hopeless agitation he felt fueling the flames of his rage. His butler had only added holy water to his already festering wounds.

Barbatos had been by his side for time in memoriam. The crafty bastard had helped raise him. Had shaped him into the ruler he was today. If anyone could break and remold him it would be his oldest companion.

The dark haired daemon waited for the waves of agitation to dry up. Moving only when the prince was in his more presentable demonic form. Large barrel chest heaving as he reined himself in. “Are you back to your senses?” He asks coolly, already categorizing the items to replace and furniture to be mended.

"I had not meant for it to go like this."  Diavolo croaks into his hands collapsing back on what remained of his desk. Building a bridge between realms, yes. That noble idea was the greater purpose of this program, but the rest of it. The classes, and dances. The parties where he threw his newest toys about to see how they would react to things other mortals worshiped? That had been for his own curiosity and amusement. Lesser beings navigating a foreign world blind to the dangers that were right under their very nose. Bring a mortal with no magic into his realm? Deep down he knew this was an inevitability. Especially with the freedoms he granted them. He just didn’t think he would get so attached.

“No one believes that you would hurt them on purpose.” His butler cuts off his downward spiral. “It would ruin the program. That is what you are so stressed about, right?” Barbatos eyes him skeptically. Diavolo, himself, and Lucifer had spent many sleepless weeks constructing and negotiating this program. If the Arch Angels heard a mortal was hurt down here it could very well end this little escapade. But the look in the prince’s eyes told a different story.

A warm glow emanated from his cheeks and he was unable to meet the old daemon’s gaze. Ah. "Or perhaps things have changed?" Barbatos smiles coyly up from beneath his bangs. "You are your mother's son after all. Neither of you were ever able to stem your bleeding hearts for long." Diavolo squawked indignantly but didn’t argue. Instead he merely turns a darker shade of red and curses under his breath.

He skipped out on court that evening. Not that he cared much. The other nobles would no doubt use the time to gossip about his whereabouts and uncouth behavior of late. Truth be told, he was avoiding the brothers more than anything else. They had made it expressly clear (some more then others) how they felt about him currently. He wouldn't doubt that Belphegor had a few more brothers on his side now.

Instead he stood at your door once more with a tea tray in hand. He had bumped into Simone on the way. The angel had come to bring you dinner and to check up on the last of your wounds. Celestial magic worked miracles on those who have been touched by the darker arts. Diavolo was grateful for his talents. And, by some miracle, Simone had made it abundantly clear he was not going to bring this to the higher ups on his end either.

Upon seeing the prince slinking up the house's stairwell the other man had simply smiled and offered him the tray. “I suddenly got a message from Luke. Could you perhaps drop this by our friend’s door?” Diavolo had accepted without preamble, large hands dwarfing the platter of little tea cakes and sandwiches. The young cherubs work no doubt. His cooking was a fine treat, and a great incentive to at least open the door.

“Hello again.” He knocks twice. “I just wanted to check in on you. I know I am the last person you wish to see but I was hoping to talk?” Silence greets him. Were you awake? He breathes deeply and focuses on picking up your vitals. You were up, your heart thumping steady somewhere in the room. That was good. “I also have dinner for you. Simone had an urgent matter to attend to so he- for better or worse- entrusted this to me.”

Diavolo searches hopelessly for something else to say. He couldn’t just leave the food and go. He needed to see you. “I don’t plan on staying long today. I understand when I am not wanted, but I cannot help myself but be worried for you. Perhaps this is just me contritioning, because I know I caused this. The amount of times I have been called a ‘ass’ by Solomon over this have been staggering.” He rambles. After another bout of silence from your end he coincides. “I see- I will leave the food by the door and let you rest.” Defeated he puts the food down and turns to leave.

The door clicks open slowly. One bloodshot eye peeking through the crack. “Oh mio piccolo mortale.” He loses his grip on your shared tongue at a loss. You looked- you must have been in the hall longer then he or the brothers had known. Such damage couldn’t be done in a few moments. Your skin was healing as nicely as Lucifer had said, but the deep purple scarring still remained on the surface. The burn pattern of it all was random. Twisting wounds that reflected an oily sheen from the light of the hallway. “I-.”

“I know-” You cut him off with a raised hand. “and I feel as though I owe you an apology too.” Your voice was so weak and shaky. A mockery of your normally strong and jovial tone. Hearing you laugh at school had brightened the dreary halls. He hadn’t realized it until you weren't there.

“You owe me nothing.” Diavolo says in earnest. He watches you contemplate your next words before throwing whatever you were going to say away.

“Would you like to come in?” Your eyes drop to the tray. “Luke always makes more than I can eat.”

“I don’t think that would be wise.” He backs out. All his plans crashing and burning around his feet. His actions had been irreparable.

“Perhaps not,” You open the door wider taking the tray and heading to your side table, leaving him no room to argue. “But then again, being a lamb among such wolves as yourself and the brothers isn’t smart either.” You meant it as a joke but he couldn’t even muster a chuckle. It was true. Gods. “Dia-” You approach him again but falter at the last second.

As much as you wanted to be close to him again the memories were still so fresh in your mind. The cold hell fire of his magic ensnaring you, searing your skin. The whispered words of sinners long since past still echoing in your head, all in languages you’ve never heard before. The worst though had to be the screaming. Lost souls begging for help. Some sounded so familiar…You shutter involuntarily.

You wanted to hate him for this. Curse him for putting you through this pain. But how much could you blame him? Or any of them? They were daemons. Whether he meant to hurt you or not, it truly had only been a matter of time before it happened. It would be hypocritical of you to fear or hate him forever over this. Six of the seven brothers have threatened your life before, and you have forgiven them. Hell, one of them actually killed you. What’s more was that Diavolo’s wrath hadn’t even been directed at you.

Wrong place at the right time; seemed to be your forte. “Please, come in.” You repeat again firmer than before mustering up either courage or sheer human stupidity to order him in. You couldn’t tell the difference anymore. “We need to talk.”  

He enters, following at your heel like a lost puppy. All air of princedom gone as you clicked the door shut. Diavolo fiddles with his hands, old habits from childhood coming with his nerves. He didn’t know what to expect anymore. Yelling? Some kind of beratement? A plea to go home and never look back?  He would let you.

You pass by him, giving him a large berth of space to get to your seat. “Tea?”  

Diavolo jerks his head to you. He had forgotten momentarily the plate of food he had used to get access to you. You smile sheepishly pushing it and a plate of sweets towards him with your unbandaged knuckles. He doesn’t move till your hand retracts back to your lap. You jerk your head to the open seat waiting for him. You weren’t going to take no for an answer.

“I- thank you.” The daemon sits making himself as small as possible in the straight back chair. He takes the porcelain and drinks mindlessly. The scalding hot tea doing little to help the tightness of his throat, but it did thaw some of the ice in his mind.

“Are-how…” He fumbles so unsure of what to do next. “I see you’ve been keeping up with your school work.” Diavolo closes his eyes, wincing internally at his words. That’s what he comes up with? Idiotic.

You smile anyway, eyeing the massive pile of books and paperwork spewn about your bed. “Yeah. I’ve taken to doing my school work with Levi in his room. Mammon and Beel are nice enough to drop it off to the teachers when they are due.” He nods. He knew this of course. But it was nice to hear it from you. But yet, you don’t meet his eyes. Far too afraid to see what hid behind them.

The thought of being dragged back into those dark depths again makes your pulse quicken. You instead stare at your nail beds, finding them more interesting. They were purple now. The nails stained black by the contact with his magic. “Will- will that go away?” He asks. Demonic curses or taints were nigh impossible to remove fully. Disgustingly, he hoped they didn’t. Then your nails would match his. The darker depths of his soul coo at the idea, happy that in a small way every daemon would know your his. Not as good as a pact, but as close as he could get to being a part of your little mortal life.

“I’m not sure.” You reply honestly bringing your hands up to place them on the table. “Simone and Solomon have done what they could. But, it is as good as it’s going to get for now. They say it could fade with time.” You look up at him, eyes gazing to the left of his face. “Luke thinks I should see a stronger angel.” Diavolo winces, the thought stung, and terrified him. “I told him no.”

That surprised him. This was your chance. The celestial realm had been skeptical from the beginning. If they knew, it would be a perfect caveat for them to step in. “Why?” Finally you look at him. The fear was still there. Hesitation evident in your eyes. Yet you forced yourself to look at him, fighting through your trepidation.

“Did you mean what you said earlier? About your father and what you think of me?”

“Of course.” He replies without hesitation reaching for your cold hands. You flinch but don’t move away. It felt-nice. His warmth chasing away the perpetual chill that covered your fingertips. Idly you stroke his strong hands with your thumbs.

“Then, I think we can work on this privately.” Slowly but surely you felt like you could fix this. Not for the program, but for yourself.  

[physicalturian]

[18+] Words of pleasure - Law x F!Reader - Part 2

[No spoilers] [Modern AU - College AU] [She/her pronouns used for the reader, no physical description; Everyone +18] Words : 5016 Archive of our own

Warning : Consensual BDSM / Power play / Dom/sub Dynamics / Cybersex / Stranger / Flirting … If you feel like I should add more warnings, send me a dm or and ask

-- Part 1 -

The heat of two bodies against one another. Skin upon skin, fingers grazing tenderly. Hands gripping suddenly, forcefully yet securely. I am holding onto dear life on his broad shoulders. My nails digging inside the skin. It makes him grunt in pleasure. I can’t hear it over my own sound of pleasure. My head lolls back, my neck is being attacked. Bites, kisses and words against it. My entire body is aflame. I’m now holding onto the bed head. I’m not surrounded by darkness anymore.

 The landscape has changed, I’m not on my bed. It’s a hospital bed. No one is around, someone is on top of me, I can’t see their face. But it feels good. Hot breath against my skin, soft hands on my hips. The increasing pressure inside-

“Hey wake up! If you want to ride with me to campus, you better get your ass out of bed.” I was startled awake by one of my roommates who seemed on edge. From what my brain understood, I was late and from the look on her face, she was pissed.

 Squinting my eyes at the sudden light from her brusque action of opening the curtains, I groaned. Her heels hitting the floor made my ears ring, it was too much too quickly but I wasn’t going to say anything. The ginger girl was stopped dead in her track by a hand on her shoulder, a softer voice spoke, “Come on Nami, look at her. Clearly, she went to sleep late again, give her some time to clear her head.” Robin said a lot calmer. With a small smile, she gave me a nod and pushed Nami out of the room.

 “You have ten minutes at best, hurry up. She has plans today.”

“And I am hungry, could you make me a sandwich while I get dressed Robin?” I asked with the softest pleading eyes I could manage at this hour. She smiled knowingly in return and nodded, but did not leave until she added, “It’s the last time you leave crumbs on the counter from your midnight snacks.”

 With wide eyes, I grimaced and nodded. It made her chuckle as she closed the door behind herself and left without a word.

 The moment I was left alone, I remembered the dream I was having and hurriedly got out of bed. “Nasty brain, naughty.” I mumbled while undressing. Sure, erotic dreams weren’t bad, but the fact that I had dreamt about that stranger was something entirely new. Maybe it was to be expected if we interacted more like we did last night, if we had more sessions like last night’s one. Damn, am I that needy for a good fuck? Is this what I’ve become? I thought with a huff.

 Once I was dressed, I grabbed my phone and all that I needed for class before leaving the room. On my way out I saw the notification that had popped on my screen, a message from the doctor but it was one from last night.

 HandSurgeon: I’ll allow you to call me doc, just because my username is not very adequate when shortened. But watch it.

 Looking at it I laughed and wrote back, albeit later than when he had sent his message.

 Edelweiss: Good morning to you too, doc. Hope you were able to catch some z’s, because of you I almost missed my class.

Edelweiss: kidding, it’s entire my fault but I want to blame it on you for the fun.

 I shoved my phone in my pocket when I heard my two friends’ voices, telling me I needed to hurry and hurry I did. I grabbed the sandwich Robin handed me and thanked her with all my heart, telling her I’d make the food tonight but she told me she’d rather not die of food poisoning at a young age.

 “Come on, I can make some things! We’ll order in, then?” I said, leaning on the counter with a grin as I took a bite of the food.

“Careful, Nami has invited her best friend tonight. He’s constantly famished, and eats a large amount of food so I’ll take you up on that offer another day. Now off you go, Nami’s waiting in her car.”

 Giving her a thumbs up I leaned off the counter and pondered, “So Nami’s cooking tonight? I see why she’s stressed out now. Anyone else coming by?” I asked quickly. Robin chuckled elegantly, her back leaning against the counter, in front of me, with her arms crossed over her chest. “He might bring one of his friends, but it all depends on his schedule. Nothing definitive yes. Now off you go!” She shooed me, smiling. Most of her classes were in the evening, and yet she woke up that early every day.

 It was also fascinating how, even when in her pajamas she looked so dignified.

 Without losing any more time, I waved her goodbye and rushed down all the flight of stairs to jump into Nami’s car. “Good morning-“ I closed my mouth when she gestured for me to shut up, pointing at her ear and at the board. Looking at the screen, she was on a call with someone but started the car without another word. I could only hear her replies, but tried not to eavesdrop. To stop myself from falling asleep, I took my phone once more and saw a message from HandSurgeon.

 I hated how it sent excitement coursing through my body. Was I remembering the thrill of last night or was I that interested in talking to him? I did not ponder the question longer and opened the app.

 HandSurgeon: Good morning Edelweiss. Are you feeling good? Physically.

HandSurgeon: We’ve barely done anything. But don’t worry, you’ll blame me later when we’ll have more fun.

Edelweiss: I’m great, a bit sore but that’s on me.

Edelweiss: don’t threaten me with a good time 😩, you can’t start the horny talk this early in the morning. How do you expect me to focus during my classes?

HandSurgeon: Haha, I’ll stop. Do you have time to talk?

Edelweiss: ominous much? But yes, I do have time to talk. Something on your mind?

 A knot formed in my stomach, I started to worry he’d say we couldn’t keep doing this. Would it be that bad? We’d known each other for so little time, it’s not like I couldn’t find someone else to fuck.

 I huffed at my own thought, I could find someone else but did they have HandSurgeon’s charisma? Unfortunately, no, I was bound to be horny for a strong doctor that I did not even know the face of.

 HandSurgeon: I got a bit too excited last night, I forgot to mention the most important info.

HandSurgeon: Those being: we can stop whenever you’d like. We can try whatever you feel comfortable trying. If you said you were ready to do something, but in the end feel like you can’t do it: tell me. You can change your mind, it works the other way around, too. You can say you want to try something even though you were against it at first.

HandSurgeon: I won’t always be up to… play but I will be willing to help you if you ask nicely. And if I’m awake.

HandSurgeon: Finally, always call me sir, during our sessions.

 I hid the relief I fell in real life, when I read all his messages. I did not want Nami to ask me what was wrong, nor who I was texting, but it was hard to hide the satisfied smile on my lips. Pursing my lips, I thought of what to answer without looking too desperate.

 Even with the thought put into it, I read my message over a few times and desperation dripped out of it.

 Edelweiss: you scared me, I thought you were going to just disappear or something. I’m good with all of this. If I can add one, be honest with me? Like, uh…

Edelweiss: If I’m being too pushy, but you’re busy, tell me, I’ll calm down haha.

Edelweiss: So… I agree to the terms, sir.

 I saw him type, then stop. Then type again, before stopping again. Had I said something bad? I was going to put my phone away when he replied.

 HandSurgeon: Good girl.

HandSurgeon: Now, I won’t be able to play tonight, but I’ll be free to text if you’d like.

HandSurgeon: It’ll give you time to rest, that way we’ll fuck you good once you’re feeling better.

 I choked on my saliva. Why was he this casual saying things like this?

 Edelweiss: I-

Edelweiss: I said don’t get me horny, the audacity you have to be that good with your words.

Edelweiss: I’ll be busy tonight too, but I’ll text you if it gets a bit boring.

Edelweiss: Also, are you not like… cutting people open or something? Why would you be awake this early with how late you went to sleep?

HandSurgeon: It’s cute how easy it is to get you flustered. Very interesting too. But I’ll stop for now.

HandSurgeon: Since you’re curious, I’m in bed. I have to meet with my intern in an hour, he’s very eager to learn.

HandSurgeon: Just like you, but maybe I find one more satisfying than the other 😉

 Staring at the screen, I hesitated and felt my cheeks heat up. I wanted to be horny and ask him for a picture, or be funny and ask him for a picture. Both could work together, but should I flirt or ask in the most stupid way possible? I was curious if he’d be willing to send anything, I’m sure it’d make my day if he did send me a picture but I did not want him to force him either. You can’t force a dom to do shit, idiot, my common sense told me.

 Edelweiss: send pic or fake.

HandSurgeon: Of my intern?

 Good fucking lord, I’m an idiot. I typed back quickly, trying to fix my stupidity.

 Edelweiss: of you in bed.

Edelweiss: maybe I’m asking for a nude? 🤔

HandSurgeon: Are you, now? What sparked that need? Do tell me. I’ll consider.

Edelweiss: I’m curious, and I wonder if you sleep dressed or not 😳

 Hit and run. That’s all I could call what I had done. I dropped that message then locked my screen and stared straight ahead, regretting sending it. I couldn’t delete it since he had probably seen in, considering we were both online at the same time. We were both staring at the conversation, craving for more, awaiting the other’s reply to weight our own answer in return.

 Covering my mouth with my hand, I rested my elbow on the small space by the window and felt my heart beat faster. I shouldn’t feel like that, I had literally fucked myself to his guidance hours ago. And yet, there was this stressed from asking him nudes. I mean, I hadn’t asked a dick pic per say… If he slept in pajamas it clearly wouldn’t be a nude, so…

 My phone vibrated in my hand, I looked down so quickly my head slipped off my hand and hit the window with a thud. “Are you good? You look nervous, do you have a final today or…” I heard Nami ask. She threw me a side glance but kept her gaze focused on the road.

 I was so focused on my own conversation; I had not realized she was done with her call. Had she been watching all of my reaction since then? No… no, probably not.

“I’m good, just need a bit of sugar.” I paused and continued casually, “Robin told me Luffy’s inviting someone tonight? Are you cooking or are you planning on ordering? They better pay their own shit, if we order in.” I grumbled, hoping to make her drop the subject.

 I needed to stay focus on what she was saying but my brain was drifting to the pending message on Discord. Fortunately, my distraction worked and she replied, “If he’s coming, I’ll make him pay the entire orders.” She scoffed as she pulled up into the parking, her eyes still focused in front of her. “He owes me, and since it’s last minute, I’ll use that against him to not pay my food.” She added. I laughed at her logic, was it really last minute if she knew he was coming since this morning? Shaking my head, I unlocked my phone and opened the text.

 HandSurgeon: [sent an attachment]

 While I masked my reaction, my eyes sure widened for the span of a second. On that very screen was a picture of the doctor, or more precisely, his crotch covered with just a thin blanket covering it. I could see the shape of his cock, and it made it more sinful than a full dick pic. The v shape of his lower stomach, along with the happy trail, made the whole thing hotter than it was supposed to be. Is this for fucking real? Thinking for a second it might be a catfish, I finally looked at the rest of the pic and saw a badly torn piece of paper with the word ‘Edelweiss’ scribbled badly on it.

 “Damn, who’s is this? Girl, you tapping that?” I quickly turned my phone face down and looked at Nami with what probably looked like guilt. “What? No. I’m on Twitter. I don’t have time to literally fuck around, too busy.” I stated, putting my hand on the door handle as I took hold of my bag.

 She was about to say something else, but we spoke at the same time and she let me talk. “What time do you finish? I’ll be done around 5 pm if you’re still there.” I stepped outside the car and slammed it shut, waiting for my ginger friend to join me.

“Around that time too, we’ll head right back home after. I think Luffy and his annoying friend will already be there. I’ll sent you the menu, so that you can pick from it.” She then hurried off when she saw one of her classmates waving her over.

 I let out a sigh and looked back at my phone, typing back while marching towards my class.

 Edelweiss: Are you kidding me? Dude…

HandSurgeon: I’d prefer you call me doc than dude. Although sir is the most appealing… But what’s wrong?

Edelweiss: You’re telling me, someone that hot is on weird websites when I’m sure anyone would want to fuck you. No offense, but you’re probably very hot, so why are you like… domming online? Instead of your own pretty little sub in real life? Not that I’m complaining! I like it.

HandSurgeon: Schedule is shit. And I’ve been told I’m bitter. But I’m glad you’re enjoying it, I’ll get dressed now. You focus on your class.

Edelweiss: Oh I am definitely enjoying it, a lot.

Edelweiss: by the way, I came to a realization this morning…

 Then we sent a message at the same time, I laughed nervously.

 HandSurgeon: So you think of me when you sleep? Very cute.

Edelweiss: my brain was slow last night, but like. Did you sext me while in your office?

Edelweiss: maybe I did think of you in my sleep, but I don’t think we need to talk about that, my question is definitely more important.

 I almost tripped over nothing, from looking at my phone instead of the path but I managed to make my way to class without a hitch. Throwing my bag over the desk, I sat down and waited for my professor. Checking Discord once more,

 HandSurgeon: I did. It’ll happen a lot too.

Edelweiss: damn that means no sexy live for you

 I replied without thinking. The loudest sigh escaped my lips, what even did I mean by that? Was I really considering giving him a show? What was I expecting from telling him that? I mean sure, if time goes on and I get more comfortable it could be fun…

 HandSurgeon: If that day comes, I’ll be sure to get my earphones. I’m sure you’d actually enjoy the thrill of showing yourself off. Knowing full well I’m watching, maybe with a hand in my pants, ordering you around. There will be a “sexy live”, if you’re comfortable enough… The fact that I’m in my office only adds to the charm. Wouldn’t you say?

 I blinked a few times, my thumbs hovering over the keyboard. I typed something then deleted it. I paused and typed again, before deleting it once more. Was he wrong? It was very exciting, just thinking about it. Even more so knowing he was willing to be in that situation, at his desk, looking at me getting off under his command. But also, even more knowing he’d be at his work place, where anyone could walk in on him being in such an embarrassing situation.

 HandSurgeon: It looks like you’re speechless. But do answer me, would you get off on knowing someone could walk in? Knowing we could get caught, knowing they could see you fucking yourself on screen just for me. Just to please me. They wouldn’t know it’s you, but you’d know. My good girl fucking herself, showing off her perfectly fuckable body just for me.

 I let my head fall back against the seat and took a deep breath. I felt suddenly self-conscious, even though I knew no one knew what was going on, on my screen. And yet, I had to look around to make sure before typing with a lot of hesitance. He hit the spot, I hated how right he was. But I replied in all honesty.

 Edelweiss: …

Edelweiss: yes…

Edelweiss: I’d like that…. sir…

Edelweiss: I need to focus on my class, but now I don’t know if I’ll be able since you just went off and made me very much distracted now.

HandSurgeon: My hand slipped.

Edelweiss: the  a u d a c i t y, then do tell me where it’ll slip next time 😉

Edelweiss: ok, no. that was bad. I’m trying, I’m not as good as you okay?

HandSurgeon: I think it’s a conversation best kept for late hours, wouldn’t you say?

HandSurgeon: I have to go. Focus on your class, or think of where you’d like my hands to go. The choice is yours, Edelweiss.

HandSurgeon: [send an attachment]

 There it was, another picture of him. This time it was his gloved hand gripping the fabric around his thigh tightly, the sleeve of his long shirt was slightly risen. I could catch a glimpse of the hair on his arm but focused on the length of his slender fingers. Of the way his fingertips were digging in his pants, of the lines his muscles drew on the back of his hand and maybe of, once again, the fact that he was sitting at his desk. Instead of replying, I took it in and locked my screen to try and focus on the class.

 I never thought I’d have a medical kink, but my thought would sometimes drift off, imagining him in his full surgeon outfit. Sitting on his chair, legs spread open while looking at me with a smirk. What it’d look like, I do not know, but I could only imagine the sultry gaze he could give me while in that position. He’d pat his thigh for me to come over and let me ride it- Shaking the thoughts away, I told myself to focus, and tried my best to keep up to that promise.

 The rest of the day, I kept my hands off my phone the best I could. I wanted to keep texting HandSurgeon and have some fun, tease him the way he was teasing me but I did not know how to push his buttons. Suddenly I realized I had never asked what were his kinks. By default, being in control must have been one of them, but I was curious as of what else he enjoyed. I made a mental note to ask him next time we talked, maybe tonight, maybe tomorrow, it all depended on tonight’s fun.

 Right, tonight… I don’t even know who’s the guy that’s coming over. Nami said that Luffy’s friend was annoying but maybe she was a bit biased since she was easily frustrated, which was ironic considering her best friend was the most tiring person ever. At some point during the day, she sent me a text with the name of the restaurant we were ordering at and told me to pick whatever I wanted.

 Seeing the prices, I had to make sure she had sent me the right restaurant and sent her a text asking if it was alright. Her reply was, “I told you he owed me, he said to choose whatever restaurant I wanted. And I did. He has the money, might as well use it.”

 I winced at her words and sent her my choice with a lot of reticence, adding, “If I get yelled that for picking something, even though I don’t know the guy, you’ll pay for my food.” She was quick to reply and told me it’ll be okay. “The dude might bitch and moan about it but he’ll eventually accept it” were her words. I don’t really know if it had helped or worsened my anxiety but I just let her do her thing and went on with the rest of my day without a hitch.

 I was able to focus on my classes and assignments after a while, when my brain finally decided to shove the whole HandSurgeon conversation in the back of my head.

 The day came to an end right on time. I had done my fair share of thinking for the day and needed a break. Knowing a nice warm meal was waiting for me at my apartment only made things ten times better. I rushed out of my last class with haste, almost bumping into other people and dropping my phone but I caught it before anything dramatic could happen.

 When I stepped outside, I was met with a drizzle and had to walk faster to Nami’s car. I was lucky to see she was already there, waiting inside of it with music playing loudly. She was trying to fix her hair the best she could, and gave up when it looked half-decent. A startled gasp escaped her lips when I opened the car door and slipped inside, greeting her, out of breath.

 “You scared me!” She gasped, a hand on her chest.

“Is it my fault? You’re on edge, not me.” I huffed, throwing my bag in the back of the car, making the ginger groan when she received a few droplets on her clothes. Apologizing, I buckled my seatbelt and we drove back home in a good mood. Food always lifted spirits, even more so after a draining day. On our way home, Nami started renting on how I will have to keep Luffy’s friend away from her because she couldn’t handle his attitude.

 I did not dare ask her what happened but listened carefully. She did not give me any useful information about him, only telling me he was “arrogant, annoying, he’s bitchy and way too cocky because of his job.” I winced and was expecting the worst, probably a business man that was too proud of making money or a politician. No, no… Luffy would never befriend people like that, right?

 All kind of ideas simmered in my head until we reached our apartment. I don’t know why, but I was going to knock. I quickly caught myself and unlocked the door, hanging my coat in the entrance as I took off my shoes. “Robin? Have they arrived yet-“ I was cut off when the excited black-haired man came rushing in and wrapped his arms around both Nami and I. She laughed and hugged him back, while I pushed him away, smiling softly. “Hello Luffy, let me get changed first? I smell like a wet dog.” I scoffed.

 He agreed and pulled Nami to the side, bringing her to the living room. I did not look their way and instead went back to my room to get changed. Maybe I could catch him before he went to his evening activity? I kind of wanted to have a bit of fun before going back to eat… But then again, did I have time? Humming pensively, I locked my door and stripped naked then pulled out my phone.

 Edelweiss: Good evening, can I suggest something? I want to make my evening more fun… maybe have something to look forward to this evening…

 I waited a moment, sitting on my desk chair completely naked. It was frisky and I felt well… naked. Was it too bold? Should I just delete the message and get dressed? I did not have time to ponder longer that the little dot next to his name turned green. He had answered.

 HandSurgeon: What do you suggest? I’m all ears.

Edelweiss: let’s say… I wanted to keep something inside me the entire evening… like an egg, you know those vibrating egg but like, not turned on because that’d be too much.

Edelweiss: here, this:

Edelweiss: [sent an attachment]

 I made sure we could see my lower body, the hand holding the toy was right above my thighs and I angled it so he could see most of it. When I sent the picture, I felt the pressure in my stomach grow, maybe he’d refuse and I was getting excited over nothing.

 HandSurgeon: I won’t be able to guide you, gorgeous.

HandSurgeon: But… I think it’s a great idea. Although, I need to be sure you’re not too sore to have some fun tonight.

Edelweiss: I’m good, I’m great. Don’t worry, I can definitely handle this. I mean, if you want to, sir.

HandSurgeon: The eagerness ever so present, you’re being very good asking for it. I would hate to punish you.

HandSurgeon: Let’s do it, if you think you can’t take it anymore send me a message and take it out.

HandSurgeon: But I’m sure a good girl like you could take it entire night, wouldn’t you agree?

 My answer was to send him a picture of the toy inside me, my free hand gripping my thigh while spreading them wider.

 Edelweiss: [sent an attachment]

HandSurgeon: Fuck. A warning next time. I’m not against more pictures, but let me remind you I’m not alone tonight.

HandSurgeon: Or is it what you’re looking for? You want to show off to me, but also to them? The odds of the people here looking at my phone are low, but they’re not null. That’s what gets you off.

 I was going to reply but he sent another message that sent something coursing straight between my legs. The throb I managed to numb after this morning’s talk came back without much efforts needed.

 HandSurgeon: Maybe to calm that eagerness, we should turn it on? Have you dripping wet for tonight? Would that help with how needy you’re feeling right now? You’d be surrounded by, let’s say your friends. But your thoughts would be nowhere near that, no.

HandSurgeon: You’ll be thinking of me. Of what I’d do to you tonight, looking forward to obey. To be on your knees, in your bed, expectant in front of your screen. Like a desperate girl, pleading for some relief.

 My hand slipped on my desk and grabbed the little remote, pressing it to turn the toy on. I let out a shaky breath at the sensation, spread my legs wider to try to press it deeper but finding my attempt fruitless.

 HandSurgeon: Get dressed, and go join your friends. I’ll be available to talk in a few.

HandSurgeon: But don’t get too greedy. If you think you’re getting close, you turn it off. I want you begging for an orgasm tonight. Are we good?

Edelweiss: Yes sir. More than good.

Edelweiss: Maybe… maybe I could call you, no video, to do it…

 He’ll ask for me to be precise. But I felt like my pride would take a hit if I wrote it down, did I want to beg? I gave it a thought while getting dressed in a fresh pair of clothes. Usually I wouldn’t want to beg, but it felt different here. Maybe I could use this moment to find out more about him, his tastes… his kink.

 HandSurgeon: “It”?

Edelweiss: Beg. You want me to beg, I am suggesting to do it on a call. That’s what you want right? You get off on being in a position of power but what else do you like?

HandSurgeon: I’ll have you begging, no matter what. That’s the fun, dear.

HandSurgeon: Now you’re curious about what I like? We’ll talk about it after tonight’s session, right now I have to go. Have fun, be good.

 I thought it was going to be child’s play. The vibrations weren’t that strong, and it’s not like there was going to be a lot of things that’d turn me on during a friend gathering. Right? Right. It’s what I thought until I joined everyone in the living room and there stood a definition of handsome. I don’t know what Nami said about him but I’m sure she never mentioned how hot he was.

Nami, Luffy and Robin were sitting on the ground by the low table. They were taking the boxes of food from the bags and giving them to everyone. What caught my eyes was the man sitting in the couch, almost lazily. He was looking at the three people with something close to boredom, his arms spread on the back of the couch.

 Suddenly I regret trying to make my evening more fun… Or did I? I’d have to see how the evening go to make an opinion on being in the company of such a beautiful man when I had my own hardship going.

[Part 3]

[when-they-write-stuff]

Quick ficlet that is dedicated to @foreverthemomfriend because she mentioned a prompt that got into my head and refused to leave.

Word count: 2.2k

Pairing: Sterek

Warnings: Slight violence, not graphic.

Summary: Prompt here

The thing is, Derek knew his soulmate was an idiot.

Laura told him to stop grumping and just be happy that he had a soulmate, but Derek begged to disagree. Because his soulmate was a literal idiot and Derek couldn’t put into words how often he felt like he was covered in bruises, or scratches, or other miscellaneous injures.

He was a werewolf. He wasn’t supposed to wake up in the morning and feel like he’d been hit by a truck. It was clear his soulmate was a disregardful spaz because he was always wounded and in return, Derek was always feeling it. 

And he was so done with everything years before they’d even met.

Derek decided he could go his entire life without ever meeting his soulmate. He— she— they— them— whatever, sucked. Derek woke up one morning with what could only be a black eye and he knew he’d gone to bed perfectly fine. Which means his soulmate was doing stupid things.

Again.

Laura thought it was hilarious. And sometimes… sometimes, Derek was okay with that. Because she didn’t find many things hilarious since the fire.

But then again, his face hurt. And it was all his soulmate’s fault.

“Clearly, they’re going to get themselves killed before we even meet,” Derek said in a growl, as Laura touched a cool cloth against his left eye; which felt far more painful than it looked. “And then I won’t be able to kill them myself for putting me through so much pain.”

“You’re acting like a baby, Der.”

“I’m a werewolf,” he growled, not caring how babyish that sounded. “I’m not supposed to be healing at the rate of a stupid human. I’m not supposed to be hurting at all.”

“I think it’s kind of cute,” Laura said teasingly. “You falling for a little human.”

Derek was quiet at that, hit with a sudden onslaught of grief. Because he didn’t think it was cute at all. He’d fallen in love with a ‘little human’ before and it hadn’t ended well. It never ended well.

He pulled away from Laura’s gentle touch and stalked into his bedroom. Closing and locking the door behind him, Derek glared at the opposite wall for a long second and tried not to think about her words. Tried not to rest on the fact that yes, he’d thought he’d fallen in love with a ‘little human’ before. 

When Paige had sore fingers from practicing cello all day and Derek could’ve sworn he did too. When Kate showed him the callouses on her hands and Derek thought he had ones that were similar. But it’d all been a lie.

Growling, Derek clenched his fist and drove it into the wall. 

And over in Beacon Hills, Stiles felt the first shot of pain from his soulmate that he had since he’d been twelve years old. 

-

Because see, Stiles had felt something once. His dad had been called away to take care of a fire and Stiles felt such pain, that it didn’t even feel like an injury. It felt like a broken heart. It felt like a torn soul.

He’d stayed under his covers all night whimpering. He couldn’t think straight. Couldn’t make it go away. He stayed curled up in a ball all night trying to just breathe.

And by morning, he was able to move again. He stopped feeling like he was on the verge of tears. Later that day, his dad said there’d been a fire in the preserve. 

Stiles didn’t see the connection.

- 

The thing is, Derek was oblivious. Stiles was an idiot. And long after Derek Hale returned to Beacon Hills and Stiles Stilinski developed a crush, neither of them actually realized… things. Which really should have been expected.

Derek realized it first.

He felt it like an assault when they were trying to track down Jackson as the kanima. Hit by both surprise and sudden pain, he dropped to his knees and brought a hand to his face, gasping in pain. He could feel a blow, then another. He felt like his lip had been split and then like someone had kicked him in the ribs.

Among the chaos, the conflict, and the fighting, Derek wasn’t sure anyone else noticed. He didn’t stop feeling the throbbing or the onslaught of pain until he was aware of Scott catching him by the neck and dragging him toward a waiting Gerard.

Then the rest of the night was a bit of a blur. 

Derek wanted— he wanted— he didn’t know what he wanted. He needed to be somewhere far away. Away from the feeling of blood on his lower lip, the taste of Gerard in his mouth, or the feeling of Jackson’s flesh underneath his nails.

But then Stiles showed up. Stiles, with a split lip, bruised face, and black eye. And Derek realized that no matter where he went or how far away he got, he’d never escape.

Stiles’s tongue darted out to trace the cut on his lower lip. Derek felt his own sting.

He turned away from the boy and didn’t look back.

-

It took Stiles a little longer.

He didn’t even linger on his possible soulmate until one day during school, when Stiles was doing his best to stay awake during one of Harris’s lectures. The last thing he needed was another detention, even though he felt like he hadn’t slept in weeks.

At one moment, he was blinking tiredly at Harris’s powerpoint. During the next, he felt himself drifting off. And then all he knew was pain.

It felt like someone had stabbed him straight through the back. Stiles convulsed and slipped out of his seat, hitting the floor hard. But he didn’t even feel the pain of that, too wrapped up in the waves of agony that crashed over him. He heard the sound of startled shouts, felt Scott scrambling toward him and taking his arm, leeching some of the pain away. But then the boy made a startled noise and yanked away, brown eyes wide.

“Stiles—”

Stiles barely heard him. He clawed at his chest, certain he’d feel blood or torn flesh, or something. But he was okay. He was intact.

His soulmate wasn’t.

“They’re dying,” Stiles said in a gasp, his throat tightening to a painful level. “Scott, I think they’re dying.”

“Who, Stiles? Who’s dying?”

But Stiles didn’t know. All he could do was writhe, feeling the foreign object twist in his chest from somewhere unseen. He squeezed his eyes shut and heard Harris bellowing something to those around him. Felt calloused hands on his shoulders, trying to drag him up. Stiles gasped and struggled, and tried to breathe.

And then the feeling was gone.

Like a breath of fresh air, the pain was gone, the burn was ebbing away, and Stiles dropped like a rock, pressing hard against the classroom floor. He gasped for breath, aware that his face was streaked with tears but not remembering when that happened.

All he could think was his soulmate was dead. There was no way someone survived that much pain and then walked away healed. Turning his face away from the classmates that stared, Stiles bit back a sob. Scott touched his arm again. This time, there were no black streaks. No pain to be taken. Nothing other than the hopelessness Stiles was feeling.

They didn’t talk about that day again.

-

Allison wasn’t Scott’s soulmate. When they first met and she shot him, she didn’t feel a thing. When Stiles was possessed by the Nogitsune and the Oni stabbed her, Scott said there was no pain.

She’d said the same thing. But in a different way.

- -

Derek felt the Nogitsune like a headache that never left. He couldn’t be around Stiles but all he wanted to do was stay close. To take care of him. To say everything was going to be alright.

Then Void threw him against the wall of his loft one day. Derek’s back cracked against the cornered stone and Void jerked in pain. Then his eyes snapped to Derek and a sick smile curled across his features. Derek felt like his world was crashing down around him.

But Void didn’t say a word.

And afterward, Stiles either didn’t remember or didn’t want to talk about it. Derek couldn’t be sure but he was too scared to press it. So instead, he stayed quiet.

Eventually, the nogitsune was killed. The pack retreated into themselves to mourn. And Derek never visited Stiles in the hospital.

Then Kate shot him in the chest. 

-

Stiles knew what he was running from.

He watched Derek struggle for breath with Braeden’s hand wrapped around his arm and knew that if he turned away, there wouldn’t be any coming back. There was blood trailing down Derek’s lip and a hole in his stomach. Stiles was leaning heavily against the jeep and he barely felt like he could move himself. And he didn’t want to.

But then shattered grey-green eyes met his own and Derek jerked his head with a faint ‘Save him’ leaving his lips and Stiles knew that if he turned away, there wouldn’t be any coming back.

He still turned away. He knew what he was running from.

Stiles only looked back once. 

- 

When Stiles arrived home four years later, he expected to see the grumpy-looking werewolf sitting on their couch that faced the door. The man had an open book in his lap but wasn’t paying it any attention and when he met Stiles’s gaze, he didn’t look happy.

Stiles still put on a bright smile. “Hey, Der! You, uh, waiting up for me?”

“Did you have a good day at work, Stiles?”

“Oh yeah,” Stiles said, forcing himself to stay cheery. “Just fantastic. You know, the little things.  Spilled some coffee on myself this morning and ended up drowning in paperwork sometime around noon. I missed lunch though. Got anything on the stove?”

Stiles tried to scoot around him and head for the kitchen, but Derek was there in an instant, cutting him off. Stiles sunk his teeth into his bottom lip and silently cursed, glancing up at the man’s narrowed eyes.

“So is that a ‘no’ on having something on stove? Because that’s fine. I can order in.”

“Paperwork and spilled coffee, Stiles? That’s all?”

“Um, yes?”

Derek’s eyes flicked to the bandages wrapping around Stiles’s shoulder and his face tightened a fraction. Stiles noticed with a pang of guilt the small ice pack that was bandaged to the man’s own shoulder. It looked like it’d melted hours ago. “So you weren’t shot in the shoulder earlier, then?”

“Oh yeah,” Stiles said, ducking his head. “I forgot about that.”

“You forgot?”

“I would have called,” Stiles joked weakly. “But I figured you already knew. And I really didn’t want to get yelled at.”

Derek’s face softened. Calloused fingers reached out and found Stiles’s own, and Stiles couldn’t stop a small sigh from leaving his lips as Derek threaded their fingers together and leaked away some of the pain. The werewolf leaned forward and touched his lips against Stiles’s forehead. “I was just worried about you.”

“I know,” Stiles said softly. “I’m sorry.”

“One of these days, you’re going to get shot when I’m doing something public. Like buying groceries. Or making conversation with the neighbors.”

“And today?”

Derek’s face tinted red, the color going all the way to the tips of his ears. Stiles tilted his head up and studied the man’s face before barking out a laugh.

“Oh my god, were you on the toilet again?”

“I was in the shower.”

“Oh,” Stiles said, rolling his eyes. “Well, then it could’ve been worse.”

“I was so surprised I slipped and fell, Stiles.”

Stiles barked out a laugh, unable to stop himself. Derek growled lowly and Stiles chuckled, leaning forward to press a quick kiss against his lips. “Sorry. Let me make it up to you? I am starving.”

“There’s no food on the stove.”

“I was talking about something much more edible.”

Derek’s eyes flashed blue and he hoisted Stiles up, throwing him over his— uninjured— shoulder. Stiles yelped and tried to struggle, only to go limp as they entered the bedroom. He was grinning when the man dropped him onto the bed and lifted his arm, stripping off his shirt. The look in Derek’s eyes was nothing other than predatory.

And maybe a little soft too. 

The man leaned forward and kissed him hard, before dragging his lips to the shell of Stiles’s ear. “I always knew you were an idiot, you know.”

Stiles shivered. Derek’s tone dropped an octave.

“Care to make all those years up to me?”

“Oh please,” Stiles managed to get out. “I’ve made it up to you plenty of times, big guy.”

Derek growled again. Stiles couldn’t help grinning as sharp teeth skated down his neck, nipping here and there, and then latched on above his collarbone. Derek smelled like pine and aftershave, and his lips were warm. His presence was heavy and it was warm.

When one finger slipped beneath the waistband of his jeans, Stiles couldn’t help jerking. He slammed his hand up against the headboard and barked out in pain as one of his fingers popped. At the same time, Derek let out a startled grunt.

For a moment, neither of them moved. Then Stiles dissolved into a fit of giggles and Derek buried his face into Stiles’s shoulder, sighing heavily.

“Idiot.”

Stiles didn’t even try to argue with that.

[crystalsexarch]

Muster - E

Perhaps it would help him remember. He was ashamed to recognize what remembering was doing to his body already. Making him hot. Making him hard.

-

Explicit. Specific male WoL. Bas'ir Bahani. The Crystal Exarch appears in a dream so realistic, the Warrior of Darkness swears he can taste it...or perhaps he can. Pre-reveal tomfoolery with mild angst.

Also on AO3.

Part of the 2020 FFXIV Writing Challenge

Bas'ir had fallen asleep with his prosthetic on, and now he couldn't discern reality from dreams. Wide eyed, he stared at the ceiling of his gifted room at the Pendants and tried to force himself to count (something, anything, knots or cracks or decorative carvings) instead of recount.

He clenched his sheets with both hands. He had fallen asleep with his prosthetic, despite how much it always troubled him by means of aches or awakeness. He had slept easily. Truly. Through the night. Whatever he dreamt of didn't have a clear color, if he had dreamt at all. But that was part of the problem. Had he dreamt? Or was it real, what had happened?

He had fallen asleep with his prosthetic. Usually this behavior invited insomnia or nightmares. What he had experienced was neither. Could it have been...the truth?

With a deep breath out, he ran his hand of flesh across his neck and felt the dancing blood of his body. It remembered the night just as well as he. Cautiously, he trailed his tongue across his fangs, half expecting to taste what he was certain he had tasted—that hand, that sweat, that man.

The Crystal Exarch.

Bas'ir gulped. Last night, he had hobbled his way up to his room with a pain in his body and a blistering brain. The burning light inside muted his perception of time, but if he had the right of it, he had dozed for perhaps half a bell. And then came the knock. I can answer, he had thought, wilting left and right on his way to the door. I can make it. But he couldn't. After he collapsed, he saw the wood part and give way to hurried sandals, helping hands. But he couldn't keep his eyes open for long.

The Exarch must have carried him to bed. An amusing notion, but one that made a certain degree of sense. The parts Bas'ir was having trouble swallowing came later.

The Warrior rolled around in bed and squeezed his left arm—what remained of it—and weighed whether to disconnect his mechanical parts now that he was awake. Perhaps it would help him remember. He was ashamed to recognize what remembering was doing to his body already. Making him hot. Making him hard.

If it wasn't real, what did that say about his feelings for the man who had summoned him? A man he wanted to despise?

With a huff, he sat up and leaned against the wall. This is how he'd risen in the early morning hours, wearing exactly as little as he wore now: a long white tunic and modest smallclothes. Even through bleary eyes, he had spotted the Exarch slumped over the table with his hands clasped together. A great burden seemed to pull the man closer to the ground. "Exarch," Bas'ir had called, voice hoarse. "...Exarch."

The second time, he stirred and looked both ways before settling on the Warrior. He stood and smoothed his robes with a stiff sweep of his arms, then ambled over. "Forgive me," he said, reaching the bed. One hand reached out as though he meant to smooth the covers and sit by the Keeper’s side, but he recoiled. Too close to a fire. "I couldn't bring myself to leave you. When I heard you fall, I—"

"Why," Bas'ir said, "were you here?" He felt like he had run a hundred malms in his slumber.

Hood or no, the Exarch looked guilty with his fingers coiled together. "Your fellow Scions led me to believe...the light had compromised your health. My intentions were only to—"

Bas'ir coughed into his lap, then into his elbow. "Water," he said with a half-hearted gesture to the kitchenette. The Exarch dutifully followed. Flowing liquid made the Warrior’s ears prick to the side, but he kept his head down, brought a knee up and leaned on it. He didn’t really feel pain anymore. Just exhaustion. He wasn’t sure he could hold a glass on his own, despite the fact that that’s exactly what he was going to have to do.

“Here.”

A leader’s voice bade him raise his head. He managed to raise his eyelids.

The Exarch was a silhouette, figuratively and literally. Something shrouded in shadow. “Do you...require assistance?”

“No.” Bas’ir scrunched his nose and reached for the glass with his right arm. Bringing it to his chest was hard enough, so he enlisted his left to hold it steady. Gods the water was good. Cool and brimming with vitality and streaming down his chin and onto his chest and—

“Ah—”

The Exarch clasped his hands around Bas’ir’s, around the glass. Crystal on metal, flesh on flesh. Perhaps hoping to catch some of what the Warrior had already spilled—surely that was the intent—a stray finger landed at the corner of the Keeper’s lips and lingered.

“My…” Apologies should have come from the Exarch’s mouth next, but it didn’t. “Bas’ir.”

A breathy sound caught in the Warrior’s throat. At this point he started wondering about dreams and wakefulness and hallucinations, about light and love and loss. The glass’s gradual motion away from his lips felt as natural as the Exarch’s left hand exploring his face with strange commitment. Of course the glass ended up snugly between his thighs. Of course the Exarch’s thumb was cheating at his teeth. Of course he opened his mouth wider to let the stranger in.

Neither man said anything. But Bas’ir wanted to. He wanted, in those hazy moments, for the Exarch to do more than trace his fangs and test his tongue. He wanted lots of things—answers, firstly, but he wouldn’t have complained if the Exarch slipped that crystal arm beneath the hem of his shirt and tested something there as well. He wanted to know how hot the Exarch’s body was under those robes, and more than anything he wanted to know the face that glared beneath. To know if it tasted the same as it used to or if someone else had tainted it.

Or maybe he didn’t want to know.

Regardless, he was hard and red-faced. Vulnerable in a way he hadn’t been in ages. Nothing bound him, but he may as well have had his hands tied. Was he a fool for reading this as sexual? Was there some other explanation for the Exarch’s willingness to wet his fingers? Bas’ir would have to rely on his powers of observation. Determined, he peered up at the shadow-man, fighting his lusty eyelids. He saw no smile, no flush, no hints whatsoever—not until the Exarch’s lips parted.

“Do you…” he said, softly, “...bite?”

If it really were a dream, Bas’ir would need to thank his subconscious later. Those lusty lids came down now, along with his teeth. He rolled his head in time with the bite, sliding the fangs he’d once hated against fingers he wanted to hate. The Exarch gasped, then groaned, then leaned closer...spilling the water onto the Warrior’s lap.

“Ah!”

“Shhhhite!”

They separated without thinking about it. Bas’ir, still reeling from the rush of coolness soaking his bed, squinted and wondered if they’d ever again come together.

“I can retrieve fresh sheets,” the Exarch said.

“No...no matter.” Bas’ir edged away from the puddle. “There’s room enough for several men my size to sleep here, dodging damp spots…”

He set his jaw. “I’m sure there’s a full set of linens on hand.”

“Exarch.” He was hunched over like some territorial beast all of a sudden. “I would really rather lie down this very moment.”

The Tower’s Keeper swayed left and right, like each side represented his fight to suppress a caretaker’s instincts. But eventually he clasped his hands together and bowed his head. “Very well.”

As soon as he was gone, Bas’ir curled up and deflated. Yes, he wanted to touch himself. He could admit that much. But that activity, he decided, was best left for the morning when he could better read reality. And so he found himself with his back flat against the wall, neck craning, right hand drawing forth that long delayed orgasm. He could feel it in his toes, in his tail. It hadn't taken long. The fantasy was too powerful, too particular. He came harder than he had in moons, and had to stop himself from giving it another go before rising for the day in earnest. All from a memory, or a dream.

As for which had borne his inspiration, he could not be certain. Not without asking. Whether it would take strength or weakness to work up the will, he wasn't sure. So far the only thing he’d mustered was lust.

Later that morning, he and the Scions gathered in the Ocular to assess their latest strategies. The Exarch behaved exactly as he always had. No signs of indiscretion or embarrassment. The truth, then, bored Bas’ir, and though he was invested in his fight for the First, he couldn’t help but pace the room with crossed arms and knitted brows. It was coincidence that he happened to glance at the Exarch, gesturing mid-sentence. Bas'ir could have sworn he saw a tiny pink slit on the man’s left index finger. But perhaps it was a trick of the light, or a trick of the light.

[ikonislife]

Spellbound.

-Hanbin x Female reader

-Hanbin’s birthday project (: 

-Hogwarts au, friends to lovers, school life au.

-Spellbound masterlist

 -A/n: Please, please read this with an open mind. I’ve never done anything like this before so I know it’s lacking. I know there are thousands of better Hogwarts au out there but I haven’t found too many for iKON so I thought what better time than to create something fun for Hanbin’s birthday. I tried to include other members in the stories because why not, I love them all (:

Chapter 6: Not What It Seem?

There was no denying that the brilliant vibrancy of leaves burning every Autumn over the ground of the ancient castle could silent minds and still the hearts of even the most Grinch of Grinch-es. This year was no different as you trekked the fiery ground toward the bustling town on a Saturday afternoon with the boy who had just turned your tiny crush into so much more. Yet there was something so much more about this particular Autumn. Something so special that it felt as though the fairies that had years and years again carefully taking time to paint over each leaf took extra care, poured in just a little more love to sprinkle over it all with a splendid shimmer that glowed and glittered so ethereally under the golden sun of an approaching sunset. Even the fallen leaves beneath your shoes seemingly crisper than usual, delightful crunch echoed through the soft breeze of a perfect afternoon. Perhaps the weather had just been extraordinarily amazing, or perhaps it was the hand holding yours so tightly… Perhaps it was Hanbin. Warmth spreading from the hand so sweetly intertwining with yours barricading the wind, almost as if he had casted a protection spell shielding your body away from the sharp cuts of the soft breeze chasing each other about, tickling your hair. That soft smile still lingered on Hanbin’s lips as you both walked toward the quietness of the path toward Hogsmeade, basking in the last few minutes of serenity before the attention of the crowd, the murmurs buzzing amongst the street will be directed toward… Well, toward you two. Your heart bloomed in contentment as the little tune you so often hum once more finding itself falling from your lips, absentmindedly and unbeknownst to even yourself. Yet the second the first few notes floated from your lips, Hanbin’s heart perked up in excitement, the moment he had been waiting for so long, dreaming of the very first time your little hum reached his ears finally here. There was no stopping the command his heart had given, the way it left him gaping at the delicate smile on your lips, how soft the breaths you took in between the melodious hum. “Y/n, what song is that?” he asked, finally giving into the impulse of his brain. Miraculously lasting a whole thirty seconds of letting his heart enjoyed the show before bursting out with all the questions. His curiosity, all those months of lying awake doing his best to search through the endless universe of his playlists trying to figure out your song finally forced itself to the surface.

“It’s an old French song called La Vie En Rose! It’s just this song my parents used to play a lot when I was younger. I was sick a lot when I was a baby, so whenever I’d get fussy, my dad would put the record on while my mom rocked me to sleep. I guess it’s engrained in my mind now, it calms me no matter what. Then when I finally learned to talk, my parents taught me it.” You chirped in nostalgia, sharing the special moment known only by your little family with a very delighted boy. The song though beautiful and timeless, was well known but the memory lied behind it was something rather special to your heart. To see Hanbin following so closely, as if his life’s question had just been answered, it made you happy. It was rather adorable the way his features lit up at the information disclosed by your heart despite having never met your parents nor knowing the song.   “Can I say something… that might sound creepy?” “Yes…?” your answer lingered, a bit of confusion toying with your mind as a nervous chuckle tumbled from his lips. “When I first… You know… N-notice-“ His voice droned out to something meek, by the blush creeping on his cheeks and how he had abandoned the hold he got on your hand to pat the skin lightly, you surmised embarrassment had begun to settle in. “Notice me in the hallway?” You finished the sentence he couldn’t, leaving the boy nodding madly along. “I hate to break your bubble but boy, you weren’t that slick.” “I-… Was I that obvious?” Hanbin sighed, fingers pinching at the bridge of his nose, the mortifying burn still very much searing his skin at the realization that perhaps his sly glances weren’t sly at all. “Not at first, thought I was mental for a bit. Then Lisa started to notice it, then even Chanwoo too. Junhoe, he’s a bit daff with this sort of things so it took him awhile. But yea!” “Oh goodness. I will go dig a hole and throw myself into it now. I don’t know when I’ll be back so please, move on with your life. Don’t mourn me, I deserve this.” Humiliation thrashing through his blood, burning his entire body as Hanbin went a bit red in the face at first but slowly his entire body seemingly transforming into a cooked lobster. Footsteps halting, he had actually begun to trek back toward the castle in a futile attempt of running away before his entire body went limp in complete bliss. Your arms had woven around his torso in the best back hug he had ever gotten, your giggle sooth the bashfulness away from his heart. “I’m sorry but hole digging and throwing self away is not allowed. Not when I’ve only been someone’s girlfriend for a whole 3 seconds and was promised forever!” “How are you always so cute. I had a heart attack just then. I’m in so much trouble!” Never before in his life had Hanbin giggled and laughed so much that it physically hurt just because his heart couldn’t contain the adoration it got for another human being. By this point, Hanbin had made peace with the fact that his body will continue to involuntarily react to every single thing you do with Aws and giggle. There was no other acceptable form of reaction, not when his girlfriend was so effortlessly endearing. “Well you need to get used to it or something because dying is not allowed either.” You mused gently, mushing your cheek against his back, tugging him back toward your original destination. “So, what were you saying about when you first begin to stalk me?” You reminded him but not without a jab, earning a disapproving groan from the boy. “I wouldn’t say stalk… But anyways, I’d try to listen for you. Then somewhere along the way, I began humming it too. Not always correct, of course, or as melodious, but I tried. Never figured out what song it was.” “Ah, well, we can listen to the official version when you have time. Maybe we can learn the words together!” “That sounds nice!” Hanbin couldn’t help the joy thumping in his heart and how he was quite literally smiling with his entire being, body and soul. It was so nice to have you so close by his side, even more so now that you had so casually planned your next hanging out when just a week ago, he was just a hopeless boy, unknowingly pinning after you silently in the shadow. Then again, it wasn’t so strange after all, Hanbin surmised it was only natural, expected really that his own girlfriend would want to see him after the first date. Girlfriend, he had a girlfriend. Hanbin hoped with all his heart that you would think of him as idiotic for grinning so widely repeating that word again and again in his head. After all, he only experienced first love once, and it was truly an experienced he hoped would last for a long time even if he had only been through it for a few hours. Once more hand in hand, that lingering warmth of a new relationship budding got you both in a bubble, completely oblivious of the world still very much revolving. It was so easy being with each other, the silent was nice but even the moments of discussing the most mundane things of life were also interesting. He found your choice in coffee interesting while you thought he was insane for not liking banana milk. “Satiny silk or soft lace against your skin?” Strange to think that this silly game meant to break the ice of a boy and a girl doing their best to sync their heartbeats had brought you both this far. Even now, as touches began to feel familiar and pet name began to feel natural, it remained important. “I can’t say I’m too familiar with either of those. Us boys are more like cotton t-shirt or denim. Plus, never having a girlfriend doesn’t exactly help in that department either.” Hanbin replied so honestly it made your heart giggle at how sheepish he turned, suddenly eyeing your outfit as if searching for those very materials you’ve mentioned. “Ah…” You sighed, a bit guilty for asking such an unfair question.  Truthfully while part of you were sadden by the innocent answer, another part elated knowing you’ll be the one holding his hand through all these seemingly foreign things. It was such a selfish thought, you knew that, just as well as your heart knew how it’d beat for him just the same if he had hundreds of girlfriends before or zero. But there was no stopping that little bit of yourself from basking, quite smug that you were the first girl he decided to be with. “Can I answer that in a couple of months? You know, after I get to spend a little more time with you?” At your sudden silent, Hanbin took it upon himself to smother out whatever it was that was clouding over your fading smile. “If you haven’t grown bored of me by Christmas break that is.” “Huh?” Confusion bleeding into the little tug of war your conscience was having, the answer to that dreaded question no closer to the surface – was it so wrong of you to be glad that a lot of Hanbin’s first will be with you… While you, there’s not many first left you could give him. “Well I figure once we go on Christmas break, I’d get to see you as you. No Hogwarts, no uniforms, no house pride separating us. What better chance for you to teach me the different between silk, lace, chiffon, profiteroles.” Arm softly snaking across your shoulder, tugging you closer under his hold, Hanbin pressed a delicate kiss against your temple to sooth away the crinkles furrowed between your brows. “I’m pretty sure that last one is a pastry.” You teased, heart lifted so high thinking of the future. A smile mirroring his broke over your lips, curling further under his arm as the entrance to town rising in the far horizon. “See! I’m learning already.” He quipped, as the first group of students eyeing the protective hold Hanbin got around you, whispering amongst themselves although not brazen enough to do more than a few careful glances. “Y/n, you’re okay with this right?” Suddenly very aware of his action as more and more whisper buzzed through the air as the pink building grew bigger and the crowd, larger. Although never before been blessed with a girlfriend, Hanbin had always knew in his heart that PDA wasn’t something he’d be shy with. If he truly loves his girlfriend, then damn all those who get in his way. Why should they care who he was with and really, none of their business how he shows his feelings. Yet it hadn’t occurred to him until now, feeling you cowered further under his hold, that although he might be brave with his heart, the murmurs of the crowd might affect you entirely different. “Yea, just a little strange having so many people look at me.” You offered up an answer that warmed his heart, the bit of fear in his heart slowly dissipated. Yet a different kind of fear engulfed the boy completely when the little doorbell ringing out as the door to Madam Puddifoot opened up to reveal a world so unlike anything he had seen before. A strange groan left his lips, no doubt byproduct of the air vacating his lungs out of sheer shock at the amount of pink assaulting his sight. How does one even acquire such intensity of pink in such shocking quantity? From the wall down to the china, everything was dotted with various shades of pink as messes of ribbon strewn about the crowded room. The space cramped with a series of small round tables completed with lacey linens and mismatching chairs occupied by couples. Everything was just as frilly as he thought, not to mention, very pink! “You’re okay with this right?” It was your turn to question the state of his wellbeing because by the way his eyes had grown three sizes the second his eyes had adjusted to how bright everything was, you’ve garnered a guess that this wasn’t at all Hanbin’s cup of tea… Pun very much intended. “We could go somewhere else.” “No, no, I said I’ll take you here for our first date. We’re doing this!” Mustering up a brazen smile, Hanbin tugged you toward the direction of the small table in the far corner the hostess had just pointed at, squeezing by and nearly knocking over a Ravenclaw-Slytherin’s couple entire tower of sweet. Wiggling into a velvety soft pink and blue striped chair, Hanbin eyed the entire room and heaved a sigh in relief. “Should we get one of those too?” He asked, glancing back at the couple with an apologetic smile, watching as the girl gently pushing back a few sweets that had gotten displaced by Hanbin the Godzilla. “We could…” You replied dreamily, attention wholely captured by the vase of peonies grandly taking up nearly half the table. “Sweetie, do you like these…” he drawn out, realizing that he had absolutely no idea what these giant puff balls were, other than that they were flowers. “Peonies!” “Peonies.” He repeated, fingers grazing against yours gently, hanbin fondly gazed upon the little smile on your lips, still so enthralled by the pink and white swirls of the petals. Delighted that even as lost as you were with the giant flowers, completely unnecessary for such a small space in his opinion, your fingers still wrapped around his instinctively without having to break eye contact. “Yea, I didn’t even know they were in season.” Mentally noting not only your little obsession over these flowers, oh and that they were called peonies, Hanbin was also engraving the dreamy look in your eyes and how you so fondly study the edges of the petal. As you both sat there awaiting your order, not much was said aside from the shy smiles being shared, hands bravely toying, and soft sighs of happiness. Strangely enough, despite the commotion of couples being squeeze together in to a room the size of his left foot, that Hanbin noted would definitely be breaking all the health code and safety laws of the muggle world, it just as it always had been with you… The world disappeared the second he gazed upon your eyes. Your hands gently playing with his as you watched so carefully the everchanging expression of his features, the small words falling from his lips and how they had been so kissable, so soft and plump despite the little scuff still red and raw. It was almost as if the loudness of the place provided the perfect cover for private conversation, perfect for a first date even though every now and then, you’d have to raise your voice just to convey your feeling. “What are you thinking of?” Gently pushing a piece of stray hair obstructing his view of your blushing cheek, all Hanbin could think of was how soft your lips looked and how awesome it’d be to place a kiss on them, unknowing of how your thought had been mirroring exactly that. “You. Just, all this is so strange. Not in a bad way, just I didn’t think starting out this semester that I’d be here, with you out of everyone.” You sighed contently, pausing momentarily as a very extravagant tower filled to the brim with treats gliding midair, squeezing itself alongside the peonies vase. “Me too” Hanbin sighed so contently as his hands moved to pull the tea pot out of the way of the mountain of sweet settling itself unto the table without care. “I guess I’ve always had a crush on you?” You admitted, a bit of giggle falling from your lips from how strange that felt despite here you were, on your first date with none other than the ever so dashing Gryffindor’s captain Kim Hanbin. There was something your heart found funny about professing your undying love for the boy you never really had a chance with and watched as his eyes lighted up with all the stars in the universe. His hands were busying pouring tea into your cup found itself back onto yours, squeezing so firmly that your soul felt the warmest embrace. You’ve always loved how carefree he was, being muggle and proudly wearing it like a badge as he run through the halls, probably late for class or meeting with his friends. You never thought he’d notice you, just a girl silent on the sideline, never once made the effort to be in his sight. You knew now that his eyes were solely on you, yet back then, you had betted with Chanwoo so many times he was staring at Lisa. Only made sense since why would he pay any attention to you? You were happy with just admiring him from afar because in a way, your heart can’t be bother with the comparison of the girls hanging about him if you won’t let it go any further. Yet deep down, there was a little tiny bit of you that had always wanted more, even if all he ever see you as was a good friend, you wanted it. Being muggle in an ocean of silver and emerald green, it gets lonely. In so many ways, Hanbin was your beacon of better, brighter, what you could have. But along the way, you fell too for that charming smile and the seemingly innocent boy behind that façade of the popular captain. The way he interacted with his friends and even those who were stranger, so kind and friendly. On nights when sleep evaded your dorm room, Lisa would laid there in her bed, retelling stories of encounters she had with the boy, knowing full well you longed for it. In the dark of night, she’d tell you of all the silly things he did, all the jokes he told, and how truly, genuinely nice he was to everyone. You knew she did it for you because your heart hadn’t yet ready to take it a step further.   “I guess I have something to confess… There was no denying I was most definitely attracted to you and how you carried yourself. But I hadn’t realized my feeling for you until just before our group dinner. The boys sort of had an emergency intervention and I just, it was a light bulb moment for me.” There was an ease in the way he breathed out that little secret, almost as if it had been weighing down his soul for so long even if your lives had quite literally merged mere days ago. “Oh.” You exclaimed, unsure of what was even the right reaction to the new bits of information he had just laid on you. You completely understand it of course, but at the same time… Two days wasn’t exactly a long enough time for heart to change. “Sweetie, don’t take it the wrong way… Please” There was a bit of panic in his voice as your smile had flatten out to something undecipherable. He hadn’t thought it was a big deal, no matter how or when he realized it, regardless of it all, his heart beat for you. There wasn’t a thing in the world that would change that. However, as he felt your hand going limp in his and the silent that was growing deafening, more so than even the commotion shared with the shop by a nearby table celebrating their 3rd anniversary, he was so wrong. “No, I understand. I mean we don’t really have many common friends and I mean before our study session, we didn’t really have much interaction.” Your voice hadn’t quite regained the spark that made it so vibrant but the smile and the way you had said “we” over and over again soothed his heart some. “I didn’t…” Hanbin started yet silent took over once more as he sat, gaze downcast on your soft fingers toying gently with his. He grabbed both your hands in his before determination seemingly thrusted itself upon his soul, lighting fire in his eyes. “I know you have no reason to trust me because you’re right, we haven’t known each other for long at all. That night, even on the way to meet you, even as inexplicably happy as I was to see you again, a bit of me was still questioning if it was true. All of that was gone the moment I saw you, smiling so brightly, waving at me. You took my breath away every single time since, every time I saw you, a smile immediately appeared on my lips. So, I know you probably thinking right now, this is crazy, we’ve only known each other for 2 days, aren’t we moving too fast?” Animatedly expressing his thoughts, Godzilla-Bin nearly knocked over the tower of sweet, chuckling a bit in embarrassment but nonetheless happy to see a rose blushing your cheeks as you daintily sipped your tea, smiling so widely. “Y/n… I might seem confident all the time but, truth is I know nothing about relationship. Ask any of the guys, I’m as dense as a person could be when it comes to my own feeling, and just as oblivious to others. Had it not for them spelling everything out for me that night, I would probably believe you’d never look at me. None of that change how stupidly fluster I get around you, or how happy I am being with you. So, what do you say, take a chance on this idiot?” “Hanbin, you’ve already got me. You know that, right?” You reached to pinch his cheek and watched as the boy grinned widely, barely able to keep eye contact as a bit of blush colored his cheeks rosy. “I supposed I owe the boys, if not for them I might still have a stalker instead of a boyfriend.” “Well… I would’ve figure it out eventually, just needed a little time.” He confessed timidly “…maybe a little more than a little time. But I’d figure it out eventually. So, if you could also maybe cut me some slack… Not only am I inexperienced, I’m also quite awkward when it comes to girls… And, not exactly smooth or charming.” His voice droned out to something meek, barely meeting your eyes, although his hand hadn’t left yours, not even for a single second. “Wow, now that I said all this, it just seemed like I tricked you and now you’re stuck with a loser.” “Hey, come on. Stop selling yourself short, Hanbin.” Your hand wandered to caress his cheek and at the warm touch, the boy nuzzled further into the palm of your hand.  “If you must know, I find most things you do endearing. And I’m glad you’re comfortable enough to show me this other side of you. I think it’s adorable.” “Really?” Shyly pressing a small kiss into the palm of your hand, Hanbin let out a small high pitch gasp of disbelief, although it was so soft, you wonder it hadn’t meant for your ears at all. “Since we’re confessing and all, I’ve liked you since like maybe beginning of 5th year. Before that it was just simple admiration for a really cool captain.” There was a strange sense of confident surging through your veins in the light of this new side of Hanbin. For the longest you’ve always assumed that he was a lady’s man. Only make sense honestly since he could quite literally make friend with anyone and everyone. Your conclusion that he’d be the most charming guy around the lady wasn’t really so insane if you were being honest. Compare to him, you might as well be a potato. “No way. You’re just saying that…” His jaws nearly to the ground as he shrieked far too loudly for a conversation meant for two. Thankfully, none of the patrons seemed to mind much for they too were far too enthralled in their own romances. “It’s true. I’ve hide it for as long as I could but Chanwoo caught me, and Lisa. Junhoe was quite dense about it. Didn’t suspect a thing at all until I told him.” You said matter of factly, sipping slowly on the cup of tea Hanbin had just refilled to stiffen a giggle at his ever-surprised expression. “Though I must say he was the worst with the teasing. Do you remember that one time he bulldozed Donghyuk over at the train station?” “Yea?” The memory held so dear in his heart, the first time he had learned of your name, how could he not? “He ran into Donghyuk on purpose just so I’d have to walk near you…” “No!!!!” Seemed like the expression for the day was shock because if Hanbin’s eyes bulge out any further, they might just pop right out of his head. “Mm Hmm. That sly snake. Although now that I consider how suddenly fond he is for Donghyuk, he might’ve had ulterior motive also.” Hanbin couldn’t contain the delight warming his heart with each second passing and revelation your side of the story of each memory he had of you. He waited in bated breath, laughing vibrantly, letting all the façade of the charming captain melting away… With you he was just Hanbin, a boy hopelessly in love with his girlfriend, finding everything she does and says wonderful. You told Hanbin how many time Junhoe had expressed his discontent with yet another of your fail attempt to talk to him. Though he was disapproving of another man expressing grievance toward his girlfriend, Hanbin found it over the moon cute how nervous you were just thinking of talking to himself. The way you doted over him and how your eyes seemingly never straying away, ready to devour every word he got to say, it boosted his confident to an unprecedented height. He never thought he could like someone so much and have them return just as much feeling. This, it was so wonderful that he hoped you’d always be here, with him, discovering the new realm of life together forever and always. “In short, I’m now banned from using the words emergency, SOS, 911 or any variation of them.” Recalling all the times you’ve worried your friends sick with a call for help only to reveal that Hanbin was extraordinarily handsome that day, you felt a bit of embarrassment creeping onto your cheeks but by the way your dear boy was beaming so brightly in happiness, you’ve got nothing to worry for. “You’re so cute, you know that? Gosh, I don’t even know what I was so worry for now. I thought I was going to throw up on you asking you out… Then you’d hate me forever because I threw up on you.” “I’d still be happy. A bit disgusted, but still…” You were still so high from the sky-high confession so uniquely Hanbin, you were sure he could’ve drive you both into a bush and you’d still say yes. “Shall we head back soon?” Hanbin mused regretfully, not quite loving the idea of having to end this wonderful day so soon but the dreadful hour of tomorrow’s practice loomed over his head. He knew no longer does he have to count the hours he gets to spend with you, yet he wasn’t quite ready to be apart even if it was still under the same roof. Never before had the distant between the dark cold dungeon of Slytherin and sunny tower of Gryffindor seemed so inconceivably far. “Hmm, we’re running out of tea and sweets anyways. Best save some room for dinner too.” The wind had now regained the strength of the approaching winter, cutting into the tiny bit of skin you’ve left bare. Unknowingly, you snuggled closer to the boy, stealing warmth as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Hanbin too had taken notice of your growing quaint touches, outstretching his arm to welcome you into his side. He held you close, though it made walking a bit less convenient, neither of you minded much for the road too had gone empty. Without the prying eyes of the school and whispering of envy, your new relationship basked in the comforting silent shared by your erratically beating hearts. Your conversation continued on with the past and even the future, plans for winter break already in motion even though Halloween had yet to pass. The soft glow of the castle readily welcoming the both of you back into its warmth, shooing away the wind that was how howling against the rising moon. The debate of whether the next few hours till dinner would be spent together soon concluded with you both parting ways. He walked you dutifully just as he had the night before and waited until he could no longer see the soft locks of your hair bouncing down the steps into the dungeon. Even though dinner was mere hours away, you couldn’t help the excitement bubble far too close to the surface, barely able to contain your heart from exploding. Excitement electrifying every bit of your skin, leaving you breathless that Hanbin was truly, and undoubtedly yours.   Up on the high tower donning crimson and gold, the Gryffindor boy felt light as a feather as he jogged up the stair toward the soft embrace of his bed. There was a time when he thought there was nothing better, and he really meant it, nothing could feel greater than the warmth of his bed and the thick plush blanket cuddling him into a giant burrito after a long day of practice. Yet being in your arms today, even as small and precious as you were doing your best to hold him, the most magnificent warmth far beyond just physical feeling enveloped him, caressing serene and comfort into his soul. He could barely wait to see you again, to feel your breath so hot against his chest as you snuggle so close, doing the most to outshine him as an affection leech.   “Hey, lover boy!” Jiwon cheered, a bright smile on his lips, so contrast of the grimace dark on his features at practice. “Why are you so happy? Did Lisa punch you?” Hanbin was all too wary of his roommate’s sly smirk and teasing wink. “W-what? Why would I be happy if she punched me?” Flustered, the boy stuttered in mild protest, though that blush on his cheeks told a completely different story. “Cause that will be the only form of skin contact your coward ass will ever get with her.” It was Hanbin’s turn to smirk as Jiwon gasped, mouth gaped open to protest, but none came. “That is surprisingly on brand, but that’s beside the point.” Throwing his body onto the cushion of his bed, Jiwon got a look on his face that was troublesome to say the least. “So… Tell me everything! How was your date? Did she tell her parents? How was your kiss?” “I see the news already made its way around.” Hanbin sighed, he knew it would come sooner or later after your more than public date. Yet he was hoping to have you just for himself, to keep it between the two of you just a few more days. The boy was not yet ready to share his girlfriend with the world, wanting to treasure still the tender private moments. “Kind of hard when you keep running around snogging her every chance you get.” Jiwon scoffed with a bit of disgust but deep down, no one was happier that Hanbin finally got more than just quidditch and struggling with calculus to fill his days. “But for real though, I’m happy for you.” “Yea…” The bit of hesitation in Hanbin’s voice didn’t go unnoticed by his best friend, eyes training on the way his gaze seemingly far too despondent for a man just that had just went on his first date, and counting. “What was that?” “What was what?” Hanbin quipped, eyes grown like a deer in headlight at his friend’s sudden inquiry. “You should be doing back flips off the wall right now not...” Jiwon waved his hand about, gesturing to the slump in Hanbin’s shoulders and the nervous hands scratching his nailbeds raw. “I don’t know man. I am happy, no doubt about that. It’s just I wonder if she is…” It felt wrong for him to even bring this silly thought to the light of day, but he couldn’t help it, not when Jiwon hit him right where it hurt. “What make you say that? From what I heard, Lisa said Y/n hadn’t, and I quote: ‘shut up about her stupid little date with her stupid little boyfriend and how stupidly perfect everything was.’” Jiwon put on a magnificent display that seemed to be imitating Lisa, to which Hanbin thought was surprisingly accurate. “Now that I said it out loud, I think Lisa is jealous.” “Yea, man. Ask her out before she tear all her hair out.” Patting the bunny liked boy on his back, they shared a chuckle before the issue at hand once more return. “Anyways, really? I’m guessing she’s happy.” Hanbin admitted to himself, this time with a content sigh that he at least did this first date thing right. “So, why are you sitting here doubting it? Doubting her?” “It’s something she did. Everything was fine and then when we got close to the village, suddenly she just… She got this worry look in her eyes when people start whispering and glancing.” Hanbin sighed, concern more now than ever that he finally voiced his observation, it all seemed so much more real. He had brushed it off earlier simply because he didn’t realized how intense the tea shop would be. “Well you know who you are, Hanbin. There will always be eyes on you and like it or not, it’ll be on her too.” When his eyes returned to his friend, Jiwon realized Hanbin was far lost in his own world. “Man, you got it bad. I’ll ask Lisa and the boys, see if they know anything.” “Thanks, Jiwon.” “Anyways, I think the Ravenclaw idiots are waiting for us. Let’s all walk over to get your lady.” Nothing to cheer up a man down on himself like the mention of his heart’s desire. Hanbin seemingly perked right up as he hopped off the couch, yanking Jiwon along down the long path. Just as the loudly dinging phone had alerted them to, Donghyuk and Yunhyeong were waiting less than impatiently by the bottom of the staircase, antsy too though they still won’t admit to the more than obvious reason why. They bickered and argued the entire way leading toward the damp air and darken path of the Slytherin entrance. They were loud, even more so through the empty hallway, letting their laughter echoing about but the joyful sound ended abruptly. There, just a bit to the left of the Slytherin’s threshold that Hanbin had been growing acquaintance with, his girl and a boy he barely recognize stood, huddling close. His hair soft and silky, each golden thread so brilliantly reflecting off the fluttering wings of orange flames from the light posts. His skin pale as the moonlight, smooth and nearly as beautiful as yours, a stark contrast to the head to toe black outfit covering his stature. Hanbin couldn’t help but letting the soft thumping of his heart commanding his brain into a scramble, fists clenching so tightly his knuckles were going white. It looked far too intimate the way the stranger’s gaze dancing about your features, far too familiar as his red lips tugged into a frown listening to you. Your words hushed and so was the boy’s, bodies barely apart no doubt in an effort to keep whatever secrets being shared, well, a secret.  Sorrow drowned his eyes, glazing it over with something so painful Hanbin felt his heart ached for the stranger that was crossing into territory that should’ve left him jealous. Hanbin watched as you pulled the boy into a tight embrace, hand gently patting his back as the boy let his head rest on your shoulder. “S-Should we go over there?” Jiwon whispered, not wanting to disturb yet at the same time, ready to hold his dear friend back if needed. “No, let her be. I’ll meet her at Great Hall.” Hanbin sighed with a soft smile, undecipherable to even Donghyuk, who was appointed by all of them to be the most sensitive to other’s feeling. “Whatever they’re talking about, seemed important.” “I’ll text the rest that we’ll go ahead first and grab a spot.” Yunhyeong spoke up finally after silently observing in the background as the boys began to turn on their heels. Yet life had a funny way of interrupting beautiful moments, just as it had a knack for pressing at moments that would much better off left alone. In unison, all their phones dinged with the might of Yunhyeong’s fingers, sending the intended text to their group chat. Panic, shivers ran down his spine as Hanbin realized what had just happened, eyes shot back toward the scene very much not intended for his eyes.  The boys scrambled and muttering cuss as if they were sailors being attacked by vicious pirates. He prayed so hard that you hadn’t realized, that the collective ring had gone unheard but alas, your eyes were already on his. He did his best to put on a smile, a small wave before they hurried back down the hallway toward dinner, footsteps hurrying as if they had just gotten caught redhanded.   “Well that went as horrible as it could’ve.” Hanbin sighed, noting the way your eyes lit up in panic? Confusion? He wasn’t sure but one thing was for certain, he hoped you wouldn’t be angry at him for intruding, ruining the moment. Surrounded by good company and the most delectable food filling the plates, his mind was soon off of the strange encounter as the group huddled close, over talking in an attempt to ease his mind. Eventually the noise and the smell were enough to get Hanbin into the flow of the conversation, yet before he could fly off into the far distant land of his mind, Jiwon was violently stabbing at his side, inciting the most excruciating pain an index finger could against the soft tissue of his hip. “Binnie, look. Stop eating!” Jiwon grunted under his breath, not wanting to draw any more attention than necessary. Though all his discretion went out the window the moment he settled on elbowing Hanbin so hard, the boy nearly topples over in his seat. If not for the much more important issue at hand, hanbin would’ve thrown Jiwon to the floor for bruising his ribs the night before a very important practice session. The warmth of soup long abandoned as his eyes traversed upward toward the entrance where you had just burst into, panted and alarmed. Your eyes rummaging through the entire room, through every group of students spreading sporadically through the four great tables. Your hair a bit more wild than he had last seen, no doubt from sprinting if the heavy pant you were heaving was of any indication. When your eyes met his, it was as if heaven had opened up as you huffed a sigh of relief, especially when Hanbin already had a smile on his lips. No words needed to be said for Hanbin understood completely your gaze, rising from his seat and bounding toward you immediately. “Hey, what’s wrong?” He could barely made out the tiny frown you got on your lips before your feet once more pattering against the stone floor, running right out the door into the quietness of the hall. “Y/n, slow down. If you breathe any harder, your lungs are going to explode.” For a second Hanbin had forgotten completely what happened that morning, the way your arms felt so right around him, how soft your lips were. For a split second, he felt helpless yet the second he picked up on that soft scent of your perfume, out of sheer instinct, his arms woven itself around your shivering body. “Hey, what’s wrong?” “I, I can explain…” You could barely get a few words out before a breath choked out from your throat. Even now, merely through the hug he could feel your heart beating right out of your chest, thumping far worse than what he felt as you both soared high through the cloud. “what you saw, it’s not what you think.” “I didn’t think anything, Y/n. You don’t have to explain anything to me.” He sighed against a soft kiss on your cheek, fingers gently brushing the windblown locks into submission, carding solace back into your frizzy self. “But, you saw… and you left… and, and he was just a friend. It was a friendly hug, like a friendly consolation hug. It didn’t mean-“ “Okay, let’s breathe first and foremost. Can’t have you passing out of me now, okay?” His words slowly sinking in as you let your head falling into his chest, letting the gentle beat of his heart calming down yours. “There we go. I left because it looked like a private moment. I trust you, Y/n. Strange as that sound for the amount of time we’ve known each other… I left simply because he had the look of a broken man and I had a feeling four rowdy boys wouldn’t help.” “He’s my closest friend beside the trio. He was having some hard time, with his girlfriend so I offered a hug of encouragement.” You explained even though Hanbin had time and time again expressed he need not of it. “Oh, my sweet girl, did you run all the way up here from the dungeon just to tell me that?” He cooed softly against the shell of your ear. He pressed yet another kiss, this time against your forehead and felt firework exploding in his heart as you nodded timidly with a soft mewl of agreement. “But you hate running.” “I know…” You pouted, finally parting way from the comforting pillow of his chest, needing to look at him. “Running hurt.” “Goodness me, what am I going to do with you.” He was in so much trouble, so so much trouble feeling his heart nearly giving up, unable to cope with every tiny sound, every little expression on your features.  “How are you always this cute? I’m going to die young of a heart attack if this goes on any further.” “Hey, I said dying is not allowed…” You punched playfully at his chest in protest, “Fine, I’ll go away then… So, you won’t die young.” “Nope, too late for running away.” Your attempt at wiggling out of his hug was as effective as watering plant under a big rainstorm, the more you struggle, the tighter his hug had become. “Plus, you hate running anyways so I say, just go along for the ride.” “Thank you, for understanding.” 

“Always. You can tell me when you’re ready.” Hanbin let you rest your weary mind on his chest for as long as you wanted, soft teasing words and comforting hug readily given to fill the time. He didn’t mind too that the dinner he had gotten was barely touched, a few bites eaten before you had stormed in and whisked away all his attention. He loved this, having you in his arms without feeling the scrutiny of passersby and jealous whispers. He wasn’t one to think of himself as a giant, just a boy who loved the sport, willing to give his all to take his team toward victory. Yet somehow along the way, the title of prince and king entangled his soul, weighting it down with emotions Hanbin wasn’t ready to deal with. And as much as he’d like to deny it, eyes were on him and it was true what Jiwon had said, eyes will be on you too. So for now, he’ll cherished these small private moments of two souls bonding through the bliss of a new relationship barely budding in the fresh air of romance. And when time come, he’ll do his best to protect you against the sharp glares of the world. Though perhaps that time might come much much sooner than he could ever imagine. As you were both too far lost in the far corners of the universe where only the two of you exist, you failed to realize that just beyond the sharp turn of the corridor a sharp scoff of anger bitter against the sweet words being spoken had just materialized, lingering with the echoing footsteps leaving you both behind, oblivious in the seemingly peaceful night…

[panda-noosh]

“we shared a bed for space reasons but now I’m kind of in love with you” with lance please!!!!!!!! (I’m such a sucker for lance lmaooo)🌲

words: 1.6k

notes: here you go! x

+++

    Lance couldn’t stop thinking about it, and it was beginning to drive him insane.

   It was so simple. He had done it with other people many times in the past, so why was now any different? Why hadn’t his heart stopped beating at one hundred miles per hour from the moment he rolled out of the that bed the morning after?

    The morning after. He snickered when he thought about it, as if the actions of before had been some kind of erotic fantasy - it hadn’t. The two of you had complained the entire time, eventually stopped talking and then fell asleep.

    At least, you had fallen asleep.

    Lance had stayed up the majority of the night trying to convince himself that the deepening pit in his stomach was purely out of dread for having to be forced to sleep next to another human being - you especially. He talked himself through it, even managed to convince himself for a little while.

    Until you had rolled over and Lance saw your face, smooshed up against the soft fabric of the pillow, hair getting caught in the drool running from your mouth. His heartbeat sped up then, and the lies he had been telling himself now became almost impossible to believe.

   Now, he sat in the kitchen, staring off into thin air. He tapped his fingertips together idly, trying to release some of the nervous energy building up in his system. Usually, he would do this by arguing with Keith, or perhaps going into the training room for a few hours, but neither of those options were appealing to him right now. All he wanted to do was find you, and it was this very thought that scared him into complete silence.

     He had flirted with a number of people in his lifetime. He had had significant others, had enjoyed a pretty diverse romantic life - but this was so different. Different in the fact that you and him weren’t even together, and from the signals you had been putting out, you never would be. Once upon a time, Lance had been able to deal with that news with little disappointment to expose his true feelings - but the bed had been the trigger. Being forced to sleep beside you had done something to him that he wasn’t sure he would be able to reverse.

    And now, here he was, staring into thin air as he tried desperately to figure out what to do.

    Because he could hardly just act the exact same around you, could he? He had seen you a total of four times in the past week since the incident had occurred, and all four times, he had left the room to go and calm himself down before his heart truly did escape his chest cavity. 

    He literally lived with you. He couldn’t keep going on like this.

    He groaned and ducked his head in his hands. Why couldn’t his Inner-Smooth-Guy come out now? He needed that side of himself more than anything right now.

     “Lance?”

    He hadn’t even realised the light had been turned off until you were flicking it on and he was forced to wince through the sudden intrusion of brightness. In fact, he hadn’t even realised it was getting dark until now.

    He turned in his seat to face you, trying desperately to keep his usual glow on his face. Hopefully you wouldn’t notice the way his eyes briefly trailed up your figure - it wasn’t as if much was on show. You wore one of the ships customary white fluffy dressing gowns, similar to the one Lance always paraded around in. If he looked past how clean your gown was, he was almost able to imagine that you were wearing his.

    “What the hell are you doing in here?” you asked, making your way towards the coffee machine. “You look like a creature in the night just staring into thin air like that.”

    “Yeah, well, you look like a marshmallow.”

    What?

    He cursed himself. Why had he said that? Out of any insult he could have given, he chose to call you a marshmallow?

    You snickered, looking over your shoulder with an amused smile. “I’ll be taking that as a compliment.”

    “It wasn’t,” Lance spat out, folding his arms over his chest and looking away from you before you noticed the bright pink hue flushing his cheeks. “What are you getting a coffee for, anyway? Surely it’s too late to be drinking that stuff now.”

    “I have work to get done,” you replied. “Which means an all-nighter for me, baby.”

    Oh, sweet mother of god. 

    Don’t call me baby. Don’t call me baby. Don’t call me baby.

    Lance coughed into his fist. “You probably shouldn’t be staying awake for too long. You’ll burn yourself out.”

   You shrugged. “Nothing I haven’t done before. And besides, that’s what the coffee’s for - it’s gonna keep me going until I’m actually ready to fall asleep.”

   “What work do you have to do anyway?” 

    “Some stuff with Pidge’s computer system.”

    “You know absolutely nothing about computers.”

    You frowned, glancing at him with furrowed brows. “You’re being meaner than usual tonight. What’s wrong?”

   Lance froze. He knew he had overdone it, but it was purely for himself. Even as his heartbeat slammed in his chest as he spoke to you, he was still trying to convince himself that this was nothing more than a natural reaction. It would blow over soon enough, and he could go back to pretending you were his worst enemy and that every other person in the world was more appealing than you.

    But god, when you were looking at him like that, it was so much more difficult to play that roll.

    He swallowed thickly and tried to turn away, but his eyes were locked on you and he found himself slipping. You had turned to face him fully now, leaning against the counter with your fingers wrapped tight around the coffee cup. The collar of your dressing gown was tugged up, ticking at your jaw in the most adorable way possible; Lance was losing his grip. All that convincing he had done for the past week was slipping through his fingers, and he was doing very little to get it back.

    He shook his head slowly. 

    “Do you remember when we shared that bed last week?” he suddenly blurted out.

    He would be a fool to miss the way you tried to nuzzle your head into the collar of your dressing gown, any attempts to hide the heat rising on your face.

    “Uh… vaguely,” you replied. “Why?”

    “Did it bother you that we had to … you know … . sleep beside each other?”

    You raised a brow. “I mean, I didn’t really have a choice. It was either that or sleep on the floor.”

   “No. What I mean is, did it bother you that it was me you had to sleep beside?”

   You froze. Lance watched your expression closely, needing confirmation that he wasn’t going absolutely insane, that you had been at least effected by Lance’s presence that night. You continued to stare at him, fingers tightening on the coffee mug.

    And then, “It didn’t bother me, no.”

    Lance exhaled. “Did it have any effect on you at all?”

   “Why are you asking me all this?”

    “Just answer the question.”

    “Okay, maybe a little bit,” you mumbled, shifting slightly from one foot to the other. “You’re not exactly the most ugly looking human being, Lance. I’m wise enough to see that much.”

   Lance’s eyes popped open. That was a lot more than what he thought he was going to get, and it spurred him on.

    Perhaps a little too much.

    “That’s good. That’s really good, because we shared a bed for one night and now I think I’m falling in love with you.”

    You gasped, genuinely gasped. Lance heard it, but he was too far gone now to back out. He quickly arose from his chair and made his way over to you, but he made no move to touch you. You stared up at him, eyes wide, body still - Lance wanted to make sure you wanted this before he tried anything more.

    “Actually, that’s a lie,” he said. “I know I’m falling in love with you, and it’s been terrifying me for the past week. That’s why I’ve been so hostile towards you lately - more than usual. I just needed to convince myself that I still … I still had a grudge against you, or whatever it was we had going on before all this happened. The idea of falling for you-”

   “It was scary,” you finished, voice barely above a mumble.

    Lance slowly nodded. “Terrifying.”

    You swallowed, turned and set your coffee mug down on the counter. You then turned back to Lance, looked into his eyes, and it was then that he knew he had made the right decision. Say it was rushed, say it was pointless, say he was unworthy of a person like you, but he wouldn’t redo this moment for anything.

    Especially not whenever you reached up and wrapped your arms around his shoulders, tugging him that little bit closer to you. Your lips brushed against his own teasingly as you spoke, your voice a whisper. Lance shuddered, closing his eyes against the feel of your breath on his lips, so close yet so distant.

    “I know exactly how you feel,” you whispered. “Because we shared a bed for one night, and I think I’m falling in love with you, too.”

[ciarawritesmarvel]

Pillows and Pocket Knives [2]

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: Language (can’t help myself sorry I'm not)

A/N: Finally, apologies for the wait! This is kind of more introductory stuff to Bucky and Y/N, but the action (in the loosest sense of the word tbh) begins soon. I’ve been tweaking this for days and there’s something off with it but I can’t seem to fix it so I’m just throwing out there now and running away into the shadows.  

Prompt: Everyone is the God of something. Unfortunately, it’s usually something mediocre. 

ONE // PILLOWS AND POCKET KNIVES MASTERLIST // MASTERLIST

Two - 1892 || Training: Just Beginning

“So what does this do?” Bucky asked, and you wondered exactly how many times he’d asked exactly the same question in the last half an hour.

“That’s just a calendar,” you muttered, trying to continue your work, swiping through some of your favourite insomniacs whose pillows might need a little plump before they were able to nod off. From just how many people were always wide awake in the dead of night, you desperately wanted to have a word with the Goddess of Sleep to see if she’d ever thought about doing her job properly.

“Ohhh, I get it,” he nodded solemnly, as if committing what you’d said to memory, and you realised he probably was. Pushing yourself up from your desk with a small sigh, you walked over to the far wall and pushed a button that hadn’t been there when you left the house that morning. As you did, the cloudy wall of the room parted and revealed a new room, Bucky’s room, brand new and still sparkling. You inhaled sharply.

“Well, this is just fucking fantastic,” you hissed as you took in the room. It was perfect. Walls and floors of wooden panels, beams stretched across the high roof, rustic furniture and a roaring fire in the corner. A room of chestnut and sepia and mahogany with no white in sight. It was your dream room.

Your only comfort came from the fact that his pillows didn’t look quite as comfy as yours. There was no way you were going to plump them for him.

“It’s a bit...beige, don’t you think?” his nose wrinkled and you turned your head to him in surprise, annoyance only seeping further into your bones at his lack of appreciation, “I prefer yours.”

“But mine’s all white. Literally, just white,” you couldn’t hide your confusion.

“At least it’s bright, though.”

“...I give up. I need to work and you don’t start until tomorrow so just make yourself at home,” you tried to smile, really, you did, but it ended up looking more like a grimace. Bucky seemed to like it anyway though, if his grin was anything to go by. It was hard to work out if you liked it or you didn’t.

“Okay, see you in the morning, Pillows!” he strolled into his room and sat down on his bed, but the nickname left his lips just as you were about to press the button and basically force him to leave you alone. Instead, you closed your eyes and leaned the side of your head against the doorframe.

“Don’t call me that-” you said through gritted teeth, opening your eyes to say, “-please.”

“Oh, I was under the impression that’s how people referred to each other in-”

“It is but...not me,” you insisted and you expected Bucky to question you more but the cheeky grin simply returned to his face, his eyes lighting up with mischief.

“In that case I either call you doll-” you shot him a glare, “-or you can finally tell me your real name.”

You paused. A moment of hesitation. Since when had even just telling someone your name felt like giving away too much?

“Y/N.”

With that you pressed the button and watched Bucky’s grin fade away as your view was clouded - literally. Once the wall was back in place, you returned to your desk to continue the work you’d been attempting to do, running your hand over your face as you began the monotonous task of plumping pillows yet again.

Then the noise came. Once. Twice. You strained to work out what it was but then it hit you. A snore.

You tried to ignore it, you were already behind on your quota for the day and it was only a faint sound.

Just as you thought that, the rumbling got louder. You quickly realised it was getting louder with each individual snore. You set your jaw.

Why in all the Realms would the Ultimate God create a God that bloody snores?

Turning off the screen in your desk for good, knowing that there was no way you’d be reaching your quota, you stalked over to the new door, hitting the button with the palm of your hand and walking straight in. There he was, lying under the covers already, lights off and the incessant snoring even more prominent without the clouds to muffle it.

Without hesitation, you walked over, clicked your fingers to turn the lights back on and threw the covers off him.

“Right, you’ve literally just been created, there is absolutely no need for you to have a bloody nap right...right…” you couldn’t quite finish your sentence when you suddenly registered his state as he turned to smile at you. You could have sworn you saw just the hint of a blush adorning his cheeks.

“Don’t you knock?” he asked, but he was teasing as you quickly threw the duvet back over him and turned away.

“Why the fuck did you strip to your boxers for a nap?” you quipped back sharply, your aggression masking your growing embarrassment. Not that Bucky was having any of it.

“Why the fuck didn’t you knock?”

“Why the fuck are you dodging my question?” you whirled back around to face him, grateful that he’d gotten up and at least put some trousers on although he was still lacking a shirt. Your eyes flitted downwards involuntarily and you bit the inside of your cheek, forcing them back upwards. His smirk at your actions was infuriating.

“Why the fuck do you swear all the time?” he asked, clearly caught up in this questioning loop without answers. You jabbed your finger at him.

“You’re swearing too, jackass.”

“Ha! I win!” he taunted and you gawked.

“What do you mean ‘you win’?” you asked incredulously, your finger still pointing at him ominously. One step forward and your finger would have touched his chest. His still bare chest that was just one step away and...and you really needed to stop getting sidetracked by the chest.

“You didn’t ask a question, therefore,” he took the one step and your finger hit his sternum. You gulped as he lowered his voice to a sinful level, “I win.”

You hated that you were having to look up at him because he was too tall. You hated that he was looking at you like he was amused at your anger. You hated that he still hadn’t bothered to put a shirt on. You hated that he was here, living in your house, in a room nicer than your own even though he was only created today.

But the hate coursing through you seemed to be confusing itself with something else, the passionate hate morphing into simple passion. You had a sudden and overwhelming desire to grab the back of his neck and pull him closer.

That thought alone was enough to snap you out of it.

You held your hand out to your side and a shirt flew into it which you shoved into his chest, making him take a few steps backwards, finally giving you the space to breathe.

“Get dressed. We’re going out,” you said calmly, folding your arms and rooting yourself to the spot in which you were standing. He tilted his head in confusion and you rolled your eyes, “I’m not leaving and risking you falling asleep again.”

“Where are we going?” he asked after a few moments, pulling the shirt over his head and finally dissipating the remaining...tension in the air. There was still an angry tension but no more of the other kind of tension that you had no time for whatsoever.

“I’m taking you on a tour, Pocket Knives,” you announced, walking out of his room and then out of the house, hearing his hurried footsteps to try to stay by your side, “So make sure you listen up.”

“Hey, if I can’t call you Pillows, you can’t call me Pocket Knives,” he pouted, looking at you beside him despite your insistence on staring straight ahead of you, “And I’m guarding Swiss Army Knives anyway, so you-”

“Does it look like I give a damn?” you asked, finally looking at him and refusing to smile at the sight of him half-jogging to keep up with your brisk pace. He muttered something incoherent in reply but you didn’t bother to ask what it was. A part of your heart ached for how rude you were being but you’d spent too long building your walls up to let even one brick crumble for the likes of someone you’d just met.

You’d never felt bad about your attitude before, though.

“First up, the fast travel station. This is how we get around in this realm, just stand on a black square, press the right button and the gods in the travel realm will instantly whisk you to wherever you need to be,” you explained and Bucky nodded.

“Like this?” he asked, hopping onto a black square and pressing a button at random. You reached out to stop him but he was gone before you could open your mouth to speak.  Sighing heavily, you leaned in to look at just where it was he’d travelled to.

Element Realm. Your eyes widened in panic.

You didn’t have long to worry though as a gust of wind later and Bucky appeared, a wisp of smoke rising from the front of his hair. Upon closer inspection, you could see that it was slightly singed.

“You are so stupid!” you exclaimed, fanning your hand at the smoke to try to dissipate it a little. Bucky grimaced.

“Hard to argue with you when my head’s on fire,” he muttered to himself, trying to swat your hand away from his head, “Why did they throw a fireball at me, anyway? I only just managed to duck in time for it to not hit my face!”

“We aren’t allowed to travel between realms, idiot! Security’s pretty high over there too-” you shrugged before thinking better of your answer, “-which is basically code for they’re just all assholes.”

“Noted,” Bucky nodded, reaching up to comb through his hair which was finally smoke-free, “Let’s continue, shall we?”

“Only if you promise not to touch anything,” you warned and Bucky put a hand to his chest.

“You don’t have to tell me twice.”

“I was hoping I wouldn’t have to tell you once.”

You continued walking, pointing and naming the occupants of the other houses on your street, although you did slow your pace just slightly so that it was easier for him to stick by you. Just so that he didn’t do anything he shouldn’t, of course.

“...and this is Tony Stark’s house, he has a sports car for no reason and you should never never mention it or him to Goddess Potts otherwise she might just stab you with one of your own knives.”

“Why would-”

“Trust me. Just don’t.”

“If you say so, boss.”

“Next to Tony is Nat, she’s in training like you but she’s more competent than most of the 1000 year old Gods I know. Don’t stare at her too long, she might gut you,” you warned and Bucky gulped.

“Is everyone this violent?”

“Everyone I associate with anyway,” you shrugged.

“Makes sense,” he grinned despite himself and you forced yourself to keep a straight face, but then he seemed to remember something, “Apart from Steve, am I right?”

“Oh Steve can and will hold his own,” you mused and a small smile came to your face as you thought about his first few years, “He used to get into so many fights. But you’re right, not so violent anymore.”

“What changed?”

You scoffed.

“Love changed him, the sappy fool,” you shook your head, but it was fond and Bucky couldn’t help but smile at the realisation that there was an end to your harsh exterior somewhere.

“And what about you? Hasn’t there ever been a love to change you?”

“If there had been, don’t you think I’d be just a tad bit different?” you deadpanned but Bucky didn’t look ready to let it go just yet.

“But you’re basically 10000 years old, surely you must have found-”

“You’re on thin ice already here, Pocket Knives, I kindly suggest you tread carefully about my age.”

This time he seemed to take the hint.

“So who else lives in our street?” he changed the subject deftly and you were grateful.

“I honestly don't know. In case you haven’t realised, I’m not the most social of the Goddesses.”

“I never would have guessed.”

You shot him a warning look but couldn’t help your smirk upon seeing his own.

“A smirk isn’t quite a smile, but I’ll take what I can get.”

*

if crossed out, i couldn’t tag you for some reason - sorry! all tag lists are open so please just drop me an ask ^-^ these better work i swear

permanent tags: @mightyhemsworthy @aheadfullofsherlock @ign-is @buckysboobear @bibibucky @thefridgeismybestie @avengersbabe13 @mixedupsammy @memyselfandmaddox @ginger-rxchxo @stephie-senpai @hottrashformarvel @queenoftrash97 @buckysmetalgoddamnarm @yknott81 @mell-bell @dolphinpink310 @sgtjbuccky @dreamerinfinity @selenasoftly @spiderlingss @slightlycatdependent @shamelessbookaddict @vintagepigeon @bodhi-black @realgreglestrade @demoncrypt1066 @skeltn @bucky-at-bedtime @hanscait @battlebunnyteardropsinthesun @milkywaybarnes @scurtscurt2021 @jitterbuck @slowly-but-shurley @jaamesbbarnes @yesdruidess @dixonsbugaboo @lortise @whiskeybucky @n-lafayette @theassetseyeliner @mylovelymarvel

bucky tags: @residentdemonhunter

pillows and pocket knives: @sebastiansass @marvel-biatch @theglowstickofdestiny @sami-raye @cutiepiemimi13 @thebadassbitchqueen @wisestydia-15 @captainlogolepsy @futuremrsb-r-main @part-time-patronus @vixenoftheocean @justahopingwriter @diinofayce

[soldierwinterthe]

The Ice Weakens The Pain

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Fighting, a lot of blood, kidnapping, a bit of fluffiness

Words: 3.4K

Feedback is always appreciated.

Finding and intercepting the position of the Winter Soldier's hideout was not difficult; Bucky Barnes, to be exact. Someone advised me not to talk about his... bad side.

My purpose was to find him before other people, and to talk to him. Understanding... how he feels.

If I didn't know his real identity, I might think that Bucky is the most normal man that exists. Before approaching him, I observed him in the distance; in the morning he makes a trip to the market, but then he stays in his small apartment for the rest of the day.

This morning, like those before, Bucky is among the stalls, to buy something to eat; knowing he's going home, I walk away from him, and I take a shortcut, to get there before him.

Actually, it's not an apartment; it's just a room, with a mattress in the corner, and a table in the middle. But after all the horror that Bucky had to suffer, I think that for him this is heaven.

I keep turning around the table, and watching every little detail, when I suddenly hear the front door open. I watch Bucky quietly enter the apartment, expecting to be alone, but he freezes when he sees me sitting on one of the chairs near the table.

Bucky pulls a gun from behind his back, and he points it straight at my forehead; I, remaining calm, raise my hands, warning him to be disarmed.

"Who are you? What are you doing in my house?"

I do not answer, and I keep staring at the gun pointed at me; I look Bucky in the eye, and taking him by surprise, I clasp my hands around the weapon, and I literally tear it from his hands. Bucky throws at me, he squeezes my shoulders, and slams me against the wall.

"I asked you who you are!"

"I'm a spy, one of our mutual friends asked me to look for you."

Bucky seems to be confused by my words, and when I realize that he is slowly loosening his grip on me, and counterattack. The roles have been reversed, and this time it's him standing on the wall, with me trying to keep him stuck.

"You've got the wrong person. I have no friends."

"Steve still considers you his friend, despite everything, and I promised to help him, so try to calm down, because I'm not here to hurt you."

After hearing Steve's name, Bucky seems to relax, and when I'm sure he doesn't want to attack me anymore, I let him go. He turns to look at me, and I raise my hands again, as a sign of surrender; I pick up the gun from the ground, and I deliver it to Bucky, who puts it back in its place.

I must say that Bucky is... completely different from how I imagined him; I saw only a few photos of him – Steve retains many of them when they were young, long before the war – and by now, he is no longer Sergeant Barnes, or the Winter Soldier. He is not even Bucky anymore; I don't think he really knows who he is, he can't define himself.

I don't blame him; spy life is similar to his. We are not being tortured – more or less – but when we decide to become part of the world of espionage, our previous lives are completely erased. And we are reborn, with a new name, a new identity, which we can change whenever we need it.

"You shouldn't have come."

Bucky picks up the shopping bag – which he had previously 'placed' on the ground to take out the gun – and begins to pose the things he bought in his place. I offer him my help, and he accepts, even if still very hesitant about my presence in his house.

"Instead, I'm exactly where I should be; Steve sent me to look for you, to protect you."

Bucky smiles, even if it is not a real smile; he thinks I'm mocking him, but it's not really like that.

"Steve and I... we found out that there are some men who are looking for you, and they belong to the Hydra."

This is enough to trigger Bucky again, and get him into 'danger' mode. Even if he tries to be strong, he's actually just a man who is still afraid of the men who destroyed him. Physically and psychologically. His body is completely frozen, and I approach him, caressing his shoulder back and forth, to make him calm; I would love to help him, but honestly, I don't know how.

Even though he has been physically tortured, his problem is purely psychological; his mind is completely disrupted, and only he can tidy up his memories.

Suddenly, we hear strange noises outside the apartment; Bucky and I both look into each other's eyes, and as if we read one in the other's mind, he draws his gun once more, while I pull mine, hidden in my left boot.

"You said you were unarmed."

"In fact, I was. The gun was in its place, not in my hands."

Bucky shakes his head, slightly irritated by my lie; but I didn't lie, I just... changed the truth.

"Did you come alone?"

"Obviously yes. I've been following you for days, and I've never seen anyone doing the same."

He waves me to follow him, and going towards him, Bucky holds me by the arm, and forces me to follow him. We both find ourselves in another room, which was hidden behind a bookshelf.

"No offense, but as a spy you're not very good."

"Excuse me?"

"You just said that you followed me for days, and you didn't even notice that they followed you!" Bucky whispers as he can; the men are trying to force the door, and they will not take long to make it fall to their feet.

"I'm not that stupid! Nobody followed me; if they're here, it means that they found you, without following me."

Bucky sighs, unnerved by the situation; he's probably hating me right now. He was spending a quiet, normal day, and then, I come into his house, and now there are these people about to come in, and they will try to kill us.

Bucky says something, but at the same time, a loud noise envelops the room, the door falls violently to the ground, and in a moment, at least ten men enter, running towards us. They start shooting, and to my surprise, Bucky stands in front of me, using his metal arm as a shield.

I use the gun, managing to hit some men, but they are too many, and the only window to escape, is in front of us, behind the men.

We are trapped, I don't know how we could get out of this situation; my weapon is empty, and the soldiers point their guns at us. Bucky and I exchange a look, and we raise our hands in surrender.

One of the men comes towards me, and with the grip of the gun, he strikes me in the head, making me lose consciousness.

When I open my eyes, I try to move, but it's useless; around my wrists I have chains, which keep me tied to the ceiling, and my feet almost touch the floor. I try to look around, the room is completely bare; there are only four walls of an extinguished gray. In fact, I can only see three walls; the one behind me is unknown to me, even if I try to turn around, I can't see anything.

"B-Bucky?"

I make his name again, but no one answers me; I try to free myself, but the chains are too strong.

"I'm awake, assholes. Why don't you step forward!?"

My provocation works, I hear noises behind me, as if a door had just opened; even if I tried to turn around again it wouldn't work. So I wait for the stranger to be in front of me; a man raised, dressed completely in black, stands in front of me, his hands behind the back. Military pose, if I'm not mistaken.

"Who the fuck are you?"

The man in front of me doesn't seem to intend to answer me; instead, he comes closer to me, and with his hand clenched in a fist, he strikes me right in the stomach.

The sudden pain leaves me completely out of breath, but I close my eyes and remain calm. The enemy looks me straight in the eye, then he gives me another punch, still in the stomach. He continues to hit me; a fist, two fists, three fists.

My head starts to turn around, but all I can think of right now is where the hell is Bucky: he was my mission. And five minutes after finding him, I lost him.

As if someone had read me in thought, what I thought was a wall, actually, it's not; on my left, the dark gray disappears, replaced by a wall completely made of glass.

The room adjacent to mine is very similar to the one where I am, except at the center of it, there is Bucky, also tied with chains, but to a chair. He breaks free as he can, but without success. Not even he manages to free himself. Suddenly he looks up, and he sees me; he opens his eyes wide, looks worried. Bucky screams my name, I can hear it.

"I'm fine, don't worry." I say, trying to be convincing. It doesn't help much; the blows that the man in front of me gave me, caused me a lot of pangs, and the voice is now almost a hoarse whisper.

"Why were you following him?" the stranger suddenly says; I turn to look at him, surprised by his words. Are they torturing me because they want to know my connection with Bucky?

"Oh, so you speak."

The man in front of me, not happy with my answer not given, hits me again, but this time in the face. My head turns, and I feel the blood between my lips; I look at the man straight in the eye, then I spit out the clot of blood that has formed in my mouth. The stranger backs away, but his face has changed: he's enraged. He takes big steps towards me, ready to hit me again, but I take him off guard, and throwing my body forward, I wrap my legs around his neck and I push down, with all the strength I have.

The man wriggles, trying to spread himself on the floor, and this does nothing but loosen the chains, until it breaks completely. I fall to the ground, legs still tangled around the man; I moan in pain, but before my enemy can hurt me again, I squeeze even more tightly around his neck, until he passed out.

The body below me, no longer moves, and I relax, taking deep breaths.

"Hey!"

I turn around, and I see Bucky move on the chair, to get free; I get up from the ground, and approaching the unconscious man, I begin to steal in the pockets of his pants, and in his jacket, to find anything that can serve me. He has two guns, and a pocketknife, which I quickly put in my pocket; after which, I approached the glass wall where Bucky is, but all of a sudden, the door that was behind me opens once more. Dozens of men enter, and without waiting even for a moment, they run towards me; with one of the two guns, I start shooting, hitting some of them. The shots end quickly, and having no time to extract the other weapon, I use the one in my hand.

At least, five or six men throw themselves at me trying to hit me, but I try to defend myself as best I can; one of them manages to hit me in the face, and I feel as if the cheekbones had shattered under the skin.

Anyway, in a moment the man is on the ground, after I hit him with the gun; others of them approach me, and from the pocket of my pants, I take the pocketknife. I hit two more of them, one in the stomach, and one of them I cut the throat.

My hands are covered with blood, their blood. But I continue to defend myself, until one man remains in front of me; he's so tall and big, I almost can't see the exit door behind him.

"Would you be the final boss?"

He frowns, unable to understand what I'm talking about.

"Yes, the final boss, like in video games. First come the soldiers who fight like little girls, and then the last one comes, the big one." I explain to the man, gesturing with the hands, still clinging to the weapon, and to the knife.

The man still doesn't seem to understand anything of what I say, and rolling the eyes, I take a deep breath.

"Never mind."

Before he's thrown on me, I take a few steps towards him, and I try to hit him; a grown man, but also very agile. The man quickly manages to avoid my stroke, and he holds my arm in one of his hands; put like that, my arm looks like a thin twig, ready to break with a single blow.

The man tightens my arm even more, and I moan in pain, feeling the bones making small crack; I try to free myself, and to do it, I use the knife to hurt my enemy. A huge cut opens in his arm, and staggering backwards, I can free myself from his grip. Without wasting any more time, I hit the man with a kick behind his knees, knocking him to the ground, on his knees. Quickly, I pull the other gun out from behind my back, and, pointing it straight at my enemy's head, I shoot.

His body falls to the ground, his head muffled; an enormous stain of blood forms on the floor, and I observe it, becoming more and more dense. My hands tremble, but I try not to think about it; I have to hurry up, before other men arrive; I managed to eliminate these, but I'm too weak now, to fight others.

I walk towards the glass wall again, without anyone bothering me this time; on the right, there's a kind of fingerprint reader; pointing the gun at it, I shoot at it a couple of times, and what looked like a wall made of glass, it disappears.

I walk towards Bucky, who observes me... in a strange way. It doesn't have to be normal for him to see a woman fight like that. I shoot against the chains, and finally, he is free too.

"Are you okay?" Bucky asks me, trying to get close to me; I take a step back, and I walk towards the exit door.

"We have to go. Before others arrive."

Behind me, Bucky begins to follow me; cautiously, I open the door, and we both leave the room.

We are not very far from Bucky's apartment, but of course it's compromised, and so I head to the hotel room where I was hiding. Closed the door behind me, I finally heave a sigh of relief, feeling safe now.

What I want, is just to take a long bath, with cold water, and ice; it's very drastic as a thing, but the cold manages to calm me down, and to make the pain disappear from my body, leaving only the bruises. They're easy to cover with a bit of makeup.

Meanwhile, Bucky lies down on the bed, closing his eyes, resting.

The full bathtub, the ice floating in the water, and I enter, first stretching out, then putting my head under the water; I remain like this for I don't know how many minutes; then, I hear someone knocking on the door, probably Bucky.

I remain still underwater, but Bucky knocks again; I emerge and catch my breath. Looking at the door that separates me from him; finally, I leave the tub, and after wrapping a towel around my body, I approach the door, and I open it slightly.

Bucky, standing in front of me, looks up when he sees me appear. Now his eyes are different; he's less tired, but first... that they did something to him in that room, while I was unconscious?

"Everything is okay? You didn't go out of the bathroom, and..."

"I'm fine." I quickly say; I don't want him to worry about me. Perhaps it seems that I'm in shock, but it's not so; but you can't even remain impassive in front of the fact that I killed about ten people, less than a couple of hours ago.

"Now I have to get dressed."

Bucky looks down, and after nodding, he walks away, leaving me the opportunity to wear something. I approach the mirror in front of the tub, and I look at my body, stained here, there's the bruises; bruises on the arms, on the back, on the legs. On the face. I sigh; it had been a while since I fought so brutally; I had forgotten what it feels like. The bodies on the ground, the blood in your hands, the pain that ceases slowly.

I leave the bathroom, Bucky is sitting at the foot of the bed, his hands intertwined with each other, and his head bent to fix the floor; I approach him, and I put a hand on his shoulder.

"How are you? It happened... something, there?" I ask Bucky; maybe I should remain silent. It shouldn't be my business what happens to him, but he seems so... out of the world, as if he did nothing but think.

Bucky looks up, and smiles; standing in front of me, his hands caress my arms, pausing at every bruise.

"Nothing happened, you don't have to worry. They only had me... tied to that chair."

He doesn't seem to be relieved by the fact that those men didn't do him any harm; even just been seated in that chair, unable to move, scared him so much that he almost broke it.

"Do they hurt you?" Bucky asks me, stopping on the bruises around the wrists, caused by the chains.

"I suffered worse. You don't have to worry."

Bucky squeezes my wrists in his hands, but gently, without too much force; the contact of his metal arm with my skin reminds me of the ice inside the water that enveloped my body. I look up, I look at his face, while he continues staring at my wrists; gently, Bucky brings them close to his face, and puts a kiss on each of them. Then his eyes meet mine, and I notice his cheeks flush.

"Why did you do it?" I ask him.

"Um, I don't know. I remembered when I was a kid, and when... one day I got hurt. My mother had approached me, and she kissed my wound. She said they would heal faster."

I smile at this little anecdote about him; it's interesting to know him from a completely different point of view. Neither that of the fugitive nor that of the soldier; only him, and his childhood.

"What's happening now?"

"Steve... he asked me to stay by your side, after I found you, and protect you. Although, I haven't been very good at it."

Bucky, pulling me towards him, makes me sit beside him. I look down; I should be one of the strongest spies in the world, nothing compared to the Black Widow, but... I had never done so suck.

"It's not your fault; I was wrong to say those things before."

"Thank you."

I turn to the bed, and I lie down; I'm so tired. I need to rest. Bucky follows my every move with his sweet gaze, after which he relaxes next to me, our faces close to each other.

"We must go on. We'll hide somewhere else, until Steve calls." I whisper to Bucky, never looking away from him.

"Okay. But now, you have to rest."

I close my eyes, but before falling asleep, I hear Bucky approach me, and kiss me on the cheek.

"Thanks for saving me."

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[jasmine-requiso]

Watch "The Kingdom of AntiChrist Exposed" on YouTube

In the 7th month of year 2007, I was still back East, in the Philippines. It was around 6:30-7:30 in the morning and I was wide awake washing the dishes after breakfast. All of the sudden, I had a very clear vision of two separate cathedrals filled with people cheering with flags and banners. In the midst of them were two men, waving at the crowd. One of them was wearing a white sackcloth and another with black sackcloth. The two men waved their hands towards the heavens. The sun began to flicker as if it danced. Every one was amazed and was screaming. Out of the blue there was a sudden explosion. Smoke filled my vision. And when it cleared, everyone was dead.

I was startled that I dropped the plate I was holding. "What was that about?" I whispered to myself. I was sweating cold and suddenly felt sick. My legs were wobbly on my way to my bed. I was about to sit on the very edge when I literally heard loud screams of people running away from armed men, "JESUS help us!" And then I saw them being caught. The armed men slit their throats before they totally cut off their heads. "Allahu Akhbar! They chanted as they raised the heads of those whom they beheaded.

"Oh my GOD!" I fell shaking on the floor. "What was that about?!"

I called my Mom who was already here in the West back then. I want to tell her what I saw but I could not speak. She was saying, "hello, hello," on the other line but I could not utter one word. After I hung up the phone, I grabbed a pen and paper and tried to draw and write what I saw...but my whole body was shaking, I could not even grip the pen properly.

I was still holding the pen when another vision came. It was a random sight of people listening to the radio,television and handheld gadgets people swipe (smartphones). I really find it weird that time that most t.v. sets are flat, rectangular and hanging in the on the wall. In the background, I heard random voices of news reporters talking at the same time that I could not understand clearly except for the words "Vatican", and "Istanbul". They seem to report an orchestrated bombing that killed thousands of Christians including the "Pope", and the "Patriarch."

"World domination!" Some masked armed men chanted in the background, "they are dead, the world now belongs to Allah!"

And then I heard screams from Hebrew speaking people. They, too are being slaughtered wherever they were.

"LORD! How come you did not take us first?!" Screamed by weeping Christian remnants including several Pastors in the pulpit. "We thought YOU are going to take us first! Why?! Why have YOU abandoned us?!"

And then I saw them being abducted one by one, some had escaped but some have been taken. Those who have been taken were forced to bow and submit in exchanged of their heads. Very few choose to die, even uttering the name of JESUS up to their last breath, but more have surrendered in great fear to lose their lives, some because they were dismayed because they were not taken-up to escape the horrors according to how they've expected.

"YOU lied to us, JESUS!" Some of the remnants shouted. "YOU said you are going to take us first! We regret ever believing in YOU!" Before they willingly surrendered to their oppressors.

I got really sick for three days. And even if I got better, I was unable to speak everything I saw for many years. I tried to write them down, but for some reason, I was not able to until ten years after that.

***

The fall of the 2/3 part of the CHURCH OF GOD in biblical prophecy is found in Zechariah 13:8-9

In the whole land,” declares the Lord, “two-thirds will be struck down and perish; yet one-third will be left in it. This third I will put into the fire; I will refine them like silver and test them like gold. They will call on my name and I will answer them; I will say, ‘They are my people,’ and they will say, ‘The Lord is our God.’ ”

Ctto: DyslexicParanoia

[asflowersfade]

Ficlet: Like a Game of Jenga

A what-if MacGyver story set in ep 106. Take out that one crucial piece and the whole thing crumbles. Or, Mac’s not there to convince Thornton that The Ghost isn’t dead. Mac’s POV.

The shock wave flings him back, hard against their car, smashing his head against the passenger side window and knocking the breath out of his lungs. He drops to the ground, wheezing and lightheaded, and his ears are ringing so hard he can barely hear the roar of the flames nearby.

For a moment, Mac stays down, on all fours, trying and failing to get his breath back. Everything’s swimming before his eyes, the world’s tilting this way and that, and in some distant corner of his mind he realizes that that’s not good. But he doesn’t seem to feel any pain. Which he would find strange, too, if only he could think clearly.

And then he remembers: Jack! Riley!

Eyes wide, Mac scrambles to his feet - the ringing in his ears intensifies, turning high-pitched, and blackness threatens to overwhelm his vision - and leaning with one hand against the car, he stumbles around it, to the other side, away from the flames, to where his friends were thrown.

“Jack,” ��he croaks out, and dropping to his knees by Jack’s side, he reaches out for him.

Jack grimaces and groans, holding his ribcage tight. “Jesus Christ,” he curses through gritted teeth. “I think-I think I broke my ribs.”

With his hand on Jack’s shoulder, Mac looks over to Riley who’s slowly sitting up, carefully touching her scraped and bleeding forehead. “Riles?” Mac calls out. The word feels thick in his mouth, his tongue can’t seem to wrap around it, and his hearing’s not clearing, just the opposite, everything sounds more… muffled; distantly he wonders if his eardrums burst.

She glances in his direction and gives him the thumb up, though her expression is not exactly happy. Then her eyes widen, and she pulls her backpack around and unzips it quickly, checking her laptop, her most prized possession. If Mac didn’t feel so off, he would chuckle.

Still holding his ribs, Jack opens one eye to look at Mac. “You okay?” he asks.

And Mac’s about to nod because sure he is, up and running, but… All of a sudden, he feels incredibly tired, almost faint. At some point, his fingers and toes started to tingle, and now, all his strength seems to have left him. How… odd.

“Mac?” Jack asks with a frown and struggles to sit up, even though the pain in his ribs makes him gasp.

You should lie down, Mac wants to tell him, but when he opens his mouth, it’s blood and not words that comes out. First, it’s just an aftertaste, then a trickle and then a stream he can’t seem to stop, no matter how hard he swallows.

Jack’s eyes grow wide with shock, then dread. “Mac?” he repeats more urgently.

Slowly, Mac takes his hand off Jack’s shoulder to push his leather jacket aside, and looking down, he makes a soft, startled sound. Because there’s a piece of metal sticking out of him, its sharp, jagged edges ripping at the material of his blood-soaked shirt, at his flesh. It’s big and ugly, embedded in his stomach… and yet, Mac doesn’t feel a thing. That-that’s bad, right?

Then Jack’s there, gripping his shoulders, with so much fear reflected in his eyes. Mac wants to reassure him that he’s fine, that it doesn’t hurt, there’s no pain, but he can’t find the strength to do so. He just breathes out, “Jack…?”

“Jesus. Jesus Christ, kid…”

And then Mac’s falling, his eyes are sliding shut, and a split of a second before he loses consciousness, it finally starts to hurt. And the pain’s so bad that he’s glad he won’t be awake to experience it.

He wakes up in a hospital, in a private room bathed in a soft light. The sun must be setting outside.

Mac licks his lips and sighs a little. The pain’s gone, and the cottony softness of his brain suggests that they have him on the really good drugs. He hates feeling this… fuzzy and slow.

He looks around the room - and there, standing by the window with his back to him, is Jack. He looks, well, not his exuberant self, that’s for sure. Something must be terribly wrong.

“Hey,” Mac whispers.

Jack turns, startled, and for a moment, he just stares at Mac. Then his whole face, his whole posture softens and his eyes become suspiciously shiny. “Hey,” he responds hoarsely and steps up to the bed, sitting down on the edge of it, careful not to jostle Mac - and his ribs, as it seems. “How are you feeling?”

“Thick,” Mac responds honestly. “Floaty.”

Grinning, Jack pats him on the hand. “That’s an improvement, believe me, kid.”

Is it? Mac thinks. Just how bad off was he before?

“What happened?” he asks.

“There was explosion, The Ghost blew up the warehouse he was renting,” Jack explains. “You got hit by the flying debris. A piece of metal did a number on your insides there.” He nods at Mac’s stomach.

Oh. Right. That.

“You okay? And Riley?” Mac asks immediately.

“We’re both just fine, don’t you worry about that,” Jack assures him.

Mac is assured. But there’s still something off. He can sense it. He’s known Jack for years now, he can tell when he’s keeping something from him. For someone in the spy business, Jack sure is a reluctant liar.

“What’s wrong?” Mac asks.

He can see Jack thinking, considering what to tell him, what he’s up to knowing. And that makes Mac even more apprehensive.

“Come on, Jack,” he prompts.

Jack takes a deep breath. “That explosion. They thought The Ghost blew himself up, became careless, building something called… ‘The Mother of Satan’?” He looks at Mac, unsure if he got it right.

Mac nods. “Yeah, that stuff is nasty, highly dangerous. But…” He frowns. “The Ghost wouldn’t do that. He would never make a mistake like that. Never.”

Grimacing, Jack sighs. “Yeah, well. Too bad you were too busy bleeding out on the operating table to tell them that.”

“Jack…?” Mac asks softly, his heart skipping a beat, making the machines by his bed blink in warning.

Jack rubs his forehead. “That friend of yours, Charlie, and Thornton, they made a judgment call. Based on the evidence on-site, they came to the conclusion The Ghost was dead and the peace talks were safe… Turns out, they got it wrong.

“Several hours later, a bomb went off downtown,” Jack says quietly, looking upset. “It took out a city block. 132 dead, hundreds injured. The peace talks were canceled. And Charlie and Thornton, they took the fall. They were both suspended, effective immediately.”

Mac’s heart’s hammering so hard now that the machines’ blinking turns frantic and a nurse rushes in, worried. But when she sees Mac awake and Jack sitting there with him, she stops and she and Jack exchange a glance.

Apparently, she knows who they are and why they’re there, what they must be discussing, because all she says when she walks up to the bed and adjusts some settings on the machines and on his IV, is, “Try to relax, Mr. MacGyver. This is not good for you.” 

But Mac’s not listening, he isn’t even really aware of her leaving again. All he can think of is The Ghost, all the death and misery the man caused again. And Mac could’ve stopped him, if only--

“Hey,” Jack says, squeezing his hand, making him open his eyes; Mac wasn’t even aware that he closed them. “Stop it! Just... stop! You couldn’t have done anything. Did you somehow miss the part where I told you that you almost died? Because you did. Several times. You crashed in the ambulance, then in the OR, too. And don’t you dare do that to me ever again, you hear me?” He points with his finger at Mac, glaring, but Mac can see a world of worry and fear in his eyes.

Mac swallows hard, the terrible aftertaste in his mouth adding to his misery, and asks, “What happens now?”

“They set up a unit that’s going after The Ghost,” Jack responds and when Mac opens his mouth, he says over him, “I made sure we would be on it once you’re back on your feet, don’t worry. They weren’t all that happy about it, they tried to throw us under the bus together with Charlie and Thornton - and before you ask, we can’t do anything for them, believe me, I tried, nobody’s listening, they need a scapegoat! - but in the end, they really couldn’t, they couldn’t get rid of us that easily, considering we were both out of commission when the bombing went down, so they have nothing on us.

“Besides,” he adds, “like it or not, they can’t deny that you’re their best expert on The Ghost. The higher uppers were actually rather impressed with your work. It seems there’re very few people who ever managed to foil that bastard’s plans.”

Mac closes his eyes. “But I didn’t, did I? Foil them.” 132 dead.

“Hoss, I would literally shake some sense into you if you didn’t look like you would fall apart at the seams!” Jack snaps quietly, forcing Mac to look at him, holding his eyes firmly. “I get you think you might’ve done something, changed the outcome. And maybe you could have. But, kid, that warehouse explosion? That was three days ago. Three days! That’s how long you’ve been out. You’re lucky to be alive, you idiot!”

And this time Jack’s voice cracks at the end and it’s him who has to close his eyes to steady himself. It’s not until that moment that Mac realizes, that he truly gets it, just how close to dying he came this time around. It’s Jack’s bone-deep dread that hammers the point finally home.

“Sorry,” he mumbles.

“Yeah, well, you should be, for scaring me like that,” Jack grumbles, glaring at him again.

Then he softens a little, his face and his voice, both. “Look, I get it. I’m not you, I don’t have your expertise and I still feel somehow... responsible. I keep telling myself, if only I had been there, if only I had done this or that… It’s nonsense but I can’t help it. So, I get, I do. But you can’t change the past, no matter how hard you try. But you can do something about the future. So, once you’re out of here, we’ll go and get the bastard, okay? We’ll get him and we’ll make him pay.”

And then, taking a deep breath, Jack adds in a tone of voice that’s possibly a little pleading, “Tell me we can do that, Mac. Tell me you can go toe-to-toe with The Ghost and win.”

Mac doesn’t have to think about his response twice, there’s no need to hesitate. He knows he’s good at what he does, that he’s good at reading The Ghost, and if given the slightest chance, he can beat him at his own game.

He looks straight at Jack and nods. “Yes, Jack. I can get him.”

Reassured, Jack nods back and says, “Good. So rest and get well. We have work to do. That bastard won’t get away with this.”

[thoughtsofdarc]

My Latest Mission... pt.11

Reader (Y/N), Clint, Bucky, Sam. Warnings: Language. Being a Hydra asset. Angst. Violence. Blood. Clint being wise (Come on, that HAS to be a warning!)

Part 1… - Part 2… - Part 3… - Part 4… - Part 5… - Part 6… - Part 7… - Part 8... - Part 9… - Part 10... 

The chill night air fill my lungs when I take in a deep breath. It's so quiet up here, no sounds coming from the city beneath us and all the lights from cars, buildings and street lamps makes the scenery before me almost fairytale-like. I've started to come up here when my nights are bad and the terror fills my mind. Up here I feel free.

Tonight is one of those bad nights, I can't shake the feeling of being in danger. I know I'm not, but ever since my time in Hydra I've always been on high alert, you know... Since I never knew when they would come for me, beat me, hurt me... Tonight my room felt too small, and the walls seemed to close in on me, imprisoning me. Even though I know it's all in my head, I can't seem to find the will to fight the feelings today, so I went to the roof to find some peace for myself. It's a cold evening, but I don't really care. The serum in my blood makes me run hot and I don't really feel the cold anymore. Sometimes I miss it, but most times I don't even think about it. I take another deep breath, calming the inner chaos in my head. But as I let the air slowly out of my lungs again, I feel a presence close to me. Every fiber in my body jerks awake and in less than a second I'm ready to fight for my life. "What are you doing up here, Kid?" the low voice of Clint reaches me from only a few meters apart. He is the only one I've ever known, that can move so silent that he can come almost all the way up to me, without I'm noticing. "SHIT! CLINT!" I jump when he talks and I glare at him "haven't we discussed that sneaking up on a super soldier and scaring the crap out of her is a bad idea?" I huff out the words as I try to calm my heart again. I'm not one to get scared, people don't usually have the ability to get the chance to do so. But Clint does, and he has taken every chance he got ever since he found out. He chuckles a bit, clearly enjoying the moment. And just for a second I think of dangling him over the edge of the tower, just for a second, to get back at him. But the joyful smile and the humor in his eyes makes me decide against it. Apparently I have a soft spot for the archer. He sits next to me and take in the view of the city before he speaks again "Nightmares?" he looks at me with soft eyes "You know you can talk to me, kid" "It makes no sense for you to call me Kid... You know that right?" I give him a half smile "I'm way older than you" He leans back on his hands and takes a deep breath with that amused smirk on his lips. "I know... But I like it, do deal with it, kid!" I giggle a bit as I shake my head and he continues "But seriously y/n, what's up. Are you okay?" I pull my knees up, put my arms around them and put my chin on top. My eyes search the distance without really looking for anything. "Yeah, I'll be okay. It's just one of those nights you know... I can't shake the feeling that HYDRA will suddenly be here to take me back. My room felt like a prison cell and I couldn't calm my thoughts enough to get rid of the feelings. I know it's stupid, I know I'm safe here... " My voice trails off, not knowing what else to say to explain. Clint doesn't say anything to begin with, it's almost as if he is trying to imagine what I'm going through. But then the sits back up and look at me, his calming blue eyes explore my face. "You know... I would be deeply concerned if you didn't feel that way, kid. The things you have been through, the fear, the pain and the torture. And you went through it all alone, you didn't have anyone to depend on... That just gotta mess with your head one way or another" He reaches out and gives my arm a gentle squeeze. "It's alright to struggle with inner demons, just don't keep it to yourself. All of us have been there in one way or another, so I speak of experience when I tell you to open up about it. Hell, even Bucky has started to open up, and heactually begins to seem quite human" Clint laughs at his last remark, but it only makes me groan and hide my face between my knees. After the fight I had with Bucky, things has in some ways lightened up, and in others made everything worse. It feels like Bucky tries, he doesn't leave the room as soon as he sees me anymore, he even asked me to pass the salt one time in the kitchen, so yeah, that's progress... Baby steps, as Steve says, is better than nothing. I've also grown much closer to Clint, even though, I believe that that has something to do with him finding it hilarious, that I beat up Bucky... I think he kind of forgets that Bucky beat me up too. In general the rumors about the fight has traveled around to everyone, Avengers, staff, S.H.I.E.L.D agents, including agents that does not even live in the tower. Everybody knows, and everybody has made an opinion about me from that. Some good, but a lot of bad too... "Hey, cheer up, kid. I know he's your friend... He'll come around, I promise" Clint seem to read me like an open book sometimes. It's a little freaky when he does that, but it also makes everything so much easier when being around him. "How can you promise me that?" I look up at him again, meeting his blue eyes and soft caring smile. "He just needs a reason to trust you again. You know, to feel and experience that you are there for him, like you always been. He loves you y/n... He loves you, and that scares the shit out of him, 'cause you hold the power to destroy him completely if he chooses to trust you, and you in return turn out untrustworthy. Do you know what I mean?" The sassy archer with a joke for every opportunity looks at me with such seriousness in his expression, that I cannot do anything than to trust him. I give him a tired smile and stretch my legs in front of me. " You know... I like this clever and wise Clint, maybe you should let him out more". The deep low laughter that erupts from the man by my side, lifts my mood tremendously.

Another day another boredom... I'm starting to be a bit restless in this huge tower of Tony's. I never thought I'd say this, but I miss the action, I miss to have a purpose. NOT the killing purpose and the beating innocent people up and stuff... That's a part of don't want back! But I see the gang go out on meaningful missions, I see them do good things, and I want that too. Tony and Steve have put me in training, so one day I can hopefully join them... But there are still a lot there needs to be done before I can go. This means I'm alone again, as Steve and some of the others are yet again away. Bucky is somewhere around, but not with me... shocker!

He's probably with Sam, neither of them had to go on tis mission, so I guess they are somewhere doing their own stuff. I throw the book to the other end of the bed. God, I can't even concentrate on reading a damn book. I've been trying watching TV, but as fun as it is, my head just can't keep up in the long run. I've hit the gym for a few hours and now I've read a book... Well, tried to read a book. I get up and walk to the big window. It's become one of my favorite places in the whole tower, my bedroom window. I feel like I can see the entire world from here, and I love it! But today I just stare frustrated out, and wish I could be part of that world. I lean in, rest my forehead on the cold glass and look down towards the gate where Brett is working. Why doesn't the gate close? It's been open for almost an entire minute now, and there are no cars in sight... Normally it closes as soon as a car has gone through. I straighten up and look closer... Is that? Is that Brett on the ground?! My heart starts to pound like crazy, and my head spins for a second. I trail the road leading up to the tower with my eyes, and when my eyes stop at the bottom of the tower, my eyes go wide and adrenaline kicks in. The guard that's normally standing by the door. is lying on the pavement, 30 feet from it. Blood is very clearly surrounding his head running down the hill. What the hell? My feet moves before my mind catch up on what I just saw. I run as fast as I can towards Bucky's room, praying that his in there, but before I even reach the door I hear gunshots and men screaming and yelling commandos from the living area. "F.R.I.D.A.Y, what's going on?" I yell out as I run the other way as fast as I can. There's no answer.... The ever present A.I is suddenly silent.

Something is definitely wrong! As I turn the corner I literally run into a man I don't know. But as we both regain our balance he raises a semi automatic rifle toward me. Well, I guess a said I missed the action... Now here it is! In a swift motion I raise my leg and kick the rifle to the right, the sudden hit causes the man to pull the trigger and the bullets spilling out of the gun, leaves a long line of holes in the wall beside us. I step forward, grab a hold of the man's shoulders, yank him downwards and knee him right in the face. As he tries to regain his aim on me, I grab he rifle by the barrel, jerk it out of his hand and swing it full force to the side of his head. The man's eyes turn white and he falls to the floor, hard. I look at the rifle, and see that it's bent... Great, that's not going to help me now. Apparently super strength isn't always a good thing, I think grimly to myself as I start to run toward the living area again. Something is going on down there. Just before I reach the door, I stop, look back and send Tony a silent thank you. Even with all of his fancy gadgets and artificial intelligence robot things, he's still old fashioned in some ways. In a case on the wall is a fire extinguisher and beside it, the thing that caught my eye... A huge fucking axe! At least I'm not going in unarmed. I stop just outside the door and listen, trying to figure out just how many intruders there are. "This has been far too easy, I thought you guys were the mighty Avengers, unstoppable and strong... And yet here we are, taking over your tower like it was made of Lego. You are pathetic!" The sound of someone hitting someone else, followed by a humorless laughter reaches me, and my blood freeze.... That voice belongs to Brock! Anger rises in me, and I adjust my grip on the axe before I step into the room and take in the sight before me. Sam is on the floor, unconscious with blood on his face. I try to detect a rise and fall off his body as he breathes, but the angle he is in makes it impossible. I pray to whoever is out there, that he is still alive. A few feet from Sam is 3 agents with HYDRA emblems on their uniforms and besides them is Bucky on his knees, hands locked in a device that's made to contain him. I know these 'cuffs' I've been in them too... Brock is holding a gun to Bucky's head, and an evil smile is on his lips. "Rumlow!" I roar, catching the attention of all the men in the room. "Well, well, well... There you are! I thought you were hiding from me, sweetheart..." Brocks eyes light up with something I can't really describe, other than absolutely bat shit craziness. "I've missed you so much. Been looking everywhere, trying to find you... And then, here you are, hiding with your old friends the entire time" Bucky looks from Brock to me, catching my eyes. "Let him go!" I command, but it only makes Rumlow laugh more. He acts like he has lost the last trace of sanity, since the day I left him in the park. I can only imagine what they have done to him as punishment for letting me slip away. "I'm afraid I can't do that, babe... You should know, it was your job to bring him back to us!"

The way he says the pet names, makes a shiver run down my spine. Bucky stare at me, like he can't quite figure out what to think. I can see the anger radiate from him, but I can't read if it's ment for me or for Brock. "Get up, Soldier!" he commands and yank in Bucky's arm "It's time to go!" "I told you to release him, you bastard!" I shout and take a step toward them with the axe raised. The agents beside Sam moves closer to me with their raised guns, but Brock yell "Stop! We need her alive too!" The agents step back, but don't lower their weapons. I look at Bucky, search his eyes and hope he understand what I'm trying communicate without words. "Trust me?!" I ask quietly. He looks me directly in the eyes, and for the first time since we met again, I see some of the old Bucky there. "What?" he asks. "Can you trust me?" the question hangs thick in the air. And then, there he is... my Bucky. He looks at me, nods and say "Yes, do it!" as he raises his hands high over his head and I do the same with the axe firmly in my grasp. Before Rumlow even reacts, I throw the axe at Bucky, with all the force I have in my body. As soon as the axe is out of my hands I throw myself at the nearest agent, taking them all by surprise. The sound of metal hitting metal is loud and cuts into the ears, but my God, it is a good sound, because the second the axe hits, Bucky is free. The metal plates in his arm shift as he fists his hand and readies for a fight. 2 super soldiers to 4 men is a fair fight... For the super soldiers.

And before long they are all knocked out on the floor. When the last agent hits the ground, both Bucky and I rush to Sam and turn him over. He has a nasty gash over his eye that bleeds a lot, but he is still breathing, thank God! "Sam... Sam!" I call out and shake him gently. "Come on bird-brain, wake up!" Bucky slaps Sam on the cheek, which makes him groan a bit as he tries to open his eyes. When he finally does look up at us, he says gruff "That's about damn time you too started to work together!" before he shuts his eyes tight and let's his head fall back to the floor with a groan.

Part 12...

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[public-domain-carbonite-man-blog]

Unfinished piece #1

Just a little something I started about 6 months ago, then picked up again a couple weeks back, which would explain the slightly conflicting tone about halfway through. Anyhoo, I’m starting this thing off with some of my WIP bits n bobs, as I’m working on something bigger right now that I’d rather save for later. Anyhoo, hope ya’ll enjoy.

From a distance, you can never see death approaching, at least, not in the form you'd expect. That's how it is for me right now anway. Quite literally. I know death's here, but he escapes my sight. He could be anywhere in the crowd of revellers around me. He could be the overweight man in the stained grey vest, with the wide brimmed hat, he could be the mid thirties woman with the grey jumper, dancing out of time with the pounding music. Ah. I see him. He's dancing like the others, and he's dressed like the others, he laughs and sings out of tune like the others, but his eyes give him away. I remember that from my two previous encounters with him, his eyes. No matter the form he takes, the personality of his character, the manner of his visage, his eyes remain the same. I don't mean physically, no. He can change the way they look, the colour, the width, all that. He's death incarnate, his budget covers that. It's the way they feel. It's difficult to put into words, to paint a mental picture of how his gaze feels, but I'll try. You know when you're lying awake, but drifting off to sleep slowly, and there's a sudden jerk and you're awake, heart pumping? It's like that. That feeling of leaning too far back in a chair, and suddenly you're falling into an infinite abyss? It's something along those lines. Ever get that itching sensation after seeing something unnerving, that crawling on the skin? Feels like that too. Every discomfort, every uncomfortable sensation, every moment spent drenched in post-nightmare sweat, hit you like a wave of adrenaline as his eyes meet your own. Then it's gone, in an instant. He's a professional, he doesn't stare. It's a game he plays, he likes to think he's sneaking up on his victims, and usually, he does, they don't see him until it's too late to run, and even then, they don't recognise him for what he is, and they're gone in the barest blink of an eye. But he forgets that I, too, have been playing this game for a very long time. I see the signs, the warnings, the messages that warn of his coming. I play the game, just like him, and so far, I've been a little better, always staying a couple of steps ahead. Today is the closest he's ever gotten to me. Keeping him in my sight, I begin working my way through the jovial crowd, shouldering drunks aside, pushing back the heaving tide of joyous intoxiation. I see him slowly weave his way towards me as I do so, dancing, not even looking at me. He's good. He's getting closer, somehow people miss bumping into him by barest of inches, and he moves through the crowd effortlessly, as I struggle and shove my own path through. He's gaining on me, too fast. As I push forward, I search for an escape, I need something faster. There. A sturdy looking flag pole, the colours of the parade flying atop it. I scramble my way between a dancing couple, stretching out my right hand to the pole, gripping it, then pulling the rest of my body free of the crowd, gripping with my other hand, I hop, lock my legs around it, and work my way upwards. I twist my neck to peer below my at the parade, I can see him, my hunter, glance at me, for the briefest of instants, bewliderment and amusement on his gaunt features. Let him smirk. I'll find a way out of this. Sure enough, as I near the top, I notice that one of the building nearby has a balcony at around the same height that I'm currently at on the flag pole. Looks a bit far, but screw it, how long can I hang on to this thing anyway. I arrange myself to leap, reaching up and gripping the top of the pole, brace my feet against the pole to jump, let go with my hands, lean towards the balcony, and push. For a brief moment, I'm flying. Then I hit the side of the balcony, too low, but my fingers grip with desperation to the lower lip of it, and I feel the jagged edge cut into my finger tips. I heave, feeling the burn on my upper body and shoulders, and I roll over the top, collapsing in a heap on the other side. I spare no time, dragging myself to my feet, stopping only briefly to consider the closed sliding glass doors leading into the house, before slamming into them with my shoulder, bursting into the house in a shower of glass, welcomed by a blaring alarm. I rush for the stairs, straight ahead of me on the landing, feet pounding on the bare wooden floorboards. As I reach the top of the stairs, I'm greeted with an all too familiar face. Death. He grins up at me, leaning against the banister, chunky cigar gripped between the chapped lips, baseball cap low, the shadow obscuring his eyes, the eyes that I avoid. "Well, fuckin' hell, fancy seein' you here" His voice is cool, like running water, it flows and ebbs, soothing yet slightly melancholic. "Hey" I murmur, slightly breathless. He takes the cigar from between his teeth, holds it front of his face in his long pale fingers, inspects it, drops it on the lower steps, exhales a cloud of smoke. "So, how you been anyway? Kids good? Wife still rocking the hippy look?" His smile is almost remorseful as he looks up the staircase at me. "What do you want?" I ask. Futile. I know exactly what he wants. "To catch up, for old times sake" "No thanks, my memories of the old times aren't the greatest" He takes the cap off, scratches his head, ruffling the messy cut brown hair. "Look man, we all did fucked up shit back there, don't try to pretend you didn't, you were one of us, you loved it" "No." My voice comes out hoarse, as if I've been crying. "I may have done the same things as you, but I was never one of you. I never enjoyed it. Never." The laugh that forces it's way out of his throat is cool and sweet, the laugh of an innocent young man, though he is nothing of the sort. "You can lie to yourself all you want, you can tell that shit to your wife, to your kids, you can tell your fucking dog for all I care, but don't you ever, ever, dare look me in the eye and tell me you didn't enjoy it. Because I was with you, every second of the way, I know you." I shake my head with fervour. "You always thought you did, no matter what I told you, but you never listened. You don't know me. I only did those things to stay alive, you and the others carried on doing them for fun." "It was more than fun. It was orgasmic. I'm fucking done trying to convince you of yourself." Even as the last sylablle left his mouth, his right hand flicked up at me, the cap whirling towards my eyes. No damage could be caused there, but as I caught the cap with my left hand, a brief second or so of distraction,  he was at the top of the stairs before I could drop it. He opens with a rough right hook, going straight for the side of my jaw. I bring up my left hand, cap still clenched in the fist, and catch the crook of his elbow with my forearm, countering the inevitable uppercut from his other hand with my leg with a crack of knuckle against knee cap. With my right I thrust an open palm at his exposed right shoulder, and he has no choice but to lean back to avoid having his shoulder dislocated, and I follow up with a sudden headbutt,  catching his cheek. His back foot waves in empty air at the top of the stairs, and I push with my whole body, knocking him down them. He hits the weak wall at the bottom and smashes into the plasterboard with a snarl. I give him no respite, and take the stairs in two bounds, leaping on the second to fly feet first at him, landing both feet straight into the center of his chest, slamming us both through the wall. In a torrent of dust, crumbling mortar and plaster board we both roll into the next house. He's up first, dust covering his bright hawaiin style floral shirt, and he lunges at me with a knife hand at my neck. I twist and it grazes below my earlobe, drawing a thin line of blood, and his hand over reaches. I catch it with my right hand, bending it over my chest backwards, before pushing my left forearm into it with. With a crack it gives way and bends at an unnatural angle. He grunts and rams a flat palm into the back of my head with his other hand, rattling my teeth and blurring my vision, before pulling his other hand out of my briefly lax grip. I roll and stand, head swimming, then turn to face him, both arms up, fists clenched in front of my face. He takes hold of his broken wrist and pushes it back into place with a crunch of cartalige, skin twisting and pulling in unsettling directions as the jagged bone pulls at it from beneath the surface. Somehow this seems to work, and he rotates his now-functional wrist with a giggle. "Still got a few tricks up my sleeve, eh?" I don't waste time replying, but launch a salvo of hooks and uppercuts at him, brawler style, trying to get a feel for his seemingly healed wrist as I do. He blocks one of my punches with the left hand, and I see a slight flinch on his face. Not fully healed then. I concentrate some of my efforts on the wrist, aiming for the forearm and hand. He yelps slightly as I catch him a solid punch to the back of his wrist, and in panic he grabs at it with his other hand, earning himself a hook to the lower jaw, and as he head rocks to one side, I catch it with my right fist, straight into the cheek. His head swings the other way, and as he brings it back round, I give him a solid one dead center on his nose, cracking the bridge and forcing the front upwards in a welter of blood. He makes no sounds his head snaps backwards, a spray of blood spurting from his damaged nose, only brings his right hand up into a defensive position, his left held lower, behind it. There's a cold rage in those killer's eyes now, I've hurt him and he's feeling it. I go for a low kick, and as I do I see a glint of something swinging from above me, a knife, somehow having made it's way into his hand, jabbing towards my face. I throw up both hands in an X over my face, and the blade stabs straight through my right palm, scraping on my cheek. I twist my hand away despite the pain, in an attempt to pull the weapon from his grip. No such luck, it slides from my hand and he readies for another stab. This time though, I'm ready, I catch it, blade first, with my left hand, bring his right arm down and to the left, before twisting my whole body in towards him, bringing my right elbow into the side of his face. My elbow connects with a solid thump, slamming his head to the side, and I continue pushing, stretching my arm past his face, before twisting my entire self around behind him, pushing his neck backwards, wrapping my arm around his neck, with my hand behind his skull. Then he's gone. Without a sound, without a trace of him being there. I flail, grasping at empty air, stagger a little, breathing hard. I whip my head around, eyes scanning the room, this is something new, something I've not seen before. He's changing the rules again, it seems. I wait for what seems to be an eternity, holding the defensive stance in the middle of the dust covered room. Eventually I convince myself he's gone. I must've hurt him in some way, though I don't believe it. I've seen him impaled straight through the chest with a fucking telephone pole, and it only took him several minutes to drag it out of him and heal the gaping hole in him. Baffling. Ah, I guess I should explain myself a little here, whilst there's a brief respite. I'm not used to having any sort of audience to my pondering, and I'm fairly certain very little of this makes sense. It's all to do with rules, see. Legality. That good shit. The fine print we never bother to read. Turns out the fine print has the potential to save your life, or at least change it in ways otherwise unconsidered by the average Joe. You might've heard the old tale, or one of several variants, about the old man cheating death, with a game of chess, or draughts, or the exceptionally modern re-telling, with ol' Grimmy being thrashed at Top Trumps. It's something a lot of people seem to forget about, but it's actually totally legal for anyone to challenge Death, or whoever's on shift that day, to a game of their choosing, winner takes all, high stakes and all that. In my case, I went for the classic; chess. As luck would have it, my name was picked out of the great hat of those-who-are-to-die-soon by a trainee. Third shift without supervision, apparently, I almost felt bad for doing it. Almost. The day that was to be my last was fairly uneventful, average 9-5 at work, quick ready meal, a comfortable evening Netflix and chillin' with my stalwart pals; me, myself, and I. At 7:36, a knock on the door. More of a nervous tap really, reminicisent of a non-comittal Jehovah's Witness, not really wanting you to answer the door, but having to keep up appearances. Anyway, as it happens, I'd only just finished a particularly gigglesome episode of Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency, so I decided to show my goodwill by answering the door. I swing the door open with a tad more gusto than necessary, tear my face in two with a grin, and greet the intruder. "Hello! How ya'll doing this absolutely fine evening?" I drawl. Standing before me, in all the grease, sweat, and disgustingly pre-pubescant bum fluff that could physically be mustered and forced into one physical space, is Death Himself, in the form of a mid-teenage pizza delivery boy. Blooshot eyes peer at me from under a bright red, logo emblazoned cap. The eyes blink slowly. They regard me again. "Yes, um, hi, I just wanted to pop by, no, I just wanted to come round, to let you know. Ah. Hmmm." He pauses, drags his eyelids up and down at glacial pace again. Opens his mouth again. "Uh, if you'd kindly, invite me inside, we can discuss, the um, the matter with privacy, I hope you do understand." As I'm about to speak, I see a lock of blonde hair slide it's way from under the red cap. Slim fingers tuck it back under, and come away slick with grease. "Hmmmm, I'm not sure I understand, I didn't order any pizza?" I phrase it like a question, I recall it being uttered a questioning tone, though I could be wrong. "Uh, no. No, you didn't, did you." He stutters a tad more, pulls out a chunky, out-dated phone, glances briefly at the screen, mutters "Aw shit. Shit. Shit." quietly, before returning his nervous gaze to me. "According to section 3, paragraph, uh, paragraph 7, I can use, ah, physical force in order to coerce you into, hmm, into, ah, co-operation. Please understand, it's my job." I feel my eyebrows raise of their own accordance. "Is this some kind of shitty practical joke? Did the kids from downstairs put you to this?" The pizza kid's expression flickers, and in the instant before it returns to it's previous manner, I see something. Something cold, distant, monolithic, something truly terrifying in his gaze. Then it's gone, and he's bringing out a fucking baton from his back pocket, an extendable metal baton, with a leather wrist strap. He holds the weapon in front of him with considerable discomfort. Back then I was no fighter, but even I could take a weedy kid with a metal stick. The joke, if that's what it was, had quickly gotten old. "Are you being fucking serious, kid? Put that thing away and piss all the way off home, before I ram the damn thing so far up your ass you'll be able to scratch the roof of you mouth with it by nodding." An unwieldy threat, I admit, but spoken with real conviction. Doesn't deter the kid though, who lunges at me slightly awkwardly, his gangly limbs jutting at awkward angles. I twist aside from the thusting baton, turning so my back is to the kid, grabbing his baton wrist with my right hand. With my left, I swing an elbow back, clocking the boy on the side of his head, swaying him heavily. He wrenches the his arm from my grasp with a surprising strength and takes a step away as I turn to face him. "Please sir, this is serious, if I have to use lethal force to achieve today's quota, I won't hesitate." Quota? What is this kid on? I don't waste any time on words, simply stepping right up into the kid's face, taking his baton swing directly on my left forearm with a crunch of metal on bone, and give him a heartfelt uppercut. The connection is solid, his head snaps back, the impact shudders it's way up my arm. I don't give him time to recover. Shove him roughly with both hands, center of his chest. He falls backwards, through my still open doorway, landing heavily on his back in the hallway. I hesistate, unsure of how far to take it, gaze fixated on his skinny frame as it drags itself up again. As he rises, the kid's cap falls off, along with the entirety of his hair, revealing smooth, pale skin covering the expanse of his cranium. Our eyes meet, and a horrendous jolt runs through my entire body, feels like goosebumps and an adrenaline rush, over in an instant. Odd.

[toosicktoocare]

VLDWhumpas Day 11: Pneumonia

I’m literally struggling to keep my eyes open, but there will be a Day 11!

@vldwhumpmas2017

Post-College AU– Pre-Klance 

“Dear Guy from Apt. 3-B, 

It appears you’re sick.”

Lance pauses– pen hovering over the word sick. If anything, ‘sick’ is the understatement of the century, if the coughing alone is anything to go by. 

It started a week ago– that much Lance can remember. He bumped into the guy in the hall, and boy, did he look rough. Lance never caught a name– not when he was too busy practically gaping at the flushed cheeks glowing a deep red against pale, almost ashen, skin or the slick sheen of sweat coating sunken features. He only managed out a weak “uh, you okay?” before the guy shrugged with a harsh cough and sidestepped around to get to the stairs. 

The days to follow were rough; Lance just barely caught sight of the guy slipping out of the apartment complex in a leather jacket– long, unruly hair pulled back against the sharp winter breeze. It was at the same time everyday; they always just missed each other, with Lance returning the apartment building as his neighbor left, but Lance still saw the guy stalking down the snow-covered sidewalk with hunched shoulders and a popped jacket collar. 

While they never came face-to-face, Lance could hear every hacking cough. He could hear every groan of discomfort, every stumble to the bathroom for a glass of water. He could hear it all, and frankly, he was worried, even if he didn’t really know the guy. 

He meant to mind his own business– it’s something Hunk has been berating him about for years, but last night… Last night was, well, quite scary actually. There was more coughing then there was silence, and at one point, Lance was sure he heard the dull thump of a fall, followed by more barking coughs that left Lance wincing while remaining wide awake– just in case. 

After that, he knew he had to do something, so he figured a note– it’s not too pushy but still enough to let the guy know he’s here. 

“I can hear you coughing every night. (The walls are incredibly thin; why do you think rent is so low?) It sounds painful, dude, and to be honest, I’m a little concerned. I’ve seen the jacket you wear– leather, dude, really? You must not be from around here, and I get it; I was in your shoes once. I come from a tropical place myself, and let me just say, the winters here were a MAJOR ADJUSTMENT.” 

Lance contemplates crossing out at least half of the paragraph but shakes his head instead and grips his pen tighter as he furiously scribbles. 

“What I’m trying to get at is that I’m here if you need anything; I can help you get a better coat, or whatever… I also have medicine if you need some. Not to brag, but I’ve binge-watched five seasons of Grey’s Anatomy in one sitting, so I’m kinda an expert with medical stuff.

So, don’t hesitate to knock on my door at anytime, okay?

Sincerely, 

Lance from Apt. 3-A.”

He adds a smiley face to make the note seem more… well… approachable before he slips out of his room to tape it to the other guy’s door. When he gets back to his room, he curls under his blankets, exhausted from the sleepless night before, and drifts off, feeling a slight weight being lifted from his chest. 

*****

The dull knock pulls Lance from slumber to consciousness, but the hacking coughs get him moving. He’s on his feet in seconds, stumbling in the dark to get to the door, and when he rips it open, he blinks against the sudden hallway light to see the guy from next door turned away and coughing harshly into the crook of his arm. Lance frowns at the specks of snow dusting the guy’s hair and jacket, and when the guy finally manages to catch his breath, Lance takes in the wind-bitten cheeks with questioning eyes. 

“Uh, hey,” the guy says, or rather, croaks– enough to have Lance wincing at the deep rasp. “I got your note.” 

“Uh, yeah,” Lance starts, unsure of what to say– something that’s rare for him. 

“I was wondering if you had some cough medicine..” 

“Of course!” Lance steps aside, flicking the light switch before he motions for the guy to step into the apartment. He leads his neighbor into the kitchen, nodding toward a chair as he sneaks off to the bathroom’s medicine cabinet. 

He opts for cough medicine, ibuprofen, and a thermometer, just in case, before he doubles back into the kitchen, finding the guy doubled over and barking out deep, chesty coughs, one after the other until Lance is dropping his supplies on the table to rub a gentle hand against the guy’s back. 

Lance can feel his neighbor shaking under his palm, even after the coughing subsides. His frown deepens as he steps away. 

“You must be freezing,” Lance says, and the guy nods as a sharp shiver shoots up his spine. 

“Gotta walk to and from work. I don’t know how to drive on all this ice.” 

“..You walk?”

“It’s four blocks.”

“You walk!?” Lance’s hands wave about wildly in the air. “You walk outdoors like this? With that sorry excuse of a jacket?! No wonder you’re sick!” 

“It’s just a cold.” 

“A cold,” Lance repeats, voice mirroring the disbelief that’s taken hold of his features. “You think this is just a cold? You kept me up all night with the coughing and hacking, and it sounded like you passed out at some point!” It’s not quite anger that’s spiking across Lance’s blood– he can’t pin it. Frustration maybe? 

“I’m sorry-” the guy starts, bringing one fist to his mouth to cough harshly. “I… kept you up.” 

Sympathy colors Lance’s eyes, and he shakes his head. “No, it’s fine– just. Here.” He holds out the thermometer, and his neighbor arches a brow. 

“I just need medicine.” 

“Humor me.” 

Whether it’s exhaustion or a want to leave as fast as possible, the guy obliges, and just moments later, Lance is sucking in a sharp hiss of a gasp at the 104.6 degree reading blinking back at him. His hand is trembling slightly as he leans forward to brush his palm to the guy’s forehead; he’s hoping the device is broken– that it’s just a fluke of a number– but the heat is there, and it’s intense.

“Dios mío,” Lance mutters under his breath as he turns away from the table to find boots and a coat because this guy is not okay. At all. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Hospital,” Lance calls out, hopping on one foot as he shoves a boot onto the other. “Your fever’s too high– this isn’t a cold.”

“That’s–” the guy tries, but a burning coughing fit shoves up his throat. It’s two minutes before he can speak, and by now, Lance has a coat and boots on over his pajamas, and he’s got his fingers curled tightly around his keys. 

“Not necessary,” the guy finally finishes, and Lance shakes his head. 

“No, it is. Look,” he pauses, motioning to the guy. 

“Keith.” 

“Great. Look, Keith. Your fever’s pushing 105, and you can’t go five seconds without coughing. And, I’m pretty sure I hear a very concerning crackling sound that’s coming from your lungs, so I’m driving you to the hospital before I have to explain to cops that you died in my apartment because you’re too damn stubborn.” 

Lance is borderline breathless by the time he’s done, but his words must strike the right chord because Keith only nods with pressed lips and allows Lance to help him to his feet. 

*****

When Lance spots the doctor coming out of a wide set of double doors, he hops to his feet immediately, crossing the large waiting room to meet the man half-way. 

“Pneumonia,” the doctor starts with a frown. “It’s bad but treatable. He’s going to have to stay for a few days.” 

Nodding, Lance fiddles with the sleeve of his coat. He should leave–he only knows Keith’s name, so staying would be.. weird? Odd? Inappropriate?

“He’s asking for you.” 

“Huh?”

“Keith. He’s asking to see you.”

Lance takes a step back, eyes blowing out wide at the doctor’s words. “He is?” 

“Yes. I’ll walk you back.” 

Lance wordlessly follows the doctor until he’s standing in Keith’s room as the doctor leaves to give them privacy. He can’t meet Keith’s eyes– he doesn’t want to look at the ghostly pale skin or the large mask covering half of Keith’s face–  so he paces instead, keeping his eyes locked to the floor. 

“Look, I’m not normally that mean. Or pushy. Or whatever. You were just scaring the hell out of me and being so stubborn, and damn, dude, I really thought you were going to keel over and die on me, and-” 

“Lance.” 

Lance’s tumbling words come to a halt, and he snaps a sharp gaze to see Keith panting while holding the oxygen mask away from his mouth. “Yeah?” 

“Thanks.” 

It’s one word– a small rasp that’s choppy and an apparent struggle, but it’s enough to have Lance’s tense shoulders sagging with a wave of relief that floods his body to his very core. 

“Uh, yeah, no problem.” 

“Stay?” 

The one word question is unexpected– it’s small but it carries a forceful weight that has Lance practically running toward the chair closest to Keith’s bed.

“Of course.”