#wondering about the one ball in the corner that fell off of its path

[crepuscular-haze]

we need to be talking more about Ball Machines

[dracowars]

LOVED YOUR TOM RIDDLE. Can I please request a arranged marriage au where yn is in love with him but he hates her so when she decides to let him go or someone else wants to marry her, Tom finally realises he’s in love with her. happ ending :))))

my heart belongs to you | tom riddle

pairing: tom x black!reader

word count: 3,3k

summary: where tom and y/n are in an arranged marriage

a/n: i'm so sorry for being so inactive recently, uni is taking its toll on me.. i had to do a bit of research for this one and also tom is a pureblood here!

warnings: toxic relationship, violence

universe: harry potter

“Get out of my sight, will you?”, he angrily snaps at you out of nowhere, for the third time already on this still very early day. Furiously, he stomps past you, pushing you to the side harshly, the filled glasses on your tray swaying dangerously. Knowing that you should just leave him alone, you stand there completely frozen at the door, still feeling the breeze on your skin after he stormed past you.

The glasses clink on the serving tray as you try to keep your trembling hands under control, but you terribly fail while tears shoot into your eyes. A lump forms in your throat and you gasp in desperation, losing your composure after hearing the front door slam shut.

Slowly, you slump down and therefore with a loud rattle let happen what could have been foreseen already: a thousand shattered pieces of glass scattered across the floor around you while you cower against the wall, your elegant dress pulled over your knees, your forehead leaning against it. Heavy sobs rock through your body and tears find their way down your cheeks, dripping from your chin onto the expensive fabric of your dress.

You just wanted to spend some time with him. Together, in the house of your parents, who went on a daily trip with their close friends early in the morning, all part of the most notorious popular pureblood families in the wizarding world – the Nott’s, the Macmillan’s, the Malfoy’s, the Lestrange’s. And if his parents were still alive, probably with the Riddle’s as well.

This is primarily the reason why you even are in this position right now; crying and huddled in the living room because your fiancé hates you profoundly.

After graduating from Hogwarts last year, the School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, you, descendant of the pureblood Black family, got engaged to Tom Marvolo Riddle, the last living heir of the Riddle’s. He would offer you a good future, they said, and you would never have to worry about anything again.

But nobody knows that in reality, your own beloved fiancé really does not want to have anything to do with you. He does not even want to stay in the same room as you.

You can’t explain why he acts like this towards you. You do not know why he harbors such an abysmal hatred for you and any clear-headed, rational person would have done something about it long ago. Unfortunately for you, you feel the exact opposite for him.

Your heart belongs to him and only to him.

You have liked him since you first met him at Hogwarts, back in 1938, when the two of you were sorted into the Slytherin house. This initial friendly liking has quickly evolved into something more than that over the years and lead you to where you are now, at a point where you would have never seen yourself back then.

You have already tried everything to convince him that you are not as bad as he seems to think. Every morning you bring him his breakfast, you give him everything he needs. Even when you were still at Hogwarts, you always looked after him, finished his homework for him when he was too busy to do it by himself, and helped him pass all of his exams.

And not once did you hear a thank you. Not then and not now either.

Slowly gathering your thoughts together again, you rub the long sleeves of your velvet dress over your damp face, wiping away all of your tears before you get up on shaky legs and begin to clean up the mess that you have created. After you went back to the kitchen with the broken pieces and some injuries on your hands, your gaze longingly slides out the window.

Outside, the sun stands high over the magnificent garden of the mansion, making the clear water in the fountain shimmer in its bright light. A gentle breeze blows through the air and rustles through the perfectly cut trees that line a small path through the garden.

The loud, excited voices that suddenly roar through the house snap you out of your daydream and you quickly wipe the blood from your fingers before you step into the huge marble entrance hall. You arrive at the front door just in time to open it for your parents, who, to your surprise, did not come back alone. You are amazed to find not too familiar faces in front of you as they climb up the stairs to the door where you are still standing.

“And that has to be Y/N. Oh, how you have grown!”, an older man smiles friendly at you and you return his smile with a certain uncertainty in your face.

“Darling, we brought guests over for dinner today. You surely remember the Lestranges?”, your father announces happily and only now do the faces that you have seen at numerous balls and celebrations seem familiar again. Especially one.

“Reinhard?”, you ask in amazement when you spot him standing behind his parents, a big smile on his face when he sees you.

“Y/N, how nice to see you again”, he grins, carefully pushing his way past your parents in order to slightly bow venerably to you, taking your hand in his to place a kiss on the back of it. “It has been some time.”

“I am sure you have a lot to tell each other”, your mother mentions in a sweet voice, but before she can continue, she watches how your facial expression changes from one second to the other as you look past them, out into the yard.

Next to the carriage with which they have returned, Tom is standing now, petting one of the splendid noble white horses before he joins all of you.

“Tom! There you are, I was already wondering where you went”, your father says, visibly pleased when he too spotted his future son-in-law, drawing everyone’s attention to him.

“Reinhard?”

“Tom?”

Within a few seconds, the two former best friends lay in each other’s arms, obviously happy to finally see the other again.

“Let us go inside. We want to show you our newest masterpiece of art in our wonderful collection, come on”, your mother announces happily and leads the Lestranges inside, but not without turning around to you once more. “The children can catch up on what they have missed.”

“I can’t believe it! You are really here, Tom. Man, you look even better than at Hogwarts”, Reinhard laughs, playfully pushing Tom to the side while you watch them in silence. “What are you doing here with the Blacks?”

“They kindly took me in”, Tom lies to him and for a moment you think he threw you a glance out of the corner of his eyes after uttering these words. His statement makes Reinhard realize that you were still there with them, who had apparently completely forgotten that you were even there.

“I am so happy to see you again, Y/N!”, he grins and takes a step closer to you, probably to be able to take a closer look at you. “Still just as beautiful as I imagined. And just as smart, I guess?”

Reinhard’s sudden compliments make you blush and your cheeks glow, which is why you nervously avert your gaze from him, directly falling on Tom, who looks at the scene in front of him with incredible resentment.

Unlike Tom, Reinhard was always there for you. You spent a lot of time together in your school days and if your parents had known about your close friendship, you are sure that he would have been your fiancé by now. Which, to be honest, does not sound bad anymore right now.

And yet your heart still belongs to Tom.

When you all sit together at dinner later in the evening, where your parents are talking about irrelevant things like Ministry of Magic, you keep making eye contact with Reinhard, who seems to be staring at you.

“Is there something on my face?”, you ask uncertainly and put your glass back on the table when you can no longer bear his piercing gaze.

“No, no, not at all. I was just wondering how a beautiful witch like you could have become so much more stunning”, Reinhard winks at you, causing you to swallow hard. You are not used to getting compliments, especially not from a handsome young man like him. Before you can answer to him, however, there is a loud clink and you startle, your eyes immediately fixed on the cause of the noise.

The glass, which you have certainly placed far away from the edge, is now lying in your lap, the little liquid that was still inside now spread over your elegant evening gown. You move your chair back in shock when, in the corner of your eye, you see how Tom puts away his wand. And not only did you notice Tom just now, but the rest of them follow your gaze.

“Tom, darling, how about you tell our guests how you and our daughter got to know each other”, your mother suddenly prompts him, not even realizing that he has just deliberately spilled your drink on you. But why did he in the first place?

„I would love to“, Tom puts on a really believable smile that no one but you questions and starts telling them how you met and fell in love with each other. He tells one lie after another, explaining the web of lies that you have spun around you over time to make your relationship as credible as possible, at least in front of other people. And suddenly nobody cares about you or your still soaking wet dress anymore.

“What a wonderful story”, Mrs. Lestrange applauds and everyone else seems to be completely enthusiastic about Tom’s fairytale. To top it off, he then reaches across the table to take your hand in his, just like a real affectionate couple would do.

You lower your gaze as he gently strokes the back of your hand with his thumb, trying your best to not show how uncomfortable you are. Oh, how much you wish that this were real, that Tom would actually treat you like this when you are alone, the same way as he does in front of your parents.

But he does not and deep down you know that he will never do.

“So, you are engaged?”, Reinhard scrutinizes the statement of his former best friend, his eyes focused on you suspiciously, as if he is expecting an answer from you and not from Tom. A slight pressure on your hand makes you flinch and look up.

“Y-Yes”, you force a smile onto your lips, whereupon Tom seems satisfied with your answer, letting go of your hand again with a - what seemed to you like a – disgusted expression on his face.

An uncomfortable silence spreads between the three of you, which is drowned out by the loud conversation of the adults on the other side of the table. Finally, making up your mind, you clear your throat loudly and get up from your chair, gaining everyone’s attention in a matter of seconds.

“Excuse me, I have to go freshen up for a moment”, you explain with a slight polite bow before turning away to leave the dining room.

“Reinhard, would you be so kind and help Y/N”, Mr. Lestrange asks his son, who stands up with furrowed brows, apparently just as surprised about this sudden request as you, but then follows you out into the hallway with no further objection.

“I really do not need any help, thank you”, you try to get rid of him as you walk up the large staircase leading to the first floor together, only wanting to be alone.

“Dinner like these are totally boring anyway”, he chuckles softly and shows no intentions of leaving your side any time soon, which is why you do not even try to search for further arguments. He follows you to your room where you are able to tear yourself away from him to put on a new dress while he waits outside in front of the door.

With an equally elegant burgundy red dress you step out of your room after a few minutes, Reinhard’s eyes greeting you with a sparkle.

“Wow”, he breathes out barely audible and takes you hand without asking to swirl you around, causing your dress to fly around gorgeously. Unintentionally, warmth rises in your face again and your hearts makes a barely noticeable jump inside your chest when he looks deep into your eyes after catching you back in his arms.

The loud clearing of a throat behind you makes you turn around in shock, only to see that Tom himself is now standing at the end of the corridor, not seeming very enthusiastic.

“We did not see you there, Tom”, Reinhard disguises his obvious nervousness with a laugh, acting like Tom had just caught you in doing something he should not have seen. Tom, however, does not even react to his words, but looks past Reinhard at you, his eyebrows raised meaningfully.

But when you do not move under his piercing gaze, his facial expression changes and he quickly approaches you, Reinhard instinctively pushing you behind him so that you can only see Tom approaching further over his shoulder. Before neither you nor Reinhard can say or do anything, Tom has already pulled out his wand and aims it directly at Reinhard, who flies back through the air only a few seconds later, hitting the hard marble floor at the end of the corridor with a thud.

“What the-?!”

“Come with me”, Tom orders, now standing directly in front of you. When you stubbornly refuse, he suddenly grabs your wrist to pull you away from there. No matter how much you fight against his firm grip, you cannot tear yourself away from him as he pulls you into the closest room, which turns out to be the library.

Once there, you can finally free yourself from his tight grip, but before you can reach for the doorknob to leave immediately, he locks the door with a spell. Angrily, you turn to him, despair written all over your stunning face.

“What is this supposed to be, Tom? Let me out of here, now!”, you command him in a loud voice, not caring if anybody can hear.

“What did he want from you?”, he asks you urgently and steps closer to you. Since the door is in your back, every possible escape route is blocked, and you are caught.

“We just talked to each other, you know. Like normal people do”, you answer irritably and cross your arms in front of your chest, not in the mood to justify yourself, especially not in front of someone who does not care about you at all and not after what he has done.

“But that did not look like it.”

“Tom, stop it.”

“You belong to me and nobody else!”

These words coming out of his mouth echo loudly through the dark library, his face wrapped in an eerie candlelight. Before you can even control yourself and fully process what he said, you severely slap him.

Frightened by your own horrible deed, you immediately pull your hand away, your gaze filled with fear, but the anger that keeps building up inside of you winning the upper hand after all.

“How dare you call me your property?!”, you scream in rage and tears form in your eyes because of your uncontrollable anger. However, Tom needs a moment to collect his thoughts after your heavy smack before he can answer you.

“You are my fiancé”, he spits out coldly, a touch of shock in his voice, apparently not expecting you to react like this.

“And that does not make me nowhere near your property! You never treat me like your fiancé anyway, so why now all of a sudden?!”, you bicker at him, your voice loud and constant, even though you would like to flee from this situation right away if you were able to.

But Tom does not have an answer.

“Fine, okay. If you have nothing to say to me, like you never have, then I will go back now and ask my parents to end this damn failed engagement and engage me with someone else who truly cares for me!”

Suddenly, without letting you time to catch your breath after your outburst, he presses you with your back against the door completely, his hands tightly grabbing your wrists, a little too tight for your personal liking.

“You mustn’t do that”, he softly whispers, his head lowered as if he does not dare to look you in the eyes.

“What is stopping me?”, you hiss, still full of anger and – probably for the very first time – hatred towards him.

But when you feel his lips on yours all of a sudden, all of these emotions evaporate and all that remains is your racing heartbeat, which is being repaired at this very moment. You never would have thought that at some point in your life the moment would come when Tom Marvolo Riddle, who absolutely loathes his fiancé, kisses you.

After kissing you, he looks straight into your eyes, and the Tom you met in 1938 is standing in front of you again. The Tom you fell so deeply in love with.

“I can’t explain it to you”, he finally breaks the silence, his gaze directed to the floor as he moves away from you, giving you enough space to breathe regularly again. You, however, do not say anything but just stare at him.

“I was not aware that I am capable of feeling such feelings for someone. I am unfamiliar with this feeling and I did not know how to deal with it, Y/N. I treated you badly because I did not want it to be true, I did not want to accept it. I could not imagine having feelings for the little nuisance that has always been running after me”, Tom explains, choosing each and every single word very carefully, trying to put his emotions into words which does not really work the way he would like it to. But that is how you know him. You know that this confession must be extremely difficult for him, but you can’t help but feel a sense of relief inside of you.

“When?”, you ask and manage, with this tiny little word, to make him look up at you. “When did you know?”

“Since I have been here. You served me every day and took care of me, even though I wanted to push you away from me with all of my might. You have already helped me so many times in the past without me even asking, you have always accepted me for who I am”, he desperately tries to but his feelings into words, asking himself what he is even doing right now.

“Tom..”

“No, I have to sincerely apologize to you. I had no right to treat you the way I did. And also today.. when I saw you with him and how well you got along, it finally became clear to me. Reinhard has felt something for you since our school days, I know that even though I could never understand, but now I do. I understand why he fell in love with you”, Tom continues without breathing, pouring out all of his feelings that he has hidden for so long.

“I understand if you want to dissolve this engagement and I will not stop you if that is what you want”, he quickly adds, looking at you with desperation in his eyes. He already prepares himself for the worst when you are the one getting closer to him this time.

“Idiot”, you smile slightly and place a gentle kiss on his lips while he looks at you puzzled. “I love you, I thought you knew that.”

“I know, but-“

“But nothing”, you interrupt him and take his hand to lead it to your fast pounding heart. “It always belonged to you.”

[thirsty-flygirl]

Touch Me

Formerly The Textile Series

A Javier Peña x f! Reader Romance

Rating: Explicit - language, sex, drugs, rock ‘n’ roll. You know the drill, no one under 18 allowed.

Word Count: 2168

A/N: Look, it’s no secret that I would let Javi absolutely ruin me so here is The Textile Series, back again with a few changes, so I can simp some more over my favorite DEA agent.

******

Part IV: Leather

You slammed the shot glass down, proudly popping the lemon between your salt-swollen lips. Tequila always tasted good and, with one of Escobar’s most notorious sicarios now in US custody, it tasted even better.

“C’mon, Javi, take a shot with me,” you shouted across Murphy to your other partner, who offered you his signature smirk, the corner of his lips lifting as he regarded you. Steve placed a palm against your face and playfully pushed you back, grimacing.

“Christ, woman, you’re gonna make me go deaf,” he complained. You poked a finger into his ribs, gleefully watching as he doubled over. “Ah! No tickling, that’s not playing fair and you know it.” He clambered off the barstool and pointed to the now-empty seat. “Sit. That way you don’t have to scream at Javi.”

You shuffled about and made yourself comfortable on the stool, offering Javier a grin. His smirk shifted into a full-blown smile, that sweet little dimple popping, and your stomach flipped at the sight. Your feelings for Javier were getting out of control, strengthening each day you spent together. You’d nearly kissed him right there at the President’s ball last night, in front of your superiors, not giving a second thought to the damage it could affect on your career. You had worked hard, damn hard, to get where you are, despite the sexism and harassment you’d received because you were a woman. Hell, Steve and Javier were two of only a few men you could think of that didn’t treat you like your only worth was between your legs.

But there you were, hunting down Colombia’s most notorious drug lord, and all could do was simper like a teenager every time Javi smiled.

“You’re drunk,” Javi offered, shifting in his seat to lean on the bar next to you. His elbow brushed against yours, leaving your skin tingling from where your bare skin met. As usual, the top buttons of his shirt were undone, leaving his chest on display. Your eyes roved over his form hungrily, slipping down to see the smattering of dark hair on his chest, before settling on his gorgeous face.

Up close, Javier was disarmingly beautiful. His dark hair fell over his forehead as he leaned into you, eyes searching yours as though they could see every secret etched on your heart. A smattering of freckles dotted his face, barely visible, but you had stared so long and so hard at him that you had every perfect imperfection memorized. His hand wrapped loosely around his tumbler of whiskey and you couldn’t help but imagine that hand wrapped around yours, tethering you to him as you finally gave into your desires.

“I’m not,” you finally managed, finding yourself inching closer to him, a coil of desperate need beginning to unfurl within you. Taking his glass, you let your fingers brush against his, watching his pupils dilate. You took a sip of the biting liquor, letting it trail a path of fire down your throat. “I’m just feeling good.”

Javi reached up to wipe a drop of whiskey from your lips with his thumb, raising an eyebrow. “Feeling good, hmm? And why’s that?”

You let out a soft whimper at his touch, just loud enough for Javier to feel the vibration on your skin. His eyes darkened and he let out a deep sigh. “You’re gonna get me in fucking trouble one of these days.”

The two of you sat staring stupidly at each other, as though you were the only two people in the crowded bar. Heart pounding and cunt throbbing, you let your fingers settle on his thigh, trailing them toward the seam of his jeans and so close to the place you felt pressed against you last night.

You leaned forward and closed the distance, whispering in your partner’s ear “I heard you like—”

“—Okay, it’s time to go,” Steve thrust his arm between the two of you, setting his empty beer bottle on the worn, wood bar with a loud thump. You and Javi sprung apart like kids caught necking, a wave of embarrassment crashing over you along with the realization that you had been so wrapped up in Javier that you’d forgotten you were in public.

Javi pulled back like he’d been punched, the naked desire written on his face shifting back into a closed, unaffected expression. Nodding at Steve, he avoided your eyes and stood.

“Yeah, it’s late.”

Your stomach lurched at the speed with which Javi could turn off any sign of being interested in you. It was like hot and cold with him, and you were starting to wonder if he even thought of you as more than a potential fuck. You weren’t blind; you knew exactly how your partner managed to get such reliable intel. It wasn’t like you could fault him - you had no claim on him and you knew he was just trying to get one step ahead of Escobar. But the thought of his body bringing another woman the kind of pleasure that you could only imagine, while you lay in your bed at night writhing on your fingers? That was enough to send a wave of jealousy surging through your veins.

You clambered off the stool, leading the way to the door in silence. If Javi wasn’t affected by you, well, you could at least act as if you felt the same. You emerged from the warm bar into the cool night air sweeping over your heated skin like a balm. You continued walking down the street toward the Embassy apartments; the bar wasn’t far from where all of you lived and, while Steve had driven over after work, you wanted to clear your head a bit. Decidedly ignoring their calls to “get in the damn car” (Javi’s words, not yours), you managed to get nearly a block before a hand closed over your elbow.

“What the hell are you doing?” Javi demanded, his dark eyes flicking around to the dark, run-down buildings surrounding you. As much as you wanted to fall into his arms, you pulled away and continued meandering down the street toward your apartment.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” you called back flippantly, “I’m walking home!”

Javi groaned in a mixture of exasperation and defeat, jogging a few steps to catch up to you. “Not alone, you aren’t,” he muttered, mostly to himself. “Here, at least take my jacket,” he ordered, shrugging off his worn, leather coat and placing it around your chilled shoulders. He sighed loudly as you continued walking, calling after you. “You’re a pain in my ass, you know that?”

You spun around in a circle with your arms out, laughing into the night. “I’m a pain in YOUR ass? Javier Peña, you are, without a doubt, the most confusing, irritating man I’ve ever met!” You continued down the street shaking your head and laughing into the night while you continued your rant.

"What I don't understand," you threw over your shoulder in his direction, "is how you can just change direction and act like we don't have anything here. . . like you weren’t about five seconds from fucking me right there in the bar. . . .” Trailing off, you felt the fight leave you. Exhaustion crept through you in its place, and all you wanted now was to get home and sleep your buzz off.

“Hell, maybe I’m just imagining things,” you mumbled tiredly.

You heard Javi's steps come up beside yours, somehow felt his warmth even from feet away. You hated the feeling of tears building in your eyes. The last thing you wanted was to be an emotional wreck in the face of Javi's aloofness. His warm hand closed around your elbow once again, but this time you let him pull you back.

“You think this is just some goddamn game to me?” Javier whispered fiercely, tugging your arm so that you fell forward against him. His free arm curled around your waist, holding you in an approximation of the exact position you had been in while dancing last night.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” he gritted out, those deep, brown eyes glittering with fire. Javi brought his hand up to cup the back of your neck, holding you in place while he continued, and all you could do was stand there, transfixed by his words and the sheer emotion behind them. “You think it’s easy for me to stay away? To act like I’m not thinking about you every goddamn minute of the day?" He shook his head with a defeated expression.

“All I want is to have you,” he continued, his thumb stroking the sensitive skin just under your ear. He paused and your eyes fluttered closed, waiting for the moment when you would finally feel his lips on yours.

Without warning, he released you, leaving you cold and wanting as your eyes flew open. Looking at his face, you saw pain etched in every line, agony reflecting in his eyes.

“But I can’t give you what you want.”

He turned away, looking down the street, jaw clenched. You felt tears prick your eyes, frustrated with his words. “Javi,” you began, reaching out, “You’re what I want, I don’t need—”

“No,” he insisted, refusing to meet your eyes. “I need to catch Escobar, that’s the only thing that matters. I’ve been so distracted and I—” He broke off, his hand coming up to massage at his neck in a gesture so familiar it hurt. He dropped his head with a frustrated sigh and gently pushed at your shoulder.

“Come on, we need to get home.”

You let Javier walk a few steps ahead of you, mind spinning and heart squeezing painfully in your chest. You had felt so warm in his arms, so alive, like every one of your nerve endings buzzed when you were pressed against his body. Now, even with the worn leather of Javi’s jacket pulled around you, you felt chilled, lonely, incomplete.

Down deep, you knew Javier Peña was a selfless man. He wanted to do good, be good, but always felt like he was falling short. He had one mission in Colombia: to capture Pablo Escobar. Anything beyond that was unnecessary, a distraction; something you understood well.

But your heart was selfish - you wanted both. To find Escobar and have him extradited and locked up with a maximum sentence, definitely. But on those lonely nights and the moments in-between when you could imagine something other than the gritty underworld of Colombian drug trafficking, you wanted Javier. Wanted his arms around you, his mouth against yours. You wanted to trace the lines of his neck with your tongue, wanted to run your hands down his torso, then lower, lower, until you breathlessly gripped him and slid down, finally finding home in the middle of the madness.

At an impasse and emotionally drained, you stayed silent for the remainder of your walk, watching Javi turn his key in the security door and shuffling in behind him. You began up the stairs, the feeling of Javier’s gaze burning through you, before you remembered the coat curled around your body.

“Oh, I forgot,” you mumbled, moving to the bottom step while shrugging the garment off. You held it out to Javier, keeping your eyes on the floor, silently begging him to just take it so you could lock yourself in your apartment and break down in private.

“Keep it,” Javi replied, the gravel in his voice still sending a thrill of arousal through your body despite the fact that you felt like he was slipping away from you. "Something to remember me by when we get out of this shithole."

You smiled sadly, reaching out to place a hand gently against his chest, your palm settled over the steady beat of his heart.

Javier stared at you, the longing in his eyes so tangible you couldn't stop the tears from falling. He gently swiped them from your cheeks, a sad smile on his lips.

"Don't cry over me, Sweetheart. I'm not worth your tears."

He leaned in to place a chaste kiss on your cheek, letting his full lips linger for a moment before taking a step back, the inches between you feeling like an impassable chasm. You stood silently, afraid that the tenuous grip you held on your emotions would break if you tried to speak. Javier turned and entered his apartment, never giving you a backwards glance, and you were left standing on the stairs alone.

With no reason to hold back you let your tears fall, your knees giving way as you sat down hard on the dirty step beneath you. You buried your face in the bundle of soft leather you held, weeping over a love you never had in the first place. Eventually, once your sobs calmed, you made your way up the stairs to your apartment and fell into bed exhausted, still clutching Javier’s jacket in your arms.

[strawwritesfic]

Brock Rumlow x Female!Former SHIELD Agent!Reader: Revenge Is a Dish Best Served Fried

Summary: All old flames grow cold eventually–Excepting, of course, yours.

Rating/Warnings/Tags: T (bad language, torture, physical abuse, beating, brainwashing, post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier)

Fic Trade Prompt: “Don’t make my job too easy~ ;)” Plus, I got to pick the character to write for this time around.

Revenge Is a Dish Best Served Fried

You awoke with a start in complete darkness with one hell of a headache pounding through your skull. Where you were and how you’d got to wherever that was you didn’t know, but it didn’t feel like you’d come along willingly. A multitude of invisible cuts stung up and down your body; your stomach felt as though it had had its contents punched out of it recently; and maybe you couldn’t see to confirm this, but you were pretty sure your left eye was swollen shut. Worst of all, every cell inside of you felt dry and hot and buzzy, as though you’d spent the evening before playing test subject for a new line of Tasers.

But what had happened mattered very little in comparison to your present predicament. You could catalog injuries once you were definitely safe. It didn’t take long for you to decide that your current location wasn’t that. Straining your ears, you heard nothing. No hum of electricity. No faint whir of a security camera. No chattering from anyone keeping guard. Eerie, you thought, until you decided to stand up…

…and found your arms clamped tightly to a couple of armrests. You had not realized that you were sitting down in an actual chair until you were unable to lift your wrists. Try as you might, no matter what angle you used, the restraints wouldn’t budge. Your ankles were in a similar state. Gritting your teeth, you mentally prepared to dislocate the bones. Nothing you hadn’t done before, but never a pleasant prospect. On the count of three. Three…two–

“Good morning,” came a deep voice from another corner of the room, “sweetheart.”

The sudden appearance of someone in your cell was not what caused you to freeze. No, you only stopped your attempts to get loose because you recognized the voice. You squinted into the dark. Still you could hear no breathing, see nothing further than the pitch black two inches from your nose. But then again, this man should have been a ghost.

“Brock?” you asked, voice raspy. Sounded (and felt) like you’d been smacked in the trachea, too.

A rumble of laughter answered you, but no footsteps. “I don’t go by that name anymore. But it’s good to hear you haven’t forgotten me entirely. Thought you might have, the way you’ve been treating me.”

Those three sentences were all it took to force the shock out of your system and flood it instead with frustration and anger. You clenched your fists into useless balls, rattling your cuffs as you did.

“I haven’t been treating you any way,” you said. “Not since INSIGHT. Not since Hydra.”

You glared in the direction from which Brock’s voice had issued, but still you could see no sign of him. Wherever you were, there were no windows. He had to be there, though; you hadn’t heard him move away or out. Sure enough, when he spoke again, he sounded close by:

“Don’t pretend that you leaving had anything to do with either of those.”

“Oh yeah? And why else would I leave you? Because you’re such a wonderful person, I’d be a fool not to stay?”

This time, the silence that stretched out after your final question lasted long enough for you to start wondering if Brock really was in there with you. He always did know how to stay silent and still–a boon working as the head of STRIKE–but even he had to shift sometimes, even he had to breathe. Maybe he had an intercom rigged up. You tried to hold your breath to listen for him again to no avail. Then you did hear a breath, a long, rattling almost laugh.

“Oh, I don’t know.” A click sounded just before the room was flooded with light. Your eyes snapped shut to avoid the pain that surged through your already throbbing head for what little good that did. “How about this?”

It took you a few seconds to force your eyelids back open. Sure enough, your left would hardly move. Through what remained of your field of vision, you could not see much through the sudden haze of light–not much outside of a dark shape in the corner of the huge room, that was. You blinked, and the figure came into focus: a dark-haired man sitting against a wall of security deposit boxes, and wearing thick, dark armor. As soon as your gaze reached his face, Brock grinned.

“Normally I wear the mask.” He stood, gesturing to a helmet sitting by his feet. It, too, was black, but with a skull blasted across its face in white paint. Then Brock kicked the mask to the side and strode purposely over to where you were clamped to the chair. “But I don’t need to wear it for you. No secrets between us, [Name]. Isn’t that right?”

Up close, you could see his features better even through your damaged eye. However you looked, you definitely looked better than Brock. His face was a twisted mass of reddened flesh. As you took his new appearance in, he drew closer, leering down at you. You shrank away, but all this did was make him chuckle.

“I thought so. Couldn’t stand to be with someone so ugly, could you?”

You swallowed thickly. “I didn’t see that before I left.”

Brock laughed again. “You’re a damn shitty liar. Always have been. You think I didn’t know? You think I was deaf and dumb under all those bandages? You think I had any delusions that my girl would stay by my side after Captain America demolished a building on top of my fucking face?!”

His voice rose in volume and intensity, and with each sentence, he thrust himself further into your personal space. You made yourself stay in place, though your heaving chest betrayed your fears.

“I left because you were working with Hydra, Brock,” you said, willing your voice to stay even. “Because I don’t want to be with a terrorist–”

“Terrorist!” he shouted, and for one blessed moment he stepped away from you. Unfortunately, he was soon back and closer than ever, his nose practically pressed to your own. “I’m a mercenary, sweetheart. I work for the highest bidder, and don’t you go pretending you’re not just the same as me.”

“I’m not like you. I don’t work for Hydra. I don’t work for SHIELD anymore either. I’m doing real work, good work, with the–”

“With the Avengers. Yeah. I heard.”

Despite his claims to have already known about your present employment, Brock appeared put off by the news. He turned away from you, pressed his hand to his mouth, and shook his head. You took advantage of his distraction to again attempt to get at least one hand out of your shackles. Too bad they seemed to be made for someone much, much stronger than you.

And then Brock was back, smiling so widely that his eyes turned to half-moons inside their scarred lids.

“I was good to you, wasn’t I? Brought you flowers, like a good boyfriend. Took you out for dinner. Walked you home from work, cuddled with you at night, bought your goddamn tampons! And what did it get me? What good did any of that do?”

To that you had no proper response. All you could do was stare, captivity momentarily forgotten in the light of the dawning realization that your ex-boyfriend had gone completely insane. Yes, Brock had done all of those things for you, for years. You had been happy with him for all those years. You had thought you’d been lucky to be with the guy that headed STRIKE, one of SHIELD’S golden boys, the most handsome man in the whole organization. All the same:

“I don’t date Nazis,” you snarled.

“Is that what you think I was? A Nazi?” Brock shook his head, but then seemed to drop the subject, his mind wandering as his dark eyes traveled up above your head. “Never let the higher ups take you in, either. Wasn’t like they didn’t want to. Good enough to be an Avenger, Agent [L Name]. Could’ve had you conditioned by someone who knew what they were doing, and we would have never been in this mess.”

“What mess?” you asked, if only to keep Brock talking. A little further, and you thought you might have a chance of dislocating your wrist just enough to slip out of Brock’s restraints.

Brock said nothing.

“Brock,” you said once more, “what mess?”

He seemed to only then remember you were there. His eyes drew slowly down until he was staring right into yours, seemingly oblivious to your desire to get free. “

Tell me you still love me, [Name],” he said, sounding almost normal.

“Excuse me?”

“Tell me you still love me,” he repeated. “Tell me you still love me, and none of this has to happen.”

“None of what has to happen?”

“Just tell me that you’ll take me back! The rest of it doesn’t matter. Just tell me that you still love me!”

You mustered all of your energy, looked Brock dead in the eye, and spat in his disgusting face. He froze.

“The man I fell in love with was just that–a man.,” you said breathlessly. “What are you? Some burnt shell, that’s all that left. Not even enough courage to take me on face to face. You’re pathe–”

One thickly gloved hand shot out viper-fast and put your jaw in a vice grip. Brock’s lips pulled back into a snarl that gave way to another laugh that raised the hairs on the back of your neck.

“Careful, [Name]. I brought you here to kill you. Don’t make my job too easy.” He winked, a gesture that you did not return. His smile faded as his fingers gripped your chin even tighter. “Either you’re leaving here mine, or you ain’t leaving here at all.”

“And what is that supposed to mean? You’ve been babbling since you got me here. Tell me what your plan is, if you’re so proud of it.”

He considered you for a long moment–too long. Your jaw ached; you could feel his fingers pressing bruises into your skin. At last, he released you, then gestured up to where he had been looking only a few minutes before.

“You’re sittin’ in a real special chair, darling,” he said as your own eyes traveled upward.

Your heart gave a great thud as you realized exactly where you were. You’d seen the Winter Soldier’s files, and unless you could get out of there, you were screwed.

“Brock–”

“See, this here bank’s a front for Hydra,” Brock went on as though he couldn’t hear you. Who knew? He was far gone enough that maybe he couldn’t. “But they dropped it like a hot potato after Rogers fucked over Project INSIGHT. Once upon a time, they used to strap Cap’s old war buddy into this and fry the living daylights out of his skull. Only saw it done a few times myself, but how hard could it be?”

“You wouldn’t.”

His new, predatory smile returned. “Wouldn’t I? How do you know I haven’t already done it? That’s what this setup is for, after all. Memory loss. And I want you back pretty damn bad.”

He had a good point. Your head definitely felt like it had been put through the ringer–but unless a lot more time had passed than your body could account for, you still had all your memories. In fact, you had enough memories to know that you weren’t about to beg this man for your life.

“You’re not going to get away with this,” you said in as dangerous a voice as you could muster.

Brock ignored you, walking over to where a very obvious lever had been installed near your chair. Before you could say anything more, he pulled it, and your chair–Bucky’s chair–shifted slowly backwards. The mechanism above your head jolted to life, then drifted down toward your head. Only then did Brock answer you:

“Who’s gonna come for you? SHIELD? Don’t make me laugh. They know about us. They’ll think you were in on it all along. A Nazi terrorist, just like you said. Always spouting the company line. And the Avengers?” Here he did laugh. “Think they got better things to care about than where you slipped off to in the middle of the night. Never got in the habit of staying in one place too long, did you?”

He was right. He was right, and what was worse, begging was beginning to seem a better and better option the longer the whirring in the chair went on. You rattled your wrists, rattled your ankles, arched your back to strain with all your strength against your bonds, but nothing moved or loosened. Of course it didn’t. This machine was built for a super soldier. What were you compared to Bucky Barnes?

Brock Rumlow’s haunting laugh started up again in nearby. His hand reached out to press your shoulder back hard against the backrest.

“Don’t worry so much, [Name],” he said. “I might not have the finesse to pick and choose what you forget, but it’ll all be over soon either way. When you wake up, we’ll either be back together or–well, you’ll believe that we are when I tell you. I’ve got big plans for us. Real big plans.”

You opened your mouth to retort. How, you didn’t really know–but any possibility of a retort vanished the very next second. All that came out of your lips was a scream as the surge of electricity from HYDRA’s brainwashing device slammed into your head. You opened your mouth again, and let out another scream. Brock chuckled one last time before he gave your shoulder a final squeeze.

“Welcome back to the dream team, [Name],” he said, but Brock Rumlow had vanished from your thoughts. The whole world had vanished from your thoughts. If you weren’t lucky, neither of them were ever coming back. Everything from there on out was pain and order, order and pain.

[shortkingvi]

How was bumbleby's first time with a strapon?

you really do attract the energy you put out into the universe 😔😔

sxhsgvdgvsdchsdv but fine,,,,,,,,,,, i'm writing a little drabble just for u anon

edit: i was halfway through writing the first version of this and it got deleted so just know this is fuelled by SO MUCH ANGER right now

blake and yang find a... very interesting shop in vacuo and take full advantage of its wares:

Vacuo was different, that was the Yang's immediate thought when the group first made it to Shade. It was unlike any other continent she had seen; there were less rules here, less expectations, less concern for the decorum and appropriateness that had plagued them in Atlas. People were more open and free here and she understood why Sun spoke so highly of it back at Beacon. So yeah, different, but not bad, and maybe better than anywhere else Yang had seen so far.

Then again, that might have something to do with the dark haired woman to her left, currently searching through a clothing rack for a more weather appropriate pair of pants.

The island had been terrifying for all of them. Monsters, beasts, Neo, had snapped at their heels the entire time they were there. More than once, they found themselves facing down the very death they had miraculously avoided when they all fell off those narrow pathways. No one was sure if they'd make it out, and it took a toll on them all.

And yet, in the midst of the monstrous, beast-filled, Neo-ness of it all, Blake and Yang managed to find their way to each other. The island was terrifying, sure, but it had also given Yang so much at the same time. She now knew the taste of Blake's lips, the feel of her soft skin against Yang's hands, the sound of her quiet moans as Yang's fingers worked patiently inside of her.

Biting the inside of her cheek to break herself out of thoughts she most definitely should not be having in the middle of a clothing store, Yang settled her palm at the small of Blake's back, leaning in close.

"You almost done?" she whispered, her lips glancing against Blake's ear with every word. "I was thinking we could head back to the room, relax for the night."

Yang felt more than saw Blake's smirk, cheek pressed against hers in an attempt to feel every inch of her she could.

"Relax, huh?" Blake teased. "I was actually planning on getting some exercise in. A little cardio, if you're interested in helping out with that."

Nipping at Blake's ear, Yang sent her away and towards the storefront with a swat on her ass. Blake paid quickly, tossing some lien onto the counter without waiting for her change and pulling Yang out the door.

They walked through the main square quickly, tracing the increasingly familiar path back towards Shade in their haste and excitement. Yang found it hard to focus on much aside from Blake's swaying hips just a few steps ahead of her, but a brightly lit storefront suddenly caught her eye.

Yang came to a stop, reaching out and catching Blake's hand in her metal one before she could lose her in the crowd; The White Rabbit, the sign read, illuminated in neon reds and yellows. Yang studied the shop, chewing on the end of her nail as she peered through the window. It was covered by dark red velvet, hiding what was inside and making Yang want to find out.

"Yang, what are you doing?" Blake asked, squeezing her hand a couple of times to get her attention.

"Nothing, I just... I think Coco was telling me about this place. She didn't tell me what it was though, just that you and I might like it. I kinda wanna check it out."

"Yang, have you forgotten what we were all but running to go do just a minute ago?"

Yang sighed, weighing her options and somehow deciding on the one that wouldn't be getting her laid within the next half hour. "Yeah I know, but we still have plenty of time. Come on, just a quick stop. I promise I'll make it worth your while."

Looking up to the sky for a moment - probably wondering what gods had cursed her with such an infuriating girlfriend - Blake relented, letting Yang tug through the dark oak door and into the shop.

Stepping into the dimly lit space, it took Yang a moment to figure out where they were. Her first thought was that it was another clothing shop, with bras and panties and some very revealing nightwear lining the front of the store. Just as Yang turned to study the walls, she heard Blake let out a gasp and dropped her hand.

"Yang, are you kidding me? This is a sex shop!"

Feeling her face flush scarlet, Yang realized exactly what sinister trap Coco had joyfully let her walk into. Yang tried desperately to settle her eyes on something that would bring her temperature down, but it seemed that every place she looked was designed specifically to make her crave the sweet release of death.

There were things she had never seen before, in all shapes, sizes, and colours, and she didn't know where she would start even if she was familiar with... these kinds of wares.

"Blake," she started. "Nothing you can say to me in this moment will be any more torture than what I'm feeling myself. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll be in the corner beating myself to death with my own arm."

Turning to finally make eye contact with her girlfriend, who she had pretending was invisible up to this moment, she found her a few paces away, studying a small bottle on a shelf.

Yang gaped. "Blake! You're browsing? Here?"

Turning to look over her shoulder, Blake bit her lip, any previous reservations she might have had completely gone, it seemed. "I mean, if we're here, and our earlier plans still stand, we might as well make the most out of an interesting situation. Look, they have flavoured lube!"

"Okay, first of all, I don't need any help getting you wet. Second, cherry is a horrible flavour. And third, you do realize Coco will never let us live this down right?"

"Relax, I wasn't buying it. And, respectfully, fuck Coco. If she wants to play ball like this, we're gonna make sure she hears it. Her room is connected to ours, isn't it?"

Running her hands over her face, Yang studied her girlfriend in disbelief. Blake was many things, but predictable was not one of them.

"Alright, fine." she said, slinging an arm over Blake's shoulder. "Lead the way, you."

Together, they walked further into the shop, waving off the clerk when she asked if they needed any help. They studied the walls, which boasted about every sex toy one could imagine. She was overwhelmed, if she was being honest, unsure where to start and not wanting to make the wrong decision for their first purchase as a couple.

Just as Yang was ready to give up and head home, make use of the hands and mouth that hadn't failed her yet, she heard Blake let out a gentle "oh!" from the next aisle over. Turning the corner, she found the dark haired girl holding a medium sized box in her hands. Yang stepped closer, hooking her chin over Blake's shoulder and peering at the words scrawled across the white surface.

Realfeel Dildo with Authentic Leather Harness, the label read. Yang's eyes widened with every word hands tightening against Blake's hips.

Finding her voice, Yang swallowed before beginning to speak. "Do you- is this the one?" Not trusting herself to say anything further, she looked to Blake for an answer.

"Yeah, I do." Blake replied, turning in Yang's grip so they were face to face. "It's... it's a strap on, but it's some new technology that'll let you feel everything that, um, that it feels."

"Oh, it'll let me feel everything? And why do you assume I'll be the one wearing it?"

"You've got the core strength for it. And you called me a pillow princess once so I'm cashing in on that, you bitch."

Laughing quietly, Yang leaned in and caught Blake's lips in a gentle kiss. They drank each other in for a few moments, box held between them as their lips moved together, not in any of the rush they were in earlier.

Pulling away from each other - it could have been seconds, minutes, hours, longer even - they shared a smile.

"Then let's get it," Yang said, taking the box from Blake. "I can't wait to fuck up Coco's night with this one."

[joontier]

Subliminal in Scrubs | V2; report xiii

pairings: dr. jeon jungkook x female reader

chapter rating: NC-17 | genre: humor, workplace relationships

warnings: swearing 

word count: 1.8k

g/n: decided on a bit of a filler for this one as a sort of prelude to future scenes 👀👀 ((likewise manifesting my plan to post another chapter this week))

[taglist]:  @nottodayjjk @ditttiii @zeharilisharaban @btsbunny07 @turquoiseandplaidinautumn @aamxxrii @codeinebelle @btsmakesmehappy @stargukkie @moonchild1​

Subliminal in Scrubs (the records) |  navi. | m.list

Jungkook locks his apartment door behind him, jiggling the doorknob afterwards for ‘double security’ as one would usually call it. He grabs his backpack from the floor and places one of the straps on his shoulders and heads on his way. As he passes by two of his neighbors who live in the same floor, he nods at them, adding a brief hum in greeting. 

“Hey man!” One of the men, Jikwang (as what Jungkook believes this man’s name was), calls out just before Jungkook reaches the elevator. “There was this hot girl asking about you last night.” 

Jungkook raises a brow. He hadn’t really met anyone recently, besides that one cute law student who was looking for a new tenant - and eventually turned out to be your neighbor this whole time. She was cute and all, but she didn’t seem like the type that was ‘hot’ to these types of people. 

Jungkook racks his brain for anything, trying to remember the very few number of his one night stands.Surely,none of them would have gotten pregnant with protection on….surely? On top of that, he hadn’t really disclosed his address to a lot of people too, so there was no way someone would be looking for him, all the more a “hot” woman,as these two would claim. 

“Did she say what her name was?” 

The one beside Jikwang shakes his head, adjusting his beanie. He’d seen this dude a couple of times hanging around, but he never actually got his name.  “Nah bro, I don’t think you’re the commitment type of dude…” he comments, dark eyes looking at Jungkook from his head down to his toe. Who was this guy anyways and who was he to judge whether Jungkook was the type to enter a committed relationship or not? 

“She just...looked rich, rich. She had a driver... who helped her come down from a nice Benz.” 

Jungkook feels his heart drop to the ground. No way in hell. 

“I think her name was Hee something...Junghwa? I dunno man, I’m not good with names. But it sounds similar to that…” 

“Was it Junghee?” 

“Yeah I think that’s it…” bonnet-dude replies, tapping a finger against his chin as he approaches Jungkook. “You think maybe you can set me up? With you know…” 

Jikwang knocks the back of bonnet-man’s head. “I got dibs first, shithead. “If she’s not already yours though,” he adds, delivering a wink aimed at Jungkook. “Her friends will do.” 

Jungkook squints his eyes at the duo. “No. She’s my sister. And she doesn’t have any friends.” A chill courses through his spine as he replies, wondering how she managed to find out where he lived, and why would she even reach out? Why now, when she had so many years to do so? 

Beanie guy simply laughs at him - if it was even considered laughing, when he was practically splitting his sides with laughter - like the thought of having a sister was hilarious to him. “You’re real funny, man. There is no...way...in hell… that that lady was your sister.” 

Ah yes, this man is a health vice personified. Jungkook notes the discoloration of his teeth, the god-awful odor coming from his mouth, and they both reek of alcohol and drugs combined. From a safe distance, Jungkook watches their amusement over the subject that is his sister, thinking about why he even indulged these two in the first place. For all he knows, they might have been shitting on him the whole time. 

“Sorry man. I mean...she’s rich and hot… and you?” Jikwang shrugs his shoulders. 

‘And he?’ What about him? 

What the hell was that supposed to mean? 

Jungkook clicks his tongue silently, clearly taking full offense with Jikwang’s statement. Did they just imply he didn’t look rich and hot too? Well, compared to them though, they’ll obviously have way longer to go. 

Jungkook blinks before equally returning their level of disbelief. “For real, bro?” These men diss him, won’t believe he has a sister whose aura dwarfs his by a million percent, and now they want him to set up a date with her? He shakes his head. Only crooks like these would say insane shit like this. 

If only this wasn’t the cheapest and most convenient apartment he could find to accommodate his daily hustle, Jungkook would have moved out of this crap excuse of an apartment building a long time ago. 

“Keep dreaming man.” 

“Hey, this is what I get for selling you my bike for a good price?” Jikwang eyes Jungkook, taunting him. 

“I owe you nothing. I paid for it ages ago.” Jungkook turns on his heel, leaving the two in the crusty ass corridor of their apartment building. He needs to get a new place. Quickly. 

With a sigh, he pulls on his down jacket, keeping himself warm as he walks to the garage. 

‘King Auto’ 

There’s a certain warmth that envelops Jungkook whenever he sees the garage, a place he’d rather call home than his terrible apartment building. It sits right at the corner of two busy streets, just six blocks away from his apartment. 

Funnily enough, it wasn’t him who first found out about the garage but the other way around. Well, technically, the owner did. Lee Dongmin, owner and manager of ‘King Auto’ repairs and restores almost all types of cars and bikes alike, occasionally servicing high-end cars on lucky days. 

Dongmin would usually see Jungkook pass by the garage in the morning on his way to the university or his part-time job.Well, being located at a busy street in the city of Seoul, there would normally be a lot of passersby but Dongmin knew these people either worked or lived around the area; Jungkook, however, always lingered when he walks past the garage. 

It had come to Dongmin’s knowledge a few months later that Jungkook purposefully used a longer route on his way, walking two extra blocks just so that he could pass by the garage. Dongmin hadn’t initially done anything about it, as he thought Jungkook simply took interest in cars - especially when the shop had its fair share of servicing cars from the western market. 

There was this particular day though one summer, that their paths would finally cross. Jungkook’s bike, the same bike he bought from sketchy Jikwang, broke down. Coincidentally just in front of King Auto too. Funnily enough, no one in the garage was familiar with fixing up bikes, but Jungkook simply asked if he could borrow a few tools and he’d fix his bike himself. 

Ultimately, Jungkook became part of the King Auto family. He’d spend his spare time in the garage when he’s not busy with his part-time jobs and on occasion, Jungkook gets to keep a tiny commission whenever he helps out with the repairs. 

Jungkook goes through the front door greeting the new receptionist, Clark, a good morning before heading straight to the garage. Jungkook spots a familiar shade of blue peeking through the scissor lifts, just by the end row. He practically dashes to the car in excitement, too thrilled to greet his favorite car he had worked on previously. 

“My baby!” The boy exclaims as he rests his chin on the Porsche Panamera’s roof. “Kook! Get your hands off that! I just had it cleaned!” gruffs Mansik from the other side of the car, flinging his towel at Jungkook who mumbles a sorry but continues to cradle the car, a little more gently this time. 

“If you continue doing that, you know a towel isn’t the only thing Mansik is going to throw at you.” Lee Dongmin’s voice is low, careful that the man he’s referring to won’t hear his words. “I’m glad he hasn’t resorted to tools yet...just a couple of smelly socks and a t-shirt that smells like it hasn’t been washed for months... “ 

“Fuckers.” True to Jungkook’s foreboding, Mansik does throw a sock ball from out of nowhere, one which barely misses Jungkook’s face. Dongmin simply shakes his head at his workers, who he has considered family at this point, Jungkook included. “I’m just glad none of that fell into my first coffee of the day.” Dongmin observes, drawing himself father from the Porsche and any flying objects later on. 

“By the way, the owner is actually here to pick up the car. I may or may not have mentioned your infatuation with it.” 

Jungkook almost instantly jumps to his feet, searching for the owner inside the garage, but disappointingly ending up with all the familiar faces at the garage. “Chill, kid. He just grabbed some coffee down the street,” Dongmin mentions as he takes a sip of his own. “Ah, speaking of the devil,” the latter states, nodding his head towards someone behind Jungkook. 

“Seokjin-sunbaenim?” 

“Oh hey! Wasn’t expecting to see you here...Jungkook, right?” 

“Yes sir!” Jungkook’s pupils shake, animatedly looking back and forth between the garage owner and his upper-level resident. “So...you’re the one who owns this Porsche?” Seokjin raises his cup, adding a small nod in Jungkook’s direction. He internalizes his excitement, before confessing his love for Seokjin’s Panamera. 

“And so, Dongmin here mentioned. Also said you were the one who fixed her up. Thanks man!” 

Dongmin looks at the two of them, eyebrows creased in the middle. “You two know each other?” 

“Seokjin-sunbaenim is a senior of mine at Woocheon.” Seemingly shellshocked at the new piece of information, Dongmin turns to Seokjin, “You’re a doctor?” The owner of the Porsche rolls his eyes fondly, “Yes, Dongmin. We can have lives outside the hospital too, you know.” 

“Anyways, ‘Mera’s ready to go yeah?” 

“Of course. Kook fixed it up just fine.” 

“Alright. Got a shift today man? Need a ride to the hospital?” 

Jungkook is tempted to give in, but merely fixing Seokjin’s car is enough honor for him and he can’t take advantage of his generosity. “No thank you, sunbae. I’ve already got a ride to work today.” Jungkook points to his bike on the other side of the garage. 

Seokjin tuts his disbelief. “You’re kidding me right? In this weather?” The older doctor points outside, then rubs his palm against his down coat. “No way in hell, kid. Get in the car.” 

“Really?” Jungkook mumbles, dimple on display as his lips form a thin line. Seokjin makes a hum of approval as he takes off his jacket while Jungkook dashes back to where he’d left his backpack. “He’s a good kid, Jungkook. Can be a bit of a delinquent sometimes, but he’s good. Take care of him, yeah?” 

“Huh,” Seokjin smirks, “this handsome face got nothing he can’t handle.” Dongmin rolls his eyes this time, “Seriously doubt we’re the same age honestly.” 

Jungkook returns to where the Porsche is parked, and Seokjin gets a spur-of-the-moment idea. The surgical resident throws his keys to Jungkook before settling inside the passenger seat. Jungkook, surprised as ever, simply stands there in surprise. “Well?” Seokjin asks, ducking towards the dashboard so he could take a look at Jungkook, “We’re gonna be late!” 

© joontier 2021

[equalstrashflavoredtrash]

Echoy’aim - 1

a/n: so my hope is for this to be a series, im like really diggin the ideas i’ve got rolling around in my skull and i also wanna take it slow with this fic (I know i have a habit of rushing to the horny bits) While writing i listened to the album Ecophony Rinne by Geinoh Yamashirogumi, which i would totally recommend! it helped me with the vibe. also much love to @maybege​ and @whenimaunicorn​ for listening to me ramble and encouring this mess.

wordcount: 2,669 (lol nice)

warnings: this fic is Omegaverse, with a/b/o dynamics, later points in the story will be more smutty but so far nothing sexual happens

PART 2

alpha!Paz x reader // The Mandalorian (A/B/O)

Looking up at the sky, you couldn’t help but notice how bright the new moon was. Even when the moon Wolo was cast in the shadow of Otare, the artificial light pollution from the city of Odharra on its surface was always visible, always glowing. You couldn’t look at the moon without wondering what your family was doing. It was hard to keep track of the time difference between the celestial bodies but you knew that your mom was most likely in her lab working away.

“You also running late?” a voice from behind you asked. With a simple shake of your head you broke the course of your thoughts before turning to find Kel. She wore her commonplace smile, exuding a confidence you were jealous of; she seemed so content and happy with her state, resting her hand on top of her round belly.

“Yeah, just lost track of time,” you mumbled, falling in pace next to her as she waddled along the main path to the center of the village. 

“Same here, it took forever to get Boej down for the night. I was so worn out I crashed next to him,” She laughed to herself, moving her hand to brace against her lower back. Without hesitation you stilled, giving her a moment to rest before she continued, “Do you know what this urgent council meeting is about anyway?”

“Apparently there was a distress call from just outside the atmosphere, and some families want to respond,” You mumbled with a shrug, relaying the sparse details you had overheard. The pair of you walked along in a shared silence that wasn’t exactly uncomfortable, but you still felt the need to fill the air. “Well, the shipment is arriving tomorrow. Jae will be back with you in no time.”

Kel nodded at your comment, smiling to herself before adding, “He’ll be back and staying on planet until these two are born.” 

“I'm sure it’s hard for him to be away from his riduur, especially when you’re so far along.” You tried to ignore the ache in your chest as you watched her rub along the curve of her pregnant belly. It was the same ache you felt when she announced her first son, or when she confided in you before anyone else when she learned was having twins. The pheromones a pregnant omega gave off were supposed to calming in nature to those around them, but the smell of her did not seem to have that effect on you. You wanted to be happy for her, as much as the whole tribe was—it seemed everyone wanted to touch and feel the kicks of her budding children—but you couldn’t help feeling outside of the events as the older omegas reminisced on their pregnancies and offered advice for Kel’s comfort.

Kel’s expression softened as she took in the way you gazed at her body. Wrapping her arm around your shoulders, she pulled you close, giving a squeeze as she nudged her forehead against yours, “Don’t worry, you’ll find a mate soon. I'm sure of it.” 

You tried to smile and seem agreeable, but also took the opportunity of approaching the Greathouse as a chance to break apart. Kel waved as she went in through the main door while you slipped around the corner of the building. Quietly as you could, you used a side entrance to cut to your seat near the center without disturbing too many of the onlookers. You settled on your knees in your place, just behind your grandmother. 

The Greathouse was as full as you’d ever seen it, members of the tribe packed in from wall to wall, standing where there wasn’t room to sit; all witnessing the elders’ discussion. Spectators were never uncommon for these meetings, but you couldn’t think of a time you’d seen this many at once. 

The seating arrangement in the great space during meetings was in the shape of a wagon wheel. In the center of the hall—at the wheel’s axle—was the fire pit. Circled around that were the eldest alpha of each family. Six in all, a mix of men and women, each with their helmets—an important heirloom and family symbol—proudly displayed before them. Behind the alphas sat their families, spread out to fill the slices of space like the spokes of a wheel. The circle of elders was broken only by your grandmother, the Alor and seventh member of the council. She was the only one without a helmet as she was the only omega. Across the room you could see Kel settle down among her family as a cousin offered her his chair.

You tried to quietly whisper an apology for your tardiness but your grandmother waved you off, patting your leg with one hand. In the other she held a small leather pouch. The discussion was in full swing now but you focused more on reaching for the steaming kettle by the fire than what was being said at the moment. You refilled your grandmother’s mug before pouring a drink for yourself.

“They are Mandalorians!” One of the leader’s voices boomed from across the circle.

“They are warriors!” Another replied, slamming her balled fist on the ground to emphasize her point. “We are farmers, we have chosen peace—all of us have!—there is no place for warriors among us.” 

The people watching were nearly silent—only occasionally clapping in agreement—rapt with attention as the group of six continued to make their points over the crackling of the fire and each other. You tried to listen to the arguing, weighing their opinions in your own mind, but your eyes kept wandering to your grandmother’s hands. 

Idly, she took a sip of her tea, unbothered by the noise, all while continuing to rhythmically bounce the pouch in her grasp. You could almost hear the familiar muffled sounds of the contents being jostled by the movement, the way they clack against each other. 

“This bickering will get us nowhere!” The man seated to your grandmother’s right rang out. It was Vres, your eldest Uncle, and the head of your own family. “Please, Alor,” he said in a calmer voice now that the arguing had halted, turning to face his mother, “Tell us, what do the bones say?”

All eyes were on your grandmother—necks craning forward to get a clearer view while those in the back stood from their seats—all watching as she twisted her wrist, pouring the fragments of bone from the pouch. The small white pieces, edges smoothed and rounded by age, bounced and scattered about, settling in place upon the ground before her, seemingly at random—but you watched the way her finger guided along above the arrangement. Studying each one in time, taking in their relation to each other. You tried to recall your lessons and understand what she was reading.

“The bones speak of the echoy’aim,” she finally said, breaking the heavy silence that had settled over the audience, “They speak of the deep pain we all know.” Carefully she reached forward, gently picking up one bone with her bent, arthritic fingers, holding it up to the light of the flame. This one you recognized. 

‘Both possibilities and aliit, our family,’ your grandmother had explained when she’d decided it was time for you to learn and had first shown you the bones. ‘It breaks off in two directions, representing the parting of ways or the branching of generations; what matters is how you read it.’ 

“They remind us that when one brother is safe, we all are safe.” 

- .-- --- --- .-- ..- ...-

There wasn't much contest after your grandmother spoke. The vote was unanimous—begrudgingly so by some—that the soldiers would stay with the tribe. The matter of whether they would truly integrate with Cuun Adate, or move on after a briefer respite, was left open to future discussion.

The covert arrived late at night, eager to land after an arduous journey. Most of Cuun Yaim was asleep when their ships first touched ground. You were awake in the loft of the Greathouse at the time, having said that you were going to bed but then losing track of time reading on your holopad.

It was lonely in the loft now. You missed the nights with the other omegas. When you moved from your parent’s home to the loft, the other beds were taken, since all of the other omegas had come of age before you even arrived in Cuun Yaim. You had ended up sleeping next to Kel, spending most of those nights together talking until you fell asleep; discussing the possibilities of the future as a full member of the tribe with a loving riduur.

Now, most nights you spent your time alone in the loft, bundled up with all the extra, unused pillows from the other beds. The loft was reserved for young omegas without a mate. It was over the main entrance of the great space, looking down over the central fire pit. It got very warm and cozy on cold nights, especially after gatherings that filled the hall with people like tonight’s meeting. 

At the far end of the hall was the Alor's residence, where your grandmother lived. Your Uncle and his family currently stayed there too, helping to care for her in her old age after she minded and taught their younglings during the day. 

After the last riduurok—when it was apparent that you would be the only one left un-mated and alone in the loft—your grandmother offered for you to sleep downstairs but you refused, insisting you wanted your own space and that the warm loft would be nice in the coming cold months.

So now you spent your evenings alone, reading your holopad as you listened to the dying fire below and the muffled sounds of your uncle’s riduur singing their pups to sleep.

This night was different due to the expected arrivals. You could hear your grandmother still awake working away at her weaving and humming along—the wooden clacking of the loom keeping time—far past when she would normally turn in. 

Your eyelids were heavy, the text before you becoming blurry as your wrist started to slump, almost dropping the holopad when you were jolted awake by the creak of the large door opening.

Cautiously crawling across the wooden planks on your knees, you listened closely, trying to count the footsteps before you could see how many people had entered. You were so focused that you hadn't noticed that the clack-clack of your grandmother's loom had stopped.

Shuffling on your belly, you approached the edge of the loft. Carefully you eased forward, peering over the sawed ends of the boards to watch what was happening around the fire. Your grandmother was plain to see in her usual seat but you followed her line of vision and spotted the newcomers entering the hall. 

The pair were easy to identify as Mandalorian; the first wore a golden beskar helmet that bore a series of small horns that circled around the crown of their head—almost Zobrak-like in their arrangement. A helmet that was not removed despite entering the great hall, something you chalked up to them being uneasy in a new place. Still, they knelt when approaching the fire, showing deference to your kin. That was when you noticed the second visitor. You could smell him before you even looked his way. His scent commanded your attention instantly—his pheromones, both musky and masculine in essence, held your gaze on him though you wanted to hear what the other was saying to your grandmother. Still you forced yourself to pay attention.

The one in the horned helmet stepped forward, urging your grandmother to stay seated. Reaching forward your grandmother clasped their forearm, a greeting you recognized as one shared between friends or equals. 

"I apologize for our untimely arrival, but I'm sure you understand the urgent nature of our situation. Thank you again, for taking my people in on such short notice." Hearing the second Alor's voice you recognized she was a woman and wondered vaguely curious of her disposition and what their covert's traditions were. 

Normally it was easy to tell by scent who was an alpha or omega, but the smell of the silent soldier was so overpowering to you, every other scent in the room was dampened compared to him—even the smell of the wood smoke. It was hard to discern much about his appearance from above but he stood tall, clad in blue armor. He seemed intimidating in stature, even without the protective layer of beskar you could tell he would tower over you. 

He remained silent as the two Alors spoke, standing near the fire to warm while listening to the conversation. You felt almost mesmerised as you studied him, unable to tear your eyes away a second time. It was like watching the alphas in the village spar: paying close attention at  every moment so you don’t miss the winning blow—but now instead of hoping to see a hard right hook you would have been content just seeing his fingers idly twitch.

You thought he was engrossed in the Alors' conversation when his helmet abruptly turned, almost instantly focusing on you. Even though his entire face was obscured by the dark tint of his helmet's visor, you could feel his eyes landing on you tucked away in the shadowy eaves of the Greathouse.

He held your gaze so intently you found yourself loathe to break the connection, even though normally you would look away from such direct eye contact. He was a proud alpha—you could not only by how he held himself, but by the heady scent of his disposition swirling up with the wood smoke to find you in the loft. 

There was something warm about the smell you couldn't name. Breathing it in, you felt not quite drowsy, but content. Lulled by his infatuating scent, you tucked your arms in close and rested your cheek on your wrist—all the while continuing to keep gaze with the blue soldier.

Your grandmother waved away the other Alor's apologies with her usual air. "You are safe, that is what matters most." She leaned forward, using the end of her cane to poke at the crumbling embers that were the last log. "You must be tired, please rest here."

"It is too late. The others will sleep on the ship tonight, so as not to disturb the village, but Paz and I will gladly accept your offer." Holding out a gloved hand she gestured to her silent companion as your grandmother hummed in agreement.

"Very well, then I must turn in." Your grandmother declared as she braced her cane, moving to stand. You could feel your muscles twitch with the impulse to help her, even though you were watching from the shadows. Instead of yourself stepping forward, it was the blue soldier.

He circled around the fire in barely two long steps, reaching for her elbow before she could dismiss his aid as she normally would. He walked slowly, keeping her pace as she shuffled along to the door that led to her living space. 

"I had my son-in-law set out some blankets for you, I hope there is all you need," your grandmother commented, turning around to speak to him.

"All that you provide is more than plenty, and I am thankful for it." His response was simple enough—the proper manners for speaking to an Alor—and your grandmother approved, smiling as she ducked past the curtain that separated the living quarters from the great space. The sound of his voice sent a pang through you, something that echoed in your form before settling as a warm heat between your thighs.

Returning to your bed, you climbed under the covers, basking in his scent as it continued to waft up to you as the blue soldier rested below your rafters. Unable to deny your biology, you were easily lulled into a comfortable sleep—resting more easily than you had since the loft had become so empty. 

/// NEXT >> //

Glossary [literal definition](functional definition) Echoy’aim - [searching/mourning + home](the Mandalorian Diaspora) Cuun Adate - [my people](the name of the Tribe) Cuun Yaim - [my home](the name of the Village) Otare - The planet Cuun Yaim is on Wolo - The Moon of Otare Odharra - The largest city on Wolo Riduur - Spouse (mate) Riduurok - a bond of love, marriage

///

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[ag3ntl3vi]

Hoodie X GN! Reader X Masky | “Rock Paper Sisscors” |☁️

This struck me at like, 3AM while listening to Devil in Diguise. I’ll probably write more parts to this tonight if im being honest. 

!Gender-Neutral reader!

Trigger Warnings: Sexual mentions. 

Word Count: 2,317

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"Can you go any slower?" You laughed, stopping to allow your friend to catch up. Sweat dotted her chocolatey forehead as she panted. 

"Yes! I can." She wheezed. "You're just too fast!" Taylor whined loudly, bending herself in half to try and catch her breath. You rolled your eyes and pulled her up, raising her arms over her head. 

"You'll breathe better this way," You told her, taking a step back and taking a long sip of your icy water. Taylor nodded her thanks and slowed her breathing gradually. 

        "Wanna keep going?" You asked as you wiped your mouth on your wrist. Taylor feriously shook her head. "I'll pass, (Y/n)." She whimpered. You put yout arms behind your head as you began to walk down the worn dirt bath. 

"That sucks," You murmered. "We were only 1/4th of the way done."

Taylor gaped at your cocky smirk. "And you do this everyday?"

You nodded. "Twice a day if I'm feelin' lucky," You winked and giggled. Taylor shook her head in disbelief. 

"You're a machine," She grumbled, jogging to your side. You could tell she was tired, but she was the one who asked to join you in your near-night run. She said she needed the exercise to get the perfect "summer body", even though it was fall. 

You hummed. "I didn't know they made sexy machines now." Taylor pushed away the urge to roll her eyes, though she desperately wanted to. She chose not to answer your stupid comment. You both started to walk back to your dorm and planned a junk food movie night. You had the feeling she wouldn't last, but you couldn't say no to her puppy face. You had to admit, you were a sucker for your best friend.          Taylor ended up chugging the rest of her and your water bottles greedily, but you didn't blame her. She was pretty out of shape. The darker skinned girl took a large gasp of fresh oxygen after finishing off your beverage. 

"Learn to breathe, my God," You snorted. She glared.

"I just ran a mile, you can shut your mouth, you fucking monster," She hissed playfully. 

School campus soon came into view after your bickering. Taylor grumbled about how badly her feet ached and how she was never running ever again. You parted ways at the dorm. Taylor wanted to get the living room set up for the movie and sent you out for snacks and drinks. You easily migrated to the everything store. That wasn't its actual name, you couldn't care to remember what it was, but the everything store seemed to suit the run down shop better. 

        You pushed thr glass double doors open, a cute bell ringing to announce your presence to the cashire, Michael. 

"(Y/n)!" He greeted with a smile. You returned the facial gester with a small wave of your own.          "What're you here for this time?" He leaned his head on his open palm, his eyes trained on your figure. You had your back turned to him as you read the movie names on the rack. 

"What does it look like?" You chuckles, plucking a familar title from the shelf. 'Kiki's Delivery Service', a childhood favorite of yours. Michael didn't verbally answer, he was too busy allowing his eyes to roam your every curve. 

His eyes snapped to the side when you turned around to wonder down the candy isle. You shoved a KitKat , snickers, and (f/c) into your arm (allowing an extra of your favored one into your pocket, shh) before you turned the corner, finding the energy drinks. With a childish grin you grabbed a few of the better Monster flavors. You knew you had popcorn at the dorm so you didn't bother trying to find a box here. 

        You decided to check out as quickly as possible, avoiding as much conversation with Michael as you could. He gave you the creeps. He always tended to make sexual remarks regarding your running outfit, like how your shorts made your ass look plump or how cute you looked with a flushed, tired expression. In general, he didn't seem like a good guy or influence, though Taylor took an odd interest in him. She always had shitty tastes in men. 

It was getting late, you noticed. The sun started to darken as students scrambled to their respected dorms or apartments off campus. You made your way to your room. The illuminated cobblestone path gave you the worst horror movie vibes, so to say you booked it was an understatement. As soon as you were inside the safe confindments of your dorms living area, you released a loud sigh of relief. You thought about taking the elevator up, but decided on the stairs to the third story. You were very grateful you were on a higher floor, to you it served as a lesser chance of being robbed or murdered. 

"I brought a movie, candy and monsters, come on, you filthy goblin." you called into the freakishly neat room. Taylor was a very, very messy person so you tended to pick up after her more than you'd happily admit. It didn't take long for you to set positions for certain objects in specific places. Example, your shoes stayed in a small, plastic, blue bin by the door. They didn't ever make it to the carpeted floor of the living room. You had a key rack by the door so your keys were never lost or misplaced and Taylor had insisted you needed a coat rack, so your bookbags and Taylor's purses hung there. Any extra blankets, pillows, and sheets were placed neatly in the spare closet. 

        "Monsters..?" Her brown head popped out from around the corner. 

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

Taylor had passed out halfway through the movie, not that you were surprised. You pouted. You were very well use to it, but it wasn't any less disappointing when it happened. You carefully laid her on the couch, not bothering to wake her. She was a literal demon when she was woken up. You covered her body in a large, fluffy blanket before standing, pacing for a moment. 

You wondered back to your organized room and grabbed your large spray bottle you kept on your dresser. You stared down your mass of plants in your window seal and the few on your night stand and hanging from the ceiling before watering the ones that needed it, leaving your Rainbow Bush succulent alone. Satisfied, you grabbed your school jacket and your earbuds and phone before slipping your shoes on at the door. 

It was almost 1 before Taylor and you had finally settled enough to sit and watch the movie, so it was fairly late now. But, regretfully, your body was still pumped from the sugary drinks you consumed not long ago. You made a quick choice to go on a short run to tire yourself out a bit before retiring for the night. Sure, wasn't the best idea to go out at night, alone and defenceless, but you prided yourself in your speed if needed. Besides, you've done it before and you were obviously still alive!

You made your way to the dirt path you ran earlier in the day, struggling to remember a stupid songs name. You grinned when you figured it out and hurriedly played it. The opening played through your earbuds as you gently bobbed your head to the beat.

"There are boulders on my shoulders, collar bones begin to crack, there is very little left of me and it's never coming back," You sung softly along with 'Be nice to me'. An old, but greatly loved song from your middle school years. You began to run.

Your lips parted in a content smile as a phrase slipped past your teeth.

"You're a killer, and i'm your best friend. I think it's unfair, your situation," 

You began to bounce on the balls of your feet excitedly. "You say i'm changing! I'm sorry I didn't know I had to stay the same!" You jumped as your legs moved, your voice growing louder and bolder with every word thoughtlessly spilling out your mouth. You became unaware of the eyes watching your movements, head tilted in confusion. 

"Your voice is driving me insane!" You shouted, hopping more as you swished your head side to side, getting louder everytime the phrase was repeated. The last note rang through your ears and you let out a joyful that was quickly cut off. The overbearing feeling of being watched dawned on you. 

You jerked around and scanned the treeline, your eyes falling on a tall male facing you with a tilted head. You stared at him, confused before your gaze fell on the bloodied pipe dangling by his side. You fearfully and turned around, bolting in the direction the path led you to. You didn't have much time to understand why he was watching you, but you could hear his heavy footsteps crushing dead leaves as he raced after you. 

'Molly' blasted into your ears loudly, making you jerk in surprise. If you were going to die tonight, you were glad this was the song you'd die to. 

You could hear him distantly still chasing after you. Not to brag, but you could run a mile amd keep going onto the next without breaking too much of a sweat, though you'd be fairly tired.          Speaking of tired, you could feel the drousiness spreading to your head and deep down you knew that you couldn't keep the pace up for much longer. 

Sucking in a deep breath, you turned into the woods, lifting your feet high so you wouldn't be the stupid one to trip on a root and be killed first. That would be an embarrassing way to die and not even Molly could make it better, you concluded. 

So you did the most logical thing your sleepy brain could think of.

You climbed a fucking tree.

The man was a far enough distance for you to get a good amount of height between the two of you. You panted, your palms itching with needle-like pain from the rough and merciless bark, but pulled yourself up another branch and looked down. The man was panting heavily, bent over as he struggled to force air into his most likely burning lungs.  He stood up after a quick second, glaring up the tree at you.

Childishly, but overcome with a sense of acomplishment, you stuck your tongue out at him. 

Bad idea, you concluded when the guy's gloved fists clenched by his sides and he started to climb. 

You squealed. "No! Fuck off!" You shouted. "Pick another goddamn tree, you humanoid orange!" A growl ripped through your teeth as you glared fearfully at him.          To your surprise, he got down. He moved his head to stare at you before sitting indian style, his face pointed to you.

For the first time you had a proper look at him, and you weren't surprised. He looked like he came from a shitty horror movie. He wore an orange hoodie with a ski mask hiding his facial features, a red frowny face sitched into it. He had dark blue, wore out jeans and black boots that looked to be kept as clean as Taylor would keep her living space. 

'Best friend' Began to play quietly through your (f/c) earbuds and you forced down a snort at the timing. You were hoddled up in a tree while a guy who most likely wanted you dead watched from below. You shook your head and glanced at the dark sky.

'The stars are out' You thought as you spotted the little dipper, the big one wasn't far away from it's child. 

It only took about ten minutes for your easily distracted mind to get bored. You stared down at the hooded man as he drew in the dirt with his pipe. An idea struck you, a bad one, but an idea nevertheless. And it wasn't going to kill you, with a lot of hope, it may allow you to live another day. 

"Yo, tangerine!" He flinched at your loud voice, moving his head to stare at you. 

You held up a fist with your dominate hand, your opposite going under it, palm up and open.

"Wanna play rock, paper, sisscors before I die?" 

The man stilled before very, and I mean very slowly nodded. You allowed yourself to snort. Now you were going to play a childs game with a murderer. 

"Do you know how to play?" You called down. He nodded again and held up his hands. "Cool," You said.

The orange-clad killer was absolute shit at rock, paper, sisscors. He was even worse than your nephew, who was six and had the attention span of a squirell. Sometime in your game playing, you had moved yourself a few branches down to see him better in the dark woods. You now sat a branch above his head.          He didn't move much, but his shoulders seemed to slump.

You threw rock, again, and he threw sisscors. You gave an evil victory crackle whiele he glared gloomily at his open fingers.          "That was fun," You stretched your arms over your head, yawning. "Can I go now?" You calmly asked. 

He didn't move for a long while, looking between you and his gloved hands, the, back to you. Finally, he nodded. You hopped down, smiling widely. 

"Thanks," You said nervously. He was trying to kill you earlier, so you wouldn't be completely off guard around him. You started to shuffle around him cautiously. His arm shot out, grabbing your upper arm roughly. You flinched hard, looking up at him with wide eyes. 

This is it, You thought He changed his mind and wants to eat me!

Instead, you heard a deep voice whisper.

"You can leave if we can play again soon."

[srose-foxfire]

Damirae Week 2021 - Day 6

“Towards Home” Day 6: Pets / Animals  

Raven was very much exhausted as she reached a clearing in the woods. She leaned against a pine tree to catch her breath and steady her over-beating heart. Part of her was just tired from running non-stop but the other part had been scared. Raven had stood there in Damian’s study, he had brought her there to show her the enchanted rose that somehow regained its magical glow. She had thought some good had just happen instead Damian’s character completely reverted back to when they first met. The moon had passed over most of the night sky, dawn would be nearing. They needed to find shelter, rest, and continue on with their journey-

Raven had noticed Sombra had perched on a nearby branch and was staying rather very silently as it looked to the right where the forest was denser. The young girl managed to keep her breathing steady and moved around the tree she was leaning against. From the shadows of the forest, there it emerges very carefully. The creature she once saw, the first time she had fled from the castle, the one that had softened her fall, months ago. Scared Raven hid behind the tree, she heard Sombra squawk angrily towards the unusual invader.

The strange creature then lowered its head and whimpered. Raven peeked from around the tree and gaze at the creature, as it lay down, keeping its large head between it thick paws. Sombra from the top of the trees continue to squawk and swoop down, trying to scare off and protect its mistress.

“Sombra stop.” Raven said sternly as she carefully walked around the tree. “You are not trying to hurt me…” She stops just a foot away from it. “That day we met, when I fell, you saved me didn’t you?”

Whatever this strange creature was, raised it head to her height, perking up it ears. It looked almost like an overlarge dog but transformed into a terrifying creature to be feared by anyone who dared gaze at it. The large dog’s head was long and square-like, with black pointed ears, it had very short fine black fur, and its eyes were dark. It was definitely bigger than Damian’s beastly form.

Very carefully, Raven reached out a hand and stroked behind its ear. She gasped when the large dog started licking her hand and wag it large tail. Raven couldn’t help but giggle, Sombra then landed next to them and looked up at the creature with curious eyes. It hopped near it, before long the large dog, sniffed him and licked him. Sombra squawk and flew up on top of the creature’s head.

“I don’t suppose you know someplace we could stay. We happen to be homeless at the moment.” The large dog, only grunted turn it back and lay down. Raven knitted her eyebrows together but cautiously got on the large creature. She wasn’t sure if she was seated properly, she never once ridden  a horse or any other rideable animal. It took her through the thick forest but avoided any loose branches so she wouldn’t get scraped. The black large dog walked on top of a hill and in the distance could make out the point of the towers of Wayne Castle. Turning her head, Raven looked back to the path as she noticed they were nearing a cave.

-- -- --  

Morning came and Raven woke up to the smell of wet moss and dew drops. In the distance she could hear some playful barking, curious she walked outside the small cave which she came to conclude was the large dog’s home. Exiting the cave Raven found Sombra flapping and jumping as he played with their unusual friend. She gave out a laugh as it looked like the two were old friends despite their forms and size. How could this creature be evil, she wonder? Dick had mentioned that a large black monster, probably this large dog, guarded the castle.  Yet she didn’t see no monster, Raven just saw an oversized playful dog that only wanted to protect and play.

The large dog-like creature barked happily and zoomed past Raven, going back inside its cave. Sombra flew onto Raven’s shoulder as they both waited for the creature to emerge from its home. It return outside, holding some sort of round band in it mouth, walking gracefully towards Raven, it handed her the round band.

“What do you have here?” Raven asked ash she took the band in her hands and inspected it. A dog collar. Raven lifted a brow and examined the black band. It was a knitted black collar, with many threads out of place, probably due to being worked out. She noticed a silver rusty-round tag, both sides engraved. It took Raven a while to decipher the text since some words had been scratched from years of being out in harsh weather, or scraped against rocks; Raven could only assume. She was able to decipher one side and her eyes widen when she read, what was the address to the tag:

If found, please return to

Prince Damian Al Ghul-Wayne,

~ Wayne Castle ~

Raven looked from the tag to the large dog, she flipped the tag around and read the name engraved: Titus. This creature was Damian’s dog, she had seen an old portrait of a small black Dane puppy sitting in a meadow of dandelions. Raven would sometimes find Damian looking at that portrait in the parlor.

Raven’s chest suddenly starting aching remembering what Damian had told her last night. “When the witch cast the curse and she transformed me, she said she would take everything I held dear would be gone.” 

The witch, she took everything that Damian ever cherished. Then a sudden thought crossed her mind, Damian mentioned that the rose had become a symbol of good fortune, but even it’s light faded. Though last night it regained the light he had mentioned, after Raven touched it. Some good has come from the curse, them meeting was proof of that. Could Damian believed she would had been fated some terrible fate if she continued to stay with him? Could that be the reason why he ordered and scared her off from his castle? Raven only prayed that it was true, that he had acted the way he did to only protect her. No one had ever done that for her.

Raven had never felt like she belonged anywhere, she never had friends, or ever shared a holiday meal with anyone but herself. She always looked out for herself back in Trigon’s lands. Raven had always been alone till she befriended a lone raven during her travels, then she came upon Wayne castle. Where she met the most unusual cursed family who immediately welcomed her into their home, except their youngest member. Though over time even he opened up and they became friends.

Raven felt her chest ache as she thought of the Wayne’s, imagined what they were doing this late morning. She gasped when she realized she had started crying as Sombra and Titus watched her. It occurred to her Raven never once thought of leaving or asking Damian to leave the castle. Not after she learned so much from everyone, not after spending some ‘girl time’ with Kori, Cass, and Stephanie. Raven wanted to do more holiday meals and celebrations. She had so much fun when they all danced and laughed together. How could she think of leaving when each day, Raven wanted to read to Damian another book she discovered in the castle’s library.

Raven slumped down to her knees and continue to cry. Titus and Sombra came next to her, her pet raven perched on her knees while Titus whimpered and nudge Raven’s shoulder with his nose. Raven petted them both as her tears started to dry up, “let’s go home.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Damian hadn’t slept resulting him being very much tired. His siblings had tried to get him to eat but he was rather dead inside. He paid no one any attention. The places in his castle where he once found solace were no longer bearable, he couldn’t stand it. Everywhere he looked, he was reminded of her.

Damian needed to find a way to move on and forget all about the girl that came to his castle months ago. He should had made her leave that day she first walked into his home, then he wouldn’t be feeling like this. Damian felt his heart turned over inside of him, he left weak and vulnerable. At any moment he could break out into tears again. He had fallen madly in love with Raven, and now she was gone.

Damian laid in a corner of the parlor, the same parlor where they had all celebrated the end of the year’s celebration together. Where Raven had made Damian dance with her to the off-beat music his siblings were playing. How could he just erase those precious memories? How could he just forget the moments they had spent together where he wanted them to last a lifetime? When Raven would read to him, when they cooked together, when they take a stroll through the castle together and answer any question she had. He was a fool.

Damian sighed heavily, his face was between in the corner, but Damian knew too well that his nosy siblings were in the room with him, they were just – which was strange – keeping extremely quiet. Everyone was scattered in the room, Jason and Cass were playing a game of chess, Dick lay across an old sofa with his head propped on top of Kori’s lap. Stephanie was dusting an old tapestry that depicted the castle’s first annual masquerade ball. Tim was floating near the window, looking outside and the day dreaded on.

“Guys… you won’t believe who is riding towards the castle on a… what the heck is that?” Tim added rather out loud as he was able to gain everyone’s attention. At his statement everyone floated towards the window looking out to what caught Tim’s attention, they all gasped.

“It’s Raven?!” Kori added very delighted.

The mentioned of her name brought Damian out of his trance. He wanted to believe he was in some dream, where Raven turned back and returned to his arms asking for permission to stay. Could it really be her? Damian slowly walked towards another window and gaze outside, there up the main walkway of the castle’s entrance was Raven, she came in fast on top of the creature Damian had only once ever catch a glimpse of. It was the monster that guarded their castle to ensure no one came in or out. Beside them, Sombra was flying matching the creature’s speed.

Without even realizing what he was doing, Damian dashed out of the parlor and ran through corridors until he reaches the main doorways to exit. His mind was running all over the place, some were if he had gone to sleep and this was all just a dream his unconscious mind had created for him. Other thoughts were that Raven only returned to stock on supplies for her long quest to finding her mother’s homeland. Just one thought, one Damian was holding tightly to his aching heart was that she came back for him.To be with him.

Damian pried open the doors, he use his whole body to open them and stopped just above the doorsteps as Raven and the creature she was riding stopped right at the foot of his castle. Damian went down the steps slowly, with his brows narrowed, “you came back? I told you to leave and yet, you came back.” Damian didn’t mean to almost whisper his statement, but he couldn’t believe he would find Raven, standing right before him after last night’s incident.

“I had to… I know the curse took so much away from you and I wanted to return to you an old friend of yours.” Raven added softly before dismounting her strange steed. “Damian, meet Titus.”

“Titus?” The creature both bark and whimpered as it took three steps and give Damian a lick across his face. “Titus! It is you! I missed you so much friend.” The cursed prince wrapped his massive fur arms around the Titus’s neck. Damian had thought that his dog had died many years ago, he wasn’t able to find him when they all fell under the curse. To think his beloved dog, his great Dane had just been outside the castle walls all these years. Damian was both filled with happiness and sadness, realizing that Titus had been alone for such a long time. After petting Titus, Damian turned his attention to the raven-hair maiden that seemed to bring in light to his world. “You found him for me… thank you.”

“He actually found me.” Raven added timidly, she then folded her arms behind her back, almost as if she was embarrassed to speak to him. “Damian, I came back because I want to-”

Raven didn’t finish her sentence, out of thin hair a creature with blueish skin and arms covered in feathers swooped down and grabbed Raven. It screeched harshly and it ascended to the skies with the girl Damian loved. He was able to recognize the winged creature to be a harpy from the many books on mythical and enchanted creatures.

“Damian!” Raven screamed as she tried to land a hit on her captor.

“Raven! Release her!” Damian called out. Raven’s pet raven, Sombra flew up towards the harpy. He tried to peck the harpy, but the harpy managed to evade Sombra attacks and then slashed him with her claws. Injured, Sombra was falling down, Damian ran on all fours and then jumped to catch the bird in his paws. Titus ran and stood next to its former master, barking at the harpy. Damian grunted and ran towards back to the castle; there his siblings were waiting at the door. Their eyes were filled with anger and desperation wanting to help, but the curse did not allow them; their souls were forever bound to the castle. Damian handed Dick the injured raven.

“Damian what are you going to do?” His older brother questioned.

“I am going to go and save the woman I love.” Damian said through clenched teeth. Titus barked and turned his body, so his back faced Damian and his head was pointed at the harpy who was looking to be farther away into the skies, heading to some mountains in the distance. Damian leapt and mounted Titus, commanding his old friend to chase after the harpy. As Titus ran, Damian looked up, he could barely make out Raven anymore, she was disappearing between thick dark gray clouds.

Raven wait for me, I am coming for you.

[sergeantsporks]

Another Shot at Life

Rating: General Audiences, Gen

TW: Child abuse, emotional manipulation

Ao3

Hunter accidentally makes his way into the human realm and can't get back home. But he's discovering that might not be such a bad thing.

Ch 4/7: Welcome to the Family

Ch 1, Ch 2, Ch 3

A knock sounded on the door, and Hunter looked up from his sketch—not of the door, this time of the view out of the window. Camila had gone out for groceries, leaving him and Vee at home. He was glad about that—he’d fallen asleep leaning against her last night, and now it was just embarrassing to be around her.

“I got it!” Vee called, leaping down the stairs. She opened the door, then immediately slammed it shut, tearing into the living room. “Where’s the phone?!” she yelped.

“What?”

“I need to call Camila—it’s Jacob, he’s here, what is he doing here?!” she wailed.

Hunter marched over to the door and flung it open. “Go away,” he snarled.

“That—that thing is a demon! It may look like a human, but—”

Hunter pushed Jacob back further and stepped outside himself, closing the door behind him. “I don’t care.”

“Well, I do! I saw the staff you had—that was a real magic staff, wasn’t it? And the bird? What are you?”

“I said to go away. You scare Vee. And you kinda creep me out, too. Vee is getting Camila right now, so I suggest you leave before she calls the police.”

“I know she’s not here, I saw her leave, that woman can’t protect you. I am going to get that demon, and if I have to hurt you to get it—”

Hunter punched him in the face. Jacob staggered back with a yell, and Hunter lunged at him, kneeing him in the gut and pushing him backwards to the street. He grabbed a fistful of Jacob’s shirt as he fell, bringing him right up to his face.

“I said to go away,” he hissed, “If I see you around here again, you will wish that you only had to deal with law enforcement, got it?”

“B-but—”

Hunter held out his hand, and Red fluttered to him, turning into a staff. The tip cackled with red electricity, and Hunter held it close to Jacob’s face. “I said, got it?”

“G-Got it!”

Hunter dropped him, and Red returned to its usual form. “Good! Now get your slimy face out of here, okay, okay. Bu-bye!”

Jacob scrambled away, and Hunter returned to the house, shaking his hand. Ow, punching people hurt a lot more without gloves on.

He opened the door, and Vee crowed. “That was awesome! Wait until I tell Camila—she beat him up with her flip flop, you know, you’d think he’d learn to leave us alone. Is your hand okay?”

“Better than his face.”

Camila’s car pulled up into the driveway, and Vee raced towards it. “Camila! Jacob showed up, and Hunter beat him up, it was great!”

“Jacob—oooo I am going to call the cops on him!” Camila gave Hunter a grin. “We can compare notes. I’ll even let you borrow one of my chanclas in case he shows up again.”

Hunter flushed, opening the trunk of her car. “I’mgoingtotaketheseinforyounowokaybye.” He grabbed a handful of bags, marching back towards the house.

“Hey. Hunter.”

He froze in place. “Yyyyyessss?”

“Really—thanks for taking care of Jacob. It means a lot.”

Hunter’s ears burned, and he nodded, lugging the bags inside and setting them on the kitchen counter. Camila brought the rest in, and he went back outside, trudging up the path to the old house where he’d come out of the portal. Red fluttered to his shoulder, and he gestured to the house. “You have any… I don’t know, weird magic palisman feelings?

His palisman shook its head, and he sighed, sitting down on the steps. “Yeah. That’s what I thought.” He flopped back on the old porch. “I’m never going to get back home, am I?”

Red hesitantly chirped, and a jolt went down Hunter’s spine. “Stay here?! I mean—I like Camila and Vee a lot, don’t get me wrong, but I have responsibilities, duties, I—I swore an oath to the coven, and, I mean, I can’t just abandon Uncle Belos!” He ran a hand through his hair. “But if—when—I go back, will I have to tell him about Vee? I don’t… I don’t want her to get hurt. But I can’t just not tell him, right?”

Stay here. What would he even do? Chase off Jacob and carry in groceries until they managed to get some kind of ID for him? Watch shows with Vee? Get more hugs from Camila? Live with people who said thank you, and I’m sorry, and you don’t deserve to get hurt?

But what about his ears, there was no explaining those, he’d never fit in here!

But then Vee was jogging up the path, tugging on his hand and telling him that Camila had bought ice cream, and they were going to make sundaes, and that he should trust her, he would love them.

And weirdly, enough, he did trust her. And he let himself get pulled away from the creepy old house that would bring him back to Belos, and get pulled towards the Noceda house, where Camila was.

“—and anyway, I really like Amethyst, because she reminds me a lot of myself, but who’s your favorite character?”

Hunter blinked. “Sorry, what?”

“Favorite character? In Stephen Universe?”

Hunter rubbed the back of his head. “I—I don’t know, I never really thought about it. I like… all of them, I guess?” He shuffled into the kitchen, where Camila was singing along to some music, chopping up peppers. “Camila?”

She paused the music. “Mhm?”

“Uhh. So. When do you want me to go?”

“Go… where?”

Hunter shrugged. “I mean—I can’t stay here forever, right? You were offering me a place as a guest, but I can’t just keep taking up space and eating your food, so… when do you need me to go by? I’m trying to figure out the portal, I promise, and then I’ll be out, but if I need to move beforehand, I can—”

Camila put her hands on his shoulders, looking him in the eye. “When you figure out that portal. Will you be going back to Belos?”

“Y-yes, of course.”

Camila sighed. “Ayiyi. Madre de Dios protect you. Hunter, you can stay as long as you need. And if you can’t get the portal working—or if you do, and you decide that you don’t want to go back to Belos—we’ll figure it out.” She bopped his nose. “But I want you to stop thinking of yourself as taking up space and eating all my food, kay? It’s been wonderful having you here. And Red, too, of course.”

“But I… I don’t do anything to help.”

“You don’t need to, amorcito. You’re just a kid. You should be worried about—about school, and making friends. Not about where you’re going to sleep and how you’re going to get food.”

“But—”

“If I need help with anything, I’ll let you know, okay?”

Hunter subsided, not entirely convinced. “Okay.”

She went back to cutting peppers. “Good. So. You punched Jacob, huh?”

A smile tugged at the corners of Hunter’s mouth. “Yeah. In the face. And I maybe threatened him a little bit.”

“Good. He locked Vee up once. Thank you for protecting her.”

Hunter’s ears burned, and he looked down at the peppers she was cutting. “What are you making?”

“Stir fry. Want me to teach you?”

Hunter shuffled closer with a tiny nod. He knew how to scavenge for food, of course, and could cook campfire meals pretty well, but the kind of cooking Camila did—he’d never had anything like it back at the coven.

Camila held out her knife, hilt first. “Okay, first, cut the rest of those peppers into strips, see how I did?”

The knife felt awkward and clumsy in his hand. A knife just for cooking. Not stabbing enemies—in fact, this knife would probably be pretty bad at stabbing enemies. Hunter sliced along the pepper, cutting it cleanly into strips. Camila peeled an onion, and handed it to him.

“Okay, chop off the ends, then cut it in half.”

The onion was harder than the pepper—it was round, and kept rolling under the knife. Hunter grabbed it with one hand. “Stay still!” He slammed the knife down onto the onion.

“Hunter—”

The slipped off of the surface of the onion, and he couldn’t stop his momentum. The sharp blade sank into his hand, and he yelped, yanking his hand away. Tears sprang to his eyes, and Camila reached for his hand with a hiss. “Oh, ow, let me see—”

He barely heard her, clutching his injured hand to his chest.

Clumsy.

Stupid.

Useless.

Xxx

Camila watched Hunter go completely stock still, just like he had the night before when he’d punched her on accident. His hand dripped with blood.

“Hey—Hunter—”

“I apologize,” he said in a small, matter-of-fact voice, “I’ll clean up the mess.”

“Hey—heyyyyy.” Camila held her hands up, approaching him slowly. “Shshshshshsh… it’s okay… it’s okay. You’re okay.” She reached out and gently took his injured hand. “Let me see.”

He still didn’t move, but he let her pull his hand away. She examined the cut. “Okay. This doesn’t look deep. You don’t need stitches or anything, just some bandages. Just an accident—happens  a lot in cooking, it’s okay. Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”

She tugged him towards the bathroom. He followed her, but his movement was limited, restrained. A mix of anger and worry swept over Camila. There was a reason behind why he acted like this, and she was pretty sure she knew who to blame.

Could she really let him go back, on the off chance he got the portal working?

She’d helped with rescue animals before—and they acted a lot like Hunter. Cringing away from contact, fretting—she couldn’t even start to unravel his usefulness complex, but she knew when a creature was hurting.

Vee followed them into the bathroom, her eyes wide. “Is he okay?”

His gaze snapped to her, and a different kind of panic seemed to set in on his face. “I’m okay! I’m fine, really!”

He was talking again. Somehow, it wasn’t comforting.

Camila dabbed gently at the cut with a cotton ball soaked in cleaning alcohol. “Shshshshsh,” she said gently when Hunter yelped, his hand tensing. “It’s okay. I know it hurts, okay, I know. I’m sorry, I don’t want it to get infected.” She wrapped his hand up, and nodded to Vee. “Hey, why don’t you take him outside? He looks like he could use some fresh air.”

Vee grabbed his non-injured hand. “Come on! Don’t pass out on me, Hunter.”

Hunter stuck his tongue out at her. “It’s just a little cut, I’m fine,” he insisted, following her outside.

Camila went back to the kitchen, trying to put the pieces together in her mind. He acted one way around her, another way around Vee. Camila tried to think back on other instances—when Vee had complimented him on taking down Jacob, he had taken it in stride. When she had complimented him, he’d gotten flustered. Based on what Vee had told her about the day before, he’d pulled Vee into the rain, had splashed in puddles. With her, he’d been terrified, and had barely moved.

He’d said Luz had been nice to him—and Camila felt a little glimmer of pride at that. Okay. So, Vee, looked like Luz. Hunter associated Vee as an equal, maybe even a friend. Camila was an authority figure. Owner of the house, the boss.

Camila did not like it.

She’d known what Belos had done to Vee, of course. But Hunter was one of his own, Hunter was one of his guards. She poked her head outside to see Hunter on the roof, trying to coach Vee through getting up.

“It’s not that hard—climb up onto the trashcan—”

“Hunter! What are you doing up there?!”

He jumped, and guiltily climbed down, landing with a little oof. “Sorry.”

“Can you come in for a minute, please?”

He shuffled inside, and Camila rolled a hand. “Relax. You’re not in trouble. But, uh—please don’t climb on the roof, it’s not safe.”

“Parkour was part of my training, and I have excellent balance. I won’t fall.”

“Ayiyi. Okay. Please don’t encourage Vee to get up there, though.” Camila took in a deep breath. “I just wanted to ask—you said you threatened Luz. Will you tell me what happened?”

There it was. He froze again, as if limited movement would make him harder to see. “She had something I needed. So I…”

“Hey. You’re not in trouble,” Camila repeated, “I promise. What did you need?”

“Palisman. And—well, I guess I could have killed the Selkidomus by myself, but she was there, and I had the rat thing, and…”

“Why did you need that?”

“Well—Uncle Belos needed them.”

Uncle Belos. Camila racked her memory, trying to remember if Hunter had ever referred to him that way before—but she only ever remembered ‘emperor’ before his name.

Hunter was watching her expectantly, and she shrugged. “That was all, thank you.”

He exited the house as quickly as politely possible, and Camila sighed, removing her glasses and rubbing the bridge of her nose. Okay. So, what did she have? Belos had forged some kind of familial bond with Hunter. He sent him out on errands, errands where he’d run into Luz. Belos punished his nephew when he did something ‘wrong.’ He told Hunter that it was his fault, that he’d set off some curse. If Hunter thought he was in trouble, he froze—making himself a smaller target, or just trying to not make the situation worse?

Either way, Camila’s blood boiled at the thought. No wonder he was so scared of her getting mad—he thought she would hurt him. And no wonder he’d threatened Luz—she wasn’t happy about that, but when she thought about what probably waited for him if he failed, she couldn’t blame him for going to any lengths to complete Belos’ tasks.

Vee wandered into the house, planting herself in front of Camila. “Camila? I was thinking. Hunter probably shouldn’t keep sleeping on the couch. I know we’re waiting for Luz to come home, and when she does, we can figure it out, but I was thinking, she has a bunk bed, and I’m only using half of it, so maybe we could share the room? I know it’s Luz’s room, but I just kind of feel bad that he’s sleeping on the couch when there’s an extra bed right there.”

Camila gave Vee a smile. “I think that’s a wonderful idea, mija. Question—do you think he’s any closer to figuring out how to get back?”

Vee shook her head. “No. He was up at the old house, earlier, but he was just sort of sitting there.”

Good, Camila thought, with a little nod.

Vee darted outside, and dragged Hunter back in, gathering up his armor and uniform in her arms.

“Hey! Be careful with that!”

Vee shook her armful of clothing at him. “I’m pretty sure it’s designed to be tough, right?” She deposited the stuff in his arms, grabbing some hangers. “Come on.”

Camila followed the two of them upstairs. Vee hung Hunter’s uniform up in the closet, and gestured to the bunk. “I’ve already got the top bunk, Mr. Parkour.” She cleared Luz’s stuffed animals off of the bottom bed, lining them up on the desk. “Also, we can hang blankets around the bottom bunk so that it makes a dark little cave—in case you want to sleep in.”

Red flew around the room, singing, and eventually perching on Hunter’s shoulder. Camila pulled out her phone. “Okay, new roommates picture!”

Vee slung one arm around Hunter’s shoulders, pulling him down next to her and grinning. Camila snapped a picture, then laughed at the bewildered look on Hunter’s face. “Hunter, smile!” She snapped another picture, then lowered the phone. “Hey, mijo, is everything okay?”

His face was scrunched up, and he swiped at his eyes. “Why are you so nice?” he demanded, “I’ve—I haven’t done anything to deserve it, I attacked your daughter, and I—”

“You beat up Jacob because he scared me,” Vee offered, “You let Red help me when I was scared.”

Camila put one hand on his scarred cheek. “Hey—hey, Hunter, look at me, mijo.”

He did, his eyes watery.

“Everyone deserves a little kindness. You’ve made mistakes. So what? I’m not perfect, either. But I’m trying to be the best I can. And you deserve that chance, too.”

His shoulders started to shake, and Camila wrapped him up in a hug. “Okay. Come here. Ooookay.”

“I don’t know what I want anymore,” he mumbled, “I don’t know what I want to do—I used to have my future figured out, but now-!”

“I didn’t even have a future until I ran away,” Vee offered quietly, “It’s scary, I know. But it’s better than being under someone else’s control.”

“We’ll help you figure it out,” Camila soothed, “If you can’t go back—or if you don’t want to—we’ll help you.”

Hunter pulled back, scrubbing at his eyes. “I—I’d like that.” He gave Camila a watery smile as Red landed on her shoulder, tweeting happily. “I’d like that a lot.”

Ch 5

[deadpcnned]

the gamble of the heart | chapter 2 (r.l.)

chapter two: repression

series masterlist

previous chapter

pairing: remus lupin x potter!reader

chapter summary: y/n pursues her relationship with mason and sees the repercussions on remus. and herself. 

warnings: swearing, kissing, alcohol 

wordcount: 3.8k

a/n: new chapter! the next chapter is shorter so i’ll have it up sometime this week. 

“Stop,” Y/N drawled, but she made no effort to move the arms that were holding her in place. “I should probably say hello to my friends.” As Y/N used her fingers to comb through Mason’s blond locks, she couldn’t help the content smile that fought its way onto her face. 

“Probably - but I think I’ll miss you too much,” Mason mumbled against her lips. Y/N knew if she let him kiss her she would never get the chance to even glance at her friends. There was just something about Mason that drew her towards him. It was like whenever Mason Tomlinson was in question, Y/N was physically being pushed towards him and she would find herself doing things she’d never expected. It was a wonder to her how she fell for him as quickly as she had. 

There was no doubt that Mason Tomlinson was handsome and extremely charismatic, yet Y/N would have never guessed that she would feel as strongly as she did for him after only two weeks. She always considered herself to be a practical person, but when Mason looked at her with his big green eyes, she lost any pragmaticism. And Mason knew how to take advantage of that. 

“Mmm, Mase. You know I’ll stay if you ask me to,” Y/N pressed a kiss to the corner of his lips and they twitched slightly beneath hers. 

“I’m asking, love,” Groaning, Y/N placed her head against Mason’s chest before pushing herself away from his grasp. She looked through the doors to the Great Hall and could see all of the strangers she was so shamelessly flirting with her boyfriend in front of. 

“Nope,” She said, giving him a pointed look. “I am going to sit with my house today. You’ll just have to miss me.” 

“Will you miss me?” She would. That was the strange thing about her recent affair. It was like when she wasn’t with Mason she was floating purposelessly. It was as though she was a kite and he was the piece of string that was keeping her from floating out into space. Her independent streak was something Y/N had always valued, but since meeting Mason it was like she never wanted to be away from him. 

“You know I will,” An uneasy feeling settled in the pit of her stomach as she noted the jovial expression on Mason’s face. Why couldn’t she stay away from him? 

After departing from Mason, Y/N took the familiar path to the Gryffindor table. As she noticed three familiar boys, she smiled to herself. Suddenly, she was half walking and half skipping towards her best friends. When she reached she threw her arms around Peter from behind and squealed. 

Hi, boys,” she giggled, not noticing the dry expressions on their faces. “Did you miss me?” She took a seat next to Peter and surveyed their faces carefully. Who pissed in their pumpkin juice?

“Tomlinson busy today, Y/N?” Sirius accused. 

“No? I just wanted to sit here today. Are you guys mad?”

“Yes,” James shrugged. “You haven’t spoken to us in two weeks, because of your new friend.” Oh. Y/N had been so consumed in Mason she didn’t realize she was neglecting her closest friends. 

“I’m so sorry, you guys. I guess I didn’t realize I was doing that,” She offered, her hand reaching out to hold James’ hand from across the table. Upon feeling his hand squeeze hers, she let out a relieved breath. 

“We’ll forgive you on one condition, Y/N” Sirius mused, the shadow of his mischievous smirk evident. Y/N quirked her eyebrow at him, prompting him to continue. “You have to tell us everything.”

Y/N began to gush endlessly about her boyfriend and was so enthralled in the topic that she hadn’t noticed a fourth figure appear in the seat beside James. As Y/N finished explaining how Mason had asked her out after a few days of sharing a class, she looked up only to have the air knocked out of her lungs. 

“Remus,” His name had left her mouth just like it had a million times before, but now it was leaving a bitter taste behind. He nodded his head towards her before starting to fill his plate with some toast and meat. While watching him Y/N barely caught the rest of the boys telling Remus that they needed to finish morning detention and they’d see him in class. 

The last time Y/N and Remus had spoken was a few weeks prior when she had sent him an owl over summer vacation. She felt another odd ache in her stomach, but it sharply contrasted the feeling she had with Mason. This was different. It was like when she was with Mason she couldn’t help but want to be near him, but with Remus, she wanted to want him close. But that couldn’t be possible. She liked Mason immensely so why was she still experiencing residual feelings for Remus? 

Y/N couldn’t help but analyze every detail of the boy in front of her. He had cut his hair slightly shorter (which he did at the start of every school year) and it had become a slightly lighter shade of brown, likely due to the summer sun. She also winced as she looked at the new scar that trailed from the back of his hand and disappeared under his robes. 

“Rough full moon?” Remus looked up at Y/N, started for a couple of seconds, and returned his gaze to his food. Y/N looked around the Great Hall awkwardly before starting again. “How have you been, Rem? Been a few weeks since we last talked.”

Y/N was met with a deafening silence and a shrug from Remus, but she noticed that he had taken the luxury of rolling his eyes, as well. 

“Right, well… oh I’m not sure if you know, but I’ve got a boyfriend now,” Remus snapped his head up, an indecipherable look on his face. “Would you like to meet him?”  Remus looked away, but when he looked back at her, Y/N wished she hadn’t ever said anything. He looked furious.  

“No, not really,” Remus finally said, before getting up from his seat and storming off. 

Y/N watched him as he walked away and felt her head begin to spin. It would be idiotic for her to act like she didn’t know why Remus was so angry, but she never wanted to confront those feelings. She was terrified for the moment that someone would ask her what happened between her and Remus. Because the truth was she had no idea. What she and Remus had was real, she knew that. But ever since she met Mason it was like something had shifted. Suddenly the only thing on her mind was Mason, Mason, Mason. Seeing Remus had awakened something in her she hadn’t felt in weeks and she hated it. So she was going to do the only thing that made sense. She was going to repress her unwanted feelings so far down, she’d forget they existed. 

—

These days the word Quidditch could seldom be spoken at Hogwarts without someone associating it with the Potter name. That was for two very competitive and very proud reasons: James and Y/N Potter. The Potters had an aptitude for the game and everyone at their school knew it. 

Y/N and James often argued over which Potter was the most valuable asset on the team. “If it wasn’t for me being a seeker, the game would go on for ages. I literally win us the games,” James would argue to which Y/N would say, “You must be joking, James. If it wasn’t for me constantly throwing bloody bludgers at the opposing team’s seeker, you’d never catch that snitch.” 

But regardless, Quidditch was the thing that connected the cousins most. Growing up, Quidditch was all the pair knew and for Y/N it had become an escape. There was something about being so high in the air as the wind blew harshly against her skin that made her feel free. Maybe it was the fact that not many people could reach her when she was flying through the sky or maybe it was simply the thrill of the game. 

“Ready, Potter?” Marlene yelled as Y/N adjusted her helmet. “What about you, other Potter?” The two cousins grinned as they approached each other. 

“On the count of three,” James began. “1, 2 —” Before he finished his countdown the two Potter kids each raised their right hands and clasped them together. Laughing maniacally they thrust themselves into their pregame ritual (which was a very poorly executed handshake-dance combo), effectively filling the locker room with loud laughter.

“We are now, Mar.”

With that, the team began their walk to the Quidditch pitch. Y/N bounced on her feet as they approached the crowded arena, a habit she had when she got excited. It was the first game of the year and against Slytherin no less. She knew that if they won this game the party was going to be absolutely insane, which was, of course, all a Gryffindor could ask for. 

The game had gotten intense as soon as Madam Hooch had blown her whistle. The Slytherin Beaters were giving Y/N a run for her money, but luckily the Gryffindors had been able to hold their own. Regulus Black, who was the Slytherin seeker, was taunting James playfully as they each kept an eye out for the snitch. Y/N was close enough to James to see how his attention began to shift from Regulus’ face to beside his head and then back. He had seen the snitch. And it was right next to Regulus. 

Y/N could easily distract Regulus, who was too caught up in teasing his brother’s mate to properly prepare himself against a hit from her Bludger. She also knew that if James tried to grab the snitch, Regulus would have it in his hands in a second. The younger Black brother was known for his quick reflexes after all. The decision was easy.  

Making one lap around the pitch to gain momentum, she shot her Bludger right at Regulus who with a horrified look ducked the ball. At that moment James leaped forward on his broom and grabbed the snitch. The stadium erupted in cheers so loud not a single Slytherin’s disappointment could be heard.

“And the Potter’s have done it again! They really are a dream team.” With a triumphant smile, Y/N made her way down and was quickly thrown into a circle of people where she found James right in the center. 

“Nice one, cuz,” James winked, happily relishing in all the attention he was receiving. 

“Yeah, mate. You too,” Y/N followed James out of the crowd of excited Gryffindors but they were looking for two completely different people. Y/N watched James look around for either Sirius or Lily (she didn’t know who he’d look for first these days) and she found herself looking for one boy in particular. Mason. 

Instead of the image of a blond boy dressed in a repulsive blue (Mason had refused to wear the Gryffindor colors), she found herself staring at a taller boy who was donning her favorite colors. Remus had not only worn a scarlet cable knit sweater (which it was way too warm for) and yellow-gold scarf, but he was wearing a beanie that was meant to give the appearance of a lion’s mane He had also used muggle paint on his face. His left cheek had a red number seven and the right revealed a very badly drawn snitch. He looked utterly stupid. But the worst part of it all was he was dressed almost exactly as he had at the last Quidditch game of the previous year. 

In the past two years that Y/N had played Quidditch on the Gryffindor team, this game had definitely been her best. The Gryffindors had just secured the Quidditch cup, which Y/N thought was the best way to end her fifth year. Y/N’s performance in the last game of the year just made it that much sweeter. 

“I reckon you played alright, Potter,” Remus smirked. He had been right in front of her as soon as her feet had touched the grass beneath her. Waiting for her. Like he had at every one of her games. 

“You know I did a lot better than alright, Lupin,” She shoved his chest, but before she could move her hand he had flattened her palm against his chest. 

“Yeah, you did,”  She was only distracted from his intense gaze when she heard Sirius let out a wolf whistle at the sight. Remus let go of her hand, blushing slightly as he glared at Sirius. 

“Oh, shut it,” Y/N scolded. She nodded her head to the right, indicating for Remus to follow her. After walking a little while longer, they had found themselves walking on the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest. Remus had grabbed a hold of Y/N’s hand as soon as they were out of everyone’s sight. She glanced over at him deciding that he had dressed warm enough for the cold that was invading the new spring season. She stared a little longer to get a better look at his painted face and eclectic accessory. She wanted to laugh, but the sound died in her throat as she took a better look at his cheek. 

There on his right cheek was a big number five. Her Quidditch number. 

“You look utterly stupid,” Y/N insulted him, though she had intended to say something else that had been on her mind. She and Remus had reached a weird sort of limbo. They had gone from just being a part of the same friend group to being each other’s best friends in their fourth year and now they were here. In their fifth year, Y/N and Remus had spent the majority of it flirting and being affectionate with one another. However, they were still technically not a couple. They had spent so long being each other’s friends that it was second nature to make jabs at one another in good spirit. Y/N liked it that way. She liked the healthy balance of romance and humor they shared. Only at this moment, she wished she had told him how happy he made her. But Remus, like he always did, understood. 

“Wanted you to know that I’m your biggest fan,” Remus stopped walking and softly pulled Y/N closer, positioning them to be face to face. 

“Are you? My biggest fan, I mean?” Her voice had fallen to a whisper despite no one being near.  

“Without a doubt,” Remus said fervently, his voice just as low as hers. “I know your parents might disagree, but no one’s as big a fan of yours as I am. I promise you that.” Remus brought one of his hands up to her cheek and stroked her cheek with the pad of his thumb. Lowering himself slightly he placed a kiss on her cheek before hovering over her lips. Y/N’s heart was beating harshly against her ribcage and she felt like her feet were lifting off the ground. Remus had a way of doing that to her. Whenever he was this close to her, she felt like she was back on her broom floating inches above the ground. He had a way of giving her that freeing sensation even when she was trapped under his lustful gaze. Moving forward just a little more, Remus teasingly grazed his lips against hers. 

“Remus,” she whined, earning an innocent hum from him. “Just fucking kiss me.” And boy did he kiss her. No matter how many times she had felt his lips against hers, it never failed to amaze her how much better each kiss got. He kissed her slowly, probably to continue to tease her, but she found herself enjoying it more than he could’ve intended. His lips were soft, contrasting hers which were chapped from the wind but she didn’t care. The taste of mint and chocolate was intoxicating and she was losing herself in his touch. She hardly noticed when he pushed her against a tree, kissing her harder than before. Remus pulled back slightly only to dive right back to kissing her. After doing that a couple more times, he hesitantly kissed down her neck. No, please don’t stop, Y/N thought. 

With one last kiss on her neck, Remus mumbled against her skin, “We should probably get back.” Remus had one hand on her waist and the other pressed against the tree behind her, keeping her in her spot. 

“Don’t wanna,” She pouted and she felt Remus groan against her neck. “I wanna stay with you.”  Sighing, Remus pulled back and placed his hands on her cheeks. He used his fingers to warm up the apples of her cheek which were bright red from possibly more than just the stubborn cold air. 

“And I want to stay here with you, but you promised Lily that you would help her with some work before the party tonight,” Y/N laughed because that response was so Remus. Making sure that she kept her word and did what she had to. Taking care of her in an unconventional way. She gave him another peck and just looked at him with adoring eyes. “What?”

“Nothing, you’re just something really special. You make me feel elated, you know that, Remus Lupin?” Remus beamed at her and kissed her again. Just hard enough to express his bliss, but not get them stuck in the forest for another fifteen minutes. 

“I think that’s why we were put in each other’s paths,” Remus’ words caused Y/N to draw her eyebrows together in confusion. “I mean, call it fate, destiny, or just insignificant chance, but I think we were meant to know each other. Just for that. To elate each other. Don’t you think, Y/N?” 

“Y/N?” Y/N was drawn out of her trance and when she blinked Remus wasn’t in front of her anymore. Instead, she was staring at green eyes and a blue sweater. 

“Hm?”

“I said don’t you think?” Mason said, only now realizing Y/N had been completely lost in thought. “Here, you must be tired. Have some of my juice.” Finally blinking out of her daze, Y/N properly took in the boy in front of her. 

“Babe! I’m sorry I didn’t even realize you were there,” She immediately jumped up to kiss him and with each second she felt any thoughts of Remus disappear. Besides, they shouldn’t have been there in the first place. Repress. Repress. Repress. 

“I noticed,” Mason attempted to sound lighthearted, but there was an edge to his voice. “Uh, any way you wanna do something before the party tonight?” She nodded her head and let herself be dragged away from the bustling crowd around her. But not before she realized she could feel a smoldering gaze directed towards her. 

—

A crowded common room, the smell of firewhiskey, and deafening music was without a doubt Y/N’s second favorite feeling after flying. If there was a party at Hogwarts you could bet you’d find Y/N carelessly dancing or making a spectacle of herself for others’ entertainment. And the person right next to her? Always Sirius Black. 

There was no reason tonight’s party was any different. Sirius was downing Firewhiskey straight from the bottle with one hand and spinning Y/N in circles with his other. The music in the back was pulsing through their veins just as much as the alcohol was and they were horridly singing the lyrics of the song in the background. 

“Potter.”

“Black.”

“Don’t let that Ravenclaw make you into a drag.”

“Never,” she whispered her face inches apart from his. 

“All I need to hear.”

The two probably would’ve kept dancing if Mason hadn’t wrapped an arm around Y/N and pulled her away from Sirius. The alcohol mixed with the sheer excitement she had seeing Mason in front of her, compelled her to grab a hold of his collar and kiss him as hard as she could. Lost in his touch, she ignored Sirus’ drunken “gross” and continued to sloppily make out with him. Eventually, they had reached the corner of the common room and unabashedly deepened their kiss. 

The most surprising part? Y/N was doing the most kissing. She was leaving purple bruises along his neck and biting his ear. She was running her hands up his arms and pulling at the collar of his shirt. She didn’t know why and she didn’t know how she was doing this in a room full of people. All she knew was something about this boy was so spellbinding and she needed to feel him against her. But she was halted from fulfilling her needs by someone pulling her off Mason. 

Her eyes met Remus’ bloodshot ones, which she assumed were caused by the empty bottle of Firewhiskey in his grasp. Pushing him off her, she stepped back a bit trying to gather her thoughts.

“Remus, what-” She was cut off by Remus' discordant voice.

“No - no. I -” He hiccuped, pointing an accusing finger to Y/N. “You… you suck.”

“Remus, you’re drunk-” she started again, but to her dismay, she was cut off again. 

“NO. I - no, you’re going to listen. You said - you said you, in your last letter, you know what you said. So if it was true how could you be w-with him,” Remus growled as his eyes trained on Mason’s slowly reddening face. “How can you act like we never happened?” 

Y/N flicked her eyes towards Mason and gulped as she noticed how angry he looked. She had never really talked to Mason about her past with Remus because he had never asked, but judging by the look on his face he didn’t want the conversation to be prompted by Remus insulting him. Luckily, Y/N was saved by James.

“Remus, c’mon. Now isn’t the time,” He mumbled. He held a sympathetic look in his eyes as he looked at Y/N, but she had a feeling the sympathy in his voice wasn’t for her. 

“No, Prongs. She needs t - to tell me,” In his frenzied state, Remus had tucked his head into the bespectacled boy's neck.  

“Okay, mate, but not right now.” Y/N watched as James led a babbling Remus up to his dorm, her heart clenching. She had done this to him. She had betrayed him, his trust, his heart.  She betrayed him and when he asked her why she couldn’t even tell him. She wouldn’t be able to tell him or herself, because she truly didn’t know why. 

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[poptod]

Pull the Stars Out of the Sky (And Gift Them to Me), pt. 5 (Ahkmenrah  x Reader)

Description: You finally learn just how far he will go.

Notes: this story takes a very interesting turn, but i promise its worth the ending i promise. ending might not be done for several more chapters though :) hope thats alright! WC: 8.2 k

+

He left you alone in the garden.

You could've run away then. The trees and brush you'd have to wade through would be a tiny price for freedom, and you were mostly hidden from the view of the house. Instead you curled into a ball, having never felt as small as this in all your life, and hid yourself away. He was on your mind.

A taste of how your life would be if you ran already began to build on your tongue, as though in this moment you were free of his hold, entirely, wholly, and truly. It was bitter, like bile, tainted by the man who would always be on your mind, no matter how far or fast you ran. He had left his mark, scarred your skin, and you would never be rid of his presence. His eye that he forced into your mind would always watch over you, broadcasting his desirous thoughts into your consciousness. A voyeur in your own head.

Bereft of energy, you leant against the alabaster pillar, drooping eyes set uneasily upon the flowing water. He would do anything for you, but how far did that insanity go? Would he eventually grow tired of your emotional distance and forcefully take you for his own? All you knew of him was what he decided to show you––not a single bit more.

"Amoke?"

You looked drearily upwards, but relief filled you upon seeing Haji approaching you.

"You don't look so good," he noted, sitting down on the step beside you.

"I'm just a little tired," you sighed, pulling the blanket on your shoulders tighter around you.

"Did you get any sleep last night?"

"Yes, fortunately. How about you? What is your housing like here?"

"Not too bad," he said with a shrug. "I've got three other men in my room, but we're all in bunks. Main part of the house is nice, though. Lots of baked goods."

"Sounds nice," you chuckled. Your gaze fell once more to the intricate path of stone beneath your feet.

"So... Ahk told me you had a bit of a rough time this morning," he said slowly. You knew that was why he was here, yet still your heart sunk a little.

"I don't often find myself in large cities, much less in the middle of them."

"That's not the only thing bothering you though, is it?"

You sighed, before softly saying, "no."

Haji waited patiently while you thought through your words, contemplating them fully before you spoke.

"I told myself, when I was first caught by your King, that I wouldn't sympathize with him. I promised that I wouldn't fall into that common illness, but... now.. well, every now and then he seems human. Then it all fades away, and then it comes back, and... he's capable of controlling what people think of him. He puts on different personalities for different people. Why does he do that?"

"That's his job," Haji said simply, sending a stake through the core of your mindset. "He can't be a ruler all the time, but he can't not be a ruler when he's out in public. It's good that he hasn't let being a King take over his whole personality, like his father. The fact that he shows you all these sides of him means he wants you to be welcome in all parts of his life."

"... did he tell you to say that?"

He laughed, shaking his head as he patted your shoulder.

"No, but that was a very worship-y thing for me to say," he admitted.

"Heh," you said in a soft huff, wrapping your arms around your legs and pulling them in close.

"Haji?!" Ahk called from inside the house.

Haji sighed, almost rolling his eyes as he pushed himself to his feet.

"See you," he said, trotting off.

A couple minutes later you heard voices, which was strange, considering the garden was a decent distance from the house. You glanced around, eventually looking up to find Ahk and Haji, framing the sides of an open arch held high above the ground. They were discussing something quietly, but the wind carried their voices to you.

"Are they alright?"

"Yeah, considering what you're doing to them."

"I'm sorry, what?"

"I – I'm sorry, my K-"

"It's fine," he muttered curtly. "Don't let it happen again."

You bit into your cheek hard, till your skin stung, and your jaw ached with the force in it. How had you ever willingly done his bidding? How had it slipped your mind, that he was still a royal? It was obvious in his step, his manner, his words, and his presentation, yet you had allowed yourself to thank him. To speak softly to him. To share parts of yourself that you had always sworn to keep to yourself.

No matter––you could not take away what you'd already freely sacrificed, but that didn't mean you had to keep sharing things. Today it would stop, and you would feel no more sympathy for the fickle man. As nice as Haji was, he did work for the King, and whatever you told him would end up in Ahkmenrah's ear. Sharing with him would also have to cease.

Maybe you were being too bitter, too closed off, but your crimes were meager in the face of Ahkmenrah's. He wanted you for his collection, to keep your beauty near him like a caged bird. If you yearned to leave, he would lock you up, and if you dreamed to fly, he would clip your wings, to keep you for his own.

Bastard.

That night it rained. Poured down in great sheets, battering down on the stone walls surrounding you, and tearing down palm trees like grass in a wildfire. You remained in the gazebo, rooted to the spot until Ahk came out to see you.

"Dearest, you'll get sick in all this rain," he said in a soft voice, kneeling in front of you, and looking up with familiar reverence dulled by the darkened sky.

You said nothing. Instead you fell into him, exhausted by your rampant mind, and aching from the water soaking down your clothes.

"Let's get you inside," he murmured, setting one arm beneath your knees, and the other behind your back.

With a small heave you were in his arms, the whole of your weight easily carried. He adjusted you a few times before you made it back to the house, where he set you down in front of a massive firepit, leaving you in the piles of blankets to run to the front door. You watched, huddled close to yourself as he opened the door and rushed in a small group of people. Among them was Naguib, who looked in a similar fashion to yourself––drenched.

Wet shoes and bare feet slapped against the white floor, puddles of dripping rain collecting on the path to the fire. The sound would have surely echoed if the fire wasn't roaring and crackling, dulling the sound of the rain, and calming you with every floating ember.

Slowly, the group of people around you grew, till Ahk saddled in beside you, his head on your shoulder.

These were his servants. You assumed that the housing set up for them in Thebes wasn't great, and Ahk had decided his house was a good spot for everyone to house up for the night. Sounded just like him––troubling you to the point of a breakdown, and then following that up with an act of kindness you'd see out of no other King.

"Are we sleeping here tonight?" You asked, barely audible above the murmurs of servants and the dancing fire.

"I think it'd be most wise," he murmured, shuffling to kiss your bare shoulder, before returning to his lax, sleepy position.

As people drifted off to sleep, hidden far away from the storm's ravages, you stared at the fire. It dimmed, and more people fell asleep, and you stared, wide eyes unable to close. By now you were lying down, Ahk curled up in your side as you stared at the burning cinders. He snored, though you hardly minded, finding comfort in his obvious heartbeat and the soft warmth of his breath.

He would always be an enigma to you. Or, perhaps, your affection for him would always be an enigma––reasonless, and petty, and undeserved.

"Sweet... darling," he mumbled through sleep-numb lips, grasping you tighter and forcing his face into your side, hiding away from the world.

You shifted, unable to move your arm beneath his head, and pressed your lips to the top of his head.

"Go to sleep, Ahk," you whispered.

"I love you."

Oh.

I love you.

The words circled your head, always on the corner of your eye as the ship beneath you creaked. It was a barge, or that's what Ahk called it; a carrier for Amun beneath the starlit sky. You tried to keep at the edge of the water, but Ahk kept his hand rooted at your waist. You supposed, in the amassed crowd, it would be a little hard to find you once the boat reached the other side of the Nile.

Behind your ship, where the golden statue of Amun rested, a fleet of other ships sailed in your wake, all of varying sizes. Some people sailed alone on small canoes, while others joined larger ships that took families across the river. All followed a path they'd taken before, one lit by a literal golden beacon––Amun, reflecting the light of torches held high above the people's heads. He would be carried by a team of men, who would set the God in the temple of Luxor for worshippers to place their kisses upon.

You could hardly see the ships, as Ahk kept you on an elevated platform overlooking everything in front of him, which simultaneously blocked his view of behind with a large shack.

"Should I pray with you or.. stay out of the temple?" You asked, careful to keep your voice quiet despite the loud voices of the pilgrims.

"You don't have to pray," he said, looking down at you with an assuring smile. "You don't have to stay outside of the temple, either. You can do whatever you like. I'd suggest partaking in the food, though, just by the way."

"It's alright," you said. "I'm mildly interested in how your religion works, so I'll watch your ceremony."

"Wonderful," he beamed.

Your balance stumbled as the hull of the barge hit the sandy shore, banking in another painted metropolis. Massive statues of Amun met you there, though the standing ones were made of limestone, and were a deal smaller than the golden idol. They flanked the docks, protecting the entrance to the city and the adhering temple.

Torches, held by soldiers who came to greet the boats, made way for the muddy ripples of water to visibly crash into the wood, making the ground beneath you sway. With help from Ahk, you rushed off the boat in an orderly manner. Swaths of people followed from behind, running onto the various docks, and watching the Pharaoh with eager eyes. Those whose attention fell to you glared, or stared confused.

Once most people were off the boats, the soldiers and workers began to lift the golden statue, causing an uproar of cheers from those around you. You nearly cringed from the sheer volume, but the grins surrounding you turned your fear to curiosity. Now you watched, blocking out the yells, as the statue was carried off the boat and onto land, passing by you and Ahk as it made its' way to the shore and the temple beyond.

You made to follow the crowd as it followed the statue, but Ahk tugged on your hand, keeping you on the dock. A soft and unbothered smile was on his face, and you paused in your curiosity.

"What are you doing?" You asked, your voice still hushed despite being alone.

"It's better to let them pray for a little while and mingle before I enter. Gets some of their energy out so they don't trample me," he said with a shrug.

"Wow. They must really like this holiday."

"I think more than anything they're excited about free food," he chuckled, his smile growing when you chortled.

Soon he was leading you back down the wooden dock, following the footprints in the sand towards the towering rocks. The dark of night casted the temple as a silhouette, whose real shape could not be truly identified, other than the fact that it was a very large structure. Even by starlight you could barely see the steps as you approached them.

The hallway you entered was deathly quiet, but lit distantly by the lights of the next room ahead. You slowed, your attention ensnared by the statues on either side of you, and your steps came to a silent crawl. Ahk allowed you to gawk at the art before he lead you onwards, a self-satisfied smile on his lips that parted them ever so slightly. Between the tall statues were pillars, and in front of each God sat a shallow basin, all filled with a clear oil.

You turned back to Ahk, ready to continue, pausing to allow him to endow himself with holy oil. Since the journey to Karnak had been started so late into the evening, you had yet to truly see him, and for a moment wondered if he would be wearing makeup.

Blue painted his eyelids, long, sharp lines defining his eyes as he stepped into the golden light, his entirety bathed in the holy glow. His cape trailed meters behind him, shimmering as though it were nothing more than a mist. Cuffs remained a constant in his outfit, though now they cradled his upper arms, his wrists, and his ankles, each carved ornately with faience and lapis defining the lines. The collar holding up his cape bore a royalty all its' own, crystal beads of red, blue, gold, and green coming one after the other in swirling patterns. Three golden amulets fell from the front of the collar, dripping down like rain on his bare chest and stomach.

Power had a name. Royalty had been born through his name––settling deep into his person, seeping out its' presence through his veins. This was the God the Nubians feared, the Hittites, the Phoenicians, all relented their struggle in the palm of this man's hand.

He stepped forward and the cheers of the hall fell into silence, heads bowing as all came to their knees. Foreheads pressed against the ground, hands outstretched on the temple floor, but consistently retaining a clear path to the statue of Amun.

Ahk continued into the room a few more steps before he realized you weren't at his side. At that point he turned to you, meeting your eye and calling you over with a silent wave of his hand. The blood in your heart froze, petrified by the insinuation, as your eyes darted between the bowed heads and the Pharaoh's outstretched hand. But he was patient, and he waited, his welcoming hand never falling.

After another moment you took his offer, fingers sliding over his palm till he grasped you, entangling your hands together. He pulled you gently forward, and soon you were walking by his side, welcome to bask in the respect of a silent room.

You noticed, once you looked up from the worshippers with guilt, that the statue of Amun had been placed upon a pedestal, a pedestal that had several different levels, and a staircase leading up. On the lower levels, statuettes and reliefs of Mut and Khons numbered many. There was where you stopped and turned, facing the long, torch-lit hall filled to the brim with devotees of Amun and Ahkmenrah.

"They bow for you, too," he murmured in your ear.

Your eyes settled on the exposed backs, the spines popping up, and the different adornments of people from all classes. None of them knew who you were. Would they bow to a stranger just because their King told them to?

Apparently.

To the sides of the altar, you caught sight of the Pharaoh's advisors, and a few of his personal servants, who were bowed alongside the rest.

"I am a King unlike my father," Ahkmenrah began, the first words of a long expected speech. "Unlike my father, I have brought us to peace, and have done so in a fraction of the entire time my father spent ruling. Unlike my father, I will love whomever I decide fit," his hand on your waist tightened, "and I will worship who I desire to. As a King I am allowed these comforts––the freewill of choice, and the means to live fruitfully. I am not controlled by my father... or my advisors.

"Unlike my father, I will give you these rights. Restore what should have never been taken. I will return your free will. I will allow all to marry who they desire, regardless of race, class, or gender."

The already confused crowd began to murmur, heads lifting to whisper to one another in curiosity and disbelief.

"I will pay back what my people sow," he continued. "You will be able to pride yourself on your work, no matter what that is, as all creation is important, and shall be protected under my rule. I will give back the means you give me to live fruitfully. As I regenerate myself and my power during this evening, so shall you be reinvigorated, as my blood runs in your heart, just as your blood runs in mine."

He stopped speaking, and for a moment dead silence ensnared you, before a rupture of cheers and applause broke your ears. Voices surrounded you, echoing off the tall ceiling painted with stars. Beside you, the Pharaoh beamed, basking in the adoration till he turned to you. It was then, within that fiery temple, and within the view of the population of a whole city, that he held your face soft in his palm and kissed you. Needy, incredibly needy, essentially desperate, but gentle. As though you would break. The tension fell instead upon himself, in his tight chest that just barely pressed to yours. His breath pushed and pulled, longing to feel you move against him, never ceasing to thrill your nerves as his fingertips brushed across your bare stomach.

When at last you kissed him back, he melted into you, almost leaning his whole weight on you in relief. He did his best to keep himself upright, and parted when it was clear you were short on breath. For a moment he stared, scanning your wide eyes, before kissing you once more, this time much shorter.

Looking to the sides of the altar, he waved in the servants, who sprang to their feet with trays of food. They dispersed amongst the now-standing crowd, feeding the citizens just as the Pharaoh promised. Musicians appeared from behind tall pillars, strumming melodies you'd never heard before. As they did, Ahk took your hand, kissing the back of it as he began to step down from the altar.

"Ever dance before?" He asked, a teasing smile growing across his face.

"Not in Egypt," you said. Different cultures had different styles of dance, and you were in no state to embarrass yourself with your 'foreign customs'.

"It's much the same as most places," he assured you, leading you down the steps. "Just move however the music tells you to."

Drums brought in a heavy beat, thrumming in your veins as the steps of many dancers surrounded you. The weight of their feet, jumping and pounding in tune with the lutes, created a beat you could easily move your body to. Ahk felt much the same, as he smiled wide and twirled you beneath his arm. Exhilaration caught the breath in your throat, warming your already-flushed skin, and enthralling you with the Pharaoh's many talents. Of course he would know how to dance––of course he would know how to twirl you, how to dip you, to run his hands over every inch of your body without ever truly stopping his melodic movements.

A dream, he was––a glowing halo over his head, the heavenly sky painted above his piercing eyes. His clothes, doing their own dance around his moving body, swayed and whipped the glittering silk high in the air, twirling around him like a golden universe. You found yourself grinning wider than you'd ever done in his presence, searching for his hand and its' warmth whenever he parted. Without thought you chased after him, giggling as he made his way through the crowd, nearly clearing a circle in the middle of the holy temple.

By firelight you caught your reflection in his eyes. It was then you saw yourself, your near-manic smile, your tussled hair, and the royal robes dripping elegantly off your body. This was not you––or, at least, this wasn't you before Ahkmenrah captured you. Yet you found, with his hand on your waist and your chests pressed tight together, that very rarely had you been happier than this moment.

People around you, staring at you, the scent of spilled wine and twice-baked honey intoxicating you. The circle around you continued to dance, but kept an eye on you and the King.

"See?" He murmured out of breath. "You are beautiful. Heavenly. You are already a God. See how they stare?"

"Yes," you whispered out.

"They are simply processing your divinity," he said, his eyes darting to each feature on your face.

"What should I do?"

"Dance."

Beneath the eyes of Amun you kissed him, soft and barely there, before you gently parted yourself from him. He watched, breathless, as you placed your hand on his chest. You circled him, drawing your finger around his chest to his back.

"This is how they dance in the east," you mumbled in his ear, carefully watching the eager crowd as you spoke.

You grabbed his hand, whirling him around to face you as another grin began to cross you. He mimicked your smile, enchanted by your movements, gaze never ceasing as you began to move your hips. The staring of strangers now only served to fuel you, caught up in the wanderlust that had captured you so vividly as a child. This had been your source of energy, how you kept moving throughout the world––the presentation of other cultures, their wisdom, and their art.

Soon you were tangling yourself back into Ahk, allowing him to pull you in circles and dictate your steps. The two of you moved in near synchronicity, and as the temple's dancers joined in on the sides, so did the rest of the populace crammed into the hall. Musicians played louder as the shouts and whoops of listeners began to overtake it.

You caught sight of the golden statue once more, your gaze lingering on those knelt at its' feet. Plates, bowls, and clay pitchers of food and wine now overcrowded the base, accompanied by the reliefs of Mut and Khons, as well as tokens made of Amun's image. Slowly you dragged your eyes upwards, to the watching stare of the golden God.

It blinked.

Massive eyelids closed over empty eyes, causing you to falter in your step. Your own eyes widened, caught horrified by the statue, a terror that quickly halted Ahk's own dancing. He looked at you confused for a moment, before following your line of sight to the statue.

The room fell into an astonished silence, instruments screeching to a halt as the statue's arms began to crack, movement slowly filling them until they tore apart from the main body. Fingers cracked as though sore from stillness, followed by the horrid trembling of the floor brought about by his heavy feet. They tore from the base, stepping down from the altar as the face began to move, animated, and smiling.

The golden eyes of Amun stared at the tiny people below him, a space amidst the crowd cleared for him to stand easily in the temple.

You looked up bug-eyed, your mouth falling open as Ahk grasped your lower arm tight.

"Is this supposed to happen?" You asked in a whisper, but in the wake of silence, your words were clear as day.

"Not... usually," Ahk admitted sheepishly, tugging nervously at his clothes. "Um.. Amun? Have you possessed your statue?"

"In a way," he said, the deep vibrations of his voice humming painfully loud in the echo chamber. "I have my projected my thoughts and voice into this body, so I may give to you the gift of my presence... and so I may give you a message."

Despite the tremor in Ahkmenrah's hand, he kept himself steady, and looked up at the God as though he were any other regular person.

"What is your message, Hidden One?" He asked. 

"I desire your... pet," the God said, his eyes falling to you, clinging to the Pharaoh's side. You shrank further into yourself, nearly shaking with panic.

Amun was the creator God. Ahkmenrah could not say no––the pure outrage that would come from the citizens should he do that was deterrent enough for you to be assured of that.

But he stepped out in front of you, cradling you behind him as he glared upwards.

"Why?" He asked, his earlier reverence turned to suspicion.

"Do you dare to question my command?" Amun asked in return, the rims of his eyes beginning to glow an unearthly purple. Smoke filled his mouth, coming out in great billows and plumes, filling the ceiling as he appeared to grow taller.

"I want to know why," Ahk gritted out.

Amun paused, gauging both your expression and Ahkmenrah's, before speaking precise and clear.

"It possesses the knowledge of many cultures. I have tired of my consorts, my own pets, and their closed minds. Your pet is beautiful and knowledgeable," Amun said, kneeling to face you closer, "and I desire it for the afterlife."

Massive eyes met yours, peering over Ahk's comparatively tiny shoulder. They remained rooted for a moment, scanning what little of you they could see, before the God stood once more.

"I want you to kill it, preserve its' body as well as you can, and bury it for when I come to take it," he said.

"No."

Gasps sounded from the crowd, all the eyes on you chittering and murmuring at Ahkmenrah's gall.

"Tiny King," Amun growled, his hand reaching down to pick Ahk out from the crowd.

Before the thick fingers could pinch him, Ahk reached around to one of his nearby soldiers, pulling the sword from its' sheath and slicing the palm of the God. The gasps around you grew louder yet, people beginning to shuffle nervously as they doubted the will of their Pharaoh. Through the murmurings you heard shouts, taunts against Ahkmenrah, claims of sudden insanity.

"Give up the slave!" Came from somewhere behind you, which very nearly broke Ahk's concentration on Amun as his nails dug into his palm, teeth ground together.

"Someone take his sword!"

"Get him out of here!"

"Silence," commanded Amun, and the temple returned to quiet. "A cut will not stop me."

With that he reached forward, his massive hand brushing Ahk aside and grasping your middle, arms forced to your sides. Your breath caught in your throat, unable to yell as you were lifted from the ground.

"You had the choice to willingly serve me or anger me. Either way," he brushed the hair away from your face with his golden skin, "I will have Amoke for my own."

He smiled, soft, and terrifying, as he squeezed you tighter in his palm. The constriction cut off your ability to breathe, muscles pinching and twisting with the pressure.

"You have watched from afar my battles, that I am sure of," Ahkmenrah said. You looked down, desperation welling tears in your eyes as you met the gaze of the King, who had the face of the dead; dark, and dull, and absent of empathy. "Yet you don't know that I will destroy anything that comes between me and what I want."

"Funny," said Amun, "I'm the same way."

Ahk casted aside his sword, instead reaching for the many vases, pots, and basins of oil, throwing them all to the floor till both the offerings and marble floors were covered in holy oil. Confusion struck you till he reached for a torch, at which point you began to wriggle in the God's grasp. Ahkmenrah had done a number of stupid things, especially when it came to his relationship with you, but burning down a temple rung bad news to you.

He threw the torch to the ground, lighting the temple aflame with bursts of fire that burned red and orange. Already heat came to meet you, hitting your cheek and neck with waves of searing warmth, tinted with the smell of lavender and roses. Screams bounced off the walls, blurred by the crackling roar of fire. You watched, high above the crowd, as people scrambled towards the exit, desperately escaping the flames. Then your eyes fell, past the door, past the shrieking, to the Pharaoh, his face lit by fire, and his eyes darkened by the overwhelming shadow of his own crown.

"Fire cannot hurt a God," Amun spat, holding you closer to his chest.

"No," Ahk agreed, "but it can hurt your vessel."

"Gold doesn't melt by simple fire."

"Right again. But the stone on the inside of that frame does."

While they spoke, you began to feel the melting heat of stone surrounding you, burning you wherever your skin was bare. Panic seized you fiercely, quickening your breath till you barely felt your own chest heaving up and down. You cried out as the burning sensation turned to searing pain, melting and blistering the skin of your forearms.

From nowhere you were released, falling two meters from the sky to the ground. Ahk rushed past the burning pools of oil and piles of food, grasping your hand tight in his. Before either of you said anything, the agonized, broken yells of a God filled your head. It spiked and crackled, like explosions in your ears, ranging from deep, mechanical roars to high-pitches screeches that felt like nails dragging down from your eyes to your jaw. Through it all Ahk kept you running, heading for the wooden doors already set aflame. Pillars fell around you, crashing against the marble floor, and in the process causing the ground to tremble. The two of you nearly lost your balance, watching two massive pillars slowly falling to block the exit. He held your hand tighter yet, his pace increasing as yours did, the two of you bolting out of the hall. The moment you exited, the final pillars fell behind you, blocking the door and locking the God into the fiery temple.

Heavy pants filled your chest till it numbed, your teary eyes stinging in the cool, night air. Even through the thick stone you could hear Amun wailing and screeching, clawing at the walls of the temple till the marble gave way, tumbling to the floor and splintering upon impact. The sandstone bricks behind the marble kept him inside, leaving him to die within its' holy walls.

"Are you alright?" He asked, frantic hands and eyes scanning your body. First he held your face, then your neck, till he found the marks covering your forearms.

"I'm -"

"Ohhh dearest," he breathed out, his brow furrowed tight as he took your hands, holding them with a touch so gentle you barely felt it. "I'm so sorry, my dear. I didn't... oh dear.. does it hurt?"

You looked down, scanning over the seared flesh in the dim starlight.

"Not anymore," you said, confused at your own tolerance. "It just hurt at first."

"I'm so sorry, my love, I'm.. we'll get this bandaged up, all right?" He promised, looking you in the eye.

"Ahk, no one's going to help you," you said. His subjects wouldn't accept him back after that fiasco. No way.

"Piye will," he said assuredly, raising your hands to kiss your fingers. "That's all we need."

"Where are they?"

"Still in Thebes. It'll take us a little bit, so let's get some bandages first," he murmured, kissing your forehead.

He gingerly threaded his fingers in yours, assuring himself of you, before the two of you headed away from the desecrated temple. While he scanned the long, dark hallway for people, you noted the figures flanking the entrance, and tugged on Ahk's arm.

“He certainly lived up to his speech,” one of them said.

"I think your advisors are waiting to hand your ass to you," you whispered.

"Ah... fuck. My father himself is going to rise from the field of reeds to throw my ass in my face," he mumbled, chewing on his lip.

"When did you start swearing?" You asked, slightly befuddled.

"Usually when I get into dangerous situations," he said lowly, ducking behind one of the pillars as one of the figures shifted, "it starts up. Horrible habit. My mother tried to rid me of it but she was never quite successful."

"Apparently," you muttered beneath your breath, before helpfully pointing out that there were holes built into the ceiling to let natural light through.

"Perfect, darling," he said, pecking your cheek before reaching for the carved top of the pillars.

Once assured of his stability, he heaved himself upwards, catching the ledge outside before falling. From there he pulled himself up, scrambling onto the roof of the hallway. You attempted to go the same route, but your arms hardly reached the pillar's protrusions, and they were numb with pain. Seeing your trouble, he lay flat on the roof, hanging his arm down. You grasped tight as you could, and with help from your legs you clambered onto the roof.

Ahk huffed, brushed himself off, brushed you off, and only then continued on. From up there you could easily see the advisors and guards discussing, their hushed voices reaching you with little clarity. Spying would do you no good, and Ahk soon realized that, taking you back towards the temple.

In silence he climbed the rest of the way to the temple's roof, helping you up along the way. Your shadow stood before you, casted long but pale against the flat expanse of the roof, stretching out before you like a desert. This was the only area of the temple undecorated, left untouched and plain. It was a funny thought to realize that from above––from a God's view––the temple was as plain as white sand.

By descending far away from the entrance, the two of you avoided sight of his advisors in an act you realized he'd done many a time before. You wondered, watching him sneak along the ground, what kind of a child he was, and if you would've liked him better if you met him when he was younger. Though to be perfectly fair you liked him quite a lot already, unfortunate as it was.

Ever aware of your wound, he led you by a hand on your back, instead of the usual taking hold of your hand. Keeping your footsteps quiet proved hard in the loose rocks, but with your slow pace you safely made it to the boathouse he led you to.

"Here," he whispered, ushering you into the room. He glanced outside, scanning for anyone present, before carefully closing the door and turning back to you.

You opened your mouth to speak, but before you could do so he was pushing you into a chair, hushing you softly. Mildly offended, but more importantly confused, you watched as he rifled through boxes of storage. Most of your questions were answered when he pulled out bandages. Alongside that, he pulled out a small pot of honey, which you yourself had used before to treat infections.

"I am truly sorry, my dear," he said as he knelt before you, unravelling the linen. "I never meant for anyone to get hurt."

"Except Amun."

"Well... yes, there is that," he mumbled abashedly, chuckling.

For a little while you watched in silence as he gingerly wrapped your arms up, careful not to touch the sticky, pale wound with his fingers. Honey kept the linen from burning or attaching to heavily to your skin.

"Why did you do that?" You asked, your voice cracking in your attempt to keep quiet.

"What? Did I wrap it wrong?" He asked, looking up with wide, expectant eyes.

"No, not that, the –"

"The burning thing?"

"Yes, kind of," you said. "You hurt your God."

"It's alright, he's not the only one we've got," he chuckled.

"That's not the point," you hissed, increasingly irritated with his jokes. He laughed at your annoyance, but finally calmed down enough to speak seriously.

"Amoke, the Gods are eternal. They have time to know everything, to have everything. We are not. We have a limited amount of time to enjoy ourselves. I think Amun can wait another hundred years till you die. I can't. Do you understand that?" He said, his hand cradling your face as he knelt between your legs, praying to your reverent eyes. "I don't mind fighting for the things in this world that I own. Because until I die, I am wholly of this plane, and such earthly things are all I have."

You swallowed through a tight throat before nodding. A small smile replaced the worried knot in his brow, and he returned carefully to the task at hand.

White linen soon coated the entirety of both your upper arms, spots of honey and blood rarely peeking through the wraps. He was finally finished, the ends tucked away, preventing it from unravelling when you moved. For a moment you sat still, waving your arms up and down experimentally.

"Thank you," you said as you stood, looking down at the couple blisters along your hands.

"Of course, dear," he said, kissing the top of your head. "Piye will do a much better job. I just don't want it to get infected on the way there."

Seeing as your temporary hideout was a boathouse, it was relatively easy to get a boat. The process was a combination of 'don't let the wood creak beneath you,' 'lay down on the dock, there's someone coming,' and 'untie that knot faster'. Your aching hands were no fit for any small, involved work, so Ahk made himself useful by both releasing the canoe from the dock and rowing it away from shore.

Despite being almost-passed-out tired, you couldn't doze on the boat, too paralyzed by the rocking waves. Ahk noticed––of course he did––but could do little to comfort you. All he had to provide was the information that this wouldn't take long; thirty minutes or so, he said.

To find ease in something, you looked off the edge of the boat to the rippling, black water. Though the stars shined above you, you could barely see them in the river. Instead you found your reflection staring back up at you, unblinking.

"It's not healthy to stare at yourself too long. Drives some insane," Ahk commented in a hum.

"As if you don't spend an hour every morning looking at yourself in the mirror."

"Ouch. Fair point."

Stumbling back onto land was easier than usual, but keeping your balance on the dock was a little harder. Ahk told you to sit down while he tied the boat up, which you did, but only after nearly tripping over a stray rope.

"We shouldn't exclude the possibility that Piye, and perhaps the rest of the Thebes, already knows of what we've done," Ahk said, looking out from the dark shore to the torch-lit city.

"And if they do?"

"Um... we'll get to that when we get there," he said with a sharp breath, his eye still set on the lights. "Let's go, hm? Nice and quiet."

You nearly laughed at his behavior, but a glance to his expression had you sobered. His teeth were digging into his lip, more than usual, and it looked rather painful.

"Ahk?" You said, grasping his arm to halt him. He turned to you, his stress gone, and looked you in the eye. "Are.. are you alright?"

He continued to stare at you for a moment, before saying, "yes! I, um, I'm alright. Thank you."

"... okay," you said doubtfully. He was clearly lying, but you didn't want to seem as though you cared too much, and you could always ask later on.

Keeping low to the ground, just as before, the two of you managed to sneak into the city without being noticed. It was an even more impressive feat considering your clothes jangled with every movement, overcrowded with jewels. Torches had you struck with fear several times, recalling each time the gold swirls of Ahk dancing, and terrified the light would shine too bright off the Pharaoh.

Without attracting too much attention, you made it safely to Piye's housing, placed within a large garden beside several other similar-looking houses. First he looked in through the windows, but ultimately found nothing.

"I'm sure it's fine if we just go inside," Ahk said with a dismissive shrug, tugging on the handle.

"Um –"

"Don't worry, Amoke," he said, directing you inside. "I've known Piye since I was ten. They won’t mind."

Your mouth pressed into a thin line, anxiously looking around the dark room for any sign of movement. Such was your anxiety that when Ahk closed the door behind him, you jumped, long nails digging deep into your palms.

"Careful there," he said as he passed by you, heading towards the fireplace.

He knelt on the ground, his beautiful skirt dirtied on the soot and dirt collected on the hearth. Pulling out several tools from nearby, he soon started a fire, this time much tamer and controlled.

Fire.

Why did the sight of it root you to the spot?

Warmth seeped into the room, gently easing your tight, cold muscles, and asking you to step nearer. Your teeth dug into your cheek, but you fought your impulse and sat nearby on the floor. As you drew your knees to your chest, Ahk scooted over to your side, gently putting your head on his shoulder.

"I swear, I'll -"

The muffled sound of yelling began to ring from the entrance of the garden. You and Ahk immediately looked to one another with wide eyes as you listened, trying to make out the words.

"Osiris won't be enough –– wrangle that –– stuff you in a grave!"

Splinters flew as the door wrenched open, slamming against the wall and bounding back to nearly hit Piye in the face. Fortunately, Piye, being tall and vigilant as they were, caught it without breaking their menacing stare at Ahk. Ahk on the other hand was rooted to the spot, staring up at the enraged magician.

"What the hell were you thinking?!" Piye yelled, forcing the door shut behind them before approaching Ahk with a vindication you rarely saw. "You think you can just attack a God and your people will still love you? You're not above the deities, Ahkmenrah. You're their vessel and they will strike you down for this disrespect!"

"I'm not going to let an innocent person die because some God wants a plaything," Ahk said firmly, keeping his ground.

"You don't get a choice. Don't forget you're a temporary ruler of this world. The Gods control everything and everyone," Piye said, roughly jabbing Ahk in the chest with their finger.

"Piye has a point," you said.

"Amoke, d –"

"They're going to get their way eventually. Why fight it?" You asked, a question that had the two of them quiet for a moment.

"I will fight for every last second I can have with you. If need be I will slay my people for one more minute in your presence," he said as he once more knelt before you, taking your hands in his. "I will burn down this world for one last kiss."

There was a fervor in his eyes unlike anything you'd seen before––bright, brilliantly so, yet lusting for something not in the realm of the holy. Something much more sinister; a lust not for flesh, but for the blood within it. He would keep his word. You knew then and there, staring into those bright, empty eyes, that he would sooner destroy his cities than let you go.

He would keep his word.

"Don't," you barely whispered out.

"I would," he said with the same softness, directing you to look back at him when your eyes strayed.

"I know."

Wooden planks creaked as Piye shifted their weight, crossing their arms as they watched your spectacle.

"I allowed this for a long while," Piye said, their voice drawing Ahk's face away from hiding in your lap. "I let you steal an innocent person. Now I see I should've stopped it from the beginning. You've grown too attached, Ahk. You have responsibilities bigger than yourself, and there are certain things you cannot indulge. Certain pleasures you cannot partake in."

Not once had the Pharaoh looked to Piye. Instead his gaze remained enraptured in yours, dreamy as it was bittersweet.

"And if I abandon my position as King?" He asked, a smile growing across his face as he carefully watched your reaction. Behind him, however, Piye's own expression fell, arms unwinding as they stared stupefied at the Pharaoh.

"Your father would never forgive you," Piye said, much quieter through the tension built in their throat.

"So what? He's dead."

"Merenkahre might not have been a fantastic King but he was still your father, and he cared about you."

"- a care that was most certainly conditional, seeing as how he treated my brother," Ahk pointed out.

"Your brother killed thirteen servants!! I think that's a little different!" Piye seethed, lean muscles in their hands tensing as they spoke through gritted teeth.

"Yes, listen, Amoke got hurt in that little temple fiasco. I was hoping you could help them," Ahk said, finally turning to face Piye.

"Oh. Of course, come here," Piye mumbled, ushering you over. "I'm sorry you got tangled in his mess. I'm sure you don't want to be here."

"Oh, well -" you began only to be interrupted.

"I'll be very pleased to remind you that Amoke willingly joined me this time!"

"'This time,'" Piye mocked. "Oooh, your little plaything actually wanted to be remotely near you one time."

"First off, ouch, second off, you enjoyed it, didn't you Amoke? I mean, besides the whole melting arm debacle," Ahk said, peering over Piye's to see you.

A long, tense silence stretched when you couldn't find an answer, and instead decided to focus on Piye's treatments.

"My Gods," Piye muttered once all the wrappings were off, which was not a good thing to hear from a doctor when they're examining you.

"What? What's wrong?" You quickly asked, eyes darting between the wrappings, your wound, and Piye's concerned expression.

"Nothing, it's just... this is a pretty severe wound. I'm surprised you still have fingers," they said, shaking their head to clear it.

After taking a deep breath, they took one of your hands, holding it up close to their eye.

"I'm going to have to do some... experimental magic for this. Are you alright with that?"

"What happens if it goes wrong?" You asked, a creeping suspicion on the edge of your words.

"I'd imagine either nothing or you'll have arms made of flowers."

You paused to silently debate it, but took little time deciding.

"Alright," you agreed.

"Wonderful. Give me a moment," they said, and began to mutter verses beneath their breath, eyelids closing over glowing eyes.

You looked to Ahk with an astonished look, your mouth hanging open. He just shrugged, unable to give you an answer before Piye reemerged, no longer glowing in their eyes. Now their palms were glowing, surrounding your burnt arm.

"Repeat after me," they said. "I am this pure lotus which went forth from the sunshine."

You repeated them.

"–– which is at the nose of Re; I have descended --"

"–– that I may seek it for Horus ––"

"–– for I am the pure one who issued from the fen."

Heat came from the tip of your tongue, nearly burning as you spoke the last word. With a racing heart, you opened your eyes, immediately drawn to the blue and purple embers rising from your arm. Streams of light soon came from the wounds, blossoming into solid shapes that built the petals of blue lotus flowers.

Every inch of skin that was scarred, burned, blistered, or melted off had been infested with flowers, growing so thick that they puffed out like kinky hair.

"Is it... supposed to do that?" You asked hesitantly.

"It's not.. not supposed to do that," Piye suggested, which was also not a comforting thing to be told.

Either way, you made your way back to your previous seat, your hands folded neatly in your lap as you slouched down. Piye made to grab something from the mantle, but ultimately sighed deeply and flopped down on the floor beside you and Ahk.

"What are we going to do, Ahk?" They asked, leaning forward with their chin balanced on their palm.

"... you're going to help me?" Ahk murmured as he perked up.

"Yes," said Piye bitterly, "of course. But I'm not going to enjoy it."

[rhysismydaddy]

Unholy Matrimony Pt. 3 (Nessian)

Damnation Series

Parts 1 / 2 / 4 / 5 

_________________________________________________

~Cassian~

By the time I sneak in the apartment, it’s the middle of the night. The boxes in the corner tell me my fiancé is here, has officially moved in with me, and I take a moment to appreciate how fucking weird that feels.

I might be appreciative of all things women and have definitely earned my reputation as a player, but I’ve never had a woman live in my place.

It’s... weird.

I walk quietly through the place, passing the guest room she’s sleeping in, and into my room.

Then pause, because it turns out she’s not in the guest room.

Nesta’s sprawled in my bed, on my side, hair spilling over my pillow like liquid sunshine. The moon seems to favor her, highlighting the features I have a hard enough time avoiding looking at during the day, and I pinch the bridge of my nose as I think about how much more difficult it’s going to be to sleep now.

But I refuse to leave my own room, since this very well could be a power play, so I just walk to the attached bathroom, close the door, and sigh.

Looking in the mirror proves I look like shit, and I wonder what Nesta will think when she wakes up next to me.

She probably won’t care.

I have a feeling it takes something pretty drastic to shake that blasé attitude out of her.

After taking a cold shower to minimize the bruising, I pad across the room, grab some boxers, and slide into bed next to my blushing bride to be.

She shifts and turns onto her side, and I realize she’s stolen one of my t-shirts to sleep in. It’s ridiculously big on her, falling off her shoulders, and not nearly thick enough to hide what’s underneath.

Fucking hell.

Even asleep, I can’t ignore her.

Her smell--citrus and jasmine and vanilla--is fucking all over me, stuffing itself in my nostrils and not letting me relax.

I’ve never been this attracted to how a woman smells.

Most times, perfumes and lotions and whatever other sorcery women lather on themselves has the opposite effect, actually.

But all I can think about right now is rolling over and burying my face in her neck. Then burying a different part of me in her.

Even though I should turn over and at least try to sleep, I let myself look at her.

Her lips are slightly parted and look like they’d taste like candy, and there’s a serene, peaceful expression on her face that’s so different from the fierce one she usually wears.

She wiggles, somehow sliding closer, and murmurs, “Stop staring at me.”

I chuckle, and the simple fact that we’re laying in bed whispering to each other does strange things to my head.

Nesta apparently agrees, turning over and facing away from me. I take a moment to appreciate the sweep of her hips, and she seems to know exactly what I’m looking at when she says, “Goodnight, pervert.”

A smile threatens to bloom, so I wipe my hand across my face and smother it.

Maybe marriage won’t be so bad.

~

When I wake up, I amend my statement. Marriage definitely won’t be so bad.

I’m wrapped around around Nesta--which probably happened the instant I fell asleep--and my nose is against the soft skin of her neck, allowing me to breathe in the smell of her over and over again.

She just feels... right.

She’s relaxed against me, which is surprising, considering where my hand is.

One very numb arm is under her head as a makeshift pillow, but it’s the other one that’s interesting. It’s wrapped around her narrow waist, holding her tight to my chest and ending in the hand cupping her breast.

She’ll probably kill me the second she wakes up, but it might be worth it.

Fuck, she feels good against me.

But I realize I’m acting like the pervert she accused me of being, so I slide my hand down, towards the more neutral territory of her stomach.

I’m helpless, however, to stop myself from kissing the side of her neck softly.

She stirs, and I freeze like a red-handed thief.

But she just turns over in my arms, pressing her front to mine, and slips an arm around my waist, sighing sleepily. Her hand roams over my back, nails raising goosebumps in their wake as they softly trace over my skin.

She blinks her eyes open, takes in our tangled up position, and says simply, “Huh.”

“Yeah,” I respond like a monosyllabic idiot.

Clear blue eyes on mine, she brings her hand up to my face and lightly touches the split lip I’m sure is puffy as hell.

Fucker had a fast right hook.

“You made me a lot of money last night,” she murmurs, tapping my lip once, then twice.

“What?” I ask, too turned on and dizzy to focus on what she said.

She was there? She saw me fight?

A strange sense of male pride goes through me at that, considering I won.

“I had the bookie place a bet for me,” Nesta says, stopping that caveman train of thought in its tracks.

“How’d you know?”

I keep my fighting far away from the public’s eye, going clear across town to Lucky’s. It’s a small shipping company, and Lucky, the man who runs the place, uses some empty containers to host fights every week.

He knows who I am but doesn’t care, claiming he’s too old to be scared of some “young Mafia punk.” He also doesn’t allow cell phones or recordings, and there’s no written records of the fights.

She raises an eyebrow. “You realize Alexei owns that entire shipping yard, right?”

I had not.

“Huh,” I say, stealing her line from a minute ago. “And you bet on me? Why?”

“Call it intuition.”

I remember the way her eyes tracked over me yesterday, like there wasn’t anything she didn’t see, and I realize she knew I like to fight from the second she saw me.

“Glad I could help pad your bank account,” I tell her, smiling. “And I’m glad you make yourself at home in my absence. But just for future reference... I sleep on that side of the bed.”

She leans in, lips an inch from mine, and whispers, “Not anymore, you don’t.”

A rough smile is all the warning I give her before I pull her close and turn over, practically throwing her to the other side of the bed.

I don’t know what I expect her to do, but it sure as hell isn’t jab me in the ribs, crawl over me, and retake her original spot.

Prodding my ribs, I notice she hit me right on a pressure point. Like she knew exactly what she was doing.

She grins, a challenge lighting up her bright eyes and making her look even more alive.

“Oh, malyshka,” I whisper, somehow knowing calling her a pet name will piss her off. “You’re in so much trouble.”

“Bring it, stronzo,” she shoots back, calling me an asshole in my own fucking language. Disrespectful.

I grab her wrists to try and pin her, but she’s fucking fast as an adder, slipping out from underneath me and poking me in the ribs again.

I step it up a notch, and for a few moments, we’re busy wrestling in bed.

It’s honest to God the most fun I’ve had in ages.

I’ve never met a woman who knows how to fight, much less one I can’t seem to pin. I have a hundred pounds on her, yet more than once, I’m the one struggling.

She continues pressing pressure points, some I never even knew existed, and despite the fact it sure as hell doesn’t feel good, I find myself laughing.

By the time I eventually just tackle her and press her into the mattress with my weight, I’m out of breath and can’t stop laughing at how ridiculous it is.

I grab her wrists and pin them above her head, my legs on top of hers to keep her from doing something clever like kneeing me in the balls. “Slippery little sucker, aren’t you?”

There’s a beat of silence, and then she tilts her head back and laughs.

Watching that stony exterior crack might be the best thing I’ve ever seen.

She comes alive, eyes bright and cheeks flushed. Her laugh is a beautiful sound, light and airy and I can’t stop myself.

I drop down and kiss her, pressing my smile to hers.

She stops laughing.

And then she sighs, and the sound is so goddamn pretty I almost can’t take it.

She pushes up on my hands, hands wanting freedom, so I release her wrists and brace myself on my elbows above her. Nesta winds her arms around me, hands delving in my hair, and kisses me back.

I try to keep my weight off her, but she’s having none of that and wraps her legs around me and pulls me down, fusing our hips together.

I press myself against her, and she arches up in response, drawing a low sound out of my throat.

Now that my hands are free, they roam through her hair, across her sides, down her thighs.

She’s so goddamn soft.

She moves against me like it’s second nature, kisses me like she can’t get enough.

And when I move to kiss a path down her throat, inhaling that intoxicating scent as I suck on her skin, she softly moans my name. I feel like I’m on fire, and her saying my name like that that does absolutely nothing to help, so I bite on the junction between her shoulder and neck in retaliation for being so addictive.

She says my name, then again, and I notice it isn’t in the same soft tone as before.

My head snaps up, gaze finding hers to try and figure out if I did something wrong.

Her lips and cheek are rosy, blonde hair a halo around her.

“I think we should wait,” she states, even though she doesn’t make a move to leave or throw me off. And I know now she definitely could.

“For what?”

Her lips twitch. “Our wedding.”

It takes me a long time to respond. “Are you a-”

“No,” she says, looking at me with a teasing look in her eyes.

“Oh.”

“I just think it’d make it better,” she reasons.

Personally, I think it’d be perfect right the hell now, but I nod like I’m not hard enough to deform the mattress I’m pressing my hips into. “Okay.”

“Okay,” she mutters back, and we spend a moment lying there, breathing each other’s air. Until, “I should probably get up, then.”

Because I suddenly know a total of one word, I just reply, “Okay.”

I roll off of her and onto my back, putting a hand over my eyes so I’m not tempted to look at her ass as she gets up and pads to the bathroom.

I listen to her shower and get ready, all the while wondering how the absolute hell I’m going to live with her, have her sleep in my bed, without actually having sex with her.

She’s tempting enough wearing fucking work clothes, but if I wake up again with her in my arms? Fuck.

I could always go to someone else, but for some strange reason, the thought of being like every other man in the Cosa Nostra and having a mistress makes me sick. Or maybe it’s the fact that in a matter of two whole days, I’ve become completely wrapped around Nesta’s finger and don’t want to hurt her like that.

The object of my obsession comes out, walking over to the closet in a towel, and I look at the ceiling in misery.

Maybe I should stay in the guest room.

~

By the time I can breathe again and have gotten over the feeling of my balls fucking falling off, Nesta’s gone. She got dressed like nothing was the matter, asked if I was going to sit on my ass all day, and told me she’d be back later tonight as she slipped out the door.

It’s still early, and I wonder for a second where she’s going, but then shrug and stop sitting around pining.

I put on a dark suit--something I only do when I have corporate shit to do--and drive further downtown to Sera. It’s my first day, and I scheduled an all-staff to meet everyone and introduce myself.

I park and walk through the bank, nodding to the teller who opens the secondary bank door and lets me in the club. People are waiting inside, which is a little strange since I’m five minutes early, but I’m not complaining.

I take in the faces I’ve spent the past couple days memorizing as people file in. The staff is interesting, to say the least. More than a few have records, and some are from places of the world I’ve never heard of.

The investors come in last, the only corporate-looking people in the room. They come up and shake my hand while the employees choose to watch me with a strange look in their eyes.

Once everyone’s inside and seated, I smile and introduce myself.

“My name is Cassian Azara. I’m the new owner of Sera, and I just wanted to come by, introduce myself, and meet you guys.” No one smiles back or says anything, but I don’t let it bother me. “The change in management won’t impact the day to day aspect too much. I like the way things are and don’t plan on changing anything, but let me know if you need anything or have suggestions.”

One woman sitting in the back speaks up, her voice clipped and irritated. “What’s the point of taking over, if you aren’t changing anything?”

I don’t really know what to say, so I ask back, “Do you have a suggestion?”

She rolls her eyes, looking pissed as hell, and pulls out her phone.

Weird.

I stop speaking to the group, and the investors make a point to shake my head again. After they’re gone, I walk around to introduce myself individually, finding the general vibe to be... definitely not welcome.

I understand it’s weird for a stranger to come in and claim they’re the boss, but I just said it shouldn’t impact their lives too much, so I don’t understand the reaction I’m getting.

Some people ignore me, some look at me with irritation, and some just get up and leave.

I turn to the bartender, one of the only ones who didn’t act like he wants to stab me with a rusty knife, as he leaves. “Is there a reason they all hate me?”

He gives me a strange look over his shoulder. “We’re all pretty fond of the previous owner.”

Alexei? These people all like Alexei?

I’ve never heard a nice word about that man, but I guess he won their loyalty over time.

Whatever. If these people like that cold bastard, they’re sure to love me.

~

What feels like a full twenty-four hours later, I walk through the door to my apartment and realize how fucking wrong I was.

The employees of Sera do not like me. I dealt with business of my own after the quick meet and greet this morning, then came back to do management stuff at six.

Immediately, I was met with complaints and broken things and inventory problems and about a million other things I don’t have to deal with at my other properties.

I’ve never met a group of people so difficult to work with.

Nesta eyes me as I come through the door, tilting her head curiously. “You look like shit.”

There’s something... interesting about her tone, but I shrug it off.

I wish I could lie and say she looks bad, too, but she somehow looks perfect and fresh as a daisy after whatever she’s done all day.

“Long day.”

She raises an eyebrow, looking at me over the top of her laptop.

“The employees at Sera, one of your dad’s old clubs, aren’t too happy with me taking over. They were a pain in the ass all day.”

Nesta looks at me for a while, something I can’t read playing in her gaze. “Huh.”

I grab a beer from the fridge and fling myself down next to her, looking over at her with my patented bedroom eyes. “You know what would make me feel so much better?” I ask, innuendo making the answer pretty obvious.

“Minet?”

My brow furrows. “I don’t know what that means.”

She sighs, getting to her feet and stretching her arms over her head in a way that makes her dress slide up her thighs. “Look it up, big boy. I’m going to bed. And before you ask, no, that isn’t an invitation.”

“Stay on your side,” I warn with a grin. “I’d hate to have to kick your ass again.”

Nesta just scoffs, taking her laptop up the stairs and disappearing into my... our room.

I look up minet, smile, and yell, “That’s exactly what I was thinking!”

She doesn’t respond, but I hear soft laughter and know she heard me.

Sighing about my lack of minet, I pull out my own computer, planning on going through some of the complaints I received tonight. But something makes me pause and remember the look on Nesta’s face when I told her about my day.

And her tone... it was amusement, I realize.

I pull up the deed and find out why.

Sera, and the building it’s hidden within, never belonged to Alexei. They were bought and built by little miss Nesta Orlov.

Interesting.

I keep digging and find out why the employees there are so loyal to her. One way or another, she saved them. All of them.

The bartender with the criminal record who struggled to find employment, the street performer who was sleeping on a park bench, the dancer who was denied a VISA until Nesta met with the governor on her behalf.

Every single employee is somehow bound to Nesta, somehow in her debt.

It’s fucking genius.

Instead of spending money to buy loyalty, she chose people who’d give it to her for the simple price of a job.

No wonder they hate me.

Maybe it’ll blow over when we announce our engagement at the party and they realize she’s still in the picture.

Although for some reason, I have the strange feeling that what happened today was just the beginning.

____________________________________________________________

NEXT CHAPTER

[redrobbingabank]

Losing Control

Ranboo thought he’d hacked it. He’d avoided the water. He’d stayed calm. He’d hung out with Michael and didn’t look at the prison. And slowly, slowly, he’d stopped seeing things he shouldn’t, and the voices went away. And even more slowly, he’d begun to think it would stay that way. 

Curled in a ball in Tubbo’s basement, clutching his head, Ranboo wondered how he’d ever been so stupid. 

Take the axe, they whispered. Spill his blood. The boy king must die.

“No,” he whimpered. “Get out of my head.”

We’re not in your head, the voices – Dream? – whispered. We’re you. They started chanting again. The boy king must die. The boy king must die. 

“I won’t kill him!” Ranboo cried. Despite himself, his hand began inching towards his axe of its own accord. He snatched it back like he’d been burned. The Void is hungry, Ranboo. “No…” 

Before his hand could betray him again, Ranboo leapt to his feet, abandoning his weapons where they lay. He ascended the ladder so fast that splinters dug into his hands. A confused noise came from Michael’s room when the trap door slammed shut, but Ranboo didn’t stop. He flung himself out the door and down the stairs, tearing around the corner to the soul-speed tunnel. As he flew through it, a trickle of water found its way into his armor, but he didn’t notice. He almost smashed his nose against the wall when he shot out the other side. 

The streets of the SMP were empty. No one was there to watch him run to the Nether portal, panting as reality twisted and reshaped until he was in the Hub. He ran down the cobblestone path, then leapt from basalt spike to basalt spike. When he reached the bit of netherrack that stuck out, he jumped down, ankles jolting painfully when he landed. He stood in the portal once more and used his trident to speed the rest of the way to the Commune.

Smoke rose from the chimneys. Shin deep in snow, Ranboo ran up the steps and pounded on Phil’s door. “Phil! Phil, I need help, please!”

There was no response. Ranboo called until his voice became hoarse, then slumped in front of his door. What could he do? The tank in the lab. He could go there. There was a chance it would fix everything. Tubbo would be safe if it worked ––

“Ranboo?” Techno’s deep voice caused Ranboo to jump to his feet, spinning around in panic. Tears still burned down his face. Techno stood at the door to his house, blinking like he’d just woken up. His hair was halfway undone from its usual braid. “What are you doing here? What’s wrong with your eyes?”

Ranboo swiped his sleeve across his cheeks, only succeeding in spreading the damage. “I –– it’s fine. I was looking for Phil,” he managed to get out before hiccuping.

Techno tilted his head. “Is everything alright, kid?”

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s fine,” Ranboo said, followed by a sniffle that directly attacked his credibility.

“Uh-huh,” Techno said slowly. “Is it… something I can help with?” 

Ranboo didn’t want to tell Techno about the voices, but even as he shrank from the idea, they whispered to him. Kill the boy king. Talking might help him keep his focus enough to maintain control. He nodded. 

“You can come in, if you want. I’ve got food” Techno said, stepping back inside and dragging an extra chair to the small table. Ranboo followed him. He sat awkwardly, fidgeting uncontrollably, crossing and uncrossing his fingers.

Techno looked at his face for a long moment, then his hands. He sighed. “Do you want to braid my hair or something?” he asked haltingly. 

“Um…” he said, throat dry. Techno had never let him braid his hair before. He’d never asked. “Sure.”

“Alright.” Techno took the hair tie out of his hair and passed it to Ranboo, combing the braid out with his fingers. He sat on the ground in front of Ranboo with his back to him. “We’re gonna need to get you some healing potion for your face, too. So what’s wrong?”

Ranboo struggled to find the words to speak, trying and failing in fits and starts. He separated Techno’s hair into three sections. “There’s, uh… I hear these… these voices? In my head? And they’re normally pretty tame, but I think I screwed it up, and they want me to do things.”

Techno had gone still. Ranboo focused desperately on weaving his hair into the braid. “What did you do?” he asked carefully. His voice was patient. 

“I sort of triggered them,” Ranboo mumbled. “There’s like, this state I go into, where I’m not me? Well, I’m me. But I’m pretty sure I’ve got all my memories and they change my perception of some things. I think I’ve done bad stuff in this state. I was triggering it, to get more control over it. Build a tolerance, you know?” He laughed sadly. “I thought I figured it out. But things started happening, hallucinations and stuff. Then I thought I fixed that, but the voices got louder. They want me to kill people ––” don’t mention Tubbo’s name “–– close to me.” 

He tied off the braid with Techno’s hair tie, and he twisted around to face him. “How long has this been happening?”

“About a week?” Ranboo said. “Then it just got… I almost lost control today, and I came here.”

“Jeez, kid, you’ve been sitting on this for a week?” Ranboo nodded awkwardly. “We could have helped you, Ranboo. Phil and I have experience with this stuff.”

Ranboo furrowed his brow. “You do?”

“Yeah! I have voices too.”

“You what?”

“Yeah. Haven’t you heard me talking to them before? ‘Blood for the blood god’? I’m not that narcissistic, kid.” Techno stood and crossed over to sit in the chair across from Ranboo. “They do the same as what you’re talking about, the whole bloodlust thing. Well, not as specific, that part’s a bit concerning, but it boils down the same. We know the gist.”

“Oh. Is there… how do I control it?”

Techno looked at him carefully. “It’s not always easy, Ranboo. If you get in a fight you might not be able to. That doesn’t bother me cause I don’t particularly care, but you’re, you know, you.” Fear filled Ranboo. His chest tightened. Techno noticed the look in his eyes, and rushed to reassure him. “No, but don’t worry, you don’t have to fight anyone if you don’t want to, Syndicate rules, remember?” Ranboo had the presence of mind to give him a look. “Sorry.

“You can control it, though. I promise. And you can keep weapons away from you when you’re around your people.” 

“How do I make it go away, though?” Ranboo asked. Tears were welling up again. Steam rose from his face as they fell.

“Woah, hey, no, that’s hurting you, calm down.” Techno went to a chest by the window. After rooting around in it for a few minutes, he came back with a clean cloth and a bottle of healing potion. “Here. For your face.”

Ranboo wet the corner of the cloth with the potion and dabbed it where his skin burned. The easing pain made him relax minutely.

“Ranboo,” Techno said gently, “the voices don’t go away. I’m sorry, but the best you and I can do is learn to keep them in check as best we can. And if I figured it out, so can you. There’s something that can help you, too. We’ll have to wait for Phil to make it, but…” he tapped the green stone inlaid in his crown. Ranboo had thought it was an emerald until he saw the black specks in it. “There’s bits of wither rose in this. It weakens the voices, gets rid of the sway on your actions. Phil knows how to make them. I think it’s part of his connection with her. Death, and all that. We’ll get one for you, too.”

Ranboo’s hand drifted unconsciously to his own crown, tracing the lapis stones in the prongs. “Okay. Thank you, Techno. Really.” 

“Don’t mention it, kid.”

[smmahamazing]

It’s finally here! Inuparents Day 2021!!!

Today is the day for us to celebrate the ship that brought us our precious dog boy! Keep an eye out for some extra special soft art to go with the fic, commissioned from the fabulous and talented @heavenin--hell !!!

Will also shortly be available on FFN and AO3. Check out the Inuparents 2021 Collection or the Inuparents 2021 Tumblr for lots of amazing fics and art!

SUMMARY: Toga’s been having a rough day,and who else could make it all better than his mate and pup?

The hallway was silent save for the clacking of heeled boots. They echoed off the windows, muffled only slightly by the tapestries that hung along the walls. The servants knew better than to be found in the path of the angered general; by now, they had a foolproof system that warned anyone in the area to steer clear. Not that many servants could be found in this area of the castle. Toga only trusted a handful of servants to work in the areas around his mates abode.

Toga balled his fisted hands even tighter, tiny droplets of blood dotting the floor as he pressed on. He was close to losing his control, and all he wanted was to bask in the warmth and love of his mate and pup.

Once again, he was forced to listen to the vitriol from another courtier about how Toga was "defiling the very nature of our people" by taking a human mate and siring a "half breed". Toga wasn't sure how many courtiers he had to threaten to get them to back off, but so far the number was rising with no end in sight.

Toga let out a deep, throaty growl at the thought of their hatred towards his mate and pup. Did they forget who he was? Toga was Lord of the Western lands, the great dog demon general. He had the power to slay a hundred demons in one fell swoop. He held life and death in each of his hands. Who were they to condemn him for his choice of mate?

It wasn't as if mating with Izayoi had been much of a choice for him anyway. Toga had known the moment he had laid eyes on Izayoi that they were meant for each other. She smelled like a field of flowers basking in the sun on a warm spring day, and it called to the youkai in him. When he was angry or upset, only her soothing touch could calm him. She always knew the right things to say, or even when she didn't need to say anything at all. She was beautiful and graceful - learnt from being born a princess - yet determined and outspoken in ways a princess should never be. She was a woman unlike Toga had ever seen, and she was irrevocably his.

'When did this hallway become so long?' Toga was growing more and more impatient with how long it was taking him to reach her, and began sprinting the rest of the way down the hall. He finally made it to the door at the end of the hallway to enter a small courtyard. It was smaller than the courtyard that was tended to by Inukimi's servants, but it was an exceedingly beautiful space. It was like stepping into another world, vibrant hues of an abundance of all different kinds of flowers intermingling with the evergreen foliage, giving off a wonderful floral scent to the air, even for Toga's more sensitive nose. Placed sporadically around the courtyard to take advantage of the exquisite views were several benches to sit at. Toga barely gave the courtyard a second glance as he continued to sprint to the other side. His destination was a well kept fence marked by a set of tall, immaculately kept rose bushes.

It wasn't ideal to house Izayoi so far from the rest of the castle, but ever since the birth of their son, Inuyasha, Toga had become paranoid at the thought of someone sneaking into her room for any number of unsavory activities. Toga had his best and most trusted men keep an eye on the area, and he could easily sniff out if anyone had been around who shouldn't have been - a task that had been much more difficult in the middle of a bustling castle. Toga would do whatever it took to keep Izayoi safe; he had already used Tenseiga on her once, so he could not depend on its help again. He had almost lost her and their unborn pup almost a year ago because of that snake of a human, Takemaru, not to mention his own life as well.

Beyond the rose guarded fence was a well kept trail that led to a decently sized building. It was nestled beside a looming cherry blossom tree, and one could see the edges of a koi pond in the back. It was far smaller than any of the living quarters that Izayoi was used to, growing up as a hime, but she had reassured him time and time again that the space was perfect for their little family.

He had to swallow the lump in his throat at the thought of his 'little family'. Who would have thought this voracious little human woman could turn the fearsome Inu no Taisho into such a sap?

Toga walked up to the shoji screen and opened it, stepping through to the main room. Toga barely gave the empty foyer any thought as he made his way to the main bedroom off to the right. Another shoji door shoved to the side and he was finally treated to the sight he had been craving the most.

There, lying on a plush tatami mat, was the most beautiful sight in the world - Izayoi, propped up on a plush bed of fluffy pillows with their pup swaddled at her breast. Kiyo, Izayoi's only maid servant, was in the process of throwing a large, soft blanket over the bottom half of his mate's body.

Izayoi looked up towards him as soon as the shoji door opened, a sleepy smile growing on her face at the sight of her husband. As soon as the blanket was secured over Izayoi, Kiyo turned toward him and reverently bowed. 

"Toga-sama," she greeted him.

"Bring us a dinner tray in about an hour, you may be dismissed afterwards. I will attend to all of Izayoi's needs for the remainder of the night," he stated softly. Kiyo bowed to him once again and once to Izayoi, a soft smile on her face as she gazed for a moment on his pup, and quietly passed by.

Toga stayed where he was at the door until he could no longer clearly hear the soft padding of Kiyo's footsteps as she traveled back to the main castle. Keeping her left hand holding Inuyasha up to her breast, she reached out to Toga with her right. He longed to rush to her side, to feel the warmth of her body beside his, but despite his insistence to rush to her room, he took his time to reach her.

Izayoi watched as he meticulously started taking off every individual piece of armor, slowly lowering them to the floor so it didn't startle the pup. Izayoi didn't look irritated in the slightest by the lazy way he undressed; she loved it, in fact. He never took his heated gaze off her as each piece fell, and it never failed to give her goosebumps.

As soon as he was down to just his kosode and hakama, he knelt down beside her and clasped her hand in his. Izayoi giggled as Toga nuzzled his nose against her cheek as his own chest rumbled in satisfaction at the soft tinkling of her laugh. She turned her head to meet him face to face and placed a tender kiss at the corner of his mouth. Toga removed his hand from hers to cup her jaw and deepen their kiss.

Toga would never get enough of her. The way she inhaled as she opened her mouth for him, and sighed deeply, a slight whimper in her voice as her tongue would carefully glide against his fangs. She was so soft and so warm. She tasted sweet and fruity. If he wasn't careful with his little human mate, he could just devour her.

Their kiss was cut short, however, when Izayoi let out a yelp, accidentally pulling at some of his hair from where she had been lightly gripping at the nape of his neck. It had taken a bit of control for Toga to not bite down on her tongue due to the unexpected sharp pain that now bristled at the base of his head.

"Ahh, be careful little one!" Izayoi lightly scolded the infant feeding at her breast. Inuyasha had taken too hard a bite as he drank his mother's milk, scratching the side of her breast with his newly formed - and very sharp - nails. They were not quite long enough to be labeled as 'claws' yet, but they were still sharp enough to tear lightly through human skin.

Inuyasha immediately tried to grab onto Izayoi's breast as soon as her hand let go of his little arm. Toga reached out, offering his own hand to the tiny hanyou, which could more than withstand Inuyasha's baby claws.

Toga squinted his eyes down at his son suspiciously. Inuyasha's gaze never left Toga's as he continued to suckle at Izayoi's breast.

All inuyoukai pups were extremely territorial towards their mothers. Even Sesshomaru had been known to growl at Toga whenever he vied for Kimi's attention - although the stubborn boy would never admit to it. It seemed that fact could also be said of hanyou pups. Toga could practically see the smirk on Inuyasha's face, satisfied that Izayoi was now fussing with him instead of with Toga.

'The brat,' he thought, although it came with no heat behind it. Toga's eyes softened, staring at his youngest son. A warm smile adorned Inuyasha's face as he ate, loving the attention he was receiving from both his parents. His little hand squeezing just a tad tighter around Toga's finger.

It was obvious the pup felt completely safe in the moment, knowing even at such a young age that his parents were there to protect him.

How long would this sense of safety last? At what age will he have to get in the habit of looking over his shoulder at all times? Why must such an innocent life have to have to grow up with such worries? The earlier events of the day began to seep back into Toga's mind, furrowing up his brow at the thought of the other council members and their vitriol.

"What is wrong, my love?," Izayoi asked, sweeping her free hand across his bangs in a loving manner.

"It is quite amazing," he started, not quite ready to answer her question just yet. "For something so small, so delicate, he is already so strong." Toga tried to pull his finger away, but Inuyasha kept a firm grip, unwilling to part with it yet.

"Well, he takes after his father," Izayoi said with a bright smile on her face. Toga did not respond to her, although the small smile didn't leave his face despite the slightly increased furrowing of his brows. Izayoi knew this look; he often came home like this whenever he was forced to fight against his council, usually because of her and their son.

"What did they say this time?" She asked. A part of her didn't want to hear about all the awful things they were saying about their son - she didn't quite care about whatever they thought about her, she was stronger than they all gave her credit for - but she knew there was real fear for the future of the little boy in her arms.

"It doesn't matter."

"Their opinions may not matter, but you shouldn't keep it all to yourself." She lightly gripped his chin in her hand and turned his face to look at her. "We are a team, anata. Do not keep this to yourself"

Toga leaned in towards her neck and inhaled, letting out a deep sigh as he touched his forehead to hers, basking in the warmth she emitted. Her stubbornness, despite opening one of the things he loved about her, was also one of the things he sometimes hated about her, especially when it was up against himself. He wanted to keep them separated from all the hate and viciousness he experienced almost every day. But as he slowly opened his eyes to see the hardened look in her own, he knew there was no keeping anything from her.

For a human, she really knew how to tear down all his walls.

"I don't understand them,"

"Understand who? The council?"

"Them. Everyone. They all believe they have the right to judge who I love, or the children I help bear. How can they look this little one in the eyes and think him an abomination?"

While he was talking, Inuyasha had switched breasts and was now facing away from him, giving Toga a view of his tiny ears. They quirked slightly as Toga talked, trying to pick out his every word. Honestly, they were the cutest things he had ever seen, and they never failed to put a smile on Toga's face. He caressed the back of one of Inuyasha's ears with his knuckle - noting how soft the fur was - making Inuyasha give out a light sigh of contentment as he continued to eat.

"People often fear or hate what they cannot explain," Izayoi said.

"But these are not people, they're youkai - "

"Who also has the tendency to do the same," she interrupted. "You know, you youkai are not all that different from us."

Toga had to stifle a huff at her statement. There were many differences between humans and youkai. From their anatomy to their culture and their social hierarchy. Hell, even their mating rituals were different - Toga had been saddened to find out he could not bind his youki to Izayoi, no matter how hard he tried.

But he didn't want to start an argument about it. He understood where her thoughts were coming from. Youkai would hate him because of the human blood that flowed in his veins, and humans would fear him for the youkai attributes he would possess. Both sides were unable to see past the traits they deemed unworthy or tainted. For all their differences, it was something they could agree on, and the thought made Toga chuckle a bit.

"I suppose you could be right, my little rabbit."

"Of course I'm right, anata," Izayoi replied with a smile on her face. She regarded her husband as he continued to watch Inuyasha, softly stroking his ears or running his hand through his little tuft of white hair. The actions were light, but Izayoi could still see the hardness in his eyes, most likely replaying everything he was forced to listen to today.

Izayoi knew they couldn't just ignore the threats, but she wouldn't let the opinions of others control how they lived. They would teach their son about the necessity of staying vigilant and how to protect himself when his parents couldn't, but they would also teach him how to laugh, and to love with all his heart. They would show the world just how special their family was.

They would have to tread carefully, but if they did it right, they could completely change the dynamic between human and youkai relationships.

"Don't let them get to you Toga. Let's just enjoy the night,"

It was like any other night they spent together. They laid together on the futon, one wriggling child in between them as they made idle chatter about everything and nothing all at once. Kiyo came in to bring them supper, and after Toga had made sure that his mate had eaten her fill, Izayoi and Inuyasha fell into an easy slumber as Toga watched over the pair.

The future he was working toward would not come easy, and there would be many obstacles put forth to hinder him, but in that moment Toga promised both his mate and his pup that he would do whatever it took to bring them a lifetime of happiness.

One changed mind at a time.

[daddyjackfrost]

i'm not sure if i have anyy suggestions that you'll want to write, but i'll send them in as they come to mind

so excited for your writing ^^ no pressure though, best of luck with your studies!!

y/n is studying (something difficult, maybe pre-med or med school?) and is feeling a little drained and self-doubtful. she gets up from her space to take a second and is reminded of a time she spent with <whichever haikyuu boy you'd like to write about>. they hadn't gotten to spend much time together as a result of their busy schedule, so the memory of this weekend is especially special to her. start flashback of fluff they had met for dinner, spent time together, cuddled and slept (not 18+) together. they both woke up early but opted to stay in bed together, content in eachother's company, making small talk, laughing softly, fluffy stuff. y/n had brought up her struggles to <haikyuu boy of choice> and he'd been there for her to confide in. she knows its her dream, but casually wonders if she isnt cut out for it. he actively listens, offering comforting touches, until she's finished and then helps her talk it out until she's back up in confidence. more fluffy morning end lashback of fluff y/n feels better having remembered <hq boy>'s pep talk and resumes her efforts.

yeesh, idk how long/short/detailed/vague suggestions are supposed to be, so sorry! 😅 i'll try to be more vague, if you'd like, in the future

hi!! omg u r SO cute i’m in love. anyways, i love your suggestion! it’s amazing. and don’t worry, the more detail the better!

for this request, i’ve chosen Daichi. because i’m a daichi whore i believe in daichi supremacy

Warnings: none :) fluff, daichi x f!reader

alright, anyways, enjoy!

You stared at the piles of paper on your bed. You couldn’t even begin to recall what the different colours of the paper meant. You were just glad you had written it down on your phone.

“This is ridiculous,” you whispered to yourself.

Your back was aching, your muscles were sore, and your eyes burned from the constant strain. You had a final coming up and it was killing you in more ways then one.

“Is this even worth it? I mean, really, what are the chances of me getting into med school?”

You groaned and fell back on your pillow. You dragged your hands down your face. You had been spiraling down a tunnel of self-doubt and it was affecting you. You had begun talking to yourself even more than usual, especially since you cut contact from everyone for a couple of days.

Your phone chimed beside you and you turned your head to face it. You had promised yourself to turn it off, except you forgot.

Well, you didn’t forget, you just didn’t want too.

You picked it up and your eyes fell on the message that your boyfriend left you.

From: acab but not him🙄❣️

‘good evening, beautiful. make sure to eat something, yeah? and get some fresh air. you’ve got this babe, i believe in you❣️’

You smiled at the message. Unknowingly, a few small tears formed at the corners of your eyes. Daichi had a week long training camp that coincidentally aligned with your final. Now, Daichi was in Tokyo and you were cooped up in your room. 

Daichi had made it his job to send you texts almost every hour to remind you he loved you and to eat. You didn’t think you could love him even more.

Due to his own busy schedule, Daichi and you hadn’t been able to spend too much time together before he left. But you knew that as soon as you had taken the final, you were going to spent three days in his arms.

You sent a quick text back, telling him you loved him and that you were going to get something to eat now.

You slowly slid out of bed, making your bed and your bones make noise out of agony. Your knees cracked and you looked down. “Just break,” you prayed.

When nothing happened, you huffed out an annoyed breath and made your way to your kitchen. You and Daichi had moved into an apartment two years ago, and you loved every part of it. Your home was your baby.

As you walked, your eyes fell upon the black leather jacket that laid jumbled up on the couch. Your thoughts immediately flashed to the weekend, the last time you had seen Daichi.

It was Friday night, which meant date night for you and the police officer, and it was perfect.

You parked your car outside of the Miyagi Police Station, waiting for Daichi.

You stood outside, enjoying the light breeze. Daichi had texted you to give him a couple minutes. Today was Friday, which meant date night for you and your lover.

You heard some ruckus and lifted your head, meeting Daichi’s warm gaze. He had a large grin etched onto his face and you felt your own lips pull into a smile.

Daichi walked up to you and pressed a quick kiss to your forehead. “Hello, darling.”

You brushed away the few dark locks that fell on his forehead. “Hello, officer.”

Daichi’s eyes slightly narrows at the use of the word. He absolutely loved and hated when you called him officer. It did things to him.

“Come, let’s go. I’m starving.”

You nodded and pulled away from him, walking to the drivers seat. Daichi always insisted you drive when you picked him up because he wanted to ‘get his full of you’ because he was at work. You never truly understood it, but you liked his heated stare on you so you never said anything.

You and Daichi ended up going to your favourite restaurant. You went here a lot, and were now on first name basis with the manager and half of the employees.

You and Daichi both ordered your regulars and ate peacefully, with some small talk here and there. A hungry Daichi usually resulted in a quiet Daichi.

After dinner, you drove to the park by your house to get some fresh air and to work off some of the food you just ate.

Late night walks with Daichi were your favourite little activities you did with him. Daichi loved late night walks with you too. He loved watching the moon glow on your skin as you stared adoringly at the stars.

Daichi held your hand in his, gently swinging them. He wore black jeans and his favourite grey shirt, with his black worn out leather jacket you had gotten him a couple of years ago.

You kept your eyes on him. His skin glistened in the moonlight and you found him as beautiful as the stars that twinkled above him, if not more.

“What’re you thinkin’ bout, love?”

You turned your head, finding it completely unfair that someone so beautiful stood next to you.

“You,” you mumbled truthfully.

“Is that so?” Daichi’s voice came out teasingly.

You let go of his hand and skipped forward until you stood a couple of feet away from him. You pointed at him and he stopped, hands in his pockets and a smile on his face.

“You, Sawa, are the love of my life.”

Daichi’s eyes widened slightly and a flush of pink now rested on his face. Daichi cleared his throat but couldn’t help the grin that had replaced his smile.

“And you’re mine.”

You grinned at him and then continued to walk until you reached the hill that overlooked your neighborhood. You crouched down, and then sat down, pulling your knees to your chest.

Daichi soon followed, except he sat behind you, and spread his legs so you were sitting between them. He pulled you close to your chest, until your back rested completely against his chest.

You tilted your head back, resting it on Daichi’s shoulder. One of Daichi’s large, warm, hands laid on your stomach, rubbing softly. The other was playing with your hair.

This is it, you thought. I’ll never love anyone the way I love him.

You looked up at the stars. You had always had a fascination with the balls of of heat and energy. When you were a child, your dream was to become a star. You’re not quite sure when that dream led you on the path of medicine, but it did.

Daichi stared at you. It didn’t matter that you two had been together for almost six years, Daichi could never get over how beautiful you were.

The way your hair glistened in the moonlight, the way your eyes twinkled, as if you held the stars in them yourselves. Daichi stared at you the way you stared at the stars.

With complete and utter adoration.

Daichi’s eyes landed on your hands. He watched as they slight shook, and how your tried to make them stop.

He frowned. Your hands only shook when your were stressed.

As swiftly as he could, Daichi grabbed your shaking hands and held them together, complete engulfing them in his own.

“You’re shaking, love. What’s the matter?”

You froze. Caught.

Even though you should have been calm, happy even, since you sat under the stars with your lover, the final that loomed over your shoulder had your nervous system in shambles.

Daichi’s thumbs rubbed the backs of your hands as he waited for your response.

“I’m just nervous,” you mumbled. You hated speaking about up-coming tests or finals. You always had really bad anxiety when it came to any form of testing, and Daichi knew that.

He knew everything about you.

“What about?”

You sighed and extended your legs. Daichi had a way with words. Even when he didn’t speak much, his presence and silence alone spoke tenfold.

“Nothing, really,” you let out an awkward laugh. “You know I’m always a little bit nervous.”

Daichi wanted to press on the matter. He wanted you to speak to him, he wanted to be able to share your stress. But he also knew that you would talk to him when you were ready.

Daichi pressed a soft kiss on your neck. “Talk to me when you’re ready, love.”

You nodded. “I will.”

Daichi kissed the small space behind your earlobe. “Let’s go home, yeah?” You nodded, agreeing. Daichi stood up and then put out his hand for you. You grabbed it, and let him pull you up with ease.

You two began the journey home, reaching in a couple of minutes.

You and Daichi changed into your nightwear. You were wearing one of Daichi’s shirts, and he was just wearing grey sweatpants.

You couldn’t keep your eyes off his body, but managed to look away before he caught you.

Daichi slipped under the covers, and then lifted them. He patted his chest. “Come lay on me.”

You immediately obliged, jumping onto his chest, causing Daichi to let out a small grunt.

You let all your wait drop on Daichi’s body. Your head was in the crook of his neck, and your chest lay flat against his. You could feel his heartbeat against yours and it took you a moment to realize that both your hearts beat at the same time.

As one.

Daichi slid his left hand under your—his—shirt, rubbing your back. It was these moments he wanted to truly cherished. He knew you were stressed about the final that was coming up. He had put the date in his phone when you mentioned it.

Daichi realized that today had been the quietest days you two had had. But he didn’t mind. He loved everyday with you. The quiet, the loud, the hectic, and the crazy.

Daichi began to hum. He could feel the knots in your back, and he knew you should have a nice relaxing weekend before you began to study.

Before he knew it, Daichi heard your soft snores fill the air.

A wide smile broke out on his face. Daichi absolutely adored your sleeping face. All your worry lines disappeared and you looked the most at peace when you slept in his arms.

Daichi slightly pushed himself up. He wanted to be able to see your properly. His brown eyes softened at the sight of your hand against chest. You often called him a creep for staring at your sleeping face, but he always just shrugged it off.

After some time, Daichi found himself driting off to sleep, but not before he tightened his hold on you and kissed your forehead. “Sleep well, my love.”

Hours later, your eyes fluttered open, but you immediately cringed and shut them again.

The sun was facing directly at you. You had forgotten to close your blinds.

You tried to adjust your posture, but immediately stopped when you heard a low rumble from Daichi. No, you felt it, and you froze at the vibrations.

“Don’t move, love.”

Daichi’s voice was low and husky, and slightly dry. You lifted your head and found yourself still laying on his chest. Daichi’s arms were securely wrapped around you, his eyes were shut.

The sound of his morning voice hit you right in the stomach and you couldn’t help but brush your fingers against his cheekbones.

Daichi’s eyes shot open. His dark brown eyes met yours, and for a moment, everything stopped.

You looked so beautiful, Daichi thought.

“Good morning,” you whispered.

Daichi smiled at you and let his head drop back on the pillow. “It is a very good morning, indeed.”

You used your hands and slightly pushed yourself up, so you were now straddling Daichi’s waist. His eyes opened and landed on your nervous smile.

“What’s wrong?”

Daichi grabbed your hips and pushed himself up, so his back was against the headboard.

You now sat on his thighs, and his hold on you tightened a little bit.

You stared at the man in front of you. Even after having you sleep on him for hours, he still looked perfect. It pissed you off, especially since you knew you probably had some drool on your chin.

Daichi leaned forward and pressed a small kiss to your forehead. “Talk to me.”

You nodded and began to play with your fingers.

You couldn’t help but think of the final you had to take in a couple of days. It didn’t make sense, you thought. You had taken finals and tests before, but for some reason, the one you had in five days had disrupted your sleep and taken over your life.

“I’m so nervous for the final, Sawa. I feel like there’s a knot in my stomach and it keeps tightening. I can’t breathe.”

Daichi began to rub the skin above your hip with his fingers. He listened attentively. He was gonna let you talk first, getting everything off your chest.

“I know I always complain and then end up doing well, but what if this is the one I flunk? What if this is the one I end up failing? It’s so nerve wracking. I don’t even know if I wanna do this anymore.”

Daichi’s hands slipped under your shirt and he slowly began to massage your back and shoulder muscles. He wanted to offer you physical comfort.

He knew you were often a mess of nerves and anxiety a week before any test, and no matter how many times he assured you that you would do fine, you always ended up getting caught up in your head.

“I know it’s my dream. But at this point, dropping out sounds ideal. There’s enough doctors in the world, right? Maybe I should do something less nerve wracking.”

You sighed and closed your eyes. It felt nice to finally get your thoughts off your chest.

Daichi’s hands squeezed your hips in response. He hated hearing you talking yourself down. It made him feel so helpless, because for him, you were his everything. He had the upmost respect and belief in you.

“Y/n, love, from everyone in your life, you are the only one who doesn’t fully believe you can do this. I know medicine is a very hard and competitive occupation, but you know I believe in you. If anyone can power through this, it’s you.”

Tears had pooled in your eyes. Daichi had always been so good with words. You knew that Daichi had always been mature for his age, meaning his patience and abilityto comfort you was far better than anyone else’s.

His compassion and understanding was his greatest qualities. His calming aura always managed to break through all your walls. It was what made him such a good captain.

“What if I fail?”

You had mumbled your question, hoping he wouldn’t have caught it.

But he did.

Daichi leaned in and kissed your nose “You won’t. And if you do, then you fail. You shouldn’t be scared to fail, y/n. You should be scared to give up. If you fail, you can always take it again.”

You sighed and lightly nodded. Although you appreciated his words, you knew they would only comfort you for a day or two.

“Thank you, Sawa.”

You tried getting up from his lap, but Daichi had other plans. He grabbed your hips tightly and leaned in, kissing your lips.

You didn’t hesitate, you just began to kiss him back eagerly.

Daichi’s right hand slid up your back, pushing you into him.

Your lips moved together in sync, and you brought your hands to his hair, clutching the soft ends tightly.

Daichi slightly pulled away, only to gently kiss your lips again.

Before you could deepen it, he pulled away again.

“It’s not easy, y/n. But accomplishing your dream never is. You’re gonna do great, just like you always do. I believe in you, and it’s time you do as well.”

His words wrapped around your anxious thoughts and completely anguished them.

You nodded, your nose brushing his.

You closed your eyes and let your head drop on his shoulder. Daichi wrapped his arms around you again, pulling you flush against his chest.

You stayed in that position for hours.

You in Daichi’s lap, with his hands running up and down your back as he comforted you with his words of love and stories to keep your mind off everything.

You blinked a couple of times, trying to recall what exactly what exactly what you were doing.

As you recalled Daichi’s words, you let out a small breath.

He was right, you thought. You weren’t going to fail and you were going to be okay.

You grabbed the leather jacket, and slipped it on. It smelled of Daichi and it was exactly what you needed right now.

You walked into the kitchen and grabbed a packet of ramen.

As you made the noddles, you unknowingly smiled the whole time.

Thinking of Daichi had lifted your spirits and you felt better.

He loved you, and he believed in you, and for you, that was enough.

MAN, THIS SUCKS. I HAD TO RE-WRITE IT LIKE FOUR TIMES GODDAMN.

anyways, i absolutely love and adore daichi, and this is kinda eh😬 so forgive me. I’d been swarmed w work the past week and have no creative juices left.

i will write about this handsome man again.

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