#his wispy voice and the way it cracked when he said 'also' HE KNEW WHAT HE WENT THERE TO DO

[butterflies-and-blades]

Session 17: Butterflies

The soft sound of moving water as I came up to the stream was a familiar comfort--not quite as comforting, though, as the plentiful return of butterflies all over the forest. Back in the desert, even the small oasis had been absent of the fluttering swatches of lively colors. With everything else going on, it was the small details that helped it sink in that I was home.

I worked on scrubbing the blood from my clothes first. Wading into the cool water, I took items off one at a time to be washed, then folded them and set them carefully aside on a nearby log as I went. Wispy clouds of red spread around me. Just as the moving water would carry the dilute blood away, I would move on to the next piece, bringing all of it back again. Once everything was as clean as possible, I stepped further into the stream so that when I sat down and pulled my knees to my chest, the water reached my shoulders.

I traced a finger over the many lines on my skin. Stared at my hands. Thought about the feeling of blood between my fingers as the final dried remnants flaked off and were carried away by the light current.

Leaves rustled behind the dense wall of foliage that created a makeshift curtain at the top of the sloped bank. "Maeve?" Verca's voice reached out hesitantly.

I grabbed my clothes from the log and hurriedly started getting dressed. "One second," I yelled back.

With all of my clothes on, I paused with the necklace Da and I had made together in my palm. The hand-carved feather had been painted black and fastened on a simple leather cord. Some of the color had chipped away at one edge, exposing a sliver of dark brown wood. I fastened the necklace around my neck. "Over here," I called out.

Leaves parted. Verca stepped forward, accompanied by a kaleidoscope of butterflies--black and blue swallowtails, to be specific. He explained that Talo and Da had been talking telepathically, leaving him awkwardly sitting in the silent living room. So he had decided to take a walk, instead.

"How are you holding up?" he asked.

It was a difficult question to answer. Despite my best efforts, no combination of words felt like a close enough approximation. The persistent tightness in my chest reminded me of plants with knotted bundles of roots, trapped in pots too small to accommodate them. Hidden by soil, it can be difficult to tell when roots are under duress, but sometimes it shows up other places--namely, the warped or even cracked sides of the pot, unable to withstand the internal pressure. But that metaphor didn't feel like it did justice to the feeling that I couldn't bring enough air into my lungs anymore.

He asked if I'd like a hug. The fact that he asked always surprised me. Verca stood with his arms open, letting me choose to close the distance. I felt ridiculous as I took a series of small steps forward until his arms carefully wrapped around my back. His usual warmth was especially pleasant in contrast to the chill left behind by the stream.

We pulled apart. Trying to lighten the mood, I said, "I'm guessing you need me to lead the way back?" I didn't anticipate him saying that he had followed a kaleidoscope of butterflies here. I also was surprised that he knew that that's what a group of butterflies was called.

However odd the butterflies leading him had been, we didn't linger on it for some reason. I think we were both too tired to open up that mystery.

Similarly, we didn't put too much thought into the golden feather I found as I started in the direction of the cabin. The glint of gold amongst the flowers underfoot was enough to make me pause, and--remembering the feather that he had picked up in the desert after that flame-wreathed bird flew overhead--I had asked Verca if it was from him. He looked over his shoulder and said, "No," shaking his head. "This might sound odd, but I think it's yours."

I was confused until he reminded me what else came whenever the Mask went up: wings. The memory loss from each incident made it difficult to hold on to those kinds of details, but he was right.

Crouching down, I picked up the feather by the quill. Holding it to the light, I watched it shine unlike any bird I had ever seen.

"You should hold on to it," Verca said.

Nodding, I opened the Bag of Holding and set it inside as I stood up.

Back at the cabin, Dad and Talo were in the middle of moving the living room couch when we came in. The cabin was cozy but small; "I should have mentioned we don't really have any guest rooms," I said, grabbing some blankets to take over to where Dad was helping set them up across from the fireplace. Dad, Da, and I each had our own rooms, but there was never reason to anticipate other company before today.

"You should all get some rest," Dad said; it wasn't that late--we had gone to Sala's right as the day started--, but it felt like weeks had passed since we last slept. He explained that he would leave to tell who he needed to about Da while we slept. "I should be back before you're up. We'll be able to talk more about the next steps at that point."

Talo and Verca got comfortable in the living room. I went down the hall, stopping in front of my closed bedroom door. Similar to the shield Da had given me, the door was decorated with butterflies and flowers that I had painted with Dad. The ones at the bottom were messy blobs compared to what I had drawn once I had grown older and tall enough to reach higher.

The door creaked a hello as I pushed it open.

Everything inside was exactly how I had left it. My black and purple stuffed griffon sat against my pillows, staring at me. He was mostly face, but I had always thought it made him cute; he had no legs--only two wings that stood out from his plump sides and a long tail sewn onto his back.

I gently touched a wing as I stopped next to my bed at my desk. A slim and relatively long object sat on its side at the far corner. One end came to a point while the other was jagged and uneven and revealed a mostly hollow base. I gently turned it over in my hands, remembering how Da had smiled and told me to keep it. That day felt so long ago, now.

I put the old piece of horn in the Bag of Holding and went to bed holding my griffon.

Sleep sent me hurtling through a memory that the day had only just recovered.

My eyes opened, and I found myself in a body much smaller than my own. Looking up, I met a face that I still wasn't quite familiar with--despite seeing her now for the second time and in my gut knowing who she was. The woman stood tall overtop of me. Despite her relatively thin frame, her presence demanded attention. Gray streaks ran through her otherwise black hair, which had been braided into neat strands and pinned back out of her face; the dark contrast made her gray-ish skin seem even paler in comparison.

Silvery-gray eyes stared into mine. Something about them felt like there should have been a comfort or warmth there, but there wasn't. I could not tell if that warmth had left her or if it had simply never been there. Regardless of the past, her eyes were blank now.

Everything felt wrong. There were other people around us; I couldn't tell how big the crowd was--just that each almost-familiar person looked like her but not. Here and there, a feature would be different. Eyes or hair for some, plus a few handfuls of other mismatched characteristics. There was a cake sitting on a nearby table, too. Lit candles sat in the icing, which I thought was odd.

It felt like things should have been happy.

"You don't belong here," the woman in front of me said. Her voice shook something in me. I recognized her words from the vision evoked by that raven statuette in Legen. Confused, I tilted my head.

Somewhere to the side, there was the crash of breaking glass, followed by the tink-tink-tink of stray pieces falling onto the floor.

An abrupt pain tore through my lower abdomen. I didn't know it was possible to hurt that much.

"You aren't right." Her voice again.

Then again across my face--sharp and gouging--, throwing the scene into darkness.

"You can't be here."

Again and again and again, each one a surprise. I lost track of where it hurt after the first few.

"I have to fix this."

Like bookends, all I recognized was where the pain started and where it ended--with a final flaring cut at the side of my neck. I didn't realize that I had been squirming and pushing back until then, when it quickly became difficult to muster any kind of movement.

"I did this, and it's my fault."

My hands fell to my side--overcome by a heavy limpness--and stung from blindly trying to protect myself. I could feel what seemed like chunks of glass lodged in my palms and fingers. I remembered wondering why my hands were wet.

"I must fix my mistake."

Unlike what I had remembered in Sala's basement, there was a bright light when I was able to see again. Instead of rain and dirt, there was a figure backlit by six large, golden wings that threw shadows over his face. "Oh no. Oh, poor girl," he said, a genuine sadness in his voice. "We'll take care of you now."

I woke up with tears on my cheeks, clutching my griffon. My entire body hurt.

[nationalharryleague]

Saturday Morning

Summary: Y/N and Harry spend a lovely Saturday in bed. 

Genre: FLUFF FLUFF FLUFF and a “Two for the Show” extra!! 

Word Count: 2.5K!

A/N: Two for the Show is by far my favorite and the most popular fic I’ve ever written and I just missed my babies so much I had to write an extra for them!! I owe my heart to my loves S @tobesolonely​ and Nat @harrystylescherry​ for reading this for me and reassuring me when I needed it!! I am very rusty so please be nice! You can find more of my writing in my masterlist and I really want to hear what you have to say about this one!!! Also hi soph <3 @theharriediaries

**Read Two for the Show first**

***

Saturday mornings had always been Y/N’s favorite.

When she was little, she always woke up to the smell of eggs and bacon coming from the kitchen up the hall (courtesy of her father being an early riser who always got a bit bored in the mornings). As she got older, she spent them sleeping in and trying to recharge from long days at school, basking in whatever peace she could get before exiting her room into the chaos of her loving--but crowded--household. When she got to college, Saturday mornings were reserved for dealing with hangovers, and once she moved to LA and her career began to take off, it was the only time she had for herself in her busy schedule.

Her love for Saturdays had only grown since she had moved in with Harry.

They always woke up slowly, basking in the quiet of their bedroom and the soft glow created by the light that streamed through the small crack in their blackout curtains. The pair were often a tangle of limbs by the morning, pressed together as close as they possibly could get, both of them feeling at their most relaxed when they could feel their partner’s heartbeat against their own. Sometimes someone woke up with an elbow to the ribs, but most of the time Y/N’s cheek was pressed up against Harry’s shoulder, her face buried into his neck, with his arm draped around her waist and tightly holding her to him like she might roll away in the middle of the night.

That morning she woke up to Harry’s curls tickling her nose. He had been growing them out slightly, letting them fall to a middle part that gently flicked out at the bottom. It reminded her of when he had hosted SNL a few years prior and she adored it. It was just the right length to sink her fingers into and hold on to him. But she did not appreciate it pulling her out of her beauty sleep.

She had wiggled away from the wispy hairs, trying to get her face away from the tickling strands when she felt Harry’s hands clamp down on her waist, refusing to let his girl slip away from his grasp.

“Stay,” he rasped, clearly still half asleep and mumbling in a way she knew no one else could have understood. “You’re warm.”

“I’m not leaving,” she murmured, maneuvering her way onto her other side and pressing her back against his chest. “Just adjusting.”

“But I like holding you that way.”

“Hold me this way.”

“Yes, sir,” he smirked against the back of her neck, delicately placing a few kisses to her skin while he was there. “You just wanted to be the little spoon.”

A sleepy but mischievous smile crawled onto her lips as she snuggled further into her pillow, eyes still closed in hopes of keeping the day away just a little bit longer. “Maybe I did. What are you going to do about it?”

The second his hands moved to her waist she knew what was about to happen. A squeal left her lips as his fingers began to move rapidly at her sides, pulling loud and boisterous laughter from her chest. Sleep was a dream of the past now, but she was sure she wouldn’t trade this moment for the world.

When Harry was gone--either on tour, work trips, or the occasional solo visit to see his family--she missed him like crazy. She still remembers the empty heartache she felt when he had gone on the next leg of the tour without her when they were still brand new. She had to be in LA for her now exploding career (thanks Harry), but daily phone calls and incessant texting could only do so much when the person she was quickly falling in love with--for real this time--was on another continent. By some miracle, she had made him feel the same way about her as she did him through a screen.

She always felt like he had taken a piece of her with him when he was gone. He did if you counted the small hidden tattoo of her first initial that had found its way onto his ribs after their (actual) two year anniversary.

The feeling of missing him never left when he was gone. She imagined he felt the same whenever she was on tours or work trips of her own.

While her body fought against his tickling touch, her heart melted into it. These moments, on (usually) quiet saturday mornings, meant the world to her. This was a time that was just theirs, belonging to no one else but them. Their joy and love took place in private, as privacy became something the couple had been increasingly possessive of as of late.

Harry’s loud and giddy laughter behind her sounded like a perfect melody and she could feel his chest heaving against her back as he rolled onto his back and brought her with him. Their comforter was now tangled around them, wrapping the pair together in a way neither of them could move with Y/N’s thrashing. He finally ended his torture when she whezed out between giggles that she was going to pee herself.

“Okay, I’ll stop,” he relented, letting his hands leave her sides to reach them across his stomach and hold her body tightly on top of his. “We both know how you pee your pants.”

“Harry Edward Styles, it happened one time three years ago after nearly an entire bottle of tequila! How long are you going to hold onto that and bring it up?”

“Until it’s not funny anymore,” he snickered.

“You know what’s also funny? When you got so sloshed you were crawling under tables at the BRITs. Or that time that you got so drunk that you sent  Jeff a dick pic by accident because you thought you were sending it to me. Or that other time-”

“That’s enough!” he announced, playfully clamping a hand down over her mouth, and releasing her mouth and a disgusted ‘blegh’ when she ran her tongue up his palm.

“Behave Styles,” she teased as she inched her way up his body, resting her head on his shoulder and snaking her fingers up into his hair, giving it a gentle tug as a warning.

“You know I like it when you pull my hair like that, so how about you behave, Styles?”

“That’s Y/L/N-Styles to you,” she teased, but she couldn’t fend off the giant grin that found its way to her lips at the mention of their still very recent nuptials.

The wedding had been small, very small, with only their immediate families and best friends in attendance. While their relationship had started in (and for) the focus of the public eye, they both decided their wedding was going to be just between them and those that mattered most. They didn’t wear their rings in public and no magazines had leaked or published that they were married yet. The day that it became public information was inevitable, but at the moment, the two relished in their little secret.

She felt a swell of love within her as she thought about her husband, sliding out of his grip and onto the bed beside him so she could finally see his face. His eyes were always a little puffy in the morning, a sight shadow of stubble decorating his cheeks if he had shaved the morning prior, but his tired smile was always the same. His pink lips lazily perked up to the left, his deep dimple appearing as if to say ‘good morning,’ and his two front teeth that always reminded her of an adorable bunny made their first appearance of the day. His smile usually disappeared quickly though, morphing into a pout and asking for a kiss.

How could she ever say no?

She settled a hand onto his bare chest and propped herself up to reach her lips to his. Their mouths moved with a well practiced gentle love and passion for each other, Harry’s hands coming to rest on her heating cheeks. She moved herself over him, settling her knees on either side of hips, never breaking their lips apart.

Kissing him was her favorite activity and with five years of practice, they were really good at it by now, but the swirling electricity that always appeared never failed to bring a flush to her cheeks. She could never get used to him. He was intoxicating and she never wanted to sober up.

Their moment was interrupted by a loud grumble coming from Harry’s stomach and Y/N pulled her lips from his and threw her head back with a loud belly laugh she just couldn’t contain.

“You good?” she teased down at him, lightly poking at his bare stomach right below her favorite butterfly.

His cheeks flushed slightly as he dramatically hung his head and flashed his best puppy-dog eyes at her with a silent plea to feed him. “I think I’m hungry.”

“You can be hungry but I’m not getting out of bed to make you breakfast.”

“Well, I’m not getting out of bed either,” his eyebrow quirked. “Aren’t you hungry? Don’t you want your morning coffee that you say I don’t make right?”

She pretended to think about it for a moment. “I’m willing to risk shitty coffee if I get to stay in this bed.”

“I will do anything you want other than getting out of this bed right now.”

“Anything?” she questioned with a raised eyebrow and a curious lilt in her voice. She was quickly answered with an eager knod. He obviously thought this was some sort of sexual request by the smirk that rose to his face. “You have to clean the litter box until I decide I’ve been properly paid back for your veggie omelet and tea.” His face fell.

“That’s your job!”

“Exactly why I don’t want to do it.”

“I’ll do literally anything else.”

“My one offer. Take it or leave it?”

“Leave it,” he said with a theatrical pout and crossed his arms over his chest. She was momentarily distracted by the way his tattoos moved over his muscular and tan arms for a moment, but shook herself from the thought and steeled herself in her stubbornness.

The two shared an intense look for a moment, both of them deciding whether or not they would press the issue further. With a sigh and slight roll of her eyes, she stuck out her hand towards him.

“We go on ‘shoot’ and none of your ‘best two out of three’ bullshit.”

As childish as it felt, Rock, Paper, Scissors had become their way of negotiating most of their disagreements over the years. It was a lighthearted game of chance, and while it sometimes led to a few minutes of frustration for the losing party, it worked for them and stopped arguments before they could happen. Interviewers often thought it was a joke when they answered the usual “secrets to a happy relationship” question, but it couldn’t be more truthful.

“Fine, we play by your rules.”

Their fists dropped down to their opposite palms three times, before both called “shoot.” She had gone for rock. Harry had gone for paper.

A loud combination of a whine and a groan left her lips and she dramatically let her body fall off of his and back onto her side of the bed.

“Fair is fair, my love,” he playfully taunted. “I would like my veggie omelette and I’m thinking I could go for some green tea this morning.”

“I will be getting you back for this,” she grumbled as she began to drag herself off the bed and away from it’s cozy warmth. She slipped his go to Columbia black hoodie over her head and took a pouty deep breath. It would have been more dramatic but she was distracted by how good the sweatshirt smelled. It smelled like home.

“I love you so so much,” he defended, opening his arms wide to grab her for one last kiss before she ventured down to the kitchen.

“Yeah, yeah,” she mumbled against his lips. “I love you too.”

She sulked out of their bedroom towards their kitchen (not before Harry swatted at her butt that was barely covered by the sweatshirt) and began to hold up her end of their deal. The cold tile nipped at her toes as she made them both omelettes and bopped along to the music she had instructed their Alexa to play. She fixed herself a morning coffee (that Harry really did always screw up somehow) and rummaged through their cabinet until she found her husband’s special order of green tea.

“Come get your breakfast, princess,” she shouted up the stairs when she was finished and after pausing her music.

“No breakfast in bed?”

“You are not getting eggs on our new--very expensive--sheets. Come down here and give me another kiss.”

She heard a whine of “fine” come from their bedroom followed by the padding of feet. Harry appeared at the top of the stairs moments later, rubbing at his eyes like a sleepy child and she just wanted to pull him into her arms and run her fingers through his hair until he fell back asleep. He pecked her lips softly when he reached the bottom of the stairs, but killed it when he called her a “breakfast tyrant.”

Y/N followed him back into the kitchen and watched him plop his still sleepy body into one of the high chairs at their kitchen island in front of his plate and his favorite mug that read “Coffee has a rough time in our house. It gets mugged every single morning!” She hooked an arm around his shoulders and slid herself onto his lap, sipping on her coffee as she waited for his opinion on his breakfast.

“It’s always better when you make it,” he smiled at her and pressed an eggy kiss to her cheek.

“You always say that,” she smirked back at him, only causing his smile to grow. “Oh, I almost forgot. Alexa, resume music.” He gave her a faux frustrated stare as he recognized what song she had been playing.

“And when we go crashing down, we come back every time, 'cause we never go out of style, we never go out of style!” rang out from the small speaker on their counter and she laughed so hard she would have slipped off his lap if his arm wasn’t wrapped firmly around her waist.

“How long are you going to hold onto that and bring it up?”

“Until it’s not funny anymore,” she used his own words from this morning against him with a cheeky smile.

“You are so lucky I love you so much.”

“And I love you more,” she mumbled against his lips, bringing her smirk with her into their kiss.

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING!! REBLOGS AND FEEDBACK MEAN THE WORLD!!!! If you enjoyed this you can support a broke college kid here :)

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles blurb #harry styles drabble #harry styles concept #harry styles fanfic #nationalharryleague #mine #one direction #one direction fanfic

[persephone-plasmids]

Safe

A Danse and Nora fic.

[Read on AO3]

-----------

“It’s eerie how well preserved this area is,” Paladin Danse said, as the elevator cage opened to reveal the silent Vault 111 in front of him.

“That was kind of the whole point, Danse,” Nora said, smiling over at him. “If they could preserve me this well for 200 years, it only makes sense that the metal walls held up too.”

“They preserved you wonderfully,” Danse agreed with a nod.

“Is that a line?” Nora asked, raising an eyebrow at the Paladin and making a slight blush rise in his stubbly cheeks.

“I… of course not,” Danse fumbled. “I just meant, from a medical standpoint, what they were able to achieve in this vault was… impressive.” Danse let his words trail off towards the end of his sentence, finding that he was only making things worse.

“Relax, Paladin,” Nora said, her grin still in place. “I was only joking.”

“Of course,” Danse said, trying to sound confident even though he still felt flustered. “I knew that.”

The way Nora gave him a short nod and held back a laugh before walking further into the vault told him that she knew he was lying. He appreciated that she didn’t state this outright.

Danse followed behind the vault dweller in silence. Or, in as much silence as he could manage when the sound of his power armor reverberated off the walls so loudly.

“The gun should be right through here,” Nora said, leading Danse through the halls of Vault 111 expertly. “I saw it when I first… woke up in here. But I wasn’t as familiar with lockpicking back then.”

“You’ve definitely honed that skill since wandering the Wasteland,” Danse agreed, giving her the smallest ghost of a smile.

He admired Nora for so many reasons. Her lockpicking skill was just one of the many ways she’d adapted to an impossible situation after waking up to a world she didn’t recognize.

She’d lost her son. She’d lost her husband. And yet, Danse had never seen her show the people of the Commonwealth anything but kindness. He didn’t know such people still existed in the world. Meeting her had shifted his perspective on a lot of things.

“If I can get the lock open, will you check out the gun to see if it’s something that might be useful for us?” Nora asked, shaking Danse from his internal musings.

“Of course,” he answered.

Nora led him to a small room within the vault and quickly began working on the locked glass case that held the gun.

“It’s called a Cryolator,” Nora explained, puckering her lips as she moved the bobby pin and screwdriver in such small subtle ways that Danse could hardly tell she was moving them at all. “From what I read on the terminals when I first woke up here, the Overseer of the vault made it as a way to pass time. It’s supposed to freeze enemies.”

“That definitely sounds like a unique weapon to have in your arsenal.

Nora nodded but didn’t say anything. She was focused on the lock in front of her, still trying to crack it as Danse watched her.

In this moment, with her full attention taken up by something else, Danse allowed himself a moment of self-indulgence. He watched the way her brown hair fell out of its bun in small wispy strands. He saw the freckles on her cheeks that she swore she didn’t have before leaving the vault. He studied the way her vault suit fit her a little too perfectly, which had been one of the reasons he’d tried to convince her to trade it in for a Brotherhood suit.

Her pink lips were still puckered as her long fingers worked at the lock.

Danse swallowed hard, realizing that he shouldn’t be staring at his partner this way.

“Bingo!” Nora said, standing aside with a triumphant smile.

“Outstanding, soldier,” Danse said, hating the way his voice sounded ever-so-slightly off after studying her so closely.

“Have at it, partner,” Nora said, gesturing to the gun and standing aside.

The Cryolator was definitely something Sanctuary could use to keep the settlement well-defended. And as Danse studied the weapon, he imagined the various ways it could be used to ward off Raiders.

“You really do wonderful work, soldier. Have I told you that lately?” Danse asked, turning around to find that he was alone. “Nora?”

Feeling his pulse pick up a few paces, he left the small room and began making his way through the halls of Vault 111.

What if something had happened to her? What if Raiders had been camping out inside the vault and they’d somehow missed them on the way in?

It wasn’t until Danse entered a cold room full of large metal containers that he found his partner. She was standing in front of one of the pods with an expression he couldn’t read. When Danse approached and curiously looked at the frozen man behind the glass, his brain made the connection.

This had to be Nate. This had to be the man Nora had loved. The man she’d built a life with, only to have it all stripped away in mere seconds.

He looked from the man in the pod to Nora, watching the way her jaw tightened as she stared at her spouse. She didn’t let any tears fall, though Danse wouldn't have faulted her if she did.

He wasn’t sure what to say to her at a moment like this. He wanted to tell her that she was welcome to grieve however she wanted. He wanted to make this better for her. But he was at a loss.

“Take all the time you need, soldier,” he said, because what else could he really say?

“I’m fine,” Nora replied, taking a deep breath, turning on her heel, and walking quickly away from the room.

Danse barely had time to register what had happened before she disappeared completely.

He could hear the sound of the vault elevator in the distance as it brought Nora back up to the surface.

She probably needs a few moments alone, he thought to himself, looking back at the lifeless form of the man Nora had loved. The one she had trusted.

His heart ached for her.

Danse waited a while before making his way back to the vault elevator, not wanting to impose on Nora’s private moment the way he accidentally had when he’d clomped into the cryochamber. But to his surprise, Nora wasn’t waiting for him on the surface.

She probably went back to Sanctuary.

He wasn’t sure if this was true, but he hoped it was. Any time he lost sight of Nora, he began to feel a panic take over his heart. He’d had a lot of partners and lost a lot of partners. But he’d never worried so much over someone in his life.

Nora had proven herself a capable soldier in the field. Despite her kindness and her tenderness, she could also be tough. She was a walking contradiction wrapped up in a blue and gold vault suit. Danse didn’t have to worry about her being safe on her own.

And yet, he did.

The sound of Danse’s power armor tromping through the dirt was anything but stealthy, but he didn’t care about being quiet at the moment. He only cared about finding Nora and making sure she was okay.

Walking through the streets of Sanctuary, Danse found the first settler he could, even though he wasn’t exactly happy with who it was.

“Have you seen Nora?” he asked the ghoul in front of him.

“Wait… are you actually asking me, a lowly ghoul, for help?” Hancock asked, his mouth quirked up into a half smile.

The Paladin knew the ghoul was pushing his buttons on purpose. And in the back of his mind, he knew he deserved it. But that knowledge didn’t do anything to quell Danse’s rage.

“Listen to me, you…”

“Careful Danse, if you get too worked up, your power armor might rust and you’ll be stuck in there forever,” Deacon said, stepping up beside Hancock with a matching smile.

Of course it had to be Deacon.

If there was one person who liked to get under Danse’s skin more than Hancock, it was Deacon.

Danse clenched his jaw tightly, to try to keep his temper from flaring up. “Nora is distraught from something we encountered on our mission,” Danse began. “As her partner, it’s my job to make sure she’s okay.”

“I think he still thinks he’s part of the Brotherhood of Steel,” Hancock said to Deacon.

The jab shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did. But the reminder that the organization he’d dedicated his entire life to had thrown him out like an old pipe pistol after they’d found out who he really was, stung him to his core.

He wasn’t sure he’d ever be okay with the way things had ended. And he wasn’t sure he’d ever be okay with who… or what… he truly was.

But Nora was. She wasn’t just okay with what he was, she’d convinced him that he had something to live for. She’d saved his life in so many ways. Because that’s who she was.

“Garvey,” Danse said, while still keeping his eyes locked on Hancock’s in a scowl.

He’d been aware that Preston Garvey had been watching the exchange with mild interest. He also knew that Preston would give him the information he needed, rather than needling him for fun.

“The General is in her old house,” Preston said.

“Oh come on,” Deacon whined. “Why did you have to ruin our fun?”

Danse simply shook his head in annoyance, never letting the scowl leave his features as he walked away from Hancock and Deacon. “Thank you, Garvey.”

“Ad Victorium!” Deacon called after Danse’s retreating form.

“Ingrates,” Danse mumbled under his breath as he made his way to Nora’s old home in the quickly fading light.

It didn’t take long for his expression to soften as he heard the soft sounds of music coming from her living room.

Danse exited his power armor and knocked on the front door, straightening his posture and trying to figure out what he could possibly say to Nora about what she’d just seen. He should have known that going back into Vault 111 would be difficult for her. The fact that it had never crossed his mind only made him feel that much more responsible for her current dismay.

“Come in,” she called over the music.

Danse opened the door to her home and entered the living room to find Nora sitting on the couch with a large bottle of bourbon in her hand.

“Soldier,” Danse warned. “I know it’s tempting to lose yourself to something like that. But it isn’t wise.”

Nora laughed at his words before patting the couch beside her. “Come sit with me, Danse.”

The Paladin looked around the room, as if he’d find someone else there who would tell him it was a bad idea. There was no one. And the voice in his head that was constantly telling him to be better was nowhere to be found right at that moment.

Danse swallowed hard before taking a seat beside Nora. He felt oddly exposed without his power armor on. With only the orange Brotherhood jumpsuit between himself and the outside world, he wasn’t quite sure how to act. He felt too vulnerable.

“Why do you still wear that thing?” Nora asked, running her free hand over the arm of Danse’s jumpsuit in a way that gave him goosebumps.

“I could ask you the same question,” he answered with a smile, looking at her blue vault suit.

She took another long drink from the bourbon bottle before smiling at him. “Touche, Paladin.”

The bottle was almost empty and he silently cursed himself for giving her so much time to herself after she left the vault. She’d most definitely be inebriated by now.

The way she lazily watched him told him that the alcohol was definitely doing its job. And while he didn’t approve of her drinking, he had to admit it made it easier for him to address what had just happened.

“Are you… okay?” he asked.

“You mean after seeing my dead husband frozen in a metal container?” her words should have sounded harsh, but coming from Nora, nothing sounded harsh. “I’ve felt better.”

“I know that couldn’t have been easy, seeing him like that again.”

“I wasn’t planning on going into that room,” Nora admitted after another drink. She looked down at the bottle in her hands. “I told myself I wouldn’t do it. And then I did.”

Danse watched her carefully. Her cheeks and nose were red from the bourbon and she looked sad. Sadder than he’d seen her in a while. How could he possibly make this better.

“I’m sorry,” he said simply.

Nora looked over at him. Her green eyes were wide as she watched him. “You remind me of Nate sometimes.”

“Oh?” Danse wasn’t sure how he should respond to that. Keeping his response vague felt like the best course of action.

“I mean… you don’t really remind me of him. But that feeling of safety I always felt with him… I feel that with you too.” Nora smiled now, before setting the bottle down on the coffee table in front of her. “I feel safe with you. And that’s… it’s an invaluable thing in the Commonwealth.”

Danse tried to look away from Nora as she spoke, feeling uncomfortable with how vulnerable she was being. But he couldn’t seem to tear his gaze away. “Thank you, soldier.”

Nora laughed softly at his response. “You don’t have to call me that,” she said, nudging him with her shoulder. “We’re not on some official assignment. You were just… accompanying me on my own little recon mission.”

“I prefer keeping things formal,” Danse lied. The truth was, he didn’t feel like keeping things formal with Nora. But he wouldn’t tell her that in a million years. Danse was broken beyond repair. Nora was many things, but there was no way she would be saintly enough to look past what he was.

“Do you really, Danse?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at him and leaning in closer.

“I think you should probably go lie down for the night,” Danse said, suddenly feeling uncomfortable at just how close they were on the couch. “Sleep off that bourbon.”

Nora leaned away from him and sighed. “You’re probably right.”

She seemed… disappointed. Danse wasn’t sure why she’d be upset by his suggestion.

As Nora stood up from the couch, she stumbled slightly, catching herself on the arm of the sofa.

“Okay fine,” she said with a giggle. “Maybe you’re right. I do need to sleep this off.”

“Indeed,” Danse answered, standing up and placing his hand under her elbow to help keep her steady. “Easy now.”

Nora leaned against him as he walked her through the hall to her bedroom at the back of the house. He tried to ignore the way his breath seemed to catch in his throat at her touch.

When they entered her room, Danse let her go for a moment to pull her covers down for her. When he turned back around, she was staring at him with a look he couldn’t quite read.

“You always take good care of me,” she said, her voice so low that he could barely hear it.

“I'll always have your back,” he said. “That’s what we do. We watch out for each other.”

“We do,” she said, the lazy smile returning to her lips.

Danse watched her in silence for a moment before his discomfort grew to be too much. “Are you ready for bed?” he asked, looking away from Nora for a moment.

“Was that a line?” she asked, her grin widening.

“Nothing I’ve said today has been a line,” Danse said, hoping she was too intoxicated to notice how red his cheeks had become.

Nora stepped closer to Danse with the grin still in place. “Are you sure about that?”

Danse backed away from her but couldn’t move very far before the back of his legs hit the mattress. Not wanting to encourage her further, he stepped away from the bed. Of course, this only brought him closer to her.

Seeming to take this as a sign, Nora pressed her lips firmly against his. She tasted like alcohol, which only helped to remind Danse of why this was incredibly inappropriate.

Pushing her away gently he tried to gather his thoughts as his mind desperately tried to push him closer to her again. “Soldier, this is… inappropriate.” His words were stilted and his voice sounded tight.

“Again, Danse, that’s kind of the point,” Nora said, bringing her lips to his again and wrapping her arms around his neck.

Danse knew he should push her away. She was intoxicated and he had no business kissing her. But he couldn’t stop himself from kissing her back. Only for a moment. Only long enough for his heart to begin hammering inside of his chest.

His breathing was shallow as his mouth moved with hers, and he hated himself for kissing her back when it was so obvious she wasn’t in her right mind. The guilt that flooded his mind was only outweighed by the sudden deep desire he had to deepen the kiss.

Danse couldn’t remember the last time he’d been properly kissed. And as much as his hands were itching to pull Nora closer, he pushed her away again.

“Soldier,” he began. “Nora… this… this isn’t okay. You’re drunk.” His voice was soft as he stared into her green eyes. Those beautiful eyes that had looked into his soul when he’d first found out he was a synth. Those green eyes that had convinced him he had something to live for.

“I’m not that drunk,” she said. “And I know what I want.”

Nora kissed him again, this time more desperately. She parted his lips with her own, tangling her fingers in his dark hair and pulling him closer and closer. Her kisses grew hungrier with every second and with each one, Danse found himself less able to do the right thing.

He wanted her. And that realization terrified him. He’d never wanted anyone this way.

“Nora, please,” he insisted between kisses. He wasn’t sure how much longer he’d be able to resist the woman he’d spent so long admiring.

In response, Nora dropped her hands to Danse’s waist, pulling him against her. “Don’t you want this?” she asked breathlessly. “I’ve always thought you did.”

How did he respond to that? He couldn’t possibly tell her the truth. That he’d wanted this since he’d met her. That would only encourage her. And Danse wasn’t the type of person to take advantage of someone when they couldn’t properly think for themselves.

“Nora,” he said, pushing her hands away and taking a breathless step back. His chest rose and fell rapidly as he watched her. Even now, knowing he had to do the right thing, his body was screaming at him to pull her close again. “You’ve had too much to drink.” His words were short and to the point. He didn’t think he’d be able to stay away if he let any emotion sneak into his voice right at that moment. “If this happened, it wouldn’t be right.”

“I already told you I want this,” Nora insisted, but as she took a step closer to Danse, he sidestepped her.

“You aren’t sober enough to make that decision,” Danse answered, furrowing his brow and wishing Nora hadn’t found that bottle of bourbon. “So I’m making it for you. You need to go to sleep.”

Nora watched him with hurt in her green eyes, her brows knitting together. “I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable,” she said, turning away from him. She seemed to take a deep breath before crawling into her bed.

Nora turned her back to Danse, instead facing the wall after lying down. The silence between them was suddenly deafening.

Even though he knew he was doing the right thing, her response made him feel like the bad guy.

“I wasn’t uncomfortable,” he said. “I just… want you to be safe.”

He watched her for a moment longer, feeling like he’d done something wrong somehow.

“Goodnight, Danse,” Nora said.

He sighed deeply at her words. In the morning, he’d come by and check on her. She probably wouldn’t remember any of this. He wasn’t sure if he was happy or sad that he couldn’t say the same.

This evening would be burned into his memory for the rest of his life. The feeling of Nora kissing him was going to make it almost impossible for him to keep working with her. He’d always been vaguely aware of his feelings for her, but he’d managed to tell himself that they were simply a result of finding a genuinely kind human being in the midst of a place as awful as the Commonwealth.

Now he knew the truth. He was head over heels for Nora. But he knew there was no way she’d ever want a synth. And why should she? He’d brought her into the Brotherhood. He’d taught her that synths were an abomination. And now he’d have to reap what he’d sown.

He watched her with sad eyes as her breathing slowed down and she fell asleep.

He’d be a good friend to her. He’d always try to be a good friend to her. Because despite his feelings that he knew couldn’t be reciprocated, she deserved a good friend. Danse would rather have Nora in his life as a friend than not at all. And even though he knew it would be torture to be around her after realizing just how much he cared for her, he couldn’t live with the alternative.

“Goodnight, Nora,” he said into the now-dark house.

.

[Part 2]

#fo4 #fallout #fallout 4 #danse #paladin danse #fallout danse #nora #fallout nora #sole survivor #fanfic #fallout fanfic #fallout 4 fanfic #danse x sole survivor #danse x sole #paladin danse x sole survivor

[lunarfeat21]

Malevolence

Excerpt

The forest is little to untouched by any negative connotation made from mankind. End of story.

That is until this night, they become a witness to something wicked. Right in this very ravine they’re in as they become silent when a sense of dread approaches.

———————————————————

Chapter 1 - The Finding

Eyes are ahead on the path they’re in, the brightness of the moon shone the way like a giant flashlight in the dark sky with little stars it gives.

A grimace face is what he had, fear and regret had been with him all day.

“Jack” the girl spoke then yawned.

“Yeah Miko?” The fellow Jack replied as he too yawned, must have caught Miko’s yawn or he’s tired as well.

“Do you know where we are at this point? We never ventured into this part before.” Despite being exhausted, she didn’t hide her worry as if she was afraid.

“No.” Jack once more as he expressed his concerns, also acknowledging the fear.

“Good, I was scared to think they’d ever find us after today.”

“Let’s not mention it out here until we find a safe place.”

The sound of rocks crumbling underneath their soles as they hiked on the stony hill, along with the crunching of dead leaves and twigs.

A soft snore from the small boy being carried by the older in his mid teens on his back, Jack chuckled to lighten the drowsy mood, then fell back to silence.

It was usually peaceful in this forest, nothing dark or tragic ever happened day or night. No murder, no missing persons, no strangely activities, no legends, nothing. Just nothing ever happens in Jasper beyond this wilderness. 

Cue to the wind howled above the tree lines as they made their creaky, and wispy talks. Crickets and other nightly sounds recite their traditional songs, like they knew it for their lifetime and handed it to later generations on.

Just then a very loud crack echoed through the forest as the night silence, it sounded very close as both Miko and Jack jumped while Miko let out a shriek which in turn woke the small boy and he screamed.

Miko quickly covered his mouth and the three were dead still, stilled as statues as the crash stopped. They hear their faded hearts pounded as the adrenaline rushed, dreading that the horror might come out and snatched them. However, they synchronized and hid in very dense bushes like scared prey items for an unknown predator out there.

They know deep in their guts that there is more than one predator, and it confirmed the fear when two voices echoed along with a series of beeps and boops.

It sounds like the unidentified trio are arguing by the indication of volume, tone, and aura it gives. Notably the contexts of the voices are from a male and female, the beeps are safely said to belong to another male otherwise.

At first it was a bit hard to decipher what they’re talking, however it grew louder and louder as heavy metallic footsteps were heard just 15 ft away just down the path opposite from where the kids were.

Jack, Miko, and the little boy with them in the thickets watched as a large leg from the femme came in view along with her group. They swear the air became thick to breathe, yet showing no struggle to move when the female spoke rather aggressively.

“You think we ever explain this to the children?! Tell me Bulkhead, why would they understand!?” Snapped a blue female robot at her green much larger male companion.

“Beep beep beeeep!” Another beeped which he was sandwiched between the two.

“I’m not sure about the other two,” inquired the green bot known as Bulkhead, rather in a gruff tone “but Miko does understand unlike your partner on the other hand Arcee.”

To top it off, his optics shifted towards the female in question. Now offended by his attitude, Arcee’s winglets shot up and began retorting back in a sassier way which irritated Bulkhead. Bumblebee, on the other hand, tried it butted in by beeping mid argument.

“Oh really, didn’t I recall one time that you nearly lost Miko in the mines?”

“Beep beep beeeep!”

“Hey now, it’s just a one time thing! There’s no need to rub it in like that time Jack mistaken Soundwave as you!”

“Beeeeep!”

The three children quietly snickered at the rebuttal, it brings such memories, the good and bad. It’s the adventures they won’t ever forget, nor their times in battle.

The light fondness is shattered by the shrill voice from an older woman, making them silent and grabs the attention of the bot trio. Emerging from the path the bots came is indeed an old woman, wearing an old and tattered gown that of a nun. 

The children immediately noted her clothing as odd, traditionally, the nuns wore black gowns with white caps to cover their head except the face. This old prune’s gown is a dusty ugly citrine yellow, and her white cap is extremely dirty that resembles brackish water. Her grayish wiring hair is peaking through the sides of her wrinkled face, her black pupils looked a bit big like she took some unknown substance.

“Oh no…” the small whispered dangerously to his companions.

“I know Raf, it’s her…” Jack muttered as he bats an eye at the mysterious lady.

“You know this lady?” Miko spoke as the little trio watched the lady scowl at the Cybertronians, mostly scowling Acree and Bulkhead.

“Yeah,” Raf began “meet Jasper’s infamous delusional exiled nun, the so-called ‘prophet of the universe’ alright.”

“A nun?” Miko gave the young boy an incredulous look “You must be joking, she’s no way a nun.”

“Yes she was.”

“Okay, what’s her case then?”

“That’s Mary Stoner, a nun supposedly appointed as the next fledged nun.” Jake softly spoke, batting his eyes periodically at the intruders outside of the thickets;

“However things went downhill after she lured and attempted to kill a child, she claimed that ‘God visited her in her dream one night, told her she was destined to be the next prophet, and all she has to do is sacrifice a child.’ You could imagine how it ended.”

Miko gave a hard blink as she sulked back in the thickets, and let her mind wander. Raf and Jack observe as the screaming ex-nun Mary makes hand gestures around, they both zero in to listen to the conversation.

“-and aside of you all yelping around like stupid youngsters! Which reminds me, did you locate the children!”

“No ma’am,” Arcee firmly answered, she can feel the angry tense aura from Mary along her growling in frustration. “However, I firmly believe that the sacrificial items hadn’t gone far. I can feel it in my spark.”

“Let’s pray for that and your spark!” Nun Mary barked “we cannot afford any more mistakes of this ritual, and we hadn’t that much trouble since some green oaf ‘accidentally’ showed the tools and ancient scripture to that loud pink brat!”

“Okay, I made a mistake! There’s no reason for you to flip the fragging lit off Mary!” Bulkhead retaliated, Mary and Bulkhead argued along with Arcee backing the old nun up.

“I’m not a brat.” Miko pouted, returning to her spot to hear the boy's verdict.

“Alright, they are distracted.” Raf quietly announced as the Cybertronians and nun continued to argue “this our only chance to make a quiet getaway.”

Without any further communication as the children silently back away to the deeper parts of the forest, now people like them expected each other to be like one dumb character accidently stepped on a branch or other typical horror senarios; surprisingly, none of them ever hear a crunch of a twig. To be honest, this is a bit too easy of a getaway. “Ha, this is too easy!” Miko muttered while tipping away, and in just any horror scenario when any moron. Saying anything ‘too easy’ can change real quick, and that’s what happened when an extremely loud crash from above it fell. 

An enormous branch clashed down along taking other smaller branches as it made a loud crash, right in front of the kids.

“Shoot.” Miko cursed.

To make matters worse, the heavy metallic footsteps and voices of doom echoed towards where the children are. They clearly heard the crash and Miko’s cracked voice.

“Do you hear that!” Nun Mary screeched as she ran with her bony thin legs  “I heard the loud brat, she and the rest of the items must be near! Catch them before they make a skit!”

“On it ma’am!” Arcee responded as she transformed to her earth alt mode in the form of a bike and she drove towards the runaway prize, in response to an upcoming party that they don’t want part of, but a unifying run from the blue bike. The three headed for any obstacle to buy their time, but ultimately slowed the pursuers. Well it definitely worked for one, it ended the insane old woman’s chase as she lost her breath, Bulkhead and Bumblebee passed by while snickering at the old prune’s misfortune, and it earned Nun Mary a sour attitude.

Weaving between large rocks and twisted trees, it was impossible to make sure none could catch them at the same time diving into claustrophobic spaces to their discomfort. Mostly to Jack in his case, it awfully reminded of that time when getting chased by Arcee’s archenemy Airachnid  just for his head as a specimen and giving her old rival a bitter medicine of Tailgate’s death. He shuddered at the memory of it, and had to remember this moment, instead of Airachnid, but replace her with his guardian.

Disgusting, but sad mental image.

“Jack!” the disoriented voice of Arcee called in his imagination, it sounded like her, but mixed with two other voices he recalled. “Jack!” she called again, this time faded with the other sources clear, it immediately sounded like Miko and Raf. That’s when reality hit him a bit too late as he crashed into the ground, skidding a few meters down then stopped. While he is a bit stuck on his version of switching chase, he fails to pay attention to the fallen tree caused by one of the Bots in the distance attempting to stop the kids in their tracks.

Groaning as pain spiked up, mostly around the necks as he felt small slips of liquid from the cuts when he cupped his hand around the wounds. Skidding beside Jack and helped back on his feet, Miko and Raf both gasped at the wounds then their eyes met Jack’s as a trickle of blood slid down from his forehead. “Oh my gosh, are you alright?” Miko asked while examining the wounds he sustained, while Raf expressed his concerns as he jumped and managed to nap Jack’s collar. “Does anything feel out of place? Are you breathing fine?”

Getting choked while shaked is not what he had in mind, grabbing both of Raf’s hands to stop him from his collar. Now that Raf stopped holding his collar while Jack finally caught breath, he replied. “Hey, I’m alright, besides the cuts and Raf’s grip.”

“Oh you’ll be alright.” came the crack from the Nun appearing out of the fog in the distance, following this unveiled series of the surrounding trees crashing right after another, blasted one by one from the Bots who came close as ever.

“Damn it!” Miko hissed as she and the boys huddled as the Autobots’ shadowed the light provided by the moon, a cackle from Nun Mary overhead.

———————————————————

“Soundwave, did you have any luck pinpointing the humans?” inquired the ever so fearsome, yet short patience of the Decepticon Warlord. It was rather unusual for the silver giant, speaking in some shallow appearance of concern when Laserbeak returned after a quick scouting in the forest where the children were apparently kidnapped. Maybe he should brush off the footage he and the other members saw, but for some reason he cannot ignore the fact how Prime’s warriors acted.

 Especially the rumors he heard about this Nun Mary character, he can’t point a digit why, but she and the children are what he is after. Once he had them in his possession, now the Autobots can’t fulfill the summoning of a sacred event. He and his Cause will summon an evil version of this ‘event’ just for power and immortality to rule Cybertron for eons to come. Oh he can feel Unicron pulsing through the Dark Energon running in his veins.

Now gazing back to his ever loyal friend, disgruntled when Soundwave gave a firm shake, a no is the answer he gave. A growl from frustration then came a sigh, closing his red optics, maybe Megatron accepted this answer. “Alright, you may continue to search.”

And with that while turning to deeper parts of the Nemesis, Megatron left Soundwave to continue his work at the deck. Hearing the loud footsteps faded, Soundwave turned to the direction he left, and after a few head swishes from the empty deck to make sure no one was in the room with him. Once he declared the room is empty for good, Laserbeak detached from her resting spot and immediately plugged her wires to the deck computer, and Soundwave typed away for mere seconds to reveal a red blinking dot on a geographical location somewhere on the mountains not far away from the Nemesis location on air.

These mountain terrains are extremely rough, but are good places for sacrificial ceremonies due to the region's abundance of cave systems. He deeply cared for Megatron as a close friend, but this time he drew the line, he had to mutely lie to him. Soundwave knows this, he knows what happened to those that are getting sacrificed, and he will not let history repeat itself. 

Laserbeak made a soft, concerning chirp for her master as Soundwave balled his servo, shaking violently as a horrid memory flew before Laserbeak detached the wires and returned to Soundwave’s chest to lock her resting spot. After a quick log off and left the deck, venturing outside the moving ship as the winds blew furiously, threatening anyone weak if they fell and being ripped to shreds. Soundwave is not imtimited, he plunges off the ship and transforms to a stealth jet and heads for the exact coordinates where the ceremony is held.

He must save them, he must save the children from becoming the next victims of this dark time. Even if the mission might cost a casualty.

———————————————————

[Chapter 2]

#transformers prime #tfp: malevolence #malevolence #jack darby #miko nakadai #raf esquivel #tfp arcee #tfp bulkhead #tfp bumblebee #tw religious themes #tw // implied death #I wrote to much shit :D #mary stoner #nun mary #Lunarfeat's Writing #transformers prime: malevolence

[olivinesea]

A Mixed Blessing

Chapter List

chapter five: swallow the sun

a/n: Sorry about this one, just know I feel fairly guilty and also there will be some happiness somewhere down the line. Just not here. Warnings: substance use, abuse & violence, vomit, suicidal thoughts…no, I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Too deep in it to turn back now. ~5.5k

The first thing Aaron noticed was how very dry his mouth was. He tried to swallow but his tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth. With significant determination, he lifted his hand, heavy and prickling as if the blood had pooled, to scratch the tip of his nose. He sighed at the immediate relief it brought. On their own accord, his fingers moved to address another itch, this one on the side of his neck. He hummed at the sensation brought on by the feeling of his fingernails dragging against his skin. Never before had scratching an itch felt so good, he was sure of it. He heard a voice mutter beside him. Turning his head, he saw Cole stretched out on the bed next to him.

“Hmm?” He hadn’t understood the muffled syllables.

“I said stop that,” he said, waving his hand in Aaron’s direction, like he wanted to grab him but couldn’t quite reach.

Only half listening, his attention caught up elsewhere, Aaron wasn’t sure what he meant and didn’t much care either. He moved his hand down to scratch at his shoulder, drawn by the bit of skin exposed by his shirt collar. Cole finally managed to make contact, shoving Aaron’s shoulder, knocking his hand away.

“You’re just going to make it worse,” he explained, words slow and thick.

Grudgingly Aaron dropped his hand to his side, but his fingers continued to twitch. His mind felt cloudy and he tried to remember what he had been doing. How long had he been laying here? He pushed himself up into a sitting position. His head swam and a wave of nausea washed over him. He closed his eyes, leaning with palms pressed against his knees, trying to gather his thoughts. Inhaling slowly through his nose, all he could think about was the damp mildew smell of the garage, of how much he disliked it and the way it felt like mold was trying to colonize his airways.

“What time is it?”

“Fuck if I know,” Cole replied with a laugh.

Aaron rubbed his face, he needed to get home. Home seemed so far away but he needed to make it back before his father got up for work. He gritted his teeth and tried to push himself up off the mattress. Cole’s hand shot out, wrapping tightly around his wrist, holding him in place. He looked down at it, the edges of his skin whitening beneath the pressure. His heart beat faster.

“I have to go,” he tried to say, but his voice wasn’t cooperating. The words came out wispy and thin.

Cole smiled, eyes still closed. “Happy birthday, Aaron.”

Aaron blushed, opening his mouth, but failing to make any sound. Cole let go, stretching both arms above his head, humming with contentment. Aaron’s arm tingled where Cole had gripped it, his skin resuming its normal color as the blood rushed back into place.

“Now get out of here.”

Aaron nodded, still unable to speak. There was far too much happening around him, between the lights and the smell and the touch lingering on his arm, still confused about what had happened but clinging to the peace he had felt. He didn’t have time to process what he was feeling, his only focus was the need to get home. He managed to stand up, his legs unsteady as he stumbled to the door, pulling it up only enough to fit under. Before ducking down, he looked back at Cole, still sprawled out on the bed. Thank you, he wanted to say, but he wasn’t sure if the words actually came out.

The walk home was difficult, stumbling into lamp posts and tripping over uneven sidewalk in the freezing midnight air. Eventually he made it, up the stairs and into his room without incident. He undressed, shedding his clothes directly onto the floor. A problem for tomorrow. With his last reserve of energy he climbed into bed, pulling the blankets up to his chin, teeth chattering as he shivered, sweat beading at his temples. He curled onto his side and wrapped his hand around his wrist, holding it where Cole had grabbed him, pulling it against his chest as he closed his eyes and tried to remember every detail of how it had felt. He rubbed his face against his pillow, squeezing his wrist tighter. He fell asleep like that, holding his own hand, pretending it was someone else.

~

The sun filtering in through his window forced Aaron awake. His head was throbbing and he felt a hollowness in the pit of his stomach. Groaning, he rolled over to block out the light. He could hear Sean’s little footsteps running down the hallway, nearing his door. He closed his eyes, pretending to be asleep, hoping it would be enough to get Sean to leave him alone. The door creaked as it opened slightly.

“Aaron?” his brother stage whispered.

Aaron didn’t move though anxiety spiked through his chest.

“Mom says it’s time for you to get up.”

Aaron felt bile rising in the back of his throat.

“Aaron?” A little louder this time, his shrill child’s voice piercing through Aaron’s skull. “Mom says—” He was startled when Aaron suddenly jumped up, pushing past him as he raced for the bathroom.

He barely fumbled the lock into place behind him before falling on his knees and throwing up into the toilet. He felt a strange surge of contentment as it happened, relief as the limited contents of his stomach left his body. He leaned back against the cool porcelain of the tub, forehead flushed with sweat. It felt like he had a fever but also like his skin was buzzing pleasantly. Outside, Sean was banging on the bathroom door.

“Aaron?” he sounded on the verge of tears.

“I’m fine, Sean.” His ragged voice contradicted the assurance, throat raw from dehydration and sickness. He heard a sniffle and sighed. “I’m just going to take a shower, I’ll be down soon.” He felt out of breath, so many words taking a toll. He leaned his head between his knees, another wave of nausea threatening to overtake him. There were some unintelligible sounds from the other side of the door and then, further away, Sean calling for their mother as he ran downstairs.

Aaron reached behind himself, fumbling for the taps, knowing that he needed to get moving. There was no way his mother would let him stay home, he’d learned that well enough. Plus he didn’t want to answer any questions, didn’t feel up to enduring her accusatory looks. She knew enough about what her son was getting into to be suspicious of any sudden illness. She would never say anything to him directly, but she knew how to make him uncomfortable, how to let him know his behavior was unwelcome. Besides, if he went to school he could see Cole, the only person he really wanted to see anyway. He had questions, very important questions.

When the water was hot, he climbed in, his whole body shivering its confusion at the conflicting temperatures. His skin felt chilled while his insides burned, the headache had worked its way from the back to the front of his skull. He braced his hand against the tiled wall and turned his face into the spray. Eyes closed, he could almost feel the bliss of the night before, when everything around him faded away and he was left with a rush of warmth and the softness of oblivion holding him. He’d give anything to have that feeling again.

Aaron didn’t even make it through second period, by nine a.m. his anxiety had built to an intolerable degree. He needed to talk to Cole. His heart, its rhythm fluctuating wildly from racing to non-existence, felt like it was going to burst any moment. He lurched out of his seat and towards the door, a half formed excuse about needing the restroom barely leaving his lips. The teacher snorted, watching him leave, then returned to her lesson, not giving a second thought to it. He wasn’t her problem, let the truancy officers deal with that one.

He found Cole smoking behind the portables, just as he had the first time months ago. Cole didn’t look any worse for wear, certainly not sick in the way Aaron was. When he gave him that same infuriating smile, as if he knew something, some secret that he wasn’t sharing, Aaron felt a surge of resentment. It overwhelmed his usual hesitation, his deference to the older boy. He was always waiting on a signal from him, waiting for an invitation. This time he grabbed Cole’s arm and dragged him away from the group. Cole laughed, shaking him off but reaching a hand out to steady him at the same time. Aaron’s balance hadn’t quite returned.

“What’s up kid?” he asked, letting go once it seemed like he wouldn’t fall over.

Aaron gave him a dark look. “What did you give me last night? Was that…what was that?”

“What do you think?” Cole raised an eyebrow, daring him to say it.

Aaron grimaced. “Heroin?”

“Bingo.”

“Isn’t that—should we be doing that?”

Cole shrugged. “Well, did you like it?”

Hesitantly, Aaron nodded.

“Want to do it again?”

Aaron’s breath caught at the intense rush of desire, the absolute certainty that he wanted to do it again. Would do anything to make that to happen.

“Yes, please,” his voice cracked, hating the way it felt like he was begging.

~

They fell into an uneasy routine. Cole insisted he could only get high like that once a week, though he complained about being treated like a child. After seeing how sick it made him, he agreed it made the most sense to keep it to the weekends, when Aaron could disappear for a couple days without anyone calling to say he was missing school and his father was generally too inebriated to note whether he came home or not. He spent the whole week anxiously thinking about it, blowing through packs of cigarettes and joint after joint, trying to manage the rising anticipation of the high that was coming. The gnawing expectation of returning to that place, where no one and nothing mattered, where he didn’t exist.

He refused to admit to himself that the high was always a little bit disappointing. The rush was there, the relief after days of waiting, of unconsciously picking at scabs until they bled, of being too anxious to eat. He was losing weight but no one noticed, he was never that solid to begin with. But beyond that, he was always left craving more. Maybe if he just did a little more he could find what he was looking for. He started to bug Cole about adding another day, dipping into the supply twice a week. He didn’t know where Cole was buying the drugs so he couldn’t get them on his own, otherwise he would have. He might have been nervous about it at first but he was invested now. Nothing he’d tried before had given him that same sense of relief.

Cole snapped at him after he’d asked one time too many. He threatened to take it away entirely, telling Aaron he was too attached, that he needed to calm down. Aaron felt like he’d been stung, retreating into himself, refusing speak to Cole for several days. Not until Friday rolled around again at least, then he was back, as eager as ever, ready to say whatever he needed to convince Cole to share that way out with him again.

Alongside his increasingly frequent clashes with Cole, things were getting tenser at home. School had been calling relentlessly, asking why he was missing so much class. Every time he came home he was met with yelled accusations, with blows that did nothing to change his behavior. He started coming home later and later, hoping to avoid his father entirely. It worked for awhile, sneaking into the house well after dark, sleeping in his closet so it wasn’t obvious he’d come home. It worked so well in fact that he thought he’d solved the problem and he got careless with his precautions.

It was a night when he came back earlier than usual, having argued with Cole again about something trivial that was really an argument about drugs. He wasn’t thinking straight, still caught up in his irritation that Cole wouldn’t take him seriously, wouldn’t trust that he knew his own limits. He was climbing the stairs, too stoned and angry to be cautious. A large hand wrapped around his neck just as he reached the top of the stairs. He looked up startled, red eyes blearily taking in the form of his father. His nerves were too dulled to panic. In fact, this moment made a lot of sense to him. It was the obvious outcome if he had cared to look ahead at all. He coughed as the hand tightened, cutting into his airway.

“What do you think you’re doing?” his father asked.

Aaron tried to shake his head, grabbing at the fingers holding him in place, trying to pry them off.

“Did you know the cops came looking for you today?” He sounded almost conversational, the faint scent of bourbon the only detail giving away his insobriety.

Aaron had a hard time understanding what he was talking about, too focused on getting air into his lungs.

“And do you know what they said to me, when I told them I didn’t know where my delinquent son was?” His grip tightened, rendering Aaron’s struggles useless as he tried and failed to twist away. “They said without a properly excused reason for absence, they would hold me, me, responsible if you didn’t start attending school regularly.”

He laughed and the sound was cold and terrifying. He leaned in close to Aaron’s face. “Let’s give you a reason to miss school, shall we?”

He released his grip, tossing Aaron backwards as he did so. His eyes were emotionless as he watched his son crash down the wooden staircase. Only a slight hint of disgust was visible as he brushed his hand off on his pant leg. The sound brought his mother flying out of her bedroom, looking over the railing, horrified at the unnatural shape Aaron’s body was now making.

He was dazed but not unconscious, staring at the ceiling once again. How many times had he been in this position? He couldn’t even feel his body, didn’t register any pain. When his mother came down the stairs, anxiously tapping his cheek to try to get him to focus on her, his eyes slid away from her face, looking at the ring on her finger, the thing that tied her to this monster pretending to be human. He felt his own fingers, no ring there, no reason to stay. Distantly he heard crying and wondered why anyone would cry over him.

Sean had also been woken up by the noise. The little boy tried to come to Aaron’s side, but his mother waved him back, still looking at Aaron with concern. He hadn’t moved but that was mostly because he didn’t want to, not because he couldn’t. She didn’t know that. He realized it was Sean crying. This stirred an emotion somewhere deep inside his chest. Perhaps that was why he kept coming home—he loved Sean. Or he had. He didn’t feel much anymore except a desire to get high and an annoyance when he wasn’t. It was better that way. Other emotions were painful, only reminded him what a failure he was, how much he lacked. Sean was far better off without him, it was best to let him realize these things now. Still, he could hear fear in Sean’s sobs and he didn’t need to be that cause of that. There were enough other reason for him to be afraid within these walls.

Feeling guilty he tried to move, tried to rearrange himself into a less horrifying position. His ribs screamed at him as he unfolded his legs, untwisted his body. He swore, the sudden pain almost whiting out his vision. Sean whimpered.

“‘m okay,” he tried to reassure the little boy but he looked far from it. His mother, still hovering nearby, tried to help him up but only made him cry out as her hand put pressure against his side. She nervously looked up at her husband, still watching this scene from the top of the stairs, dispassionate and unimpressed.

“We have to take him to the hospital,” she pleaded.

Aaron felt like he was going to be sick, the pain, once he became aware of it, was building. A pressure in his head made him certain he would throw up if the lights got any brighter so he squeezed his eyes closed.

“Do whatever you want, he’s not my problem.” His father turned away, slamming the door to the bedroom. The sound made everyone flinch.

“Can you get up?” his mother asked. Aaron inhaled deeply and instantly regretted it, the expansion of his lungs making his ribs creak. Instead of wasting air on an answer, he pushed off the bottom stair slowly, using the banister to pull himself upright. He was hunched over, unable to completely straighten out, panting in much shallower breaths.

“Okay, okay, let me just get my keys,” she brushed her fingers through his hair lightly. He only turned his face away from her, focusing all his energy on not falling down. He didn’t think he’d be able to get up a second time.

“Sean, go back to bed,” she directed. Sean whined, wanting to come along, to make sure his brother was going to be okay. But she wasn’t listening, she was already moving around the house, getting a coat and shoes, finding her purse. He came down the remaining steps to where Aaron was standing and leaned against his thigh.

Aaron gritted his teeth. “Don’t—just listen to mom, buddy. We’ll be back soon. Just go back to bed.”

Sean grabbed the fabric of his pants, shaking his head and rubbing his runny nose into Aaron’s leg in the process.

“Please, Sean,” Aaron whispered, trying to hold his temper but every movement was painful, was asking too much of ability to remain balanced on two feet. “I promise I’m ok, it was just an accident.”

Sean looked up at him, suspicious but also young enough to want to believe. He’d been told repeatedly since he could understand: always tell the truth. There was no reason to think adults played by different rules. Aaron tried to smile, unsure how successful he was.

“I’m okay,” he repeated, mostly for his own benefit.

“Can I sleep in your bed?” Sean asked.

Aaron rolled his eyes, wanting to say no but not wanting to extend the discussion further. “Sure, get it warm for me okay?”

Sean nodded reluctantly and turned, cautiously making his way up the stairs, never letting go of the railing, as if he too might find himself crumpled in a heap at the bottom of the stairs. As if it had really been an accident that they were all equally in danger of experiencing.

~

Once his mother had explained to the nurses how he had crashed his bike riding home in the dark, and he had numbly nodded along with the story, there was a flurry of activity around him. The doctor shined a sickeningly bright light into his pupils, palpated the sore places on his side, had him demonstrate that all his major joints were operational. They wrapped his broken ribs tightly and gave him an ice pack to hold against his throbbing temple. If anyone noticed the lack of abrasions consistent with road rash no one mentioned it. He was wearing long sleeves after all. The doctor talked to him sternly about the importance of wearing a helmet and told him how lucky he was to have only sustained such relatively minor injuries.

Aaron wasn’t listening, was just doing his best not to stare at the bottle in the doctor’s hand. He couldn’t keep his eyes off the label so he stared down at his hands instead, fingers twisting together nervously. He could only read half the words printed there, the other half obscured by the doctors age-spotted hand, but he was fairly certain he knew what it was. He tried to listen enough to nod when it was appropriate, mumbling an apology and promising to make better choices in the future.

“Now, you’re going to be in a bit of pain for the next couple weeks so I’m giving you a prescription for oxycodone. Have you ever taken that before?”

Aaron bit his lip and shook his head slightly, wincing as he felt his brain slosh from side to side. “No, sir, I haven’t.”

“Well, it’s pretty strong stuff so make sure you follow the instructions. Don’t take more than it says or you’ll find yourself feeling pretty sick; okay, son?”

Aaron fought the urge to say something rude, annoyed by the way the doctor was addressing him. He needed that bottle of pills though, this was no time to start picking fights. “Yessir,” he mumbled.

“Good boy,” the doctor patted his knee and looked over at his mother who was anxiously watching from a chair by the door. “You’ve got a very polite kid here Mrs. Hotchner, you must be raising him right.”

Aaron’s eyes were fixed on the bottle still in the doctor’s hand. He thought it would probably be a mistake to reach out and grab it but he was growing impatient. He could only sustain the model son act for so long, especially after the last few hours. He dropped his eyes when the doctor turned back to him.

“Here why don’t you take one of these now, it’ll help with the trip home no doubt.” He popped the cap off and grabbed Aaron’s hand, shaking one out into his palm while calling to a nurse to bring a cup of water.

Aaron stared at the pill, feeling excitement racing through his veins, finally he’d have control over his high. His hand shook a little and the doctor misread what he was seeing.

“Don’t worry, it will probably just make you a little sleepy. Nothing to be concerned about.” He held out a cup of water. Aaron popped the pill into his mouth before accepting, washing it down and feeling smug satisfaction wash through him as well. The doctor traded the cup for the bottle of pills and patted his knee again before leaving, wishing his mother a pleasant evening. When he was gone, Aaron and his mother’s eyes met. He could see she was hesitant about the pills and he wrapped his hand around the bottle tighter. No one was going to take this from him, he’d earned it as far as he was concerned.

She sighed, unwilling to argue about it right then. “Let’s go home, Aaron.”

He slid off the table to follow her, his steps only slightly faltering, buoyed by the key he now held.  

~

It didn’t take long for Cole to find out about the pills. After Aaron didn’t show up at school for several days and, more alarmingly, didn’t turn up on Friday, he went to the Hotchner house looking for him. Though he knew where Aaron lived, he had never been there. No one was out front and he knew better than to ring the doorbell. Instead, he walked around the side and found him behind the house, stretched out on a bench, one arm dangling in the grass, the other covering his eyes.

“What the fuck?”

Aaron looked at him sleepily. “Huh?”

“Where have you been Hotchner?”

Aaron shrugged, sitting up warily. “I fell down.” He didn’t elaborate.

Cole snorted. “What are you even talking about?”

Aaron rubbed his nose, alleviating the ever-present itch on the tip of it.

“Do you know what day it is?”

All he got in response was a blank stare.

“Are you fucking high?” Cole sounded shocked, like he couldn’t believe Aaron would be capable of such a thing on his own. This needled Aaron’s pride, deeply annoyed by this persistent belief that he’d had no experience on his own, like he hadn’t figured things out for years without any help from Cole or anyone else. It was like Cole believed he was some innocent and, worse, he preferred Aaron in that role. Never questioning, always being led into things, as if he couldn’t make his own decisions. As if it wasn’t, in reality, Aaron seeking him out.

“What if I am?” he spat back. Cole had moved right in front of him so he stood up, disappointed that he was still several inches shorter.

“Are you stealing from me?” Cole’s voice was icy and sent an unwelcome flash of fear through Aaron. He tried to pretend it didn’t affect him, putting on a show of disinterest.

“Why would I? I don’t need your shit.”

“Liar,” Cole countered. “Where did you get it then?”

Aaron sank down on the bench again, he was too high to fight. He had been having a pleasant afternoon, everyone gone, just him and his pills and the sky. “The doctor,” he muttered, pulling the bottle from his pocket without thinking, “I cracked a couple ribs.”

Cole stared at him for a second, understanding passing between them, before snatching the bottle from Aaron.

“Hey!” He jumped up, furious. “Give that back.”

“What? I share with you all the time and you were just going to keep this to yourself? How’s that fair?”

Aaron faltered, caught by the logic of the argument, maybe he should have thought to share but the idea had never even crossed his mind. Still, they were his, he could do what he wanted, he was the one in pain after all. He tried a different tactic. “Please, I need them. It’s…it really does hurt.” He didn’t like to admit it, it made the high less enjoyable, tied it too closely to the nightmare in his home.

Cole’s eyes sparkled, he could tell he had the upper hand again, was back in the position he preferred. Irritated, Aaron tried to grab the bottle back but Cole was too fast, lifting his arm out of Aaron’s reach.

“Uh-uh, I think you need to learn a lesson about sharing.”

“Cole,” Aaron warned. This wasn’t a game to him. He could feel rage beginning to boil inside him.

Unaware, Cole laughed at him. “And what are you going to do about it?”

Furious and unthinking, Aaron shoved him hard with both hands, knocking him backwards. He tripped and landed on his back, the bottle slipping out of his hand as he tried to catch himself. Aaron breathed hard, the muscles in his side had pulled painfully at his broken ribs and the pain was making him see stars. Before he could recover, Cole was back on his feet and approaching him.

“They’re mine,” he said, as if that explained everything, as if that would fix the anger that had clouded Cole’s face. He took a couple steps back but he didn’t move fast enough. Cole swung his fist and it connected with Aaron’s jaw with a loud crack. He stumbled to the side, barely catching himself before he took another hit. His cheekbone burned with the impact, his ears were full of the brittle sound of his struggling lungs. His knees folded under him and he found himself on all fours in the dirt. He wheezed, trying to breathe around the pain in his ribs. Just out of reach he saw the prescription bottle and moved just enough to grab it. As soon as it was in his hand he scrambled to his feet, half bent over, free hand wrapped around his ribs. Cole watched him, anger fading but still not pleased with what he was seeing. Aaron probed his face, exploring the way his lip was swelling, the trace of blood running down his chin. He looked at Cole, betrayed.

“Fuck you,” he whispered, before turning and walking away, praying he wouldn’t be followed.  

He didn’t know where he was going at first but found himself back at an old hiding place by the river. The tree with the tall roots that had cradled him so often when he would sneak away to make himself sick off his father’s alcohol. He sank down and, against his own wishes, cried. He hated himself more with every tear. He should never have trusted Cole in the first place. This situation was his own fault. How could he have believed someone cared about him? That someone wanted to spend time with him because they liked him as a person, not just a thing to get something from, a thing to be pushed around when he wouldn’t give them what they wanted. Now that thin illusion was broken and he had nothing left. He’d let this friendship, this experiment overtake everything else in his life. He’d pushed away what little he’d had to focus his energy on holding on to this, wrapping himself up in the high. The drug high, sure, but more than that, the high of attention and believing someone else understood him. But it had never been real and he should have known that.

He considered the bottle of painkillers, an idea floating up, whispering sweetly, promising a solution to the mistakes he’d let himself make. A way to erase the sting of realizing he was not and would never be anyone worth caring for. That would be the ultimate trick, one that no one would anticipate before it was too late. Carefully he poured out a handful. Took one. Took another. And another. He put a fourth one in his mouth but found he couldn’t make it go down. He held it there, tasting the bitterness as it began to dissolve. A wave of regret forced him to spit the pill out into his hand. Maybe today wasn’t the day, maybe he would just enjoy the high for now. He could always make that decision later, he had the means available. He leaned back and let the effect of the pills he’d swallowed pull him away from himself. Within moments he fell asleep, bottle clutched in one hand, the sticky pill, coated in dirt, in the other.

He was shaken awake roughly, someone calling his name. Trying to ignore it, he squeezed his eyes tightly, not wanting to wake up, to come up from the dark waters he’d been pleasantly floating in. Fingers snapped close to his ear and he flinched. Reluctantly he slit his eyes open. Cole was there.

“Leave me alone.” He tried to roll over, away from him. Cole pulled him back roughly.

“How many did you take Aaron?”

“What do you care?” His words were slurred, tongue lazy.

“Of course I fucking care,” Cole sounded exasperated and, though Aaron wasn’t sure he was interpreting the emotion correctly, worried. Finally he opened his eyes all the way to glare at the other boy, sullen. He licked his lips where he could still taste blood. Cole reached to touch his face and Aaron recoiled hard, hitting his head on the tree trunk. He yelped, the pain ricocheting through his skull. Cole’s hand still hung in the air between them. He looked disappointed.

“I’m sorry,” he said, voice low.

Surprised, Aaron looked at him again. This time he remained still, let Cole touch his face, touch the bruises, run his finger over the dried blood in the corner of his mouth.

“I didn’t mean to.”

They were very close now, so close Aaron could feel Cole’s exhale as he spoke travel across his cheeks. He held his breath and clenched his fists, crushing the partially dissolved pill still in his palm. Vaguely he noticed his other hand was empty. Just as he was about to look for the bottle, eyes darting to the ground, he felt Cole’s lips, pressed against his mouth. Shocked, he tried to make sense of everything, of how close he was, of the warmth, of the way the pressure caused the edges of his teeth to cut into his skin.

Cole pulled back, seeming to be as surprised as Aaron felt. They were frozen, tension holding them in place. Before he could form a complete thought about it, Aaron grabbed his shirt collar and pulled him back, crashing against each other. The tension shattered into an angry, clumsy struggle, all teeth and crushed noses. Cole was pulled off balance and knelt, one hand braced on the tree above Aaron’s head, one hand around the back of his neck. Aaron’s hands, gritty with dirt, wrapped in his shirt, holding on desperately, afraid Cole would leave the moment he let go. The kissing was rough and it made the bruise on his jaw ache, his broken ribs burn, but he needed this. Far more than he wanted to admit, he needed someone else’s touch to prove he was wanted, that he belonged. And for that kind of reassurance, he’d accept any touch at all.

chapter six

#criminal minds fanfiction #tw substances #tw abuse #tw vomit #tw suicidal thoughts #aaron hotchner #young hotch #a mixed blessing

[clareguilty]

The Strongest Metal

This is a commission fic! Junkrat/Roadhog Rated: M | No warnings, injury recovery Word Count ~2400

“There’s nothing for you to worry about with me, Mr. Rutledge. To many, I am just as much of a criminal as you are. Turning you in would also result in a sentence for myself.” The voice was unfamiliar. Heavily accented. Stern but soothing. The words floated around, barely making sense.

“I can’t thank you enough. If I had been in your position, I don’t think I would have done the same.” That was Mako. He sounded tired, anguished. Jamison hated that.

He couldn’t remember what happened. He felt terrible, like he’d been on one hell of a bender.

But they had been fighting. He remembered that much. Those guys with the dark armor and the red helmets. Didn’t they know that the outback belonged to the junkers? There may have been no official law in the land, but that didn’t mean they were just going to roll over for any band of soldiers that showed up. They had been fighting to protect their natural resources since before the crisis.

And then those other blokes had showed up. He’d heard about them before. Overwatch. The pride and joy of humanity’s defenders. They’d been shut down last he heard, but he recognized them when they showed up on the battlefield.

Oh. Jamison remembered now. He had died. Been blown to smithereens. Exactly the way he’d always thought he’d go.

Was this heaven? Not where he thought he’d end up, really. But Mako was there, and whoever this lady was. An angel?

Jamison cracked one eye open, wincing at the bright fluorescent lights overhead. Oh yeah. That was definitely an angel.

Wispy blonde hair, piercing eyes, literal fucking wings. She was in all white armor and glowing gold. She looked exhausted.

And Mako was there, looking just as tired. He always looked tired, really, but not like this. He sat slumped in a chair, unmasked and hair down. Jamison had never seen him so miserable. Some sort of afterlife this was.

“Hello, Roadie,” he croaked. His voice sounded terrible. His throat was dry and scratchy. He was starting to think he wasn’t dead.

Both Mako and the angel snapped their heads towards him. “You’re awake!” the angel gasped. She immediately reached for a biotic scanner. “How do you feel?”

Jamison hadn’t really thought about it until she asked. He hadn’t really felt anything if he was being honest, and he told her as much. He was sore, disoriented, but he couldn’t really feel anything.

She frowned. “I guess that’s not the worst thing. Can you move at all?”

He raised his arm, wiggling his fingers with a grin. Then he saw his hand. 

“What the hell?! What happened to my arm?” Last he’d checked, only his right hand was cybernetic, and it certainly didn’t look like that. He looked at both of his hands, except these weren’t his hands. They were sleek, polished metal with tiny spindly joints. But they moved when he wanted them too, and he could feel them, even if they weren’t flesh and bone.

He flexed and curled the fingers in front of him. His frown only deepened as he inspected the high quality engineering. It wasn’t scrap, that was for sure. Much too fancy to be a part of him.

“Who did this to me?” He demanded. “Give me my old arm back!” He had made that arm. That arm was a part of him.

“Jamie,” Mako reached out, but he pulled his hand away before he could touch the horrible mechanical monstrosity. “You’re arm is gone. You were in an explosion. Dr. Zeigler saved you.”

“Saved me?” Junkrat looked down at his body. Where there was once flesh and blood and scar tissue, there was nothing but metal and wires and -- still quite a lot of scar tissue. “I look like a fucking omnic!” The angel winced.

“You’re alive,” Mako said. “You owe these people your life.”

“What life?” Jamison spat. “What am I now? Did you give me a fancy new leg too?” He sneered at the doctor, throwing the sheet aside to look at his legs. Thankfully, his peg was still there. And aside from some bandages, his flesh leg was still intact.

The doctor fumbled over her words. “We wanted to wait until you were fully rehabilitated, but there is the option to change your prosthesis, or even try to integrate some cybernetics.”

“I don’t want any of your corpo bullshit tech.” 

“Jamie,” Mako scolded him. “You wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for Angela. She did the best she could to save you.”

Jamison glowered, but kept his mouth shut. Mako really did look like shit, and he probably hadn’t left his bedside in days.

“We’re at an old Overwatch outpost,” Mako continued. He knew Jamison would listen to him over the doctor. “Quite a few former agents have come back. They helped us in that fight against the black-suited soldiers. Apparently they come from an organization called Talon.”

“I don’t care about any of that,” Jamison waved his hand. He hated how the motion felt. “I don’t want anything to do with them.”

Mako sighed. “We don’t have a choice. It’s going to be some time before you’re healed. Angela has explained to me what you’re going to need. She has experience with cybernetics, but there isn’t a lot here.”

Jamison said nothing.

Why should he care about Overwatch? Or Talon? Or any of that shit? He wanted his body back. He wanted to be as far away from doctors and agents and civilization as possible.

But he had never seen Mako like this, not even after the worst job. 

So he sat through the doctor’s check up, begrudgingly answering her questions and letting her poke and prod at his new body. 

“How long have I been out?” he finally asked.

“It’s been nearly a week.” She was gentle, hesitant as she redressed his wounds. “The biotics have helped to heal the most severe of your injuries. But, I have limited resources, so I have to make them count. I know you aren’t… happy with your cybernetics. They’re rudimentary and certainly not where I’d like them to be. If you so choose, we can always modify or upgrade anything once we have access to proper engineering. This outpost has been out of operation since the crisis and-”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jamison cut her off. “Roadie trusts you, and that’s enough for me. But I want nothing to do with your Overwatch.” He wanted to be gone as soon as possible. Back to Junkertown, back the the safety of the outback.

It was another day before they told Jamison the full extent of his condition. He slept fitfully, a combination of biotics and medication and paralyzed numbness. He hated moving in the hours he was able to. It wasn’t his body. It wasn’t him.

He had been caught in an explosion in the fight against Talon. The blast had ignited the gunpowder on his own gear. He hadn't been in very good shape when Mercy -- Doctor Ziegler -- had found him. It was through sheer luck that he had been saved by the one doctor who pioneered full body cybernetics.

The hospital at the Australian Overwatch outpost had been… lacking, but between the doctors and engineers on hand they had managed to stabilize Jamison and fit him with rudimentary cybernetics.

Jamison knew he should be grateful. He was alive because of their generosity. But he couldn’t tamp down the resentment. He didn’t ask for this. Why would they go through all that trouble just to save some lowlife junker?

But he couldn’t leave Mako. If any of the two of them was going to be left alone it was going to be Jamison, he had resigned himself to that. Maybe he would have to pull through just for the old bastard.

The doctor -- he had taken to calling her blondie just to see how much it annoyed her -- fixed the nerve receptors and recalibrated the movement on his cybernetics. He knew how tedious the process was, he had done it all himself when he lost his arm the first time.

But that had been on his terms. He had gotten himself blown up and he had fixed it. None of these battles or fancy hospitals or strange people practically dissecting him every damn day.

Every time he tried to throw a fit, Mako would shoot him a look that would guilt him into playing nice. Mako would say thank you when the doctors finished up for the day. Mako would help clean him and dress him and feed him. He felt like a damn baby.

They finally let him out of the hospital after a few days. He wasn’t perfect -- not that he was anything special before this whole shitshow. But he doubted he would ever feel right again.

He staggered down the halls to the room Mako had been staying in. The Overwatch base was nice, but it felt too sterile, too civilized. Jamison and Mako were used to their little shack in the outback, they had never needed any fancy bells and whistles.

“Roadie,” Jamison whispered, “Maybe we could slip out of here tonight. Steal one of them fancy all-terrains and head back home.” He had seen the vehicles they came in one. They would scrap for some nice parts or sell for a good bit of money.

“No,” Mako didn’t even blink. “You’re still not well. The doctors here will look after you. We’re not leaving until you’re better.”

Jamison scowled. “Fuck them. I don’t need them. I can build everything I need out of scrap at home. I’ll just need your help.”

Mako was unfazed. “It’s too dangerous. You barely survived as it is, and the stuff they pieced you back together with isn’t going to last very long.”

He knew that. He knew he was on a timer. Without access to any real, up to date medical equipment he was just wasting away on the temporary machinery. He wanted to say it didn’t matter, that he’d rather go out on his own terms than be strung along from one set of parts to another, but he couldn’t do that to Mako.

“I hate it here,” he said.

“That’s fine,” was all he got in response.

The room was cozy, dusty, impersonal. It had been decades since Overwatch had any real presence on the continent, something that showed in every part of the base. The dorm was small and empty, a little run down, but the bed was big enough for both of them.

There was a small pile of gear on the desk, Mako’s gun and mask, some biotic canisters. None of Jamison’s gear had survived the explosion.

“I’m going to have to build a new gun, aren’t I?” Jamison asked. He was going to have to start over on everything. There was nothing left.

Then he caught his reflection in the mirror. It was jarring, to see his own face on an unfamiliar body. The wires and the plates and the joints. He was staring at the stranger in the glass when something soft smacked him in the face. One of Mako’s shirts.

Jamison unfolded the soft, faded material. He couldn’t even feel the texture of the cotton. “I’m pretty hideous now, ain’t I, Roadie? Uglier than ever.” He pulled the shirt over his head, wincing at the ache and pull of his healing muscles. 

“I don’t care how you look, Jamie,” Mako said quietly. “As long as I have you here with me.”

Frowning, Jamison washed his face in the sink. He liked being away from the constant supervision of the hospital room. All he wanted was to be left to his misery. He didn’t care about calibration or pulmonary function or anything like that.

He flopped onto the bed, glowering at the ceiling. Mako lay beside him, sighing and resting his hands on his stomach. “You don’t have to like this,” he said.

“Good. ‘cause I don’t.”

“You should be nicer to Doctor Ziegler.”

Jamison snorted. “Why?”

“For me.”

That wasn’t fair. Jamison would have continued being an asshole with no regrets if it weren’t for those two words. Because he would do anything for Mako, even if it meant letting some doctor make him miserable every damn day.

He would survive. Just for Mako. Even if he hated what he had become. It’s not like when he lost his leg, lost his arm. That had been before he had Roadie, and he had fixed himself up on his own. On his own terms. He had still felt whole, even with a peg leg and a scrap arm.

Now he was premium alloys and advanced sensors, and he had never felt more broken. Even Mako wouldn’t look at him, wouldn’t touch him. They treated him as though he was fragile, made of glass and not the strongest metal his body could carry. 

He woke in the night panting and sweating. The same nightmares that had followed him for years. Metal fingers scrabbling at the plates on his chest, the wire channels running to his neck. He needed it off.

Two massive hands closed around the thin metal joints of his wrists. Calloused fingers, chipped nail enamel. Mako.

“Jamie,” he said.

“Roadie,” Jamison croaked. They had done this before. Countless times. 

He was surprised when Mako threw his arms around Jamison, pulling him close. It was the first time he had truly touched him since he woke up in that damned hospital.

“I’ve got you,” Mako whispered. He didn’t even wince at the feeling of metal against his skin. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Jamison huffed in disbelief, but nuzzled into Mako’s chest. The familiar sound of Mako’s raspy breathing helped to ground him. “I’m the one who almost croaked. I just didn’t want to leave you with all these Overwatch weirdos.”

“They’ve been good to us.” Mako murmured. “We owe them.”

“You’re too nice. We don’t owe them shit, and the first chance I get im going to rob them.”

Mako chuckled. “They could help get rid of those soldiers.”

“I’m done with soldiers,” Jamison groaned. “I’m done with everything. I just wanna go back to the shack and drink my weight in beer.”

“We will.”

#roadrat #junkrat #roadhog #junkrat/roadhog #mako rutledge #jamison fawkes #roadhog/junkrat

[overwatchworks]

The Call of the Sea

Hello hello everyone! Had a spur of inspiration and wrote a short story from it, hope you enjoy the little mcgenji treat!

As always, you can read it on Ao3 as well if you want! Please also be mindful of the tags, and happy (angsty?) reading :-)

The sea was loud.

Much louder than it had been in the faded memories he had of visiting a sandy cove when he was younger, when his family was nothing but that still. When there was no betrayal, no bright splashes of blood, no stench of death. Nothing but seashells in his little hands and blurred faces of people who had since become strangers. Enemies.

The sea was loud. It crashed against the steep cliffs and jutting rocks beneath him, a fine spray coming up and glittering in the slowly fading sunlight. Genji watched it churn and foam far beneath him, the way it swallowed up the rocks and swirled into the crannies of the cliff-side carved out by time.

Thought about how easily it could swallow him up just the same. He would be nothing to the crashing waves. Tossed around and forced under into the deep, the body that had been so meticulously created to keep him alive helpless to something far more powerful than he could ever hope to be.All the sharp edges and hidden weapons there to make him unstoppable, to make him an assassin beyond human, useless. 

Genji wondered how long it would take them to find the shell of his body. If they would ever find it. Nothing Dr. Ziegler could do to revive him again, even with all her talent.

Genji liked that thought. 

Liked the idea of falling, falling, weightless as he had felt lying on the tatami beneath his brother’s sword. Consciousness drifting in those precious few moments before darkness, stretched thin, everything going fuzzy and muted. Knowing there was nothing but darkness waiting when that last stroke fell, when the water swallowed him whole and never let go. Genji had faced death before. Had been terrified and confused and betrayed.

It was not so frightening now that he craved it. Now that he knew what it felt like. Now that it was on his own terms.

The sea was loud. Genji’s mind was quiet.

He leaned forward, and the sound of boots clicking broke the numbing silence ringing in his ears.

“Oh, it’s you. Shimada, ain’t it?”

Genji blinked a few times, inhaling deep and slow, as if he had just been pulled from a dream. Jesse McCree walked right over to the edge of the cliff, stopping next to him and looking over the edge, hands resting on his gaudy belt. He whistled, a short, descending sound.

“That’s one helluva drop, huh? Never much cared for the ocean myself, but I can’t complain about the view. Didn’t think anyone else would find my lil’ spot here,” he chatted, dropping to sit with his feet dangling over the edge of the cliff. Careless. Genji stared at him. Watched him pull something from the back of his pants, tucked into the waistline. A flask.

“Commander doesn’t want us drinkin’ while we’re on base, so I come out here whenever we’re stationed at this Watchpoint and have a smoke, too. Sunsets are always pretty and it smells good.”

Genji did not know McCree had been stationed in Watchpoint: Gibraltar. Had not had much time with him outside of when he had come into the medical ward with Commander Reyes to see his cybernetics progress and the occasional Blackwatch training after he had been approved for it months later. He knew McCree was boisterous and friendly, but also one of the sharpest shots they had and a deadly opponent, the title of the commander’s right-hand man well earned. That was about all.

Yet, McCree acted so familiar. He patted the patch of dirt next to him as he took a swig from the flask.

“Didn’t think of you as someone who also enjoyed watchin’ the sunsets, but hey, I like it.”

Genji did not know what came over him. He sat down slowly, like he had just started his physical therapy with his prosthetics all over again. The movements stilted and unsure. McCree had his brows raised. Surprise in his eyes before he tilted his head to one side and shrugged a shoulder to himself. Not expecting Genji to do what he did. Genji had not expected it either. He folded his hands in his lap, legs crossed. They both looked out at the sea for a long few moments. Then, McCree offered his flask.

“Not sure if you can drink this, but you’re welcome to it. Might warm you up some.”

Genji had not felt the chill of the wind coming off the water until McCree mentioned it. His brows furrowed, human hand flexing.

“I cannot drink anything,” he finally replied, voice not but a murmur. He did not like hearing it. The synthetic tone and warping from a brand new jaw and windpipe foreign and disturbing. A stranger’s voice. Not human.

“Well I’ll be damned, he does talk! You gonna be coming back to Rome with us?” McCree asked, Genji raising a brow.

“Us?”

“Blackwatch. Commander told me you’d be spendin’ more time with us now that most of your cybernetics and whatnot are finished.”

“They have not told me anything,” Genji shrugged. They never did. He was always told where he needed to be and would be brought there, no explanation, no warning. Just another pawn, another weapon, now in someone else’s hands.

“If you do, that means I get to see more of you around. That’ll be nice. Get to know you good and proper, train more and might even get some missions together.”

It sounded sincere. McCree truly sounded like he meant those words. Genji did not understand how, or why. They were just sitting there, having what could hardly be called a conversation. Still, McCree gave him a half-grin that was a lot more charming than it should have been, and the ringing in his ears softened. The sea no longer sounded so deafening.

Genji nodded once, turning his gaze back out to the water.

“Perhaps we will.”

It was quiet between them again, though, it was not the strained kind that Genji was so used to he hardly noticed anymore. He looked at the dirt beneath his legs, the small tufts of grass managing to fight their way through the rocks and grow through the cracks. Tugged absently at the valiant blades, their browning colour making them tough beneath his fingertips. Dying.

“I know we haven’t been able to talk much before this, but I’m glad I found you up here. It’s nice havin’ company. And I like the sound of your voice. It’s pretty,” McCree suddenly spoke up, Genji blinking.

He did not turn to look at McCree, but the urge was only just barely resisted. Instead, he looked at the churning waters beneath him, the way they lapped at the rocks and crashed against the cliff. Moved his gaze up, watched the way the sunset bounced off the rippling sea, then higher still to the hues of pink and orange and purple reflecting on the wispy clouds above them.

McCree had said the sunset was pretty. Said his voice was pretty. Genji wondered if he remembered saying that, if he had meant to compare the two.

“I think I’m going to turn in. Guess I’ll see you around again soon?”

Genji did look at McCree then, the sunset shining golden on a soft freckled face and a patient, open gaze with a honeyed glow, and he nodded again.

“Yes.”

He hoped so. Did not say it, but McCree smiled nonetheless and stood up with a grunt, hands going to his hips as he looked out at their view one last time.

“Well alrighty then. I’ll be lookin’ forward to it.”

Genji watched him leave the way he came, then stood and felt the wind sweep up the cliff and prickle what little of his face was showing with a salted mist. Felt the chill on his arm, the sun fading below the horizon. Listened to the waves, crashing and receding. Genji turned and followed McCree back inside.

The sea was loud, but Genji could ignore its call for one more night.

~~

#mcgenji #jesse mccree #genji shimada #Blackwatch Era #*Suicidal Thoughts/Actions #Blackwatch angst as per the usual #WhiskeyWrites #fanfic #hee hoo yes I am a writer #hope you enjoy

[frostsinth]

A Line in the Sand - Pt. 3

Intro - Part 1|2 - MasterList - Art - Art

Ok, so this is kind of a conclusion chapter, but I left it open ended in case I want to revisit these two later. However, for now I have no plan to continue writing them. Perhaps some quick one-shots in the future, of various little snipits in their life. I just wanted to feel like this was more closed so I can continue with some other projects.

This is of course for the always lovely and patient @ivymemnoch​ of her Monster Match character Devaraj the reptilian monster (I prefer Nessiim, since I couldn’t decide between lizardman and dragonborn and he’s somewhere between the two). I hope everyone enjoys this soft fluffy fluff.

Like what you see? Check out my MasterList above for more babbles and stories. Please consider BuyMeACoffee while you are there. I’m open for art commissions, so please DM me if you are interested, but no writing commissions right now. As always, drop me an Ask if you have any thoughts or questions, I love to hear from everyone!

How had I gotten myself into this exactly? I wondered to myself for the hundredth time as I dropped like a sack of flour to the stone ground. Narrowly avoiding the projectiles of rocks lobbed at me from the other side of the deep cave. They clattered loudly when they landed, snapping and cracking in a way that almost distracted me from the cave’s resident. Almost.

It, or rather, ‘he’ as Deveraj insisted, did not seem in any way to be a mere spirit. Not how I would have pictured one. If I had to think of a word to describe it, I would have said… ‘tree’. But it needed more words than the one. Big tree. MOVING tree. A tree with branches that bent and wriggled and swayed like vines. Also, ‘wet tree’ would have been accurate, for while the texture of the creature was distinctly bark-like, it slithered and slapped about as it moved. Dripping what I hoped was water and sloshing about as it did. It had no head to speak of, or at least, no face. There was definitely a top to its weird mass of vines and branches that spun out from an almost humanoid torso. But I saw no eyes, no mouth.

Devaraj tucked and rolled neatly, coming to my side. A grin I took as wry was twisting his long mouth, and I would have scowled had I not currently been so preoccupied. Before the Nessiim could say anything though, we both had to dodge to opposite sides as a slapping limb cracked on the floor between us.

I noticed, as the spirit’s attention turned on me, that it seemed to keep its numerous branches and vines in limb-like shape. Two thick long columns where one might expect legs. Two long, extending protrusions where one would expect arms. Occasionally, the branches and vines diverged, but they always twisted back into the shape once more. This became more obvious as the creature advanced on me. Reaching out with snapping, rolling boughs.

I squealed, but couldn’t dodge quickly enough this time. And its arm-like appendages slowly started to wrap around me. They were wet. And I decided based upon the gooey quality it was probably not water as I had initially hoped. I also came to the realization that I had been wrong before; it did have a mouth. Which revealed itself to me as the spirit slowly dropped open its gaping maw, stepping in slowly as it entwined its branches around me. Flashing sharp white fangs amid a cavernous darkness. My heart ricocheted around my chest and throat in a rising panic to escape my breast.

“Yes! Excellent! Keep him there!” Devaraj exclaimed excitedly. “He seems to like you!”

I wriggled, sweat breaking across my brow as I struggled to keep the creature from wrapping its arms any further around me. “The feeling is not mutual!”

“It’s alright, Sera!” He called. “He is just frightened! I can feel it!”

The reptilian man stealthed closer, his booted feet moving with surprising quiet across the stone cave. And despite the panic threatening to choke me… I realized the spirit’s movements had slowed to an almost standstill. Its branches still slowly weaved around me, smearing me with thick slimy goo as they did. But it advanced forward carefully now. It still had no eyes to speak of, but that gaping maw seemed to be panting as it approached. A bit of drool dripped in a long strand from the corner of it, and I winced and grimaced as it leaned in closer.

I turned my head to the side as the spirit brought its ‘face’ to mine, and I could feel its hot, wet breath against my jaw. I don’t like this. I thought to myself, my heartbeat so fast it was just a thrum beneath my skin. I don’t like this, I don’t like this, I don’t like this.

Devaraj’s deep voice reached me suddenly, murmuring in a strange, hissing tongue that seemed to form in his chest and move through his body without ever passing through his lips. The spirit appeared to pause at the sound of his voice, and I saw it start to turn back to look at him over his shoulder from the corner of my eye. Though I decided the word “look” was in liberal use now, as it still had no eyes to speak of. Still, it continued to curl tighter and tighter around me. Enveloping me in its slimy limbs, rubbing the rough bark against my skin. I was too busy struggling against its strong grip to shake in fear, but I could taste it plainly on my tongue.

As my employer stepped closer, I saw him lift up one palm, then gently place it on the creature’s shoulder. Those startling yellow eyes of his closed, and a soft hum seemed to fill the air. Curling tendrils stopped, and the spirit paused. Its head tilting to the side. As if it were hearing something I could not.

“There you are.” Came Devaraj’s thick voice. And at it, the spirit seemed to relax.

The tight branches wound about me suddenly came loose, and I dropped heavily back to the floor. I gave a soft gasp of pain as my bottom hit the stone, but was distracted by the soft glow now emanating from the chest of the spirit before me. Its limbs shrunk and twisted, its outline changed. My eyes went wide as a face began to form around the toothy mouth, which was shrinking itself. Into soft lips, and a delicate shape. The remaining branches tightened together, smoothing into one, and away purled the bark-like texture, leaving behind skin. Glowing blue-white skin, but definitely skin. And a distinctly human form.

He looked like he was formed of light. His eyes blinked (he had eyes now!), and he glanced over at Devaraj. I could still see his irises through his lids when he closed them. His whole body was mostly see through, but still had the distinctness of solidity. It was confusing, but also… strangely beautiful.

The spirit opened his mouth, and a soft breathy sound escaped it. It made a shiver slip down my spine and goosebumps run across my skin. I couldn’t hear words in the voice. But I saw his lips move in a poor imitation, as if he was forming something in his mouth.

Devaraj nodded. “Yes, friend. You are in the craigs beyond the town.” He replied, answering some question I had not heard. The spirit turned to face him more. “Do you remember how you got here?”

A slow head cock, a quizzical look pinching his brows. Again, that soft, breathy sound. It was almost like a whisper, breathed in and out through the lungs, but with no definition or shape to it. Nothing I could distinguish anyways. My employer did not seem to have the same issue.

“Ah, yes, I see. But she is not here.” The Nessiim gestured to me, and I stiffened as the spirit’s eyes turned back to me. “This is Sera, not your wife. Do you see her clearly now?”

I met those strange, glowing eyes nervously. Trying not to visibly shake where I still sat on the floor. Then suddenly, I felt a dull ache in my chest. A longing, a sadness. I was taken aback by it, and as I looked at the spirit, I could almost see those emotions blinking across his face.

“I’m sorry.” I told him, the words coming to my lips as instinctively as the air came to my lungs. 

Again the spirit seemed to tilt his head from side to side, and that whispering breathing speech came out after a long pause. His hand came up, and I stiffened as those glowing fingers wisped across the edge of my jaw. Tracing its shape down to my chin.

Devaraj chuckled, and I nervously glanced over the spirit’s shoulder at him. “He says you are very kind, Sera, and almost as beautiful as his wife.” The reptilian man explained, a mischievous glint in his sharp yellow eyes. “He is glad you came to help him.”

I blinked stupidly, then looked back at the spirit. He stared at me quietly for another long moment, and I felt a few beads of nervous sweat prick the back of my neck. Finally, he straightened, and spoke again. Devaraj did not answer at first, nodding along with what I imagined might be taken for a thoughtful expression on his face. At the end of his strange, whispering words, the glowing shape turned back to my employer, who bowed to him slightly.

“It would be my honor, good sir.” He assured him. “Consider it done.”

Relief flooded through me, rising from someplace deep in my heart. But I could not quite place where it had come from. Only I knew it was not mine, despite its strange familiarity. I watched as the spirit considered me one last time, then took a step back, fading into a soft, wispy twist of blue smoke. And then, just like that... he was gone.

“Come.” Devaraj intoned, turning towards the back of the cave we had entered not one hour before. I spent a few more moments blinking at the spot where the spirit had just been, not fully hearing him until he called my name from the far wall.

“W-what are you doing?” I asked, scrambling numbly to my feet and darting over. Glancing about anxiously as I shlucked the last of the goo from my arms in case the strange phenomenon I had just experienced would have a repeat performance at any moment. I decided it was probably be best to be near the larger man if that was a possibility.

He kneeled down, sweeping his hand delicately over a pile of what appeared to be rubble to me. “Fulfilling his final wish.” He replied, and his long, claw tipped finger hooked around his prize.

As he lifted the glittering necklace from amid the stones, his elongated mouth curled up. Twisting into that strange smile. Once a frightening smile, but now I couldn’t help but feel a mirror of it curl upon my own lips as his intense eyes met mine.

“What is it?” I breathed, a little surprised to be nearly as excited as he was. 

My heart thudded a few of its previously missed beats out of rhythm as Devaraj stood and the movement brought him precariously close to me. I swallowed hard to find the shape of my tongue in my mouth again as I had to drop my head back to look up at him. His scaly lips peeled back lightly to reveal his sharp white teeth, and his eyes seemed to sparkle with delight at my question. I didn’t even notice his big hand come around and clap lightly onto my shoulder.

“This, Sera, is the necklace of his wife.” He slowly brought it down, and nodded encouragingly as my hands hesitated to reach for it. “He asked that we return it to their shared grave. It seems some errant fools disturbed their final resting place, and he was wont to unrest until it was returned.”

I delicately cupped the ancient looking pendant in my hands, tracing one thumb over it. It felt warm, as though it had only just previously been removed from its seat at someone’s collarbone for my inspection. As my thumb traced the gem, a corresponding warmth pulsed in my chest, and I felt my smile soften.

“They must have been very fond of it.” I exclaimed softly, entranced by the way the dim light of the shallow cave caught the metal.

A rumbling sound came from my companion’s chest, agreeable and soothing. “I would agree. Such sentiment carries long after death. But come,” He squeezed my shoulder lightly, “Let us return it, so that they may once more be at peace.”

“Why was he all the way out here with it?” I asked, following behind him obediently with barely a side glance as we exited the cave. It felt different as we left. Less hostile and menacing. Now it was just… hollow. Lifeless stone, silent amid the small patch of trees.

“It seems the theft left him so enraged, he had quite forgotten his original purpose for rising.” Devaraj mused, lifting a low branch to allow me to pass with more ease. “He followed the would-be thief here, then was tethered to the place. Unable to travel far from it once the robber abandoned his prize and fled for his life. Unfortunately, this is a common story.”

I kept both hands clasped around the necklace, holding it close to my heart. It made me feel better, for some reason, and I didn’t bother to question it. “But how do we make sure no one tries to take it again?”

The corners of his lips twitched, and I saw his thin pupils flick to me out the corners of his eyes. “... Would you endeavor to take it, Sera?” He returned. “I am certain it must be quite valuable.”

I didn’t hesitate, shaking my head quickly. “N-no… Not this…” I paused, my step faltering, and slowly brought the pendant away from my heart to peer down at it. “It… it is too special…”

“I thought as much.” He sounded pleased, and my head jerked as I looked up at him in surprise. He bared his teeth at me, and his long tongue flicked out. “You have a particularly powerful dushrasha, Sera. I noticed the moment I met you.” I opened my mouth to respond, but he had already turned and was making his way between the trees to the open plains beyond once more. “As to your question, I shall make sure it is properly interred and warded against such things for the future. That should ensure the husband and his wife might rest in eternal peace together.”

“W-wait!” I stammered, clutching the necklace to my chest once more and sprinting after him. “What did you mean? What you said before, about my… um…”

“Your dushrasha.” He offered, but didn’t slow his long stride. Now that we had left the small copse of trees behind, I was finding it difficult to keep up with him on the beveled plain. “It is as I said, Sera.”

“You said… but…” I darted around to stand in front of him, blocking his path. “Wait!”

Devaraj stopped, the ridges of his brow raising slightly. I saw his tongue skitter out once more, and he tilted his great horned head to the side. “What troubles you, Sera?”

“You said you noticed the moment you met me.” I craned my neck back again to look up at him. “What do you mean? What did you notice?”

“It is as I said,” He sounded slightly puzzled, “Your dushrasha is particularly powerful. Especially for a human. I have not seen one its like since I first came to your lands.”

“... You can see it?”

He hummed softly at this, nodding slightly as if the reasoning behind my words was suddenly clear to him. “Yes, in a sense. I am a master prizrasha, after all.”

I waited, but when there seemed to be no further explanation forthcoming, I sighed heavily. I spared a glance about, hesitating, then looked down at the pendant still tightly clasped in my palms. It didn’t matter. I told myself. I was planning on leaving soon anyways. I didn’t need him to explain anything, I didn’t need to know... I should just be happy to be safe again. It seemed the longer I stayed with this strange man the more hazardous my life became… still, my chest burned with questions.

“... You are unsatisfied with this answer?” Devaraj suggested.

Again, I hesitated, then managed to find a bit of courage to look up at him. “I just.. I don’t understand…”

He nodded. “That is not a crime, Sera. You can not be expected to know everything there is to know.” He cocked his head to the opposite side. “Would you like to understand?”

I swallowed nervously again, shifting from foot to foot. “... I-if you think I can.”

The reptilian man scoffed, and his fat tail twitched. “Of course! I am happy to explain.” I jumped slightly as his big hand scooped into the crook of my elbow. “Come, Nur is not far from here. I can tell you more on the way.”

“I-I don’t mean to be a bother-”

“I can sense dushrasha,” He continued, interrupting me as if he hadn’t heard me speak at all, his hand still gently tucked into the bend of my arm, “In the way you might see light sparkling out of falling water, or in the mists.” He gave me a soft tug, prompting me to pick up my pace to match his stride, which he thoughtfully shortened to accommodate me. “Most I cannot ‘see’, so to speak, without some effort on my part. A… what is this word… meditation, perhaps, or a spell. Though these are still not the right words.” His tail twitched, brushing against the long grass with a soft rustling as we passed. “But yours… I can see it… no, I do not like this word either…” He fell silent, his long tongue flicking out as he debated it for a moment. “I can feel it.” Fierce eyes fixed on me, peering down over his scaled cheeks. “It is warm. I like how it feels.”

My pace slowed as I processed this, and again, he slowed to match. I hadn’t even noticed he had left his hand cupped around my arm. He turned me slowly to face him as I chewed it over, my thumbs absentmindedly running over the pendant clasped between them.

“... Does it mean something?” I asked, surprised with my own timid voice. “To… have a… um…”

His long tongue snaked out again, and his scaled brows raised as his lips pursed out slightly. Thoughtful, I decided, cataloging the shape his foreign features took in application of this. Every moment that passed, I realized I was finding him easier and easier to read. I shifted from foot to foot nervously.

“For the Nessiim, it is a blessing.” He began, seeming to pick his words as he went. “For us, warmth is… is everything. And so a warm dushrasha… Well, it is very near divine.”

“Divine?” I echoed, a little flabbergasted, already shaking my head. “I-I’m certainly not-”

“I know this is not your belief, Sera.” he told me, and I felt his hand slowly slide down my arm. Gently pulling one of my hands free from the pendant to cup in his. “But I would still like to keep you with me… If you would be willing.” He ran his clawed thumb out, pushing my fingers apart gently to run its pad over my palm.

I felt a hot flush rise to my face, and my breath stuttered in my throat. “O-oh, I-I mean…” My thoughts raced about a mile a minute, and I couldn’t quite seem to keep my heart in my chest where it belonged. I slowly pulled my hand out of his, and started to back away. “I don’t… I don’t know if…”

“Apologies, Sera,” He interjected quickly as I struggled to speak, “I am certain that came off as far too forward. I did not mean it to sound quite so… ah, what is word…” His big horned head cocked to the side. “I mean to say only that I enjoy your company. Your warmth.” Sharp teeth flashed out, and his elongated mouth curled up. Yellow eyes glinting. Comforting. Reassuring. I documented it, blinking at him slowly. “I would like to continue our relationship. And explore it further.”

“E-explore?” I mumbled, taking another step back. My heart skipping.

He nodded. “Yes! You are an excellent assistant!” His forked tongue appeared ever so briefly before disappearing back between his lips. The thoughtful look returned. “I am not sure if a human can become a prizrasha, but I would be willing to teach you, if you would like.”

I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. “Oh.”

His gaze flicked over me. “You are surprised?”

I swallowed hard. “I-I thought you… umm…” I flushed an even deeper shade of red. “N-no, nevermind.” I suddenly remembered the pendant in my hand, and looked down at it. Thinking and chewing over everything he had just told me. “... You want me to be your apprentice?”

“Is this the word?” Devaraj replied, his voice curious. “Apprentice? I like it. It has a pleasant hiss at the end. Assistant has one at the beginning, but it is less satisfying. I cannot linger on it.” He nodded again. “You have a natural talent, I think, Sera. You might enjoy this work.”

I glanced over his shoulder at the craigs where we had encountered the spirit. “I don’t know…”

I jumped as the large lizard man closed the space between us with a single stride, and boldly took up my free hand again. I had to crane my neck back to look up at him, and his tongue flicked at the tip of my nose as I did.

“It is up to you, Sera, of course. I sense you are… restless with me still.” He ran his thumb over my knuckles, his chin angled down slightly. “Perhaps you wish to leave.”

I choked on my next breath. Had I really been so obvious? Or was that talent of being a prizrasha? A stab of guilt hit me solidly, and I thought to pull my hand out of his again. His fingers tightened around it as it twitched in his grasp. Gentle, cool to the touch, but firm. As if to tell me that it didn’t matter; he didn’t mind. It didn’t hurt him to know I had such plans. I felt my heart skip erratically at his touch, yet I didn’t fight his grip further. I was surprised to find myself… strangely comforted by it.

“I’m… I just…”

“I like you, Sera.” He told me as I dropped off again. “I like your wit, and your warmth. I like your curiosity, and your good heart. Much as you try to hide it.” I glanced up at him, and he curled his lips upward more softly. Fondness, I decided. A warmth of its own… I cataloged that expression in a special place beside my throbbing heart. “If you want to leave, I understand, and I won’t stop you… But I would like very much if you would stay with me.”

“You don’t know anything about me.” I half whispered, distracted by the way the fading sunlight glinted in his eyes.

He cocked his head back to the side. “Do I need to?” I twitched as his tongue flicked the tip of my nose again. “I don’t need to know your history to like who you are. I am certain you would share it with me in time, or that you do not wish me to know. Either way, it does not matter to me.”

“You don’t even know my name!” I argued.

His smile returned. “You are Sera. You have the warmth of the sun in your dushrasha.” One brow raised slightly. “... That’s what ‘Sera’ means, you know.” He nodded, and I decided this expression of his was smug. “It means ‘fiery one’, and we use it in greeting to the sun.”

I stared at him, slack jawed. “... You named me after the sun?”

His expression changed again, softer around the edges. I could see the subtle movements of the muscles beneath his scales. “... Yes. It seemed most fitting… and… I would court you better, if I knew how.”

I jerked as if he had slapped me. “C-court me??”

Another nod, but shallow. Timid. He was avoiding my eyes now. “Yes, Sera. I find you… fascinating. I like to be near you. I like the smell of you. But I do not know how humans approach this matter.” He shifted in place, still looking off to the side. “And I thought perhaps you would not find appeal in a Nessiim like me…”

I laughed out loud at the ridiculousness of that, bewildered and shocked. Did the man not know how handsome he was?? I stopped short as his eyes jumped to me, and felt my face flush hot as the realization hit me as well. Those fierce eyes shifted to the side again, and he seemed to curl back from me. He began to pull his hand away, and I felt my fingers suddenly tighten around his. Devaraj paused, looking at me with his scaly brows raised and his eyes wide.

“I-I… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh… I was just surprised.” I told him quickly. “I was… um… I didn’t think you meant to… ah…”

“I did not, at first.” He assured me softly, and I noticed him take a tiny step closer to me. A bit of his confidence restored as my fingers remained around his. “But… I have been thinking about it since we first met yesterday. It seems like masiimir, no? That of all the doors you could have opened, it was mine you walked through.”

“Masiimir?” I echoed, still flushed and my tongue feeling far too large for my mouth.

He shifted his jaw, obviously trying to find the proper translation and working his tongue around his mouth while he did. “Masiimir… ah, as if planned, yes? As if some higher being or power or such thing made it so we should meet. As if it was already written for history to remember that way.”

I shifted, glancing down at our hands. “Fate.” I told him softly.

His strong fingers squeezed mine gently. “I am a stranger to these lands. Yet in you I feel a piece of my home.” I peeked up at him through my lashes, and noticed him curl his thick neck down, his muzzle coming closer to my temple. “You were looking for a place to hide… and I offer you a place to belong.” He gave a deep, hissing sigh. “Perhaps I look into this too much, but… It is custom for Nessiim to begin courtship when they meet a potential partner. We are not ones for wasting energy on uncertainties.”

I hesitated again, looking back down at my hand which looked so tiny in his. I thought back over the last two days, and felt my heart flip a few times in my chest. I tried to press back the overwhelming thoughts and emotions that assaulted me. Tried to pull some sort of cohesiveness from their midst. It all seemed to crash into me at that moment. Everything that had happened. The strange draw I felt, the reluctance to leave.

“... Would you be alright with this, Sera?” He asked me quietly, and I realized we had been standing in silence for more than a few moments. “May I court you? It will likely be a fair bit experimental at first. I am uncertain how human courtship differs from Nessiim, but I am eager to explore it.” He cleared his throat, glancing off to the side. “But I will only pursue this if you are… erm… interested, I believe is the correct word.”

I swallowed, my head beginning to throb. “Oh… well…” I closed my hand tighter around the pendant still clutched in my other palm. Then glanced at our clasped hands again. I couldn’t hear anything beyond the thrum of my own heart, and I struggled to keep myself from quivering. “I… well…” My cheeks were so red, I was surprised they didn’t catch fire. I glanced at him out the corner of my eye again, and saw him watching me carefully with those intense eyes of his. I cleared my own throat. “I would… I-I would be interested...” I stammered out finally. “In you… ah, in you courting me, I mean.”

I jumped slightly as his nose nudged against my cheek gently, and I felt his tongue flick out to skip against my jaw. He dropped my hand, and skimmed his fingertips along my wrist and up to my arm.

“... For my people, it would be customary next to ask you to sun bathe with me.” He told me. “That we might share our warmth, and learn more about each other’s bodies.”

I nearly squeaked, but looked up at him. “Ah… W-would that require clothes?” 

He chuckled, a deep and rolling sound. “Humans are more reserved with their skins, yes? If it makes you more comfortable, it is the company kept that is important.” When I didn’t pull away from his touch, he snaked his hand around my waist, stepping closer so I had to crane my head back to look up at him. “But I would be pleased to once again share warmth with you, Sera.” He nudged me with his nose again, and I turned slightly to look at him out the corner of my eye. His fierce yellow eyes looked somehow soft in the afternoon sunlight. “Nessiim bond through touch... How do humans bond with their partners?”

I felt my pulse throb beneath my cheeks, and laughed nervously. “W-well… we uh… spend time together… we talk…” He nodded along with my words, and goosebumps raced across my skin as his tongue flicked against my collarbone again. “... We kiss…”

“Kiss?” He echoed, and my ears burned. “What does it mean? I like this word, the sound is most pleasant on my tongue.”

I shifted the pendant in my grip, looking down at it as I became flustered. “Oh… I-it’s… it’s hard to describe…” I peeked at him again, and felt my lips tingle as I did. A powerful urge came over me, and I swallowed hard. “Maybe… I should show you?”

He nodded eagerly. “I would like to see.”

I hesitated, feeling my heart thrum in my chest, beating recklessly against my ribs. I swallowed again, slowly slipping my hand from his. Again, I paused, belying a breath that skipped from my throat with a wispy quality, then gently rested my palm against his broad cheek. Then I debated how best to go about it, as his mouth protruded a fair bit from his face, and I realized it might not work the same. Could he even feel my skin against his scales? He did have lips, of course, but were they as… dexterous as mine? I gently used my hand on his cheek to tilt him into position, hesitating again. He watched me quietly, curiously. Finally, I leaned forward, and pressed my lips against the cool scales at the point of his snout.

Beneath my kiss, I felt the scales move, felt his mouth part slightly. I drew back after half a moment, flushing dark and uncertain. But suddenly, his arm hooked the rest of the way around my waist, and he tugged me closer to his body. Tucking me into the curve of his chest and craning his thick neck to nudge me gently with his nose.

“... I like this thing.” He purred, and I shivered to feel it move beneath my palm and through his chest pressed against me. “This… ‘Kiss’...” He nuzzled against me again. “... Is there a daily limit on ‘kiss’? Or can we do it more? I would like to try.” His long tongue flicked out, brushing across my lips.

I laughed shyly, tilting my head down to hide the bright scarlet color filling my cheeks. “No, there’s not a limit-”

“Good.” He interrupted, and I snuck a glance back up at him, my hand at his jaw coming down to rest against the broad scales on his chest. Devaraj’s mouth split, revealing his sharp teeth. “We must return the pendant first… but then I would like to explore your ‘kiss’ more, if you are willing.” His tongue came out again, skimming over my lips once more. I shivered with excitement at the touch. “And perhaps then I can show you what Nessiim do with their mouths...”

To be continued?

#lizardman boyfriend #lizardman lover #lizardman #dragonborn boyfriend #dragonborn #monster lover #monster boyfriend #monster x human #terato #exophilia #reptilian monster #reptile boyfriend #tails-and-scales

[blissfulnightrain]

SoKai Week Day 1: One Heart

My first submission for @sokaiweek​! I’m so so excited to share all the stuff I’ve been working on for the OTP ahhh

I’ve done artwork for every day of this week, but for some prompts, I also got my ass kind of in-gear and did some writing! And today is one of those days. So, without further ado:

One Heart

Word Count: 1472 words

The thin, glassy magic barrier was the singular thing that separated Kairi from the columns of fire that erupted all around and below her. It doubled as her only protection from the onslaught of Xehanort’s attacks, slashes of his keyblades and dark magic raining down all around her in a chaotic storm that threatened to overwhelm her senses. She had to keep reminding herself to stay sharp and alert, that this wasn’t just training anymore.

This was real.

Still, all the focus in the worlds wasn’t going to win this battle alone. What openings she was able to exploit earlier were no longer feasible options, Xehanort quickly learning her fighting style well enough to adapt and defend her attacks, leaving her with very few opportunities to take advantage of. Of course, she shouldn’t have been surprised, nor did she have the time to be - any energy she put towards lamenting for not having trained harder or longer was a waste. She couldn’t stay on the defensive forever. Somehow, someway, she was going to have to break through. But how?

Another barrage of Xehanort’s keyblades was incoming, and she wasn’t sure how much more her barrier could withstand. Bracing herself, she counted down the seconds to her most opportune chance.

Two of his keyblades planted themselves to her right.

Three behind her.

Several more to her left.

And then there was Xehanort, diving down like a hawk descending towards its prey. His golden eyes were locked onto her, glinting sinisterly through the cracks in his mask. The closer they got to her, the less time she had to act - she would need to do so quickly.

A loud crack erupted when the barrier finally shattered, its glittery shards flying in every direction.  Xehanort reeled back ever so slightly, bracing himself for what moves he already foresaw. The little girl’s strikes were an easily deflected drizzle, each one of them easily guarded by the robustness of his armor, by the practiced ease he was still able to counterattack with. It wasn’t long before he was able to overpower her once more, and Kairi was back on the defensive.

Fire and lava erupted from the ground below her, and meteors rained down from the cataclysmic sky as Xehanort himself continued to target her. What shaky confidence she had at the beginning of this battle was quickly waning to complete dissolution. Despite all the countless, grueling hours of training she’d undergone, there was just no way she would be able to do this on her own.

“Kairi!” a voice called out through the smoke, ember, and ashes. She recognized it instantly, and how could she not? It was one that existed in almost every remaining memory of her childhood, her mundane classes at school, and the one she imagined every time she wrote a letter during her training days. It was the voice of the person who was there with her now, in the flesh, at this very moment.

She could do this. Together, with him.

Perhaps...

***

“Welp, time to turn in,” Lea - no, Axel, concluded with a yawn, stretching a lanky arm over his head. “Catch ya in the morning, Kairi, old man.” Kairi returned the bid good night with a giggle, very aware of the exasperated sigh the “old man” let out.

“You would think the boy would have learned some manners by now,” Merlin muttered under his breath. 

“Axel is Axel,” Kairi chuckled, though there was an air of matter-of-factness in her statement. Though things had started off awkward between the two of them, Axel had quickly grown on her. He’d become almost like another big brother, the way Riku was. A small smile lifted her lips as her mind shifted to memories of him from earlier in the day when he’d come to drop off the garbs from Merlin and the Fairies. As always, not far behind her reminiscence of Riku were thoughts of a certain other someone.

“Unfortunately it would appear so.” Merlin shook his head before turning his bespectacled gaze back to focus on her. “Though I can’t say I’d advise you to follow most of his examples, I do think retiring for the night would do you some good as well, dear.” 

“Right,” she responded, nodding in agreement. It had been another long, arduous day of brutal sparring and training in the forest, after all. Though time flowed differently here, rest and recovery between sessions were still a necessity. She spun on her heels, feeling blades of damp grass beneath the soles of her sneakers. The sound of chirping crickets and rustling leaves would be accompanying her on her way back, along with thoughts of Sora, out there somewhere among the stars that were scattered across the dark sky above her.

She’d only taken a few steps before she stopped in her tracks.

“Is something the matter?” Merlin asked as she turned back around to face him.

“Actually, Master Merlin, I did have a question about something,” she admitted. 

“And what might that be?”

“I was just thinking about Riku, and Sora,” she admitted, sheepishly tucking a tuft of her auburn hair behind her ear. “Back when we were in The World that Never Was...well, it was the first time all of us had been together in a year. I’d only just gotten my keyblade, so Sora and Riku did most of the fighting. But even though they hadn’t fought together in so long, it was still like they were completely in sync.” Her gaze fell to her thumbs, twiddling together by her chest. “When the time comes, and I have to fight side by side with them...well, is there some sort of skill that I need to learn, to be able to…” Not get in their way? To keep up with them? To somehow help elevate their combat - no, she was getting ahead of herself.

Though her thoughts were unverbalized, there was a knowing look in the dark eyes behind Merlin’s half-moon shaped spectacles.

“The keyblade is a very special weapon, Kairi,” he began, his hand firm on her shoulder, the dangling fabric of his sleeve tickling the tiny hairs on her arm. “The fact that you are able to wield one is a testament to the strength of your heart, and your heart alone. There are many ways that that strength might manifest itself further during times of ire, like the special attacks and synchronization you saw between your friends.”

“And how exactly do I learn to “manifest” that kind of power?”

“There is no way to learn it,” Merlin said gently, chuckling when he noted the bewilderment in her indigo eyes. “If your connection to people, or that one special person, is strong enough, then it will manifest itself on its own.”

“If the connection is strong enough,” Kairi parrotted, her gaze back up towards the night sky.

***

“Sora!” Kairi yelled back, leaping up off the ground and into the air. Stardust trailed behind her, her hair flying wildly in all directions as she glided through the mayhem, the sound of his voice calling her name her Polaris. Though she had to change directions in her path more than once, the welcomed sight of clouds, stars, and Sora’s outstretched hands soon greeted her. The shackles of her self-doubt came undone the moment her fingers intertwined with his, and that was when it happened.

A flash of blinding light encompassed them, and a sudden warmth pulsed through every fiber of her being. It bubbled in her chest and came to a boil when she felt something erupt through her back.

“Light!” Kairi and Sora both cried out, realizing what was happening. Their fingers were still intertwined with one hand as they both turned to face their enemy.

Decades of battles, of magic, of knowledge, and behind his armor Xehanort was still taken aback by the sight he beheld. The two children hovered above him, each having sprouted a brilliant, crystalline wing. Wispy feathers scattered about the arena as they both stared down on him, ready to make their next move.

Words weren’t needed as Sora and Kairi dove together, hand in hand, the momentum of wind and light carrying them. If Xehanort reacted at all, whatever effort he put in was futile. A cry of agony escaped him as he was flung backward, the attack not only connecting but overwhelming him. 

Still in sync, Sora and Kairi somersaulted in the air, light, feathers, and memories cascading down all around them. As it dissipated, Xehanort revealed himself, standing his ground and back on his feet once more. But the fear, the second-guessing, the self-deprecation that was in Kairi’s heart was gone as she looked back briefly at Sora, the gentleness in his sky blue eyes telling her what she already knew.

They could do it. Together.

#sokai week #sokai week 2020 #sokai #sora #kairi #kingdom hearts #blissfulnightrainart #blissfulnightrainwrites

[berrykook]

overtime (y!jk)

inspired by #4 on this prompt list

in which you’re fed up with the office temp jungkook and a terrifying experience at the end of a week of overtime together leads you straight back to him

contents: yandere!jungkook, kidnapping, foul play, violence, no smut (i cannot tag a yandere fic as sfw in good conscience i simply cannot)

word count: 4.5k

a/n: got stoned and wrote a yandere fic i’m sorry lmfao

 *☆*ﾟ ゜ﾟ*☆*ﾟ ゜ﾟ*☆*ﾟ ゜ﾟ*☆*ﾟ ゜ﾟ*☆*ﾟ ゜ﾟ*☆*ﾟ ゜ﾟ*☆*ﾟ ゜ﾟ*☆*ﾟ ゜ﾟ*☆*ﾟ ゜ﾟ*☆*ﾟ

The thread of patience you had left was being steadily thinned as sweat began to collect on the back of your neck for the fifth day in a row. You thought you were seeing red, but that was just the blood-colored light that filled the office at the same time each night. You cursed your boss under your breath as you brought your USB-powered desk fan impossibly closer to you. He knew you would have to pull the weight of your team and work late every night this week, yet he did nothing about the air conditioning that turned off before the sun even set. You wiped your forehead and shot another quick glare at the doe-eyed temp who had recently wormed his way into your workplace. As it had been for each night that week, you and him (Junghwan? Or was it Jungwoo?) were the only two remaining in the office. As it had also been for each night that week, the kid was on your last nerve.

He was an excellent worker, albeit nervous and a tad awkward. Your female coworkers seem to have taken a liking to him, which only further irritated you as it felt like no work had been done upon his arrival. Despite his mousiness, he had already gotten along well with your branch manager who never failed to personally see that your day was worsened somehow. In a month, he had managed to win over your boss as if they had known each other for years. You did know Hoseok for a number of years, and he still treated you like dirt.

Each night that week, the temp insisted on staying late with you (a nice gesture initially, but turned sour once you realized that his working pace after hours was nowhere near as fast as he worked during the day), he insisted on ordering takeout and eating it right by each other each night (what would be another nice gesture had he understood that he could eat at his own desk and not at yours), and he insisted on accompanying you home every night (you flat out refused this each time he begged). In the month-or-so duration of his time working with you, he repeatedly pushed boundaries that you thought were obvious and justified as you two were coworkers and nothing more. You supposed he was sort of sweet, but you were not interested in any office crushes.

You took a moment’s break and sighed as you stretched your curved back. You let out the faintest hint of a whimper when your spine popped softly. You had your eyes closed, but you knew that he perked up at the sound.

“Seonbae! Your back!” You kept your eyes closed, imagining the feeling of a cool breeze stronger than the fan on your desk.

“It’s fine, just a bit sore.” You nearly jumped when you opened your eyes to see him already halfway to your desk. You let out a quiet sigh, accepting that you wouldn’t get any work done until he went back to his own desk. He brought up a chair for himself and naturally, you scooted your own chair farther away from his. “It’s only seven thirty. We don’t have that much left - if we continue as we are, we can hit a reasonable stopping point for the weekend.”

He huffed softly, nearly pouting at you. “When was the last time you ate? I think it’s far past time we get something to eat.” You had to stop yourself from rolling your eyes - he totally ignored what you said! The look on his face was too concerned for someone you were practically strangers with.

“Seriously, we should be done by nine. I’ll be fine, just continue working as you’ve been and at the very least, be sure that the weekly summary is on the boss' desk before you leave.” You turned back to your work as best as you could with him taking up space in your area. You begged your posture not to stiffen angrily  as you realized that he was not leaving.

“...You seemed to like those noodles I ordered on Tuesday. I-I can order them again!” Without turning, you can sense that he’s leaning forward with his hands on his knees like a puppy. You cracked a faint smile at having just finished one of your remaining tasks for the workday.

“Hm...that’s alright. Don’t worry about it, I’m not hungry. You know...I really could get all this finished up by myself tonight and you can get out of here a little earlier.” He let out a tiny gasp. The sound helped snap your wispy memory - Jungkook was his name!

“No, no, I couldn’t. It’s not safe to leave separately! I-I’ll get back to work, but you have to eat too. The order should be coming within the hour.” He began to sluggishly wander back to his desk, but froze as if he was doused in icy water when you abruptly called his name.

“I told you already this week that you don’t have to order food to the office. I won’t accept any more delivery from you.” You kept your head down, trying to zoom through your team’s documents as fast as humanly possible. Jungkook looked crestfallen as a little boy.

“Seonbae...you really should be eating.” His tone of voice had your eyes snapping up to where he stood hunched in the middle of the office. Your breath caught in your throat for a split second as it almost sounded like he was crying at the idea of you not having regular meals. You willed yourself to not appear disgusted with his overbearing concern.

“It’s fine.”

You immediately turned back to your work and Jungkook finally sat back down at his desk, partly twiddling his thumbs, partly checking the delivery status of the meal he ordered for you, and partly doing his work as he was expected to do. The office was still trapping a ridiculous amount of heat despite the sun being completely down now - you even dared think that your boss was purposely turning the heat up in the middle of the summer after hours!

Thankfully, you were able to work in silence until Jungkook jumped up again with a small exclamation, mumbling something about the food being here. Completely choosing to not respond, you continued working before Jungkook was back at your side once again.

“Seonbae, let’s eat!” You swallowed your sigh and moved your chair away from his. He had already laid out several takeout boxes on your coworker’s and your own desks, and he was currently ridding a wooden pair of chopsticks from splinters. You were determined to get out of there, so you focused on your task at hand until a mouthful of noodles approached your lips.

“Jungkook! No!” You scolded the young boy for attempting to feed you for the fifth time that week. You glared at him while he shamefully slurped the noodles into his own mouth. He mumbled a sullen apology and handed you a pair of your own chopsticks.

You gave in to the food and ate in silence as your head swam with the remaining tasks for the week. Hoseok had just demanded so much of you, both as a normal worker and as the senior member of your team. He had even warned you about being nice to Jungkook and helping him feel welcomed, so you didn’t dare make any complaints about his incessant flirting. He was a temp and would be gone in a matter of months, surely. Surely you could endure a bit of flirting.

“This is nice,” he says wistfully, black bean sauce on the corner of his lip. You wordlessly hand him a tissue. You were steadily becoming sure that you actually could not endure any more flirting.

You get through the next few hours somewhat peacefully. The most spine-tingling interaction was Jungkook gushing over your apathetic thanks for the dinner, but the rest of the night was calm. Unsurprisingly, you were finished with all of your tasks fifteen minutes before Jungkook had begun his last one. His eyes became saucers when you suggested leaving first and having Jungkook lock up the office for the night. 

Of course, he could not complete the simplest of tasks you asked of him.

“I just don’t think I’m prepared for a responsibility like that! Seonbae, can’t you please just wait ten minutes while I finish up this last task! It’s dangerous outside!” For the first time, Jungkook spoke to you with his eyes laser-focused on his work. His hands moved faster than his brain so he could finish his work as quickly as possible. His whining was desperate, but you continued to put on your coat and gather your belongings.

“Jungkook, you really will be fine. You can be trusted locking the door, right? Just return the keys back to me on Monday. I’m leaving now,” you called out with your back to him as you swiftly dropped the office keys on his desk and sped-walked out the office. Finally! That hellish week of Jungkook desperately trying to get your attention was complete. The following workweek was projected to be filled with a lot less work from you and you hoped it would stay that way. Your feet shuffled with the desire to skip to your car once the elevator to the parking garage opened. You felt a twinge of guilt at leaving Jungkook alone in the office, but you completely saw through his weird gestures and efforts to win you over. How lucky you were to be so stagnant in your ways.

The elevator opened with its soft ping and you inhaled the night air deeply. Halfway across the garage to your car, the harsh clang of your keys hitting the asphalt echoed across the space. When you bent down to pick them up, you stayed close to the ground for a quick moment, mind racing as to what you would do next.

When your keys hit the floor and you stopped walking to pick them up, the sound of footsteps in the garage did not. It was obvious - someone was in there with you.

You were certain it couldn’t be Jungkook because he obnoxiously made his presence known to you at every chance he could. There was no way it was any of your coworkers, and any night staff for the building would be well into their jobs at this time of night. As you slowly picked yourself up and prepared to break into a sprint to your car, the unknown presence was just a hair faster than you and had already begun bounding loudly towards your still figure. You managed to get in just a few feet before your waist was grabbed and a hand went over your face.

You made a startled noise for a split second, and then instinctively spent the rest of your energy prying this creep off of you. Please, please, please, you thought. The car is right there.

You tried biting the leather-covered hand that took over half of your face, you tried using your elbows and hips, you tried stomping your heels, but it was as if no action could free you. You began to really panic when the screaming began - you couldn’t remember another time you felt so fearful that you released such desperate screams like that.

You kept fighting even as you felt yourself being dragged farther from your car and even as you began to lose hope. You heard a chirp of a car trunk being opened and you felt your dinner begin to churn. You briefly considered reasoning with your captor and investigating how to talk yourself out of your own kidnapping when you were harshly shoved to the concrete. You scrambled to get up and away before you realized your captor was being straddled and beat to a pulp by a raging Jungkook. You become even closer to losing your dinner as Jungkook brings his fists up past his head and repeatedly bashes the head of your captor, all while screaming at the top of his lungs unintelligibly. Jungkook is going to kill this man. You let out a heartbroken sob and Jungkook’s raised fist suddenly paused. His head snapped over to you, still on the ground and covered in scrapes. For the first time, Jungkook says your first name and makes a face of complete devastation in response to your own crying before he’s suddenly punched in the jaw so hard he tumbles to the side and your captor swiftly kicks his ribs before running off to the emergency exit into the night. You are sobbing at this point and Jungkook is holding himself up with his bloody hands and breathing shallowly. For some reason, you instinctively crawled over to him and held him up by his shoulders.

Your hyperventilating inhibited you from speaking and this quickly shocked Jungkook back into looking after you. He gently raises a hand to the back of your head and pulls you close to him. His other hand brings your lower half closer to where you were nearly on his lap - he begins rubbing your back like you would a baby. In fact, you faintly hear him murmuring something like “Shh, baby. It’s okay, I’ve got you. I’m here, baby. Just be quiet, shh.” You paid no mind to the fact that it was Jungkook holding you. You let out the most heart wrenching sob yet and wrapped your arms around him, hugging him closely. His ribs are screaming at him, urging him to push you off his freshly broken bones but he clenches his teeth and squeezes you. The pain of hearing you cry is a thousand times more grating than the pain in his torso.

“Don’t cry, don’t cry. Hmm, sweetheart, it’s okay. I’m here, don’t cry.” Your hyperventilating cools down after some time of Jungkook whispering in your ear. It’s...nice.

He lets out what seems like a sigh of relief. “Okay, baby? Are you feeling better?” He holds you by your shoulders and you stare at him lifelessly. His eyebrows are knitted together in that way that they do, and the mole on his lower lip is so noticeable when he’s on the verge of tears. You take in the worry in his face and your own lip trembles again as you look down and try to suppress a strong blubber. Jungkook grabs your chin with a coo and you are crumbling even more. “No, no, baby, don’t cry! He’s gone, okay? I got rid of him,” he chuckles nervously. You stare down at his knuckles, split from beating the man who tried to hurt you. Guilt blooms in your chest.

“Are you okay?” you whimper. Jungkook is taken aback and his heart beats faster, if that were possible. He stutters something, then nods his head furiously.

“Don’t even ask about me! It’s all about you.” He is still holding your chin with his thumb and forefinger and at this point, it feels like all the blood in your body is in your head. Jungkook laughs nervously again, and runs his thumb over your chin in admiration. “Tell me what you need,” he whispers. You let out a huff, completely defeated. Despite your valiant effort to stop it, you had suddenly fallen victim to an office crush and you had fallen hard. 

You opted to stay silent and instead grab Jungkook’s hand from your face and intertwine your fingers.

Jungkook nearly pops a vessel trying to not jump over the moon in elation. He opts to bring your hand up to his lips and kiss it.

*☆*ﾟ ゜ﾟ*☆*ﾟ ゜ﾟ*☆*ﾟ ゜ﾟ*☆*ﾟ ゜ﾟ*☆*ﾟ ゜ﾟ*☆*ﾟ ゜ﾟ*☆*ﾟ ゜ﾟ*☆*ﾟ ゜ﾟ*☆*ﾟ ゜ﾟ*☆*ﾟ

By the time you and Jungkook had finished speaking with the police and sorting out the logistics of moving forward legally, it was early Saturday morning and you were more than exhausted. Jungkook was not required to stay at the police station for longer than you, but he did so anyway. He insisted that his ribs felt fine and he didn’t want any medical attention. Like he said, this was all about you.

After thanking the officers profusely and bowing deeply to them, you began the grueling walk to Jungkook’s car. He gently urged you into his car back at the garage seeing as you were in no state to be driving. You faintly remember his hands running up and down your back, patting dangerously close to your ass as he helped you into the passenger’s seat with a hushed “there’s my girl.”

He kept a gentle, warm hand to the back of your neck. “A-Are you sure you’d like to go straight home?” he asked tentatively. “I want you to feel comfortable.” Ironically as he said this, he moved both of his hands to rub along your spine. Even now several hours after the incident, you still found yourself looking up at Jungkook with heart eyes. You hadn’t known how wonderful it felt to simply let yourself be doted over (it also very well could be the fresh trauma fiddling with your emotions).

You look up at him with a soft gaze. “Some company would be great.” He smiles and tilts his head as he looks down at you. Again, he leads you to his car, running a hand down your backside as he helps you get seated. He reaches to secure the seatbelt across your figure and you both find yourselves blushing.

Soon, as you are pulling into the parking garage of his apartment complex, you almost get whiplash from the intense realization that you were making a mistake. Not even twenty-four hours ago were you fuming over this kid’s weird and overbearing behavior, and now you were about to sleep in his bed - your coworker’s bed. Jungkook immediately notices your trepidation and places his hand over yours.

“Don’t worry, I’m here.” His smile is beaming towards you and you chuckle, wildly pulling your seatbelt off. Jungkook makes a small noise of surprise and rushes over out of the car around to your side to open your door for you. Fuck, you thought. This was probably some wet dream of his or something.

Jungkook walked you to his apartment with an arm around your shoulders, almost as if to protect you from the rest of the world. As his nervous hands fumbled to unlock his front door, you decided to allow yourself one more hour of this nonsense before you really snapped out of it and found your way home. For just one more hour, you would allow yourself to indulge in this inappropriate relationship with horribly inappropriate timing.

You were taking your shoes off when Jungkook softly pulled you to the couch instead. “Here, sweetie,” he cooed as he sat you down and got on his knees in front of you. You couldn’t yet tell if you loved this or hated it.

“Let me,” he says before daintily taking off your shoes himself and bringing your ankles up to his lap as he crawled up to sit on the couch. He rubbed your calf gently with his warm hand. “Did anywhere get hurt when that man touched you?” He leaned in closer to you.

You have to look away. You twiddle your thumbs and Jungkook watches your hands with fondness. “Mm, everywhere is kinda sore. My elbows and knees are all scraped up too.” Jungkook looks at you and nods seriously, cooing in understanding.

“Oh, I’m sorry. That’s my fault that my princess got scraped up like that. Aw,” he mumbles, grabbing your hand and observing it thoroughly. 

You decide an hour is too long to indulge in this (whatever this is) and jerk your hand back from him. His mouth drops open in offense as he whines a small, “baby…” You shake your head.

“Jungkook, what the hell are you talking about? A-and this...this is inappropriate. I’m your senior, we can’t just...especially after what happened, it just...feels wrong. In more than one way.” As you speak, Jungkook’s lip trembles more and more before he lets out a wail. Your eyes widen at how poorly he processes this completely obvious fact. He couldn’t...actually be using this traumatic event as fodder for courting you, right? You were sure that you felt that way, but there was just something about the way Jungkook treated you before and the manner in which he saved you...something was off. Jungkook was just the temp who flirted with you and would be gone in a few months, right? Perhaps there truly was something off about him, in a deeper way than his persistence. 

Perhaps Jungkook was much more than you ever expected.

The way he cries completely grates against your ears, so you make a frenzied effort to calm him. “Jungkook, please stop crying. We need to talk about this. Shit, it’s okay, just please stop.” You pat his back, fearing the way he cries so deeply that his chest heaves.

“That’s not fair, baby, it’s not fair! Why can’t you even see now that we’re obviously meant to be? I saved you, we’re perfect for each other!” You let out a disgusted gasp at his words and attempt to push yourself away from him.

For the past few hours, you dismissed Jungkook’s insane animalistic reaction in the parking garage as instinctual and justified - it saved you from being kidnapped. You had a gut feeling that reaction told you exactly what you needed to know about Jungkook’s character, but you desperately wanted to give the man who saved you the benefit of the doubt. Now, his psychotic crying set it in stone - Jungkook was a fucking lunatic.

“Shit, I-I’m sorry, Jungkook. I have to go,” you mumbled, scrambling for your shoes and stumbling a little with fatigue. Jungkook’s sobbing begins to quicken maniacally and you are rushing towards his front door. It is when you pull at the doorknob to find that it’s not moving that you realize that Jungkook had actually begun laughing.

You jiggle the doorknob a few times before Jungkook goes silent and growls lowly, “Sweet pea, get back here please.” You weren’t sure how much more fear your body could take in this short span of time. You continue trying to figure out the doorknob, panic rising in you, as Jungkook continues to call to you from the couch. “Honey, I said please come back here. Sit with me, baby.” He is starting to speak through clenched teeth. At this time, you are now trying to yell over him, asking desperately how to get on the other side of his door.

He yells your name. “I said get back here right fucking now or I’ll have to do something real fucked up.” Your hands fall to your sides and you hold your breath. Jungkook waits a moment before saying softly, “Baby, I’m asking you to come over here. Do I need to get up and come get you?” You pivot and walk quickly back to him, stopping a bit more than an arm’s length from him. He snickers and opens his arms. “Come here, baby. Sit with me.”

You shake your head, crying, “Jungkook, I would like to go home. I-I-I can’t figure out your lock,” you sob. “I want to go home, please.” You are now filled with a deeper fear than what you felt in the parking garage. You just knew that Jungkook was much more dangerous than whoever it could have been trying to take you away.

“Baby. Here.” He pats his thigh and you whimper, coming over to sit on his lap. He lets out a deep sigh when you finally land and he wraps his arms around you, burying his face in your chest. “Oh, sweetie.” One hand rubs your back and you are sure you’re going to pass out soon. “You can’t possibly think I’m going to let you out of my sight again, hm?” He rubs his head against you, planting a wet kiss on your sweater-covered sternum.

“I-I don’t understand. I have to go home eventually.” You hopelessly tried to find some justification for this, some explanation that the person who saved you from being kidnapped wasn’t a kidnapper themselves. Jungkook chuckles and you feel the vibration through your middle.

“You are home,” he says sweetly, reaching up quickly to peck your cheek. You stifled another gasp and shook your head. “Honey, you’re home now. Everything is going just the way it should be, okay? You’re safe here.”

You let yourself fall forward into Jungkook’s chest. The room had begun to spin.

“That makes no sense,” you mumbled. “This is not the way things should be. Are you saying I was meant to be attacked after work?” You chuckled nervously. As exhaustion and fear nearly spent you completely, you found yourself losing any will to fight back. If you could not beat that man in the garage, how could you beat the man who protected you from him? Jungkook’s body was big and hard with muscle. He was easily more athletic than you, and would likely stop at nothing to stay near you. He scoffed.

“I would never want to hurt you.” He presses kisses to your spinning head. “My baby...it was just a part of bringing you home to me. Don’t take it the wrong way.” Your eyes are open wide, staring at the knick knacks he decorated his entire living room with. You stare at one, a cute kitty cat photo frame - ah, quite obviously holding a photo of you. In fact, all of the artifacts littering his home had some connection to you. A cropped group photo from a work party displays your whole figure in the photo frame by the door. There was a white square hung up in a glass frame with a corner smeared by your favorite lipstick color - you didn’t want to believe it was your garbage. It couldn’t be. He keeps kissing your head.

“No sense,” you whispered brokenly. He shushes you, running his hands along your back once again.

“I know, I know baby. That’s just how you feel right now...don’t worry. I’ll help you understand it was for your own good. Ah, it was a shame I had to hurt Namjoon-hyung like that though...one day when you’re ready to meet him again, you’ll find out he’s actually the coolest brother I have.”

“...brother?”

Jungkook hums. He has begun to absentmindedly braid your hair, taking his time to run his hands through the strands and give each section a sniff. You pretend that you can’t hear his heart rate picking up when he smells your shampoo.

“Hoseokie-hyung was a big help, too. What, with the job and all. I can’t thank those two enough for everything they’ve done for me. Ah, they’ll make the best groomsmen at our wedding, don’t you think, sweetie?”

You opt to not respond. He sighs lightly, relieved.

“Of course, after that, it’s choosing which of the two becomes the first godfather. Ah, I might cry if I think that far ahead,” he chuckles. “I’m so glad you’re home now, sweetheart. I’ve been waiting forever.”

#yandere jungkook #yandere jeongguk #yandere!jungkook #yandere!jeongguk #yandere bts #yandere!bts

[bonesofapoet]

Revival of a Soul

[alucard x you]

author’s note: so i said this would Never See The Light of Day, but given the disaster that has been both this week and this year, screw it! im releasing my shameless writing bc like. its the little things, you know? maybe someone else wants to read about alucard shoving them up against a wall! to hell with it!!! and im also pretty proud of this one, so there’s that. alcohol, blood mention, implied spicy times. takes place between s2 & s3

word count: 846

Over a glass of wine, you spilled dreams and bled your thoughts.

They echoed in empty air, filled stagnant silence with the life and death and peace you had fought excruciatingly hard to win. They sprawled like ink, scattered beyond the humble dining room to the far reaches of the castle, the grounds, the forest and beyond. You didn’t need a filter now, in this moment, with this new life.

Alucard had heard many things in his short existence, but nothing was as sweet, nothing was as welcoming as the sound of your voice. Warmth filled his veins while you let free what had made a home deep inside yourself – what had to be hidden during the hunt, the mission, the promise of a brighter future. His spirit soared for the first time since he could remember, and he knew you would be the death of him. Not his father. Not his past. Not Belmont’s incessant whining.

He had felt nothing of the sort in any of his lifetimes, it seemed, and he couldn’t, wouldn’t stop the smile that crept slow and contented and real on his lips. It lingered, and your heart blossomed at the peace this moment brought.

Over a bottle of wine, you shared secrets.

The western skies had become a timeless portrait of coral hues and violet tones bleeding into wispy gray clouds. They hid the descending sun from both of you trying to get a glimpse from an upstairs balcony, one with minimum battle damage. Neither of you were worried about remaining hidden while you watched the sun fall down, down, down, as you drifted closer, closer, closer to the other, bottle long forgotten in favor of being drunk on company instead.

The Muses sang in your heart as you were painted in amber rays when they were freed from the clouds that held them prisoner. The Muses sang in your heart when you looked at the strange half-vampire beside you. He was close enough you felt the touch of his arm as he moved closer, felt his own warmth. You welcomed his own secrets as they found a home in your life, your soul, your future. The Muses sang and sang and sang when he smiled, gilded in gold, divine against the setting sun.

You knew then, that you would never look at anyone the way you surely were looking at him.

The balcony became your home until the moon rose high in the sky, full and bright. It bathed the new castle grounds in radiant silver that felt like a dream. It’s reach was far beyond what you could see, but your eyes lingered on the ruins in the distance, the ones through the trees. Seeing the bones of Belmont Manor still rattled you, if only a little.

“None of this feels real,” you said, eyes glued to the skeleton, the legacy of a family once larger than life. It almost seemed haunted now, but you supposed it was in it’s own way.

Alucard shifted, leaned against the bent filigreed gate at your fingertips, silence growing comfortable, thick, stretched taut over the history in decay before you.

“No,” he said, voice drawn low against the quiet night. Your eyes found his when you heard his voice, breath caught dead in your throat when you saw him kissed by moonlight, consumed by shadow. Chiaroscuro brought to life. An avenging angel incarnate, not the son of the devil. His hands toyed with ivy wound around the iron. “I guess it doesn’t.”

It also didn’t feel real when he pushed you up against vintage, patterned peeling wallpaper, either.

Moonlight streamed through a cracked window, glinted on tarnished gilt sconces and baroque portrait frames that adorned the nearest room with four intact walls. Belongings were strewn across the floor, clothing soon to follow in their footsteps.

It didn’t feel real when he kissed you fiercely, full of of passion. His kiss said more than words ever could, said what he’d wanted to tell you this whole time – but showing you? That was easier than finding words, and more fun for everyone involved.

The walls of Dracula’s castle were secret histories brought to life, brought to ruin. They were hell brought to Earth in a fury of magic and fiery burning brimstone. The secrets within those walls had been twisted into vengeance and fear and death.

The walls of Alucard’s castle, however.

Those would be filled with a lover’s touch. Soft words whispered tender and sweet, dripping of hope for the future where there was peace. Only peace, and only love that was breathless and pure and healing to all those who entered within those walls from then until the end of time.

It was a promise, silent and true, when you looked into each others eyes that night – that whatever happened next, whatever evil dared disturb your gentle domain – there would be nothing that would take him from you. There would be nothing he wouldn’t do to keep you safe.

That was a promise. Bound in blood. Signed by the devils within you.

#alucard x reader #alucard imagine #castelvania imagine #adrian tepes x reader #adrian tepes imagine #alucard x you #kas writes

[mytwilightimagines13]

Amnesia (Book Two)(Part Ten)(Alec Volturi)

The Trial

As the pause lengthened, Edward's breath speed up. "Edward?" Carlisle asked, low and anxious. ‘'They're not sure how to proceed. They're weighing options, choosing key targets - me, of course, you, Eleazar, Tanya. Marcus is reading the strength of our ties to each other, looking for weak points. The Romanians' presence irritates them. They're worried about the faces they don't recognize - Zafrina and Senna in particular - and the wolves, naturally. He is debating whether Maeryn’s gift could break Bella’s shield, or atleast crack it enough for Alec and Jane’s gift to slip through, just as it did with Renate’s shield.” A few gasps filled the air and they looked at Bella, who also looked concerned. “ However, they've never been outnumbered before. That's what stopped them." "Outnumbered?" Tanya whispered incredulously. "They don't count their witnesses," Edward breathed. "They are nonentities, meaningless to the guard. Aro just enjoys an audience." "Should I speak?" Carlisle asked. Edward hesitated, then nodded. "This is the only chance you'll get." Carlisle squared his shoulders and paced several steps ahead of our defensive line. He spread his arms, holding his palms up as if in greeting. "Aro, my old friend. It's been centuries." The white clearing was dead silent for a long moment. The strain mounted as the seconds ticked by. And then Aro stepped forward out of the center of the Volturi formation. Renate moved with him as if the tips of her fingers were sewn to his robe. For the first time, the Volturi ranks reacted. A muttered grumble rolled through the line, eyebrows lowered into scowls, lips curled back from teeth. Even Maeryn felt her lips curl back from her teeth, however, Alec squeezed her hand and pulled her slightly closer to him, calming her down. A few of the guard leaned forward into a crouch. Aro held one hand up toward them. "Peace." He walked just a few paces more, then cocked his head to one side. His milky eyes glinted with curiosity. "Fair words, Carlisle," he breathed in his thin, wispy voice. "They seem out of place, considering the army you've assembled to kill me, and to kill my dear ones." Carlisle shook his head and stretched his right hand forward as if there were not still almost a hundred yards between them. "You have but to touch my hand to know that was never my intent." Aro's shrewd eyes narrowed. "But how can your intent possibly matter, dear Carlisle, in the face of what you have done?" He frowned, and a shadow of sadness crossed his features - whether it was genuine or not, I could not tell. "I have not committed the crime you are here to punish me for." "Then step aside and let us punish those responsible. Truly, Carlisle, nothing would please me more than to preserve your life today." "No one has broken the law, Aro. Let me explain." Again, Carlisle offered his hand. Before Aro could answer, Caius drifted swiftly forward to Aro's side. "So many pointless rules, so many unnecessary laws you create for yourself, Carlisle," the white-haired ancient hissed. "How is it possible that you defend the breaking of one that truly matters?" Maeryn agreed, who did they think they were anyway? "The law is not broken. If you would listen - " "We see the child, Carlisle," Caius snarled. "Do not treat us as fools." "She is not an immortal. She is not a vampire. I can easily prove this with just a few moments - " Caius cut him off. "If she is not one of the forbidden, then why have you massed a battalion to protect her?" "Witnesses, Caius, just as you have brought." Carlisle gestured to the angry horde at the edge of the woods; some of them growled in response. "Any one of these friends can tell you the truth about the child. Or you could just look at her, Caius. See the flush of human blood in her cheeks." "Artifice!" Caius snapped. "Where is the informer? Let her come forward!" He craned his neck around until he spotted Irina lingering behind the wives. "You! Come!" Irina stared at him uncomprehendingly, her face like that of someone who has not entirely awakened from a hideous nightmare.

Impatiently, Caius snapped his fingers. One of the wives' huge bodyguards moved to Irina's side and prodded her roughly in the back. Irina blinked twice and then walked slowly toward Caius in a daze. She stopped several yards short, her eyes still on her sisters. Caius closed the distance between them and slapped her across the face. It couldn't have hurt, but there was something terribly degrading about the action. It was like watching someone kick a dog. Tanya and Kate hissed in synchronization. Irina's body went rigid and her eyes finally focused on Caius. He pointed one clawed finger at Renesmee, where she clung to Bella’s back, her fingers still tangled in the wolf’s fur. A growl rumbled through its chest. "This is the child you saw?" Caius demanded. "The one that was obviously more than human?" Irina peered at the foes, examining Renesmee for the first time since entering the clearing. Her head tilted to the side, confusion crossed her features. "Well?" Caius snarled. "I... I'm not sure," she said, her tone perplexed. Caius's hand twitched as if he wanted to slap her again. "What do you mean?" he said in a steely whisper. "She's not the same, but I think it's the same child. What I mean is, she's changed. This child is bigger than the one I saw, but - " Caius's furious gasp crackled through his suddenly bared teeth, and Irina broke off without finishing. Aro flitted to Caius's side and put a restraining hand on his shoulder. "Be composed, brother. We have time to sort this out. No need to be hasty." With a sullen expression, Caius turned his back on Irina. "Now, sweetling," Aro said in a warm, sugary murmur. "Show me what you're trying to say." He held his hand out to the bewildered vampire. Uncertainly, Irina took his hand. He held hers for only five seconds. "You see, Caius?" he said. "It's a simple matter to get what we need." Caius didn't answer him. From the corner of his eye, Aro glanced once at his audience, his mob, and then turned back to Carlisle. "And so we have a mystery on our hands, it seems. It would appear the child has grown. Yet Irina's first memory was clearly that of an immortal child. Curious." "That's exactly what I'm trying to explain," Carlisle said, and from the change in his voice, Maeryn could guess at his relief. This was the pause they had pinned all their precious hopes on. However, it was pathetic to even begin with. Carlisle held out his hand again. Aro hesitated for a moment. "I would rather have the explanation from someone more central to the story, my friend. Am I wrong to assume that this breach was not of your making?" "There was no breach." "Be that as it may, I will have every facet of the truth." Aro's feathery voice hardened. "And the best way to get that is to have the evidence directly from your talented son." He inclined his head in Edward's direction. "As the child clings to his newborn mate, I'm assuming Edward is involved." Edward turned to quickly kiss Bella’s forehead and Renesmee's, not meeting her eyes. Then he strode across the snowy field, clapping Carlisle on the shoulder as he passed. A low whimper cloud be heard from behind the first row of foes - Esme's terror breaking through. Good. Be afraid. They all should be. Jane smiled as Edward crossed the midpoint in the distance between the two sides, when he was closer to the Volturi than he was to the foes. That smug little smile did it for Bella. Her fury peaked and her muscles tightened, and she acted automatically. She threw her shield with all the force in her mind, flung it across the impossible expanse of the field like a javelin. Her breath rushed out in a huff with the exertion. The shield blew out from her in a bubble of sheer energy, a mushroom cloud of liquid steel. It pulsed like a living thing. This was the moment Maeryn had waited for. Alec squeezed her hand one more time before releasing it, letting her use her power. Maeryn removed her hands from under her dark, grey cloak  and she concentrated on the barely visible bubble Bella was creating, trying to protect Edward. Maeryn slowly closed

her hand, feeling her gift sifting through her fingers. Her shield was strong, but slowly small cracks started to form, yet it took all that Maeryn had to keep these cracks open. Bella looked worried, but soon that look of worry turned into a glare. Jane had also noticed the cracks and tried to use her gift on Bella. A frustrating growl escaped her lips and Maeryn knew why. Bella had a second shield, a shield Maeryn couldn’t break. At least not yet. Maeryn dropped her hands and the shield repaired itself, though it was weaker than before. Barely a second had passed. Edward was still walking to Aro. Edward stopped a few steps away from Aro, Edward's chin came up arrogantly, and he held his hand out to Aro as if he were conferring a great honor.  Maeryn growled lowly, warning him. However, Aro seemed only delighted with his attitude, but his delight was not universal. Renate fluttered nervously in Aro’s shadow. Caius's scowl was so deep it looked like his papery, translucent skin would crease permanently. Little Jane showed her teeth, and beside her Alec's eyes narrowed in concentration. Maeryn growled lowly, warning him. They all were ready to act at a second's notice. Aro closed the distance without pause - and really, what did he have to fear? The hulking shadows of the lighter gray cloaks - the brawny fighters like Felix - were but a few yards away. Jane and her burning gift could throw Edward on the ground, writhing in agony. Alec could blind and deafen him before he could take a step in Aro's direction. And Maeryn could turn him to dust in a matter of seconds. Making it look like he had never existed at all. And ontop of that, she had just found out she was able to crack Bella’s shield, allowing at least Alec’s gift to slip through. With an untroubled smile, Aro took Edward's hand. His eyes snapped shut at once, and then his shoulders hunched under the onslaught of information. Every secret thought, every strategy, every insight - everything Edward had heard in the minds around him during the last month - was now Aro's. Bella hissed with frustration, and the shield roiled with her irritation, shifting its shape and contracting around their side. "Easy, Bella," Zafrina whispered to her. Aro continued to concentrate on Edward's memories. Edward's head bowed, too, the muscles in his neck locking tight as he read back again everything that Aro took from him, and Aro's response to it all. This two-way but unequal conversation continued long enough that even the guard grew uneasy. Low murmurs ran through the line until Caius barked a sharp order for silence. Jane was edging forward like she couldn't help herself, and Renata's face was rigid with distress. Aro straightened, his eyes flashing open, their expression awed and wary. He did not release Edward's hand. Edward's muscles loosened ever so slightly. "You see?" Edward asked, his velvet voice calm. "Yes, I see, indeed," Aro agreed, and amazingly, he sounded almost amused. "I doubt whether any two among gods or mortals have ever seen quite so clearly." The disciplined faces of the guard showed disbelief. "You have given me much to ponder, young friend," Aro continued. "Much more than I expected." Still he did not release Edward's hand, and Edward's tense stance was that of one who listens. Edward didn't answer. "May I meet her?" Aro asked - almost pleaded - with sudden eager interest. "I never dreamed of the existence of such a thing in all my centuries. What an addition to our histories!" "What is this about, Aro?" Caius snapped before Edward could answer. Maeryn felt the same. She was curious, but she was even more bloodthirsty. She wanted nothing more than to crush Isabella Cullen. The only vampire known to stand against her mate’s gift. "Something you've never dreamed of, my practical friend. Take a moment to ponder, for the justice we intended to deliver no longer applies." Caius hissed in surprise at his words. "Peace, brother," Aro cautioned soothingly. This would have been good news for the Cullens, if not for the double tone the message was delivered with. 

"Will you introduce me to your daughter?" Aro asked Edward again. Caius was not the only one who hissed at this new revelation. Edward nodded reluctantly. Aro still gripped Edward's hand, and he now answered a question that the rest of the vampires had not heard. "I think a compromise on this one point is certainly acceptable, under the circumstance. We will meet in the middle." Aro released his hand. Edward turned back toward us, and Aro joined him, throwing one arm casually over Edward's shoulder like they were the best of friends - all the while maintaining contact with Edward's skin. They began to cross the field back to our side. The entire guard fell into step behind them. Aro raised a hand negligently without looking at them. "Hold, my dear ones. Truly, they mean us no harm if we are peaceable." The guard reacted to this more openly than before, with snarls and hisses of protest, but held their position. Renate, clinging closer to Aro than ever, whimpered in anxiety. "Master," she whispered. "Don't fret, my love," he responded. "All is well." "Perhaps you should bring a few members of your guard with us," Edward suggested. "It will make them more comfortable." Aro nodded as if this was a wise observation he should have thought of himself. He snapped his fingers twice. "Felix, Demetri." The two vampires were at his side instantaneously. Both were tall and dark-haired, Demetri hard and lean as the blade of a sword, Felix hulking and menacing as an iron-spiked cudgel. The five of them stopped in the middle of the snowy field. "Bella," Edward called. "Bring Renesmee... and a few friends." Bella nodded slowly. "Jacob? Emmett?" she asked quietly. Both nodded. Emmett grinned. I crossed the field with them flanking me. Another rumble could be heard from the guard as they saw her choices  - clearly, they did not trust the werewolf. Maeryn glared at the wolf, unsure if her Master was safe. She wanted to come along and protect him, just as he took her into his protection when she was changed and her world changed, yet she couldn’t. She had to obey the commands. Aro lifted his hand, waving away their protest again. "Interesting company you keep," Demetri murmured to Edward. Edward didn't respond, but a low growl slipped through Jacob's teeth. They stopped a few yards from Aro. Edward ducked under Aro's arm and quickly joined them, taking Bella’s hand. For a moment they faced each other in silence. Then Felix greeted Bella in a low aside. "Hello again, Bella." He grinned cockily while still tracking Jacob's every twitch with his peripheral vision. Bella smiled wryly at the mountainous vampire. "Hey, Felix." Felix chuckled. "You look good. Immortality suits you." "Thanks so much." "You're welcome. It's too bad ..." He let his comment trail off into silence, Maeryn rolled her eyes. Only he would flirt with the enemy at its peaking point. But she knew how he would end the phrase: It's too bad were going to kill you in a sec. And yes, yes they would. Preferable Maeryn killing Bella specifically.  "Yes, too bad, isn't it?" she murmured arrogantly. Felix winked. “Promise me one thing?” Maeryn whispered ever so quietly to Alec and Jane, whom both looked at her questionably. “Safe Bella for me?” she replied with a sadistic yet perfect smile. The twins returned the smile. “It will be our pleasure.” Jane replied while Alec quickly kissed Maeryn’s forehead before the three vampire’s returned their attention back to the scene playing infront of their eyes, waiting for the command to attack and kill.  Aro had paid no attention to their exchange. He leaned his head to one side, fascinated. "I hear her strange heart," he murmured with an almost musical lilt to his words. "I smell her strange scent." Then his hazy eyes shifted to Bella. "In truth, young Bella, immortality does become you most extraordinarily," he said. "It is as if you were designed for this life." Bella nodded once in acknowledgment of his flattery. "You liked my gift?" he asked, eyeing the pendant she wore. "It's beautiful, and very, very generous of you.

Thank you. I probably should have sent a note." Aro laughed delightedly. "It's just a little something I had lying around. I thought it might complement your new face, and so it does." A little hiss could be heard  from the center of the Volturi line. Jane had curled her lips in annoyance. It hadn’t pleased her one bit that Master Aro had given Bella such a precious gift, and neither did it please Maeryn. Aro cleared his throat to reclaim my attention. "May I greet your daughter, lovely Bella?" he asked sweetly. Bella walked two slow steps forward.  Aro met them, his face beaming. "But she's exquisite," he murmured. "So like you and Edward." And then louder, "Hello, Renesmee." Renesmee looked at Bella quickly. She nodded. "Hello, Aro," she answered formally in her high, ringing voice. Aro's eyes were bemused. "What is it?" Caius hissed from behind. He seemed infuriated by the need to ask. "Half mortal, half immortal," Aro announced to him and the rest of the guard without turning his enthralled gaze from Renesmee. "Conceived so, and carried by this newborn while she was still human." "Impossible," Caius scoffed. "Do you think they've fooled me, then, brother?" Aro's expression was greatly amused, but Caius flinched. "Is the heartbeat you hear a trickery as well?" Caius scowled, looking as chagrined as if Aro's gentle questions had been blows. "Calmly and carefully, brother," Aro cautioned, still smiling at Renesmee. "I know well how you love your justice, but there is no justice in acting against this unique little one for her parentage. And so much to learn, so much to learn! I know you don't have my enthusiasm for collecting histories, but be tolerant with me, brother, as I add a chapter that stuns me with its improbability. We came expecting only justice and the sadness of false friends, but look what we have gained instead! A new, bright knowledge of ourselves, our possibilities." He held out his hand to Renesmee in invitation. But this was not what she wanted. She leaned away from Bella, stretching upward, to touch her fingertips to Aro's face. His smile widened, and he sighed in satisfaction. "Brilliant," he whispered. Renesmee relaxed back into Bella’s arms, her little face very serious. "Please?" she asked him. His smile turned gentle. "Of course I have no desire to harm your loved ones, precious Renesmee." Aro's voice was so comforting and affectionate. But Maeryn smiled, knowing better. And then she could heard Edward's teeth grind together and, far behind the foes, Maggie's outraged hiss at the lie. So they aren’t as thick as they seem, Maeryn thought. "I wonder," Aro said thoughtfully, seeming unaware of the reaction to his previous words. His eyes moved unexpectedly to Jacob, and instead of the disgust the other Volturi viewed the giant wolf with, Aro's eyes were filled with a longing. "It doesn't work that way," Edward said, the careful neutrality gone from his suddenly harsh tone. "Just an errant thought," Aro said, appraising Jacob openly, and then his eyes moved slowly across the two lines of werewolves behind him. Whatever Renesmee had shown him, it made the wolves suddenly interesting to him. "They don't belong to us, Aro. They don't follow our commands that way. They're here because they want to be." Jacob growled menacingly. "They seem quite attached to you, though," Aro said. "And your young mate and your... family. Loyal" His voice caressed the word softly. "They're committed to protecting human life, Aro. That makes them able to coexist with us, but hardly with you. Unless you're rethinking your lifestyle." Aro laughed merrily. "Just an errant thought," he repeated. "You well know how that is. We none of us can entirely control our subconscious desires." Edward grimaced. "I do know how that is. And I also know the difference between that kind of thought and the kind with a purpose behind it. It could never work, Aro." Jacob's vast head turned in Edward's direction, and a faint whine slipped from between his teeth. "He's intrigued with the idea of... guard dogs," Edward murmured back.

There was one second of dead silence, and then the sound of the furious snarls ripping from the entire pack filled the giant clearing. Maeryn felt the same. She would not be able to stand the smell everyday that these mutts dragged along with them. And she certainly does not like their attitude. However, that would soon be sorted out anyway. There was a sharp bark of command - from a huge, black wold, - and the complaint broke off into ominous quiet. "I suppose that answers that question," Aro said, laughing again. "This lot has picked its side." Edward hissed and leaned forward. Bella clutched at his arm, wondering what could be in Aro's thoughts that would make him react so violently, while Felix and Demetri slipped into crouches in synchronization. Aro waved them off again. They all returned to their former posture, Edward included. "So much to discuss," Aro said, his tone suddenly that of an inundated businessman. "So much to decide. If you and your furry protector will excuse me, my dear Cullens, I must confer with my brothers."

#alec volturi #volturi #volturi imagine #vampire #twilight imagine #twilight

[eggytranslations]

Volume 1, Chapter 13-Voice Loss

Content warning: nsfw, knife

Shen Qingxuan did not expect that doing this thing would be like this, with such a hard to describe taste that could not be put into words. Every time that thing viciously plunged itself in, hitting his blazing depths just so, it would bring about waves of crippling ecstasy, making a person crave even more. His waist had already softened completely. Under Yi Mo, he could not help but sway along with his rhythm, letting out broken cries. In response to the excessive friction, moist fluids secreted from his inner passage, and in this primitive rhythm, wet squelches sounded out. As the time drew on, the sticky sound of water gradually grew louder, adding to the obscene atmosphere. Looking above him with a blurred gaze, Shen Qingxuan instinctively arched his waist, letting his ass be raised up high to make it easier for the other man to plunder him. He only felt like that place which was usually ignored was now being attacked by waves of tingling numbness, diverging as they spread throughout his limbs and body, his entire body in ecstasy.

“Feels that good?” Yi Mo looked down at his lax expression from above, and, in a mocking manner, lightly pinched the peak on Shen Qingxuan’s chest. “Listen for yourself, it’s really wet.”

A murmured “wu,” and Shen Qingxuan hugged his shoulders tighter. After he regained his senses, he refused to respond to him. He was also so embarrassed that his entire face was completely red, Exactly, why is it so wet? That place is not even used to do this, and yet it had become this wet. It is simply inconceivable.

His waiting did not yield a response, so Yi Mo stopped, stilling inside his body, motionless again, only satisfied if he could force an answer out of him.

Shen Qingxuan had just reached the best part, but with this sudden halt, he nearly lost his mind. His waist almost immediately started to rock instinctively, rubbing in a coquettish manner, his mouth moaning since he refused to satisfy his wish, yet he could not endure the tides of desire which were like a flood. The secret place that now knew this sweet taste could not be appeased and would not stop. The place that had been passively receiving was now actively tightening like a small, wet and soft mouth, tenderly enveloping Yi Mo’s root, continuously sucking.

This sort of aura forced even Yi Mo to lightly knit his brows but he still did not move. Compared to sensual desire, which was something he could be well with or without, teasing Shen Qingxuan was a little more entertaining to him.

Shen Qingxuan knew this point and immediately felt irked. He practically whipped up his head insolently and bit him on the neck, fiercely, almost seeing blood. “Are you going to move or not?” Shen Qingxuan asked, the desire going to his head. He did not even realize what kind of shocking thing he was doing at the moment. Yi Mo raised his eyebrows, looking at the Elder Young Master of the Shen family who was currently “forcing rape”, his tone was rather cheerful as he asked, “Move how?”

“You......” Shen Qingxuan started speaking, but could not get the words out. His feelings of lust and “being paid back” surged up together. He could only feel as if a giant rock was pressing down on his heart; angered, his eyes turned red all of a sudden. He said irately, “That’s enough, you!”

Yi Mo saw him in this state, and understood the principle of quitting while ahead, so he pulled at the little peaks on Shen Qingxuan’s chest, his fingertip kneading them as he exclaimed, “This time I am really servicing you.”

Hearing this, Shen Qingxuan turned his face away to look at the gauzy green bed curtain. It was unknown what he was thinking about.

Yi Mo started to move once again, this time he did not tease him, thrusting his hips to force open a crack in that tender and moist secret place, fiercely penetrating it. Each time deeper than the last, each time harder than the last. The sound of water started up again, flooding the small space enveloped by the bed curtain.

Shen Qingxuan had previously been teased to anger, and he did not want to pay any mind to him. So Yi Mo moved as he bent down, one hand fixed on his leg that could not feel and one hand wrapping behind his neck, to take the man into his embrace. Except, he still asked, “Am I making you feel good?”

Doing this thing and being angry, Shen Qingxuan himself thought it was ridiculous. He originally planned to give in, make up to how they were before and properly finish doing this thing before talking about anything else. Who could have guessed that Yi Mo’s movements were clearly coaxing, yet he would ask such a thing again. Shen Qingxuan’s face did not know whether it should be red or if it should be black.

It was truly hard for it to be red or black. When he encountered this old snake yao, there really were not any tricks he could employ. After these thoughts passed through his mind, Shen Qingxuan shut his eyes and answered seriously and through clenched teeth, “Very good!”

“Since it’s good, why is there no reaction here?” Yi Mo’s hand slid between their bodies and took Shen Qingxuan’s thing in his hand to play with. “Are you lying to me?” “......Probably pissed off because of you.” As Shen Qingxuan said this, he laughed as well, embracing his neck again, and said lowly into Yi Mo’s ear, “If you play with it, then it will have a reaction.”

“Here?” Yi Mo applied pressure to the soft thing in his hand that was still leaking clear fluid non stop and gave it a pinch while he also lifted his hips, and after a pause, vigorously drove himself in, asking, “Or here?”

Shen Qingxuan let out an “ah,” his whine was long and saccharine sweet, possessing a wantonness that shocked even himself. He swiftly bit his lower lip, stifling the sound before he lifted his hips with a tremble. His voice was like a mosquito buzz, “I want it all.” Then he paused briefly, using his cheek to nuzzle Yi Mo’s cheek, and said with a haltingly hoarse voice, “Kiss me.”

At this moment, all his clothes had been taken off, legs wide open, ass raised, and wet sounds came bubbling from between his legs. The clear white curve of his waist was also bent into an inconceivable angle, working hard to receive pleasure as he was fucked until his long hair fell loose and his eyes contained lust. His appearance was clearly scandalous, yet he still haltingly said this line. His words were grief-stricken and sentimental in a way that was unable to be hidden. It was even a few degrees more obscene than a brothel prostitute who acted coquettish all day. Yet it possessed no fakery, his obscenity was sincere and candid.

Yi Mo did not hesitate, he lowered his head and kissed him. As soon as their lips touched, Shen Qingxuan rushed to meet him. It seemed he was just about to reach the peak, even his tongue was so fierce it lost its wits. Every few moments, soft gasps and low whimpers that could not be held back would escape. He entangled their lips and tongues together as if he had gone crazy. The saliva that could not be swallowed in time followed the corner of their mouths as it slowly trickled down, leaving a clear path of wetness in its wake. His waist rutted in his embrace like a fish that was about to drown to death in the next moment, continuing to demand and accept.

With his top and bottom being sucked on by two pairs of wet hot mouths at the same time, even if Yi Mo was unperturbed, he still developed a hallucination that he had stepped into a marsh, like he was treading on cotton, involuntarily absorbed as he fell in, unable to break away.

Finally, he could not hold it in. Yi Mo shifted his lips away, his face revealed some sliver of his mood while he ruthlessly said, “So uninhibited like this, do you like being fucked by me this much?” As soon as the words left his lips, the uncontrollable angry sentiment contained in them surprised even Yi Mo when he heard. He had calmly cultivated for a thousand years, and had also entered the mortal world to travel for hundreds of years, since when did he develop this kind of emotion that he could not control? A thread of brutality flashed across his eyes, Yi Mo inclined his head to look at that face that was not unfamiliar but also not very imprinted in his mind. Thankfully, Shen Qingxuan was too lost in pleasure at this moment and did not sense anything. He even moaned “wu wu” like he agreed with his previous question.

Like he was saying, Yes, I do.

His face recovered its unknowing and unfeeling aloof expression again. Yi Mo rocked his hips quickly, driving in multiple times, his hand also cooperating to control Shen Qingxuan’s thing, which had become swollen red but could not come no matter what, in his palm. He skillfully moved and then heard Shen Qingxuan moan lengthily, almost carrying a crying inflection. His whole body suffused with a blush, trembling like a leaf swaying in the wind. Even his back was arched up, relying only on the strength of his hips to spring into an arched bow. He came in his hand. At the same time, he opened his eyes.

Their gazes collided. It was like a millennia old glacier and a volcano that had just turbulently erupted, the lava colliding and inciting an intense roar. And then, the iceberg was the same as before; the lava dispersed completely. Everything returned to its original state.

Yi Mo withdrew his member and pulled away.

The bedside candle flame reflected that pair of deep black and ice cold eyes, without desire, without feeling. He said a farewell, disappearing like wispy smoke from Shen Qingxuan’s bedroom.

Shen Qingxuan lay by himself for a long time and then pulled over a messy quilt from the side to cover up. He thought to himself, Next time it would be better to do this thing in the dark. No need for such brightness. No need to see those eyes remain cold and bare from beginning to end so clearly.

As he thought about it, he started to laugh. Hahahaha, burst after burst of laughter. Although his mouth was open, there was no sound.

It was as if the whole world had lost its voice.

~~~~~

sorry it's...late oTL posting Sunday nights now! Trying my best but irl has got me...also this chapter is raw dogged (unedited) oops but hopefully i'll make the deadline !

also thanks @arizona-trash-bag ! i highly recommend the og raws! it’s so much better and faster 😭 !! learning to read chinese thru bl is the way to go!!!!!

#a snake encounter #yu she #su hen #danmei #tl #eggytranslations

[5-falsehoods-phonated]

No problem! What if you used Cold Blooded Torture and Trying to Wake Them Up? (I would like it if you used Logan as the victim but you can do whoever!)

(Prompts with boxes have been taken, highlighted have been written.)

Requests for this card are closed for now as I have quite a bit to work on with this and personal projects. An ordered wip post will be made after this one if you’re curious what I’m working on. Also i apologize for this being written so long after you requested it, my hiatus took a little longer than expected. I hope you enjoy this though!

Across The Hall He Waits For You

Summary: Logan wakes up in a confusing environment with an even more confusing man keeping him prisoner. But just when he thinks he's finally free, he only becomes more trapped.

Warnings: psychological torture, physical violence, crying, minor character death, blood, broken bones. If there are more you need added please let me know!

Prompt: Cold Blooded Torture, Trying to Wake Them Up

Ships: Analogical, Logan x Virgil

WC: 4, 805

AO3 Link

Logan's breath caught as the faint screaming finally cut off, the final echoes bouncing around in his cell until they faded out completely. His was a soundproof room, as he expected the other's had to be since it seemed as if under any other circumstances this would be a regular house. The walls were lined with acoustic panels from floor to ceiling, the latter covered with them save for the light source and the former having plush deep green carpeting that was covered with a plastic tarp around where his chair sat. Logan shivered involuntarily as he thought for the umpteenth time what that could mean for him.

The chair was simple and wooden, his bare legs sticking to it uncomfortably with his ankles and knees strapped down tightly with creaking leather strips. The fact that they seemed to be little more than modified belts gave him the barest hint of hope that maybe whoever was keeping him here for whatever reason wasn't experienced in...whatever it was they were doing that Logan carefully pushed to the back of his mind. The window was shut and boarded up with more panelling from what he could see over his shoulder but dim light still filtered through to him from the slightly open door.

He smiled thinly as it reminded him of his son, always needing the door open just a bit with some form of light coming through to scare away the monsters he was sure were lurking in the darkest corners of his room, imagination that was so bright in the sun turned menacing fangs towards him in the dark, making him cry and run down the hall to their room most nights to crawl safely between him and his husband. Something that he now very much understood as slow tears tracked down his cheeks, wrists straining against more creaking bonds that held his hands securely behind the back of the chair. He hung his head low as he once again wracked his brain for any reason he could possibly be here.

A prank? Much too cruel of one to pull on anyone, especially for this long. It had been at least a day from what Logan could assess, maybe longer as he didn't know how long he had been unconcious in the room. Everything was placed just a bit too dilerberatly for this to be a prank as well, his bonds just a bit too tight, the fact that he was naked except for his boxers and the people who knew him certainly knew how uncomfortable he would be with it. So that left more malicious reasons. He was held like he was going to be tortured, that much he could gathe from the screams. The tarp made it seem like it would be heavily physical, though no tools were present in the room from what he could see to give a sense of how. Had a serial killer taken him? He hadn't heard of any cases. Assasination? He wasn't that important to his knowledge, a lowly lab tech for a blood lab hardly jumped out as being anyone with important enough knowledge to warrant whatever he was in for. That left just a random person taking another random person in to do with what they would, which also made very little sense since the room was so well prepared.

All the thinking did was deepen the pit of anxiety curling his stomach muscles tight and making him shake slightly with fear and anticipation, thoughts bouncing from one point in his skull to the next making him even more disoriented than he was before. He craved for something, anything to happen, just so long as he wasn't isolated with his spiraling thoughts anymore, on a chair his clammy skin stuck to with little relief from shifting and creaking leather binding him to it in a way that had most of his extremities falling asleep. His fingers flexed with maddening numbness as he once again tried to shift stiffly in his confines, really only succeeding in making everything worse. Huffing out a breath before holding it in sudden fear he strained his ears to listen.

Boots squeaked on what was either hardwood or linoleum outside his door and as the door creaked open he was mildly surprised that if he hadn't been tied down the man who entered wouldn't be intimidating at all. Wispy brown hair hung messily around bright green eyes that held no expression at all. A mask covered his mouth and nose while a plain rumpled tshirt, jeans and work boots dressed the rest of him. The door creaked as he shut it and he swung a small backpack down to the floor almost casually, making no effort to even look at the helpless man in the center of the room. Logan watched with baited breath as the man rummaged around, gathering his courage and opening his mouth.

"Where-"

The other mans reflexes were quick, a small pocket knife clattering to the ground between his feet before his mouth even registered the pain. It had thankfully been closed when it was thrown, leaving what he assessed to be little more than a swollen lip but his anxiety only climbed to new heights with the split second interaction.

The man continued to rummage in his pack, seemingly pushing around fabric and tools Logan couldn't see until he pulled out a water bottle. He tensed as the man stood and walked up to him, holding the open bottle to his lips patiently. Carefully Logan took a few sips before it was taken away. A folding chair was brought over from against a wall Logan couldn't see and the man sat down heavily on it, drinking from the same bottle lazily as he settled. Logan let out a tiny sigh of relief. At least the water hadn't been poisoned...unless poison could sit on top and he got the most potent dose and the man was leading him into a false sense of security and was just waiting-

Inwardly he shook himself from his thoughts. He couldn't afford to panic, that would be his husband's job, which he winced to think about. He was probably frantic, already suffering from anxiety and now Logan missing...did the man take him too? Is that who the other screams belonged to? His chest constricted as he looked back up.

"Where is-" Again he was cut off with the blunt end to the knife in his face, picked up when he wasn't paying attention and cracking his lower lip this time, falling in the same place between his feet. Leaning forward the other man grabbed the knife back, dragging it slowly against the carpet as he sat up.

"Speak when spoken to." He said simply.

Under any other circumstances Logan would say fuck it and yell and scream until he had no voice, but he needed more information and couldn't risk getting him upset. If he was able to escape he needed to be in the best shape possible and taking the chance the man was throwing randomly and risking getting an eye poked out certainly wasn't in his best interest. So he tried his best to relax, swiping his tongue over the well of blood on his lip and staring ahead expectantly.

The man settled back and regarded him with interest, the only clue into any emotion a slightly quirked eyebrow. He capped the water bottle and set it between his legs on the chair, bringing his hands up to rest on top of his head while twirling the knife expertly between his fingers.

"Logan Brian Croft. Interesting name."

Confused, Logan only nodded, swallowing hard as he tried to dismiss the fact that this man knew his full name.

"And your son, Roman, he's what...four? Five?"

"If you have done anything to my son, rest assured I'll-" He cried out as his lip split further, the knife once again between his feet.

"Speak when spoken to. Answer the questions given. You're smart this shouldn't be too hard." The wiry man picked up the knife again and twirled it aimlessly as he watched Logan squirm under his gaze, a glare fixed upon his swelling face. "So, four? Five?"

"He's seven." Logan spat, blood spattering on his knee.

The man smirked as he settled in more. "Seven then. Young enough to get fairy tales read to him still?"

What in the world was this person getting at? "Of course."

"What's his favorite?"

"...I- he likes so many. I suppose he's been partial to The Twelve Dancing Princesses lately."

"Mm. Bit of a less popular one." The knife was set down to Logan's immediate relief, the man's arms crossing over his chest. "Tell me about it. What's the plot?"

"What?" Thoroughly confused but quick to realize his mistake he hastily amended. "Yes right! It tells the story of twelve princesses being locked in their room each night but in the morning their shoes being worn down as though they were out all night. The king, not receiving any explanation from them, implores any man to discover their secret within three days or be sentenced to death." Here he paused and looked at the other for confirmation to continue, to which he nodded. Perplexed Logan pressed on.

'Just play the game right.' He thought. 'Just survive.'

"Many men try and fail to stay awake to discover their secret as the princesses give them sleeping potions each night. An old soldier on his way to the castle receives a magic cloak and a warning against the wine from an old woman. As might falls he pretends to sleep then dons the cloak to spy, following them through a trap door leading to a grove then a lake then a castle where they all dance the night away. Taking branches and a goblet as evidence to the king, the princess's finally confess. The king makes the soldier his heir and gives him the eldest daughters hand in marriage as a reward."

The man nods thoughtfully. "Odd he likes it so much but I guess that's kids for you. But wasn't it an old man who gave the soldier the warning?"

Logan furrowed his brow as he thought. He was certain it had been a woman but it was such a small detail, and with no means to look it up...he eyes the knife fearfully, his lip still throbbing. "Yes I- suppose it might have been."

Smirking, the man stands not before pocketing the knife and holds up the water bottle again. Getting a few sips before it was taken away the man refolded the chair, grabbed his bag, and left.

Logan blinked. That...couldn't be it. He was expecting an interrogation, more violence, personal questions; though he was thankful it hadn't gone that way it left him no less cofused. He tugged a bit more at his bonds and his heart leapt in his chest at the realization that maybe they felt just the slightest bit looser. Straining his ears for any signs the man would return soon and hearing none he settled back as much as he could and grit his teeth. Flexing his muscles he stretched the belt section as much as he could by pulling his wrists apart, the edges digging even more painfully at the already tender flesh. He didn't get very far but held it there for as long as he could before laxing and stretching his tingling fingers. Rolling his head back to stare at the ceiling he took a breath and tensed again.

-------

Waking up again had Logan flinching back from green eyes violently seeing his captor sat not one foot away from him. The door was slightly open behind him and he could just make out the sound of muffled crying coming from somewhere nearby.

"Who is-" A crack sounded shortly in the altered room, Logan's cheek throbbing and neck bending sideways with the force of the blow. Tears threatened to spill as he glared stubbornly back at the man, who looked on as impassively as ever.

"Forgotten the rules already? Figured you'd be smarter than that."

He shifted to sit straighter as the other leaned back, wrists aching from the strain he had put on them the day prior. He could feel the dull throb of his heartbeat in his fingertips and he tried in vain to flex his fingers, only earning painful spasms in return. A water bottle was again shoved in his face and with it came the realization that he needed a bathroom. Thankfully it wasn't yet uncomfortable but it was enough to make him hesitate taking the offer. Deciding staying hydrated was ultimately more important he earned a few sips against his cracked lip before it was taken away entirely too soon, making him want to whine at the loss but not wanting to give anything away.

Logan noticed the knife in the man's front pocket and cringed involuntarily while his abuser downed half the bottle himself, smacking his lips and laying a hand on the handle as a warning. Through nerves making his chest tighten once again Logan tried his best to concentrate on what the other might want today.

"Your son, you said he's six right?"

"Seven." Logan answered automatically.

"Hm. So that would mean he's in first grade."

"Yes." Llgan nearly smiled at the thought of how much Roman enjoyed school. He did very well, always getting straight A's and B's and making new friends. He was such an outgoing child, so much unlike his fathers and Logan honestly didn't know where he got it from. He supposed someone had to be the personable one in their small family.

"Does he talk about his friends a lot?" This sent Logan immediately on edge. If this person expected Logan to talk about his sons friends and possibly put them in danger- he would gladly take whatever punishment there was to keep them safe. Seeing the look on his face the other shook his head. "You can abbreviate their names, no harm is coming to them. Just making some friendly conversation. It's not as if I don't already have their information."

"I-"

"There's Patton right? Little curly haired boy, rather skittish. And Janus, odd name but he goes by Dee anyway...he's the one with eczema right?" Alarm bells ringing Logan began shaking his head.

"N-no, you have that wrong. Janus is someone entirely diff-" His desperate attempt to throw him off was met with another back-handed slap to the same cheek, making his vision wink with blackness temporarily.

"Don't lie. I have the information already and all playing hero will get you is more than you could handle."

Thoroughly fed up, Logan sat up and spat blood in the other man's face, earning slight satisfaction in the brief look of shock that crossed over it. Cringing slightly at the look he recieved but staring up with defiance none the less he watched as the man wiped his cheek in mild disgust.

"I wouldn't have done that."

"Fuck you." The words felt strange falling from his mouth, he rarely ever swore especially directed at others, but the fear was rapidly being replaced by adrenaline as his body braced itself for punishment, drowning out any and all rational thought. When the man stood however, he turned and left the room, leaving the door open enough that he could just catch sight of the beige hallways walls beyond.

When the screaming started, the adrenaline high he'd been riding left him so quickly it left him gasping for breath, the previous defiance replaced with a cold pit of dread as the persons pitch went up to a painful octave. Both doors must have been left open for how clearly their voice came through now. Shutting his eyes tightly against it he could only listen as wave after wave of guilt washed over him as whatever was happening seemed to go on endlessly.

The screams turned desperate as the other captive began pleading brokenly. "Please stop, please! I'll do whatever you want! I'll stay quiet, I'll talk, I'll die just PLEASE!"

The last word came out more like a pained shriek that made him flinch back violently in his chair. Something was thrown hard and clattered against something solid making the sound echo briefly over the gasping sobs coming from whoever was in the other room. A door was slammed shut cutting off the sounds before footsteps could be heard coming closer. Logan refused to look up as their torturer entered the room, earning a scoff as he hoisted up his pack to leave.

"I think I've given you enough to think about for today." The door was shut firmly as the rest of the fight drained from Logan and he slumped forward, not noticing the bonds pulling painfully at his joints. Screams echoed in his skull on a constant loop that try as he might would not be expelled from his mind.

Enough to think about indeed.

----------

"Tell me a fact."

Logan lifted his head tiredly from his chest, blinking slowly at the blurring man. It had been five or six days by his estimate, sleeping slumped in his chair for who knows how long, waking up to recieve sips of water and once a sandwitch crammed down his throat, using the alotted down time to stretch at the bonds around his wrists. Always with the out of the blue questions that he would get a detail wrong about. Lack of proper nutrition and hydration was leaving him feel slow and dimwitted.

What was his son's favorite fairy tale again? The Twelve Dancing Princess'....or was it The Frog Prince? He had a frog plush he really liked so maybe...but no, he knew his son. That had to be it, but the plot was fuzzy and out of focus, details from too many stories mushing together. Did his son have two friends he talked about or was it three? There was another boy who bullied him often but kids would be kids and perhaps it was more friendly competition...at least that's what the man had suggested. He couldn't verify the information and was too tired to care anymore. He got hurt when he asked questions so maybe questions weren't necessary. His captor knew a lot about them and seemed to be in much better health than he was at this point so maybe he did know better.

His thoughts were interupted with a harsh pinch to the frail skin of his thigh. Both of his thighs were covered in bruises from the days prior, and his face was a constant throbbing ache that made his head pound and thoughts slur even more. He was tired and cold and hungry. His mouth tasted like sour blood and he never got enough water to rinse it out properly. Above everything else he really had to pee, but he hadn't been taken out of the chair since he arrived. He wanted nothing more than to be at home, in bed with his husband and son under a mound of blankets with Roman's stuffed bunny pressed into his face and his love's arms securely wrapped around his waist. All he had instead were screams and a hard chair.

A punch to his other thigh made him yelp and look up. "Focus. Tell me a fact. Come on you're full of them."

He didn't understand the game they were playing. What was the point of talking if he'd be told he was wrong anyway? His memories were failing and just yesterday he had forgotten blood was red because it had no oxygen. That seemed so absurd to him at the time but he supposed in his deteriorated state mistakes were bound to happen. Even mistakes regarding a job he had held for years. What was it he had wanted? A fact, right.

"According to all known laws of aviation-" he slurred, giggling a bit to himself as his captive sat back with a carefully neutral expression. His heart leapt in his throat as he stood up and left the room, weakly calling out that he could do better. Before the door was shut he caught sight of a phone in the others hands, making his brain have a semi coherent thought if he ever escaped where to get to a phone.

The door failed to shut all the way and Logan strained his ears to be able to hear the muttering the other side, faintly catching a bit before he moved further down the hall.

"He's getting more and more delirious I think I'll be able to get it out of him soon. ......husb............breaking...." Logan's ears perked at the nearly incoherent sentence. Husband? His husband? Was he here? Was he okay? What about Roman??

With the door open he could hear faint moaning from the other room, and with it came a burst of numb resolve. He was weak but so were his bonds as he had steadily been working them loose over the last few days. Testing their strength he pulled as hard as he could, feeling the rough edge slice against his rubbed raw wrist until with a dull snap the leather fell to the floor. Eyes widening in surprise he wasted no time in bending over to unbuckle his legs and ankles , nearly face planting in his haste to stand. Taking a steadying breath he shuffled slowly to the door and squeezed through the crack, seeing his captor with his back towards him. Easy then, get whoever was in the other room, overtake the wiry man and steal his phone, call the police and get rescued.

Nodding through his doubt and fear he made his way slowly to another door, inching it open and slipping inside. Letting out a breath he turned around and froze, recognizing his husband's thin frame under the mess he had become. His purple hair was matted and plastered to his forehead with sweat and blood alike, his nose an indecipherable blood clot splattered against his face. His whole frame shook with pain as Logan took in the numerous open wounds dripping with blood and pus alike, fingers twisted at odd angles and twitching uselessly against the arms of the chair he was tied to. Haunted eyes darted to his fearfully as he drew a ragged breath through his ruined mouth, moaning with an urgency Logan barely understood.

"Virgil?"

"Lo-"

He didn't even hear his full name before the floor creaked behind him, bladder releasing in fear and adrenaline making him stumble with the intensity. He was seized by the throat before he could make a sound, vision swimming as the man's intense gaze filled his vision.

"And just where did you think you were going?"

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

The thick chains ground into his wrist bones painfully while his head lolled from side to side. Wrong. Everything was wrong. He didn't know anything, he didn't feel anything. Virgil's screams had gone quiet hours ago leaving a dull ache in his tired chest. His feet had lost feeling ages ago as his broken ankles swelled beyond his bonds. At least he didn't have to pee anymore. He didn't feel like he had to do much of anything anymore.

He barely twitched as the door opened. He was so, so tired. He had fallen asleep and woken up so many times since his escape attempt he couldn't guess how long he had been here if his brain wasn't already mush. All the facts he felt so accomplished in knowing and studying were wrong. All wrong. Details mixed up and spit out with enough inaccuracies to make him cry if he wasn't so dehydrated. Memories of Virgil and Roman skewed and rotted with the last of his concious thoughts. His husband's smile had forever been replaced by the bloodied face he had seen desperately trying to warn him of his stupidity, and now he had ruined their one chance at escape.

Moaning softly as his chin was pulled down he locked eyes with his captor, who smirked and nodded, holding out his phone. He noticed the call screen running and figured he must be on speaker. What was he meant to do now? Spout off more things that would be proven false with a backhanded slap or a hard punch to the gut?

"The password to your family safe. What is it?"

Somewhere, deep in Logan's subconscious his alarm bells were ringing. He had been beaten, starved and manipulated for days for just this moment, when all his walls were down and he doubted every word that left his mouth. Something wasn't right, the family safe where all their papers were, all their shared stocks and living wills and something else. Something important that he was sure he was forgetting. The thought was gone as soon as it entered as he groggily slurred out some combination of numbers towards the microphone.

His chin was freed as some form of confirmation was given on the other end. His cheek was patted softly, the gentlest he had been touched in so long it made tears prick his eyes. The man hung up and turned to dig through his bag, pulling out a full syringe and uncapping it as Logan watched in confusion, flicking out the air bubbles and turning back towards him.

"Shame my client didn't just recieve the inheritance in the first place, would've been much less painful for you." It clicked then that that was the important thing. The trust fund and pooled inheritance from Virgil's family they had stored away for Roman's future. The last thing that would be left to him if they didn't make it out alive. And he had just given it over to God only knows who.

"Wha-"

"Lethal injection. A mercy really, I have no more need of you and neither does my client. It'll be quick I promise. Just like ripping off a bandaid."

Logans mind connected the dots slowly as the man came towards him, and adrenaline shot through him one last time as he began to panic. Nonononononono! He had to get out! He had to get Virgil, find Roman; he needed them safe! The syringe came closer and closer as if in slow motion and in one last desperate attempt to survive he bucked up violently with everything he had. His ankles protested heavily making him scream in pain and tip his chair back, knocking the needle away and making him fall heavily to the side. As he blinked back the tears he heard a gasp and looked over at the man's shocked expression, moving his eyes down to his thigh where the syringe was now fully dispensed and sticking out of. Too late his abuser snatched it out, breathing heavily as he turned towards Logan.

"What have you done?" He turned and stumbled slightly, falling to his knees and crawling to the door clawing desperately at the handle as his strength seemed to leave him, breathing growing more and more labored until he slumped over limply, the erratic rise and fall of his chest stilling completely after only a minute.

For a moment Logan allowed himself to feel triumphant. He had survived! He had won and now he could- he jingled the thick chains uselessly around his wrists, ankles screaming in pain and head pounding from his fall. Looking over frantically at the body by the door his mouth opened and shut several times, low croaks the only sound working past dry lips. He couldn't get free and Virgil- he was trapped across the hall dying slowly, alone, all because of him. His captor was dead and Virgil was dying and Logan was dying and all he could do was bang his head against the floor uselessly as sobs wracked his frail body.

"Wake up!" He whispered uselessly. "WAKE UP!"

His dry vocal chords felt as if they were ripping apart as he screamed and cried to no avail in his sound proofed prison. They were all dead. And no one was coming.

As he grew weaker his sobs quieted enough for him to faintly hear the sound of someone crying in the other room. His heart broke as he thought of Virgil alone and terrified and hurting, thoughts mixing up and blurring the body in front of him until it more resembled his husband's. He missed him so much. He missed his home. He missed his son. He wished, above all else he could hear their voices one last time. As his eyes slowly shut the crying grew more familiar, sinking him into a dream of what once was, monsters no more real than the ones children ran from under beds. He smiled faintly as he thought back to the simple time, hearing Roman's shout of fear and knowing he'd be able to fix it with a kiss and a cuddle.

"Daddy!"

#false writes #sanders sides #virgil sanders #sanders sides fic #roman sanders #logan sanders #kid roman #bad things happen bingo #bad things bingo #bthb #tw violence #tw minor character death #tw blood #tw torture #tw broken bones #tw caps lock #tw crying #analogical #virgil x logan

[daydreams-and-shortattentionspan]

Broken Clocks Part 1

A/N: Hey... How y’all doin’? I know its been a minute, I hope this isn’t trash lol. The idea came from the song of the same name, and the motivation came from @darkficsyouneveraskedfor​, we don't know each other personally but your Stripper AU theme really gave me the kick in the pants I needed. Part 2 coming soon!!! Anyways... I hope y’all enjoy this. Oh! Also, ‘tesoro’ means treasure in Italian.

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Black!Reader

Warnings: Cursing

Word Count:2.8k

Part 2

____________________________________________

The sun had shown through your curtains, your natural arm clock for the day, you had stretched before even deciding to open your eyes, you felt so well-rested and at ease with the world, the sound of the city’s hustle and bustle making its way through your cracked window.

‘What day is it?’ was the question at the forefront of your brain.

‘Friday…’ you had mentally replied to yourself, the sense of calm instantly shattering like a fragile piece of glass. Your eyes opening wide as the sense of stress and worry took over your entire body, you looked at the alarm clock next to your bed to discover it had been unplugged at some point the night before.

“How the fu-,” your statement had been cut off by the sound of your phone ringing, it was your boss, Sal, calling you, you saw the time, your shift was supposed to have just started only a few minutes ago.

“Shit!” you exclaimed before answering the phone,”Hi Sal,” you greeted shakily.

“Tesoro, where are you? You’re always here early before your shift,” he asked, voice filled with worry and concern,“Jesse’s gotta get home to her kids.”

“The train is taking too long to get there but I’ll be there soon,” You lied through your teeth as you jump out of your bed grabbing your purse from beside your bed and stuffing it with the things you’d need for the day.

“Okay; well try to hurry, yeah?” He stated more than asked. You were shoving your other work outfit and shoes into your bag while he talked.

“Give me 15 Sal, I promise I’ll be there,” You said before hanging up and grabbing your make-up bag, and once you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror and noticed yesterday's beat smeared across your face you snatched your make-up remover wipes and shoved them into your bag as well. You brushed your teeth as fast as humanly possible and silently prayed that something decent would come from underneath your bonnet and by the Grace of God your hair looked surprisingly good. You glanced at your phone for a time check but noticed that your phone was on 20%. You were going to need a watch today, you dash out of your bathroom and grab the first watch you see and put it on along with a bra and underwear. Hurriedly putting on your diner uniform and shoes you realized you had forgetten to pee. Running back to the bathroom you release what was just adding on to your stress and felt only an iota less worried about everything. Quickly going through a mental checklist of all your essentials for the day you snatch your keys and earphones from the table next to your entrance way and dash out the door.

“Corre, corre, andale!” your favorite neighbor, Jaime said jokingly, while clapping his hands as he saw you run out of your apartment.

“Oh shut up, cabron,”you snapped equally joking.

“Then I guess I can’t tell you the elevator’s broken,” he called out through cupped hands to make himself louder as you made your way down the hall towards the elevators.

“Fuck!” you shouted in utter annoyance. Luckily the door to the stairs was in the same vicinity. Not so luckily, you lived on the fourth floor. You said another silent prayer in hopes that a taxi would just so happen to be waiting for you at the bottom of these God forsaken steps because you just knew the train was going to take too long. It seemed as though He was only slightly on your side today, because as if shown by a light from the heavens, someone from your building was just getting out of a cab.

“Hold the door!” you shouted as you exited the building, she did so and you slid in with so much speed you hit the door on the other side.

“Thank you Angelica, I owe you!” you said from the window in relief she just smiled in agreeance and waved goodbye as she made her way inside.

“De Luca’s Diner and if you step on it and I’ll give you a huge tip,”you ordered.

“Say less,” he simply replied before speeding towards your destination.

You scraped off yesterday’s make up wondering how in the Hell you had gotten yourself into this huge mess while putting on a new layer. Before you knew it you had made it to work. You handed the driver your money, he inspected the amount before realizing how much you gave him.

“Aye what about my tip?” he shouted from his window.

“Buy your wife some flowers with what I gave you and I bet she’ll give you the best tip of all,” you shouted in reply while walking backwards, giving him finger guns and a wink. The man sat for a moment thinking and realizing the crazy and strange young woman might be onto something as he turned his off-duty lights on and made his way to the nearest flower shop. You checked your phone; only 20 minutes after your shift was intended to have started, so you technically didn’t lie to Sal. You busted into the diner making a bee line straight to the back greeting your coworkers and boss along the way. You threw your purse and phone into your locker and grabbed your apron, pen and notebook from it. You tied your apron as you made your way from the locker room, to the kitchen, you noticed Sal was standing in front of the door leading to the dining area with his arms crossed and an angry expression evident on his face.

“If I wanted someone who’s gonna be late, I would have hired my good-for-nothing son,” he stated before cracking a smile before he opened his arms for an embrace. You released the breath you were unknowingly holding as you made your way to his opened arms.

“Ugh, I know, I’m so sorry Sal, I don’t even know how this happened,” You said, sounding pitiful because you weren’t exactly having the best day so far.

“It’s alright, Tesoro,” he replied, “just don’t make this a habit, eh?” he said while holding your face with both hands to ease your worry. You just nodded your head before heading out to start your shift.

You approached a table where three men sat, you grabbed your notebook and pen and plastered on your best customer service smile.

“Hey guys, welcome to De Luca’s Diner, I’m (Y/N) and I’ll be your server today. What can I get started for yo-” you had cut yourself off when you realized who was sitting at the table, Captain America in all his patriotic glory along with his friends Sam Wilson and James Barnes. Sure these heroes having decided to come to your job of all places was unbelievable but what truly rendered you speechless was how gorgeous the Captain was up close; of course the other two men were good looking but you had always had a thing for Steve. His perfect smile shining bright and making you weak in the knees, his blue eyes having you completely lost in his gaze. You really could not fathom how someone could just casually look this breathtaking. Your brain coming out of its foolish schoolgirl crush daze had registered where you were and what you were supposed to be doing.

Snapping out of it, you blush slightly at your silliness, “I’m sorry,” you said somewhat softly.

“Oh no it’s fine, seems like you had a busy morning,” Steve joked, you realized he saw you run into the restaurant and you mentally facepalmed from your dramatics.

“You have no idea,” you sighed with a chuckle.

“Well, it should only get better from here,” Steve remarked with a small, genuine smile causing you to smile in return.

“I sure hope so.”

Sam and Bucky just watched the two of you interact so easily, as if you had known each other for years. Once again coming to the realization of where you were, you cleared your throat before saying,“So what can I get started for y’all?”

They had placed their orders and you made your way to the back to submit it to the kitchen; Sam and Bucky checking you out as you walked away.

“Damn,” The two said in sync.

“Oh c’mon leave that girl alone, she’s working,” Steve attempted to snap them out of their own daze.

“It’s not like it was us she had her eyes on anyways,” Bucky declared.

“What are you talking about?” Steve responded in mock annoyance.

“Man, you cannot tell me you didn’t see the way she was looking at you,” Sam interjected.

“No, I can’t say I do,” Steve retorted simply.

“Ol’ girl was about to drown in them beautiful baby blues,” Sam said while making his voice sound high pitched and wispy, clasping his hands together holding them near his face and batting his eyelashes  and staring off into the distance before letting out a loud laugh, Bucky joining in.

“Oh stop, she was not,” Steve responded with a chuckle.

“Whatever you say man,” Sam held his hands up in defense,“but we know what we saw.”

“You should ask her out, you’re not getting any younger,” Bucky encouraged while also poking fun at his best friend.

“And what if she’s seeing someone?” Steve questioned.

“Only one way to find out,” Sam announced quickly before he and Bucky began looking for you.  

You were in the middle of taking another table’s order but it seemed as though you were almost done.

“What are yo-”

“We’re helping,” Bucky whisper-shouted, cutting off Steve before he and Sam tried getting your attention.

“Excuse me, Miss! Over here,” the two mischievous men hollered from across the restaurant.

Your head turning to their direction before a genuine smile took over your face as you headed to their table. Steve wanting the world to just open up and swallow him whole to avoid embarrassment.

“You guys need anything?” you inquired.

“We just have a question,” Bucky affirmed.

“I may have an answer,” you proposed.

“Are you single?” Sam asked simply. Your eyebrows raised in surprise, what a strange question. If it were some group of creeps, you would have easily lied to them and went about your day, but these men didn’t seem innately creepy, so there was no real need to lie.

You simply just said, “Yes” as you smiled sweetly at the three. It was now Steve’s turn to have a look of surprise on his face.

“Really?” He asked, a small amount of hope hidden behind the question.

“Really, really,” you replied with a reassuring smile. This gave Steve a warm feeling in his heart.

“I believe your food should be ready, I’ll be right back,” you excused yourself before making your way to check on the food and your other customers, a feeling of giddiness washing over your body.

“Was that so hard?”Bucky asked with a knowing look on his face.

 Sal had just finished ringing up a customer before making his way to your side.

“So, Captain America, huh?” he whispered to you with a small smirk.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” you replied with a shy smile.

“I may be old Tesoro, but I’m not blind or stupid,” he stated, “That man can’t stop looking at you, even as we speak,” you looked at Sal with a questioning look before turning to the table and locking eyes with him. His eyes grew large in embarrassment before trying to look at something -anything- else, blush slowly creeping onto his cheeks.

“I promise you Sal, I am not worth his time.” you said, self-deprecation being the only way to downplay the situation.

“I won’t argue with you, but there’s a reason I always call you treasure,” Sal stated before walking away to go talk to the regulars. You grab a tray to hold the table’s orders and head back to their table to give them their food. 

When it came time to give Steve his food and your hands had barely touched, but that small feeling felt like a bolt of electricity running through your body, you had locked eyes and you knew he had felt it too. You stared into each other’s gaze for what only felt like a moment before you snapped out of your daze. You told them to enjoy their meal and to call you if you needed anything. They ate their food and you were still running around the restaurant taking orders and giving meals but every so often you tried to steal glances of the Captain without him noticing and without your knowledge he was doing the exact same thing.

Before you knew it they had finished their meal and it was time to give them the check. You had been dreading this moment because you just knew that you were never gonna see him again. He was going to be out saving the world and you would be stuck here working two jobs barely getting by. You sighed sadly before placing the check on the table.

“I hope you guys had a great meal and hope to see you again soon,” the last part was said specifically to Steve before you walked away. The three men left their table and headed towards the counter to pay their bill. You hear the register open and close, your heart felt heavy from sadness; this was it, your last chance to see him in real-life. You glanced away from the table you were helping and at the door to just get one last glimpse of him; as if fate had wanted it to happen, Steve was looking at you too. You locked eyes with each other, a small smile made its way to your lips, he smiled back. You gave each other small waves good-bye, and he turned to leave. That was it, he was gone. You turned your attention back to your table, back to your mundane life.

You had gone to the table where the men had left to grab your tip and help with clean up, as you reached for the money you noticed a small scrap of paper that seemed to have been torn from a notebook with a drawing of an orchid and phone number and right underneath the number was just one name on it, Steve. You grabbed the paper gently as if you were to handle it too harshly it might disintegrate right then and there. You marveled at the drawing while Sal had managed to sneak up behind you and look at what had grabbed your attention.

“Not worth his time, eh Tesoro?” Sal stated knowingly, before you put the napkin in your pocket.

~

The busy day had finally come to an end and it was time to close up shop. You were exhausted and in desperate need of coffee if you were going to survive your next job.

‘Speaking of which, what time is it?’you mentally asked yourself. 2:45? That can’t be right, it's dark out, as you pour yourself a to-go cup adding cream and sugar. You take a sip and glance at the clock that's near the order window.

10:15.

You have to be at the club at 10:30 and it takes 25 minutes to get there…

“Fuck!” you scream before running from the dining area all the way to the locker room, you toss your apron and grab your purse and dash out towards the door.

“Bye Sal!” you shout before giving him a quick kiss on the cheek,”ti amo, i’ll see you tomorrow!” you yelled before making your speedy exit.

You don’t have enough for another cab and generous tip, so you have to take the train. You really thought your luck was starting to turn. Fuck it, the train’ll get you there in time, you hoped. You run into the station and your train is about to leave at any moment, you run in and find a place close to the door. You put your earphones and play music to get you mentally prepared to dance for the evening. You glance at your phone: 10%; no social media for you, you supposed. You closed your eyes and tried to catch your breath from all the cardio you managed to squeeze in for the day. As you began to calm down and relax for the first time since you had awakened, you had opened your eyes and began to scan the other patrons of the car when you suddenly stopped on one person in particular.

‘Is that-?’ You thought to yourself, an expression of pure confusion riddled across your face, ‘No, it can’t be,’ you attempted to assure yourself. He was the same height as him, same skin tone, same hair, same everything…

‘Oh Lord, it is Him.’

______________________________________________

taglist: @snazzyjazzy6​ @oceanscorazon​ @petlaufeyson​ 

#steve rogers x black!reader #steve rogers x reader #steverogers #steve rogers #mcu imagine #MCU fic #steve rogers imagine #Steve rogers x black reader #steve rogers x y/n #y/n #reader imagine #black!reader #black reader #steve x reader #steve x black!reader #steve x black reader #steve x y/n #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fic

[honeycobie]

Nostalgia

Hyunjae x reader, angst

requested by: anon

a/n: i don’t have much to say, but i hope you have the best week ever (you deserve it 🥰💖). i recommend listening to goodbye for now by kyuhyun or ending scene by iu (i tried to pick songs that have lyrics that relate to this fic!)

Nostalgia. A word with a bittersweet interpretation. It stirs up feelings of yearning and wistfulness, leaving you at ease, yet regretful. 

It all started four years ago.

That was when you first met a boy, whose mere actions and words could light up your world. He was everything to you, he was your world and he rivaled the stars and the moon, outshining their beauty. 

You had fallen for him, and as you learned of his habits, his dislikes and likes and every little detail, you fell even harder, if it was even possible. 

Your friends constantly teased you and him, always asking when you two would date. Although the both of you were not an official couple and it was purely platonic, there were moments where your heart would race and you would wonder ‘does he like me too’?

And maybe, just maybe you would’ve confessed, if you had not gone abroad to pursue your dreams. 

»»————-　　————-«« »»————-　　————-««

You had invited him over to tell him that you were leaving in a month. Your eyes were slightly red and puffy from crying, and you were lying if you said that it wasn’t about him at all. So many fond and carefree memories were created, ones that you would cherish forever. 

A knock on the door breaks through your reverie, and you get up to unlock the door for him. 

As he steps into the living room and situates himself comfortably on the couch, you blurt, “I have something to tell you.” but what surprises you is when he says the same thing at the exact same time. 

Laughing softly, he gestures for you to go first. You can’t help the faint smile that graces your features when his eyes sparkle with amusement. 

Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you fiddle with the sleeves of your shirt. “I’m leaving next month.” 

The mirth disappears from his face as he digests the information. “That’s great! You’ve always wanted to go abroad to study and pursue your dream job.” 

“I don’t know when I’ll be back.” you whisper, your voice cracking as your eyes fill with tears.

Closing the distance, he pulls you into a comforting embrace. “It’ll be okay. You’ll achieve everything you’ve dreamed of.” he soothes, caressing your hair. 

You squeeze your eyes shut, pressing your cheek against his shoulder. “What if I never come back?” you breathe, your voice hushed. 

“That won’t happen.” he assures.

»»————-　　————-«« »»————-　　————-«« 

“Right, what were you going to tell me?” you query.

“I forgot.” he answers remotely, his head propped on his hand as he stares out the window, gazing out at the trees swaying in the wind.

»»————-　　————-«« »»————-　　————-««

A month later, you stand at the gate, gripping your suitcase firmly with both hands.

Both your family and friends are there to bid farewell. Scanning through the crowd, your heart skips a beat when you notice him weaving through people to get to you. 

Raising your hand, you wave and he notices, flashing a bright smile as he waves back. Just as he stops next to you, an annoucement is made, informing that your flight was to be boarded in five minutes. 

You say your goodbyes to your family and friends, promising your parents that you will take care. 

Blinking back tears, you turn to him. He hugs you, and you laugh shakily when he mutters “I’ll miss you, dummy.”, his breath tickling your ear. 

Pulling back, you look up at him with , your eyes glossy with unshed tears. 

“I’ll wait for you, okay?” he smiles, his eyes also watering. You nod, putting out your hand for a pinky promise. Chuckling, he interlocks his pinky with yours.

As you’re about to pass through to board your flight, you look back, biting back a smile when you see him waving crazily while mouthing ‘take care’.

»»————-　　————-«« »»————-　　————-««

It’s been almost three years now.

After successfully achieving your dream and securing a career that you were geniunely interested in, you return to your hometown after hearing of a job opportunity there. 

Over the years, you’ve gradually lost contact with a few friends, including him. Although it hurts, maybe it was fate’s intent. Call it idiotic or cliche, you strongly believed that fate and destiny played an important role in life.

Strolling through the familiar neighbourhoods, you smile wistfully, tilting your head to admire the azure sky and the wispy clouds that remind you of cotton candy. 

You had already dropped your luggage off at home but since you had been feeling exhausted and you had some extra time, you opted to go to a nearby cafe to energize yourself with caffeine.

After ordering at the counter, you sit at a table to wait for your beverage, scrolling through social media idly. Placing your phone down, you twist around in your seat to stare through the large window, as you get lost in your thoughts, abruptly overcome by an acute nostalgia for the days before you went abroad, feeling regretful as you’ve lost contact with so many close friends. 

Briefly, you allow your mind to drift to him, someone you considered as your first serious love and even though you had never confessed, he still held a special place in your heart. 

Lost in your thoughts, you don’t hear someone calling your name until a hand lands on your shoulder. Jolting in surprise, you turn, eyes widening when you see him. As silly as it seems, he makes you feel like a middle schooler having their first crush, every small action making your heart flutter. 

Slipping into the seat across from you, he smiles gently, hands cupped around his coffee. “It’s been really long since I’ve last seen you. How have you been?”

“I’ve been doing well. How about you?” you grimace at how awkward you sound. Oh god, it’s like we’re complete strangers.

“I’ve landed a secure career that’s similar to what I enjoy doing so it’s been good.” he says easily, and you envy how he engages in a conversation so effortlessly.

An awkward silence settles on the both of you and you look away, sipping your drink. After a while, the silence becomes suffocating, prompting you to break it. Just as you open your mouth to speak, his phone rings and he smiles apologetically before getting up to answer the call. 

You sigh and slump in your seat, checking the time. Noticing his figure approaching you, you quickly straighten your posture. 

“I have to go, sorry. My girlfriend was wondering where I was and she wants me to go buy something.” he chuckles,  tucking his phone into his pocket.

You freeze, the word girlfriend piercing your heart like an arrow. “Y-you have a g-girlfriend?” you stutter, still unable to comprehend. The sentence repeats in your mind, playing like a broken record, over and over again. You felt like you wanted to throw up.

“Yeah, we met a year ago. What’s wrong? You look ill.” he utters, looking troubled as he notices the strange look on your face. 

You shake your head,  unable to look him in the eye, choking out, “I’m fine.” 

“You shouldn’t keep her waiting.” you muttered, gripping the hem of your shirt tightly. 

“Alright...it was nice seeing you again. We should hang out sometime.” he states, oblivious. 

You force a smile on your face as you bid goodbye, your smile faltering before dropping when you watch his figure leave the cafe. 

Scoffing, you tilt your head back,  your throat tightening as you feel a familiar stinging sensation in your eyes. 

That was when you knew, you still loved him.

»»————-　　————-«« »»————-　　————-««

Standing in front of his door, you steel yourself before raising your hand to knock on his door. After waiting momentarily, he opens the door, inviting you in. When he offers you a drink, you politely decline. 

“I’m just here to clear some things up, for the sake of me and you.” you begin, hesitating as you try to find the correct words to fit together an explanation. 

He stares at you, perplexed. “What do you mean?” 

“Four years ago, when we first met, I started liking you. I harboured feelings for you and I was going to eventually confess to you but I ended up going abroad for more than two years. I wanted to tell the truth earlier so things won’t be awkward between us when you find out later.” you say quickly, gaze dropping to your lap. 

When you receive no response, you continue, “and don’t worry, I don’t love you in that way anymore.” you lie, your voice wavering. 

It’s silent for a while until he speaks up. “I liked you too, you know. The day you told me that you were leaving, I was planning on confessing but since you were leaving, I just...gave up. That’s what I wanted to say to you that day.” 

Stunned, you look up, to see if he’s joking, only to see the solemn expression on his face. You clench your hands into fists, pushing your tongue against your cheek.

The chance had always been there, just within your grasp, but you had never taken it.

You regretted everything, wishing that you could turn back time.

Standing up abruptly, you make up an excuse. “I need to leave, I forgot that I needed to buy groceries.” you state, your voice coming out cold and stoic.

Just as you place your hand on the doorknob, he grips your wrist to stop you from leaving. “We’re still friends, right?” he pleads, desperation in his eyes.

You soften. “Of course.”

Leaving his apartment, you take the elevator, closing your eyes as you sigh. Although you had intended to tell him to feel better, your heart still felt incredibly heavy. 

You attempt to resist the urge to cry,  but your eyes fill with tears anyway, running down your cheeks as you bury your face into your hands, chest heaving.

You laugh mockingly at yourself for being so foolish, the sound echoing off the metal walls.

Frustrated, you force yourself to stop crying, roughly wiping away your tears. 

After all, you had told yourself that you would never cry over a boy, even if it was someone like Hyunjae.

#tbznetwork #deobiwritersnet #the boyz imagines #tbz #tbz angst #the boyz #hyunjae #lee hyunjae #the boyz hyunjae #tbz hyunjae #this wasn't that sad?? #help idk how to write