#tie-in to the main Roll the Bones story

[re-1124c41]

The ward was nearly silent. Outside, beyond the closed door, there were quieted sounds of machinery and voices, of trolleys rattling by and footsteps dutifully following them. With the window cracked open, there was a soft breeze rustling the sheer curtains and tickling over his arms. On the bedside stand, a whiteboard and marker sat next to a vase of flowers and several well-wishing cards.

There was a low hum of the monitor on the other side of the bed, a near imperceptible drip of the fluid in the IV bag feeding into the catheter at his elbow.

A gentle knock on the door, before it creaked open and someone peeked inside. It was enough to stir him from dozing into wakefulness.

He wouldn’t have recognized the man, if not for his hat and his suit. Something painful in his heart clenched as the visitor stepped quietly into the room. He tried to swallow, opened his mouth to speak as the man approached, but no sound came. The bandage at his throat was too tight, the injury too painful, to even utter a greeting.

“Good evening, Desmond.” Skulduggery Pleasant said softly. His face was a sloping sort of oval shape, with wide brows and light brown hair combed back. “I hope I’m not intruding.”

Desmond sighed and let himself deflate back into the pillows. He shook his head a little, and Skulduggery nodded.

“I’m very sorry for what happened,” Pleasant said sympathetically. “I hope the prognosis, however, is a positive one.”

Resignedly, Desmond nodded and reached for the whiteboard his wife had left at his side. He scribbled a short message, the catheter in his arm and the medication in his system making his handwriting sloppy.

They say I’m lucky. He wrote. They say it missed my jugular. Apparently I’m concussed too.

“Then I promise to keep this as brief as I can. You need rest if you’re going to make a fully recovery,” Skulduggery said sagely. “I wanted to see you, to make sure you are going to be all right.”

Desmond used the hem of the blanket he was tucked into to wipe the board clean. It left a black smear and residue on the cloth, but he didn’t care – he was already writing again.

Thank you for coming. I think I’m concussed.

“Yes, that is quite apparent, yes.”

Have you seen my wife? I’m worried about her. I don’t want her to be mad I missed Alice’s dance recital.

“I spoke with Melissa earlier, whilst you were in surgery,” Skulduggery replied gently “She’s not mad, she just very worried about what happened to you.”

The next question took Desmond a moment to put into words; finally, it felt best to take the most obvious approach.

Where is my daughter, Skulduggery?

Skulduggery was silent as he considered the question. Almost too quiet, Desmond felt, for comfort. He couldn’t have been certain, and he put most of it down to the concussion and the amount of hallucinogenic medication he was on, but the memories of the incident were…

Terrifying. They were awful, horrible memories that he wished, more than anything, were just conjuring’s of his badly bruised mind.

Skulduggery reached into the collar of his white shirt and a moment later, the face he was wearing shifted and melted away, receding back to reveal the polished white skull underneath. Desmond watched the process with fascination – once, the whole ordeal had frightened him. But now it was more of a morbid curiosity. Where did all that skin go?

“She is safe,” Skulduggery said eventually. He sat on the edge of the hospital bed, looking down at the hat in his hands. “She…she asked me to come and see you.”

Please bring back my little girl, Desmond found himself scrawling the words without a second thought. Please. I need to see her.

“I don’t think that’s a very good idea right now,” Skulduggery replied gently. “She is going through something beyond anything I’ve ever witnessed, and until we know what we’re dealing with and how to make things right, I’m afraid that it’s better if she stays at a safe distance.”

Desmond could feel the tears dripping down his cheeks. His hands were trembling and there was nothing he could do to stop them. So it was real. The feathers, the screaming.

The blood.

Skulduggery reached over, somewhat awkwardly, and put a gloved hand over Desmond’s. “I am sorry, Desmond.”

Swallowing back more tears, Desmond scribbled again.

What will happen to her? Is she a monster?

“No,” Skulduggery said quickly. “She is…changing. There are things happening greater than you or I, and she made choices – she took the brunt of the forces at play to protect those she loved. For the greater good, but it has caused her a lot of change, and suffering. She never meant to hurt you.”

Can you protect her?

Skulduggery was still. “I can try.” He cleared his throat, and stood. “I’d better go, and leave you to rest.”

Wait, Desmond’s silent plea caught Skulduggery’s attention as he waved a hand to stop him leaving. I need to ask something of you. Please.

“Anything.”

He hurriedly scrawled his request, having to backtrack and smudge out a few mistakes along the way, but finally, he turned the board back to the skeleton.

You must have something magic to make people forget. I don’t want my family to be burdened by my daughter’s disappearance having anything to do with my situation now. My Stephanie is not to blame. Please, there has to be something you can do to make us forget.

For a while, Skulduggery seemed to think on it. Then he replaced his hat on his skull, reached into his collared shirt, and a new face, different to his previous one, flowed up over the bone. This one had black hair and deep-set eyes.

“I might have something that could work. You’ll need to give me a day or two to modify it, and there’s no guarantee it will even be successful as it’s untested on erasing events after the fact. But I can try.”

Desmond nodded along, before scrawling again. Let me be your test subject.

“I wouldn’t want to expose you to any possible side effects, Desmond,” Skulduggery began, but Desmond waved him away, and pointed at his scribbles again. Defeated, the skeleton wearing the false face sighed. “Very well. Give me some time, and I’ll be back.”

-:-

It took longer than a few days – in fact, it took nearly two and a half weeks, but true to his word Skulduggery returned. It was the morning that Desmond was being discharged, finally able to go home with his bereft family. Melissa was still tearfully speaking with the police, Alice clinging to her side and her hand clasped tightly in Desmond’s as he sat beside them in a wheelchair.

The next thing he knew, Skulduggery was stepping through the big automatic doors into the hospitals main foyer. It was the walk that gave him away; so purposeful, so dignified. Relief washed through Desmond at the sight of the skeleton detective – although, he was a little cloudy as to why he was so relieved. Since his concussion had eased and he’d regained a little more of his senses, he couldn’t quite grasp the details of that conversation he’d had two weeks ago.

He had had to erase all the things he’d written on the whiteboard – the doctors theorized it would likely take a few months until his vocal cords healed well enough for him to speak again, and even then, it would likely mean another few months following that in speech therapy.

“Edgely’s,” Skulduggery greeted them all kindly, and Melissa just about threw herself at the detective in a rage, demanding answers. How dare he be so absent when their family was so distraught? How could he live with himself when Desmond nearly died and Stephanie was gone?

Her grief came out so venomous, it felt sharp to Desmond even though it wasn’t aimed his way. He hated when things drove his beautiful wife to such fury.

Skulduggery was pressing something between his hands, saying words that didn’t quite make sense to Desmond’s ears. Suddenly Melissa stopped her wrath and listened, confused. Alice was squeezing his hand tightly, completely wrapped with the words Skulduggery spoke. Something about a mugger, with a knife, hiding out in Grimwood. That sounded like it made sense, Desmond’s addled mind decided. Someone who hadn’t meant to hurt him, just tried to rob him and it all got out of hand so quickly, someone with enough remorse to call an ambulance before fleeing the scene.

Stephanie’s panicked eyes were fading from the picture. Like an oil painting that was having something new painted over the top. She wasn’t gone – well, she was, but she had gone on a case. Off saving the world again. Different colours changed the shape of the scene. A blurred face hidden by a dark mask. The flash of a blade, painted over claws covered in blood. That’s right, wasn’t it?

Whatever was in Skulduggery’s hands was glowing a beautiful soft lavender, brightest at its core. Desmond marveled at it as the skeleton’s deep voice seemed to captivate even the police officers standing around them, two of them no longer trying to physically restrain Melissa from attacking Skulduggery. Her eyes were clouded, uncertain. Then they cleared, and she was nodding along like it was all perfectly simple.

All of a sudden it was over, Skulduggery pocketing the thing he’d been holding onto. He was here to wish them well, to bring them his deepest condolences once again about the horrible mugging gone wrong just the other day. That they were doing everything in their power to track down the person responsible and bring them to justice.

Relief was the first of many things Desmond felt. Thank goodness Skulduggery had come to see them, to reassure them they were going to be safe. The skeleton detective was saying something about posting someone on guard around the Edgley house for a few days, just to be sure. Grimwood had already been locked down and safe guarded against any other potential intruders. They were on the case, hunting down the mugger so that this would never happen again.

Everything was going to be all right. Desmond gave his little girls hand a squeeze, and she looked down at him and smiled. He couldn’t crane his neck back very far without putting painful pressure on the healing wound across his throat, still heavily bandaged, but she reached down and wrapped her arms around his shoulders in a big hug.

Shortly after, they left the hospital, Desmond successfully discharged and sent home with a lap full of painkillers and anti-inflammatory medications. A follow-up appointment scheduled with the doctor for next week to check on his throat injury. Melissa drove them home in a subdued silence, Alice in the backseat staring idly out the window. Skulduggery had given him a plain white envelope when they had parted ways with the detective in the parking lot, and as the girls had been fussing about getting all of Desmond’s things from his hospital stay packed into the boot, the skeleton had passed him the envelope with the instructions that it was only to be opened when he contacted Desmond that it was safe to do so.

Desmond was still confused by that instruction. Why wouldn’t it be safe to open the envelope at any other time? Why did he have to wait? Surely, he reasoned with himself, if Detective Pleasant had said so, then it was to be done.

And then their eldest daughter vanished. Stephanie had disappeared, as if into thin air, barely a week later, with no trace or sign left behind. Grimwood was completely deserted – even the blood on the pavement outside the front entryway had been power-washed clean. Where he’d had that run in with that mugger, where his injury had occurred.

The heartbreak was immeasurable. He felt like he’d rather the pain of his throat being slashed all over again, if it would stop the pain and sorrow in his heart. Oh, how Melissa and Alice cried. There were many nights of lost sleep in the following weeks, many visits from the police and many more from Skulduggery, promising that everything and anything that could be done to find their first born child would be done. But their beautiful dark-haired daughter was gone.

Still, Desmond held onto the envelope, like whatever was within it held all of the answers to the universe, answers he somehow knew he wasn’t ready for. Answers beyond his comprehension of the world.

But curiosity won out eventually. It didn’t take all that long, really, for Desmond’s resolve to wear thin. He lasted several months, lasted through many trips to the doctors and through many sessions of speech therapy. Through the long days of bereavement and through the many hours of holding his sobbing wife, of cradling his youngest daughter until she cried herself to sleep. The envelope sat in the back of his sock drawer, where he’d forgotten about it many times already; some times from the outstanding circumstances and some times because he had thought it such a good hiding place, surely no one would find it. Until he had come across it in search of a pair of socks with no holes in the heels, and he had remembered. And the curiosity had started chewing at his mind again.

Finally, one night when Melissa had gone to fetch Alice from a slumber party that their daughter had wanted to come home early from, Desmond took the mystery envelope and taken a walk down to the pier. It had been one of Stephanie’s favourite places to spend her teenage years, if he was remembering right. It gave him some comfort facing the prospect of opening the envelope he’d been made to promise he wouldn’t dare peek into until he was told he could.

He had considered calling Skulduggery, to double check if it really was all that serious that he not open it, but had reasoned that if the sly detective really hadn’t wanted him to look inside it, he wouldn’t have given Desmond the envelope in the first place.

So he sat on a rock, running his thumb over the white folded piece of sealed card, and tried to imagine what was inside.

Then, he slipped his thumb under the seal, and gingerly tore the envelope open. Into his hand fell a long, dark grey feather, speckled with white. It was beautiful.

The night of the incident came flooding back to him, almost knocking him right off the rock he’d perched on. Getting out of the car at Grimwood several months ago now, hearing the sounds of pained cries and retching. Seeing his eldest daughter, blood and dark matter running down her arms, vomiting into the plant pot on the front step by the door. The panic in her eyes, the way her teeth bulged and grew sharp. The thudding in his chest as he felt so torn – to run screaming from the horrible scene, and to run closer, to bundle his baby girl up into his arms and try and protect her.

The way she’d shoved him away, the strange gurgle he made, echoing in his ears, as his breath suddenly went all strange and something hot went running down his neck and stained his shirt. The way he’d fallen back against the car, the way Stephanie had been screaming and crying. She had fallen to her knees in front of him, blubbering and saying she was sorry, she was so sorry -

The sirens overhead, waking in the ambulance. Opening his eyes to the ward after the emergency surgery. Who had called the ambulance? The tears as his wife and daughter came running in on the heels of the doctors.

Desmond was shaking. It was a splash of salty sea-spray over his face that brought him back, found his feet under him. Somehow he’d stood up in his shock, stumbled right to the edge of the pier, still clutching the feather, as if he were ready to cast it into the sea.

Oh, he remembered now. The conversation with Skulduggery. He had wanted to forget, and he had ruined it. Whatever the skeleton detective had done, Desmond had gone had ruined it for himself. Oh, you stupid man.

He took a step back, let himself plonk back down onto the rock, and held the feather close. He couldn’t stop the sobs as they shook his whole body. His daughter had turned into a monster, and now she was gone. And he would have given anything to forget all over again.

#mercy a writes #sp roll the bones #desmond edgley #skulduggery pleasant #mercy a's art #mercy a sketches #tw: blood #tw: body horror #valkyrie cain #alice edgley #melissa edgley #tie-in to the main Roll the Bones story

[artists-ally]

I love your Harvey fics😍 and I have a this fluff thatmayleadto spice/smut scenario in which Harvey comes back home from home finding the reader reading a particularly spicy scene of a romance novel and in the beginning Harvey makes a little fun of her but then he sees the appeal and...you know😂

{That Kind of Love} Harvey x Reader

Can I just say @kjbg-fantasymoon is so sweet??? Like ugh you are so nice ilysm. Told you I’d answer all your requests 😘😘 Anyway here is my two cents on the matter, enjoy!!! Title from this song (p.s. both books I mention in here, Flawless and Dirty Letters, are both real books and I high recommend both of them!)

Word Count: 1,481

Warnings: smut, minor d/s vibes, spanking

Summary: Harvey catches you reading a particular smutty scene from your current book.

~~~~~~

“Don’t you think it’s a bad idea?”

“Is what a bad idea?”

“You know,” I said, motioning between us. “This. Us, alone together? We can’t keep our hands off each other.”

Griffin laughed, grabbing me by my waist and pulling me tight against his chest. “It absolutely is an awful idea. But you look so fucking good in that skirt. I mean Jesus Luca, it barely covers your ass. And you know how much I hate it when anyone looks at anything that’s mine.”

I clenched my thighs together when he pushed the skirt up my ass, not being shy with the noise that burned my core. 

“Griffin,” I rested my forehead against his collar bone, gripping his shirt as he pushed my underwear down my thighs.

“Yes?”

“Please,” I begged. I needed to feel him. God, twelve years of sexual frustration was not helping me in any way. Every fantasy I had as a teenager was coming to life. 

“Is my girl needy?” I whined. “Aww, do you need me to take care of you? To force you on your hands and knees and fuck you like you’ve always wanted me to? How about I tie you up and make you cum on my fingers, then my mouth, then my co-”

“YN!” 

I flailed so hard the book clattered to the ground, and I could feel my pulse in my fingers. “Jesus fucking Christ Harvey don’t you know how to knock?”

“I did knock,” he countered, reaching down to pick up my forgotten story. “Twice. And I opened the door and called your name. And I’ve been standing in front of you for two minutes, watching you read. Watching you bite your lip in that way you only do when you’re completely lost. So, wanna tell me what you were reading?”

I blinked, mouth gaping open like a fish out of water. He turned the book over in his hand, reading the cover. Harvey raised an eyebrow at me and offered the book back. With a blush to my cheeks, I plucked it from his hand and folded it into my lap. 

“What’s the book about?” He asked again. 

“Nothing you’d like, Mr. Harvard,” I stuck out my tongue, placing the book on the table beside me before walking into the living room. “How was your day?”

“Nothing, huh?” Wow, Harvey could not take a hint. “Come on, just tell me. Was it about vikings? Pirates? Viking pirates? What about some small town romance, where the city girl moves back home and the farm boy reigns her back to her roots? Just like his pops did with his mamma?”

“Please, I am far above that cliche bullshit.” I am most certainly not above it. At all. “And why do you care?”

“Because, you were so entangled with it you didn’t even hear me come in. whatever is in that book, maybe I want to find out what it is so you’ll pay attention to me that intensely,” Harvey cornered me in the kitchen, caging me in against the counter after I got a glass of water. 

“I pay attention to you,” I argued, looking from his eyes to his lips when he licked him, very clearly looking at mine.

“Uh huh, sure you do. When it involves my wallet and my lips in between your legs,” Harvey teased, bringing me in against his chest. In an oddly similar way that the main character of my book did. “Just tell me, I’ll stop asking if you tell me.” “No you won’t.”

“No, I won’t,” Harvey smiled, and I rolled my eyes. “It can’t be that bad, Yn. I’ve caught you reading smut more than once, so what was it this time?”

“How do you know I read smut?” My eyes went wide, and my heart sped up a little in my chest. 

“I didn’t at first,” Harvey said. “But then I told Donna about one of the books you were reading, Flawless by Elsie Silver, and she told me how ‘spicy’ it was. And you are pretty bad at being subtle, my love. You don’t do a great job at hiding your emotions on your face.”

Welp. Fuck. 

My eyes narrowed at the New York lawyer and he just gave me a cheesy smile. “Fine, I’ll tell you. But you’re gonna have to read it. Because you’ll understand why when you do.”

As I walked back into the den, Harvey in tow, I plopped the book in his hand. Dirty Letters follows Luca and Griffin, childhood penpals turned strangers, through their reconnection. He’s keeping a huge secret and she’s a recovering victim of PTSD. 

“Well, with a title like that I expect it to be dirty,” Harvey rolled his eyes, reading the back of the cover. “Show me the good stuff.”

I flipped to the page I was reading, scanning to make sure I was in the right spot. I didn’t have to bookmark the page because someone decided to scare me half to death. He should know by now to just leave me alone when I’m reading. It’s not my fault that I get vaulted into another world when I do.

“Here, start there and let me know when you’re done.”

Was I entirely sure that leaving Harvey to his own devices with my book was a good idea? No I wasn’t. I knew he was going to make fun of me, but oh well. Everyone else in the world liked to watch porn, I just liked to read it. He didn’t have to understand it, but if it would get his ass off mine? I’ll take the embarrassment and get it over with. 

It wasn’t even ten minutes before he set the book down on the kitchen island, clearing his throat. I turned to face him and saw a slight tinge to his cheeks.

“Alright, let’s get it over with,” I prepared for the roasting. “Tell me how much of a nerd and how much of a loser I am for reading word porn.”

Harvey just shoved his hands in his pockets. He no longer had his tie, or his jacket for that matter. His hair was unusually messy and that blush. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen Harvey blush before. 

“Well,” Harvey started. “I can see the appeal.”

He can what? There was no possible way I heard him right. “Say that again?”

“I can see why you like to read. That author is really good at being… descriptive.”

I smirked, “So, you thought it was hot?”

“Amongst other things,” he bent at the waist, resting his elbows on the counter. “I get why you get lost in it, especially with something like that. Griffin is very charming, something we both have in common.”

“Oh please, you read some of the best smut an author can write at that’s what you take away from it?”

“Not at all, my love,” Harvey stepped closer. “I also learned that you have a thing for being called ‘my girl’. And I don’t blame you, you like it when I’m possessive. When I tell you that you belong to me.”

“This was not the reaction that I was expecting,” I eyed him. 

“Don’t worry, Yn. I promise I’ll make fun of you for it after I finish making you scream my name,” Harvey ducked his head down and wasted no time in showing his need. 

His tongue brushed over mine and he pulled me in tight against his body. Damn him and his unrivaled ability to turn me on. All it took was a few well placed kisses to my neck, to my ear to get me to our room and on the bed, hands not able to get enough of each other. 

If I knew Harvey would’ve had this type of reaction to reading smut, I should show him some real smut. That was nothing compared to some of the other stuff on my shelf. Maybe I could get him to do some of those things to me.

“Aww, is my girl already messy for me?” Harvey clicked his tongue, stripping the last of his clothes off. “Who knew you’d be so easy.”

“And who knew that you’d be so easy when it came to getting what I want by giving you a book.”

Harvey’s eyes narrowed. “You think you’re gonna get what you want?” In a quick grab, I was on my stomach, ass up, and Harvey’s hand came down a lot harder than I was prepared for. “Wanna try that again, pretty girl?”

I gasped when the next one came, and the next. “N-No.”

“Okay then,” Harvey let out a dark laugh, fisting his hand in my hair and pulling me up. “You gonna stop being a brat and let me do my job?”

I nodded, eyes falling shut when he pinched my nipple between his fingers. 

“Good girl.”

#harvey specter #harvey specter suits #harvey specter smut #suits #harvey x reader #suits smut #smut #suits fanfic #suits fanfiction #suits tv

[gxbbyhoneybadger]

The Jade Viper #2

Pairing: John Wick x !F!Reader

Summary: Loyalty goes far for Y/n, she proves over and over again to John that she'll do anything for him and his honor. Even rescuing him from a kidnapping; she's always going to be right behind him through thick and thin. But John begins to catch feelings for his loyal ninja assassin.

Warnings: adult language, blood, guns, beatings, wounds, torture, abuse, character past history, child death, nightmare, sexual tension, mutual pining, flirting, fluff.

Minors DNI 🔞

Part I, Part III

--

John could taste the copper inside his mouth, his sides aching from the growing bruises. His hands being cut into by zip ties around the arms of the chair; two men standing close by as the leader cleaned his knuckles of blood with a rag. He started to speak about how great John was supposed to be, but the leader just grew more agitated.

"You are no Bogeyman, the Baba Yaga I've once heard of is nothing but a weak man." He growled, he pulled back his fist to punch John once more. "Speak your last words, Mr. Wick." John grunted as he clenched his fists.

"Have you ever heard of the Jade Viper?" asked John as he closed his eyes to take in a heavy breath. The leader held back his laugh as he let John's tie go, "Are you really trying to spook me with a fake story to avoid your death?" He chuckled. John shook his head as he looked at the man again.

"It's real. . . I've seen it, I've seen her." John then snapped his fingers; the man rolled his eyes and attempted to grab John's throat, only to suddenly choke—John saw the silver thin yet long needle pierce through the leader's neck—sending him into a paralyzed state and collapsing onto the ground. John heard the two men in a scuffle behind him—a bone was heard being snapped as one of them was thrown beside John before being quickly dragged backwards into the shadows and one of them screamed with agony until a sound of a knife being pierced through someone's body was heard.

John listened to the clicking heels coming towards him, gentle hands being placed atop his wrist as her kunai sliced through the zip tie. "Y'know, when you said you'd find the Blood Dragons yourself, I didn't think you'd let them catch you in a way." Y/n sighed, "It pained me seeing them hurt you. I'm glad I knocked the main one out for now."

John winced as he rubbed his wrists to get the blood flowing to his fingers. He looked at the dead man's body as she picked up a clean rag—tilting his face to look at her while she gently cleaned around his bruises and cuts on his cheek and head. "He's dead." He commented.

"Awh, John, you doubt me so much. He isn't dead. Not yet anyways. These are metal needles with a point at both ends. . . They're often used for medical purposes in my clan, being used to strike acupuncture points. Anyone with great proper medical knowledge can effectively use these in battle to incapacitate or even kill their target should you aim for vital spots. I aimed to incapacitate him." She smirked, "He's just asleep for now."

"You know a lot of techniques." He said, "How were you able to learn all of this?" That made her grow a smile on her face as she let go of his head. "I'll tell you once we get out of here." The incapacitated man was stuffed into the trunk, hands and feet were tied. Y/n was driving and John was resting in his seat as Bones jumped into the backseat, "Good girl." She cooed while tossing her pet a treat.

She had started to drive and watch the view of lights being blurred by the raindrops. John sighed as he relaxed, "So. . . are you going to tell me?" Y/n nodded with a grin. Her fingers lightly drumming on the steering wheel.

"You already know that I'm not just an assassin, but, also a ninja, John. Something you'd hear in one of those dumb movies. But it's true. Even I want to laugh at it myself. When I was born, the Grandmaster took his pick of the litter. Each son and daughter in his clan wasn't there by choice, only by force. I was chosen by him and dragged into his training. I remember how ruthless his training was, he trained us in many ways. Those scars you saw my chest, my legs, the bottoms of my feet were all from him." She said.

John was listening while he watched her, her eyes glistening with pain as she remembered her childhood. "He beat the martial arts into us, branded it in our brains, burned it into our bodies, and carved it into our souls. To test who truly were the strongest out of the weakest, he'd match us against each other. A fight to the death. I remember beating one of my sister's, his eyes were on me and I knew what I had to do to prove that I was worthy to keep living. . . So I broke her neck."

John's eyes grew wide with sorrow and shock as he looked at her. "Her death was quick, and full of mercy. I released her from years of torment, John. I didn't want to, but I had to. We had these death tournaments once a year until we turned eighteen, the year we mastered everything. When I was twelve, he had me wear blindfold for an entire year. He said that we must fight no matter what, even without our gift of sight." John saw her hands beginning to tremble as she pulled into his garage.

"What he told us during our punishment has always stuck in my mind. . . Pain breeds weakness. Suffering exists because weakness exists." She muttered, "I had to practice to walk and run in silence. If I made a noise, he strike my feet with a bamboo rod, that's why I have permanent scars on them. . . I have scars on my body from his punishments. You must understand, John, I now do this to protect you. You only. You gave me a chance to change, and I plan to only use my skills to do whatever it takes to protect you."

John felt his heart break at her promise. He'd gone through his own training to become an assassin, it was cruel, and it was painful. But hearing just a tiny tale from her own experience sounded like hell compared to his own. He found her hand and held it in his own, her head slowly turned to look at their connection as John glanced at her.

"I'm sorry for what you've gone through, Y/n." She shook her head and placed her other hand on top his. "Don't be sorry for me, John. . ." Her eyes flickered to his and remained there for a minute. Time seemed to have slowed down, both their hands grew warmer. She shut her eyes and shook her head lightly before releasing her hand from his.

"Let's head inside, I need to take care of your wounds." With that, she exited the car and helped John inside of the house. Once settled in, she removed his shirt and coat. Seeing the bruises and scars on his body, it made her smile warmly before she attended to his cuts. "Why are you smiling?" John questioned, he heard her giggle to herself as she shook her head.

"It's just funny to see you injured like this, I've seen worse but, it's just funny when it's you." He grunted feeling the rubbing alcohol brush against his open cut, "Does it hurt?" "Not as bad as before." He replied. Y/n finished her work and handed him a glass of water, "Is he still alive?" John questioned. "He's settled in the garage for now. I'll move him to the basement after-"

"Not him. . . Your Grandmaster." John corrected. Y/n paused while washing her hands—she turned off the water and turned to look at John who was sitting on the couch. "John. . . Why do you want to know?" She asked.

"Just tell me." He said, a sigh left her as she walked back to the couch to sit down beside him. "I don't know anymore."

"What do you mean?"

"I escaped. . . I left my clan, attacked the Grandmaster, and they've been after me ever since." Y/n said, "When you asked me where I lived, I said nowhere. . . Because I'm always running from them, I kill threats to keep them distracted."

"Your siblings?" John asked.

"The ones who still remain by his side. . . But, now with you. I get to stop running, now I have a purpose to stay where I am and fight for something that matters. The Grandmaster told us that we are his blood, no more than that. "Wherever you are, wherever you may. go, you must never forget who you are. You are part of me, as I am part of you. This is the truth of your lives, and it will remain true after death." Weakness compels strength. Betrayal begets blood. This is the law of the Seven Clans. . ." Y/n lifted her head and looked at John with guilty eyes.

Her foot lightly tapping on the ground as she spoke, "I betrayed my clan, scarred the Grandmaster's face so bad, I believe he lost an eye. . . It's been years since I've last saw him, but I've seen many of my siblings come and go." John saw the tears beginning to grow in her eyes as she looked down. "You took a shower when you first got here. . . Who's blood was it?" John inquired.

". . . One of my brothers, we seemed to have crossed paths when we were hunting you down for fun. . . I just overwhelmed him and got the upper hand."

"Why am I such a big target?"

"Come on, the Bogeyman? Sounds like a scary name, scary name equals scary threat." She smirked. John couldn't help but grin at her words, Y/n laid back on the couch and stretched her arms and legs. "How far does your loyalty go?"

Y/n smiled again as she sighed, "As far as it needs to go, John. You go anywhere, I'll be there making sure you're safe. Unless you need privacy with a lady." She answered—standing up and beginning to walk to the garage. "I'm gonna fetch our friend in the car, I'll have him tied and prepared for your questioning."

He nodded his head and Y/n disappeared into the garage. John gently traced the back of his hand with his other, Bubba approached and rested his head on his thigh. "I don't know what I'm thinking. . ." He muttered to his dog.

Later at night, after dealing with the leader's body and interrogation—John had dinner with Y/n, she cooked spaghetti, garlic bread, and made a fresh salad for them to eat; John took a shower and gotten dressed for bed. He got in bed and Bubba was in his dog bed with Bones in the living room, Y/n was elsewhere.

John didn't know where she had went, but he knew she was close by. He fell asleep and started to drift off into his dreams—when he did, he expected to see Daisy, or his wife, anything but woman wearing a large sunhat. She was kneeling by a row of potted flowers, she wore gloves and a beautiful green and white flower dress, her hair blew with elegance in the wind while the sun shined on her.

John felt his heart pick up speed when she turned to smile at him, Y/n was smiling at him. Her eyes were bright and innocent, full of life and glee; three puppies tumbled over her feet, Bubba and Bones both sniffing them and pushing them onwards. Y/n slid off her gloves and giggled as she lifted the large sunhat to peek at whoever was behind him. John froze when he heard, "Daddy!"

A child's voice piped up with happiness, John looked behind him to see a young girl with short black hair, similar to his own. Her eyes full of adoration for him as she smiled, she held his hand and dragged him forward towards Y/n. It was only then that had John saw Y/n's body. Her dress perfectly brought out her baby bump: she was pregnant. Beautiful, and pregnant?!

John then saw his entire fantasy become a nightmare when thunder had struck, lighting had blinded him for only a minute. When he finally opened his eyes, he saw blood everywhere. Bubba and Bones were gone, the little girl was gone, Y/n wasn't. She was there. . .

Only. . . She was standing in a pool of blood, and the little girl lying right beside her feet. Bleeding out with empty eyes. Y/n's face and hands coated with blood, behind her, shadows began to emerge from the depths of the garden. Carrying katanas, blades, and even the heads of John's old enemies.

Y/n lifted her face and stared at John with an empty expression. As if she wasn't there anymore, just a shell of her remained. The shadows then leapt at John and he had woken up in a cold sweat. His heart thumping harder and faster than ever before, he looked at his window to see the night sky still there.

He lifted his hand and held his head to calm himself down, taking in slow and deep breaths. "John?" Y/n whispered from somewhere in the room, he looked around in the dark and looked towards the closed door.

"Y/n?" He mumbled—the floor slightly creaked and he looked to the left side of the room, the corner that was filled with nothing but shadows—Y/n slowly emerged from the darkness with a concerned look on her face.

"Are you okay?" She asked with a soft voice. He leaned against the headboard and sighed. ". . . Where you here the entire time?" He wondered. She let out a halfhearted giggle as she sat on the edge of his bed.

"No, I wasn't actually. I heard you shuffling around in here, I thought you were being attacked at first so I came in. . . Then I saw that you were being attacked by yourself. . . And I wasn't sure to wake you up or not, until you did five seconds later." She explained, "Are you okay?"

He nodded his head and glanced at the clock instead of Y/n, still unsure of what his dream had really meant. His eyes found her again as she stood up and walked to the door, "I'll be out here." She added. "Don't you sleep?" said John. "Not until you have proper rest, once you're taken care of and healed up, only then can I sleep."

With that, she shut the door and left John alone. He ran his fingers through his raven locks as he rethought of the dream again. Why did he think of that? Better yet, why was she pregnant? Why was that little girl there? . . . Why was Y/n covered in all that blood? . . .

John could only wonder as he laid back in his bed, feeling cold and unsure but most definitely, alone. As if he somewhat wanted Y/n to stay in the same room with him, but also didn't. What was this feeling he was sensing? He could only shut his eyes and sleep on it.

From afar, outside hidden within the trees—watching as Y/n walked down the stairs and freeze in place as she felt a pair of eyes piercing at her. She snapped her eyes towards the shadows of the forest, seeing nothing there but a squirrel scurry up the tree. She clenched her fists as she smelled the pine trees.

"Run, run, little sister." whispered the shadow from the darkness.

_____________________________________

Pt. 3 is coming soon!!

#slow burn #smutwarning #john wick smut #john wick #keanu fan #keanu x reader #john wick x reader #john wick x y/n #john wick x you

[deepdarkdelights]

Run Little Red (Namjoon x Reader)

Pairing: Namjoon x Reader

Word Count: 7.8k

Warnings: 18+, Yandere, Werewolf Namjoon, Stalking, Obsession, Forced Relationships, Blood (Lots of it), Gore, Fear, Panic/Anxiety, Discussions of discovering dead bodies, People going missing, Devious Intentions, Depictions of Guns, Mourning, Wolf Courtship Rituals

I do not condone the acts displayed in this story nor do I believe any members of BTS would actually engage in this type of behavior. This is simply written for entertainment purposes and should not be taken as a reflection of my own values, opinions, or morals. 

<<Forbidden Fables Masterlist>>

Preview:  A calm life in a small village was all you ever knew, your days spent in the bakery and keeping to yourself. You liked the quiet and gentle nature of your life, but one day a wolf stands outside of your window, a stranger arrives, and people begin to go missing. Do you dare don your red coat and enter the forest?

A/N: Hello babes! My fellow authors and myself decided to change up the order of our release dates for our Forbidden Fables Collab! And, since I recently finished this little beauty, I get to release it first. yay! Now I can sit back and savor the delectable writings of my fellow authors 💜 I hope you enjoy Run Little Red it was fun to make! I can’t wait to read the comments and asks 💜

There was a wolf outside your window. 

It’s eyes gleaming in the early morning light like molten gold with silver fur that melted into the snow. 

You sat up in bed, wrapping your patchwork quilt around your shoulders as you scooted to the foot of the bed. It was staring at you, that much you were sure of. And that startled you, the almost human like appearance to its gaze was intense and unsettling. It was an animal, but it appeared to be far more intelligent than you had first anticipated. 

Maybe it was hungry, perhaps that was why it was so intent on peering through your window.

No, it certainly wasn’t, that was evident. What you had missed before was glaringly obvious now, its silver muzzle was stained in red. It had made a fresh kill before it had wandered over to your cottage mere feet from the woods. 

So, if it wasn’t hungry, why was it here?

You watched in morbid fascination as its tongue slipped out of its mouth and laved over the fresh, thick, crimson blood that decorated its muzzle. You could see the rows of sharp canines hidden within its maw for mere seconds before the wolf clenched its jaw shut and settled on its hindlegs in the drift of snow.

“My, what big teeth you have.” You whispered to yourself, your voice seemingly louder in the empty room.  

You couldn’t help but wonder what it had made it’s meal. Perhaps a deer, or a squirrel, maybe a bird, or even a small, innocent, little rabbit. 

That would have been ideal. But, you knew it was most likely one of the poor farmer’s livestock. Your village was small and self sufficient, rarely reaching out to its neighboring villages and rarely receiving visitors of its own. So, when the cattle and the goats began to disappear, only their entrails remaining, the town quickly became suspicious. 

It was either one of two things, rebellious teenagers making a hassle for everyone, or a wolf amongst you.   

If only you had known what was to come. 

You stared back warily out the window at the creature, suddenly realizing just how easily it could bust through your flimsy window if it wanted to. This wolf was probably the largest you had ever seen, it was almost the size of a pony, with long limbs that held thick muscle from the time it spent chasing down its prey. You were certain a simple snap of its jaws would kill you in an instant if it desired to do so. 

It’s gaze had not left you, petrifying you to your very spot. You felt like the two of you were playing a game, waiting to see who would be the one to make the first move. 

The call of your mother’s voice was the tie breaker. 

You rose to your feet, your bare skin brushing over the cool wood of the floor as you retreated through your door, back first. 

“Yes?” You replied, angling your neck to the hallway for a moment. 

“Hurry, sweetheart! You’re going to be late!” She called back from the kitchen. 

The bakery had been in your family for the past three generations now, starting with your grandfather, then your mother, and now you. Your mother was showing signs of her age now, her hands were unsteady and unreliable creating more of a mess than a sellable meal. So, it was your turn now. It was the only thing you could do for her, besides be married off and you weren’t quite ready for that. No one was. 

At least that was the gentle way of putting it, in reality you had made yourself quite the social pariah. You were a determined woman, one who liked to keep to herself, one who liked owning the bakery and not having to sign over the ownership to a husband. You had your mother to care for, a business to run, and a grandmother that lived deep in the woods to fret over. 

It didn’t really matter what you wanted, you did what was necessary to stay afloat. 

“Just a minute!” You called once more before slinking back into your room. 

There was a noticeable difference about the space now, the wolf was gone. The only sign he had ever been there being the large dip in the snow that his form had disrupted and a track of paw prints headed into the forest. How strange. 

You shook your head in an attempt to clear your thoughts, you didn’t want to think about what you would have to do if the creature returned. The shotgun looming over you from above the front door said enough.

You couldn’t allow a predator to get comfy around your home, that would only invite trouble into your life.

You dressed yourself quickly that morning in as many layers as you could. The walk to the bakery wasn’t a far one, but it was a frigid one. You made sure to wear your wool stockings and your leather boots, the snow looked to be thick and you didn’t fancy the idea of wet feet all day while you worked. 

You leaned over the side of your bed, scooping up your bag and throwing the keys inside of it in one motion. The extra sleep you had gotten the night before had cost you the time you needed in the morning to ready yourself. 

Once you gave yourself a quick look over and ran through your mental checklist, you rushed out of your room and into the main room of the house. Your house was more like a cottage, it was incredibly small. With only your mother’s room, your room, and the kitchen in one corner with the fireplace in the other it made for a quaint and cozy home. Albeit a cramped one. 

“Your breakfast is on the table.” Your mother said, smoothing a stray hair behind her ear with trembling hands. 

You could see her cleaning up the mess she had made that morning in an attempt to show you kindness. Normally, you were the one to wake early and prepare the both of you for the day ahead. But she had also told you many times before that she was your mother and she was supposed to take care of you as well. 

You eyed the bowl of steaming porridge that sat upon the rickety table. “I don’t think I’ll have the time to eat it.”

“Then you’ll make the time.” She huffed, wiping a wet rag over the counter in two swipes. 

“I shouldn’t have overslept.” You sighed, resting your bag on the floor as you took a seat. 

“You needed the rest, dear. You’re up every morning at the crack of dawn and you don’t come home until nightfall. You don’t need to work that much.” She chided you, smoothing her hands over your hair in a fond manner. 

“I do, for you and for Grandmother.” You reminded her. The cost of living was not cheap. 

“And what about you? You should be spending time with people your age, not working yourself to the bone.”

“I don’t need anyone but you, and Grandmother.” You smiled before sipping at your spoon quickly, hissing as you burned the tip of your tongue in your haste. 

“Youth is wasted on the young.” She chided under her breath, spurring a giggle from your throat. 

You finished your food as quickly as you could before excusing yourself from the table and heading for the door. 

“Your cloak, dear!” Your mother called as you pulled the door open, the chill of the snow seeping into your bones. 

“Yes, mother!” You chirped with an amused roll of your eyes as you curled your fingers around the crimson fabric of the cloak. Your grandmother had made it herself two winters ago, as much as you loved it and her you had to admit it was a tad ostentatious and you weren’t exactly one for attention. But it was warm and it served its purpose well. 

The door creaked shut behind you, squeaking softly as it settled back into the frame. The snow had fallen much higher than you had previously anticipated. You tightened the ties of your cloak and delicately flipped the large hood over your head before gripping your layers of skirts and hiking them up as you began your journey. 

It was rather slippery that day, you couldn’t restrain the slight squeals that fell from your parted lips each time the heel of your boot found a patch of ice and sent you sliding. You were certain you should have caught the attention of a few passerbys, but to your surprise a large group of them had become preoccupied. 

There were about fourteen of them, all in one great circle fervently discussing something. They seemed to be worried, panicked even. It had caught your attention now that the group was made up mostly of men excluding the butcher’s wife and daughter. Both’s cheeks were stained red, their eyes brimming with unshed tears as they held onto each other tight in the crisp air. 

Your face tensed in confusion as you approached the bakery, the group not too far away from you. 

“Oh, poor Sarah.” A tender voice cooed worriedly from next door. It was the tailor, she and her apprentice were stood outside, thick shawls wrapped around the both of them. 

You occupied yourself by rifling through your leather satchel, pretending to look for the shop keys you held in that very hand. You knew that eavesdropping wasn’t very polite, but you also were the curious sort, and that curiosity demanded to be satiated. 

“Don’t worry, miss. I’m sure they’ll find him soon, you know how the young ones are.” The apprentice said, her hand resting on the tailor’s shoulder in a gesture of comfort. 

“It’s not like William though, he’s a sweet boy. It doesn’t make any sense for him to go up and missing at the crack of dawn.” She replied, her dark eyes narrowing in suspicion. “I just find it funny is all, that a stranger shows up here the same day that Sarah’s boy disappears.”

“Coincidence isn’t evidence.” The apprentice hummed, pulling her shawl tighter around herself  as she began to back up against the shop door, aggravated by the chilly air. “I’m sure he’ll turn up, with a search party that size he’ll be back home in no time.”

With that, you finally retrieved your “missing” keys and unlocked the door, sliding into the safety of the bakery. You knew William as well, he really was a sweet kid...to most. Your heart did go out to Sarah though, you didn’t know the pain of a missing child but you could empathize. The sight of her broken face remained burned into your mind as you readied the shop, lighting the hearth and preparing your materials to start your first batch of bread for the day. Your late start was going to nip you in the behind, most of the women arrived by noon to get their first pick of goods and the two hours it would take to make your batches was going to loom over your head the entire time. 

You were mid kneading your dough when the familiar tinkle of the bell above the shop door demanded your attention. You paused for a moment, your aching arms thanking you for the short reprieve. Almost immediately your breath was caught in your throat. You had been expecting one of the regular mothers wandering their way in, or perhaps even one of their children running errands. Not this man that stood before you. 

This was most obviously the stranger the tailor had been referring to moments earlier, there was no mistake. Your village was small, everyone knew everyone and this stranger looked nothing like any of the people in your town. 

He was so much taller than anybody else, broader too. But most astonishing was his pure silver hair and the deep honey shade of his eyes. You had never seen anyone as young as him with hair that light, it surely wasn’t grey, the shade far too bright to be mistaken with something that dull. He was damn near ethereal and unfairly attractive. His looks had almost distracted you from his attire but now that you were paying attention, he was severely underdressed for the weather. He had to be freezing cold. 

“Hello, can I help you?” You asked softly, patting your hands against your apron to remove the excess flour from your skin. 

He had a rather confident stance, like he was the owner of the shop instead of you, you who was slightly cowering and thrumming with anxiety. 

He sent you a wide grin, his teeth were pearly white and for some unknown reason that sent your heart crashing into your stomach. You could have sworn they even looked slightly pointy at the ends, not unlike those of the creature you had seen outside your window that morning. You had almost been distracted by the sweet dimples that rested in his cheeks. What duality he had. 

He tilted his head back slightly, peering down at you from above, “Hm, I’m looking for something sweet.” He hummed. 

“Sweet?” You mumbled to yourself, resting your hand on your hip in thought.

“Oh! I made some sweet rolls yesterday, how about that?” You said with a snap of your fingers, retreating further into the shop without a response from him. 

Now in work mode you busied yourself with preparing the stranger’s order. You couldn’t help but wonder why he had arrived, what his reason for being there was. Barely anybody passed through your village, and they certainly didn’t stay as long as he had. 

Once you had retrieved the tray of rolls you set them on the counter before grabbing a pot of freshly warmed icing and gently drizzling it over top. Once each roll had been thoroughly coated, you set the pot aside and headed to the cupboard to retrieve a bag for them.  

“Perfect.” You sighed in irritation, craning your neck back to see the top of the shelf. 

Normally, you had endless amounts of bags and never needed the ones stored on the top shelf. But this winter had been far more difficult than past ones and your stock had not been refilled in quite a while. 

Desperately not wanting to search for your wooden stool, you stubbornly resorted to balancing on the tips of your toes, your fingers just barely brushing against the material of the bags. You groaned in frustration, bouncing up slightly only to knock the bags back further on the shelf and worsen the ache in your shoulder. 

Just as you were about to give up and resort to looking for your rickety stool, you felt a hand settle on your waist and a chest press against your back as the stranger reached up and grabbed the bags for you. He was incredibly warm, so warm you thought he may even be sick. He felt as warm as the heat emanating from a fire of fresh coals and that was incredibly alarming, but also explained his state of dress.

You flinched in surprise as you felt him set the bags aside and settle his other hand on your shoulder. It was deathly quiet, the only sounds being his slow, steady breaths underlying your panicked ones accompanied by the calm rise and fall of his chest against your back. You had never been this close to anyone before, it was incredibly uncomfortable. 

You felt much like a rabbit, cornered, panicking, and believing that if you stayed still enough he wouldn’t see you and would go away. 

He gently rested his forehead against your hair, nuzzling from side to side before reaching up and playing with a stray strand. You could feel him taking a deeper breath this time, humming softly like he was pleased. 

“Sweet.” He mumbled to himself. 

Oh. Oh, no. Who did this man think he was? You were not on the menu. You shuddered in fear before jerking away, smacking his hands off of you. 

You turned on your heel, backing away from him as you fixed him with an annoyed glare. The look he gave you was one of clear confusion, a layer of hurt and frustration buried beneath. 

“I’m not sure how things work where you come from, but normally you ask for permission before you go touching someone you don’t know.” You huffed, slamming the empty bag on the counter as you began to package the rolls. 

It didn’t matter if he was attractive or not, you were not going to let him touch you as he pleased or get the wrong message that you weren’t even conveying in the first place. 

The stranger rounded the counter, the block of wood effectively separating the two of you, making you feel a little safer. His eyes looked darker than before, less like honey and more like amber. 

His confident demeanor had returned, effectively confusing you even more. 

“Forgive me,” He said, another smile gracing his lips as he rested his forearms on the countertop, “It seems we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot? My name is Namjoon, and yours?” 

So, he did have the capability to be somewhat of a gentleman. He was rather well spoken, and his strange mannerisms and quiet demeanor had all but disappeared in a flash. 

So, begrudgingly, you replied with your name. 

He repeated it after you, his tongue swiping over the full flesh of his lower lip like he was tasting it, sending a chill down your spine. 

“I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression, you were correct in assuming where I come from we do greetings a little differently.” He said with a soft chuckle, his amber eyes tracing every movement you made. 

You did feel a little bad now for how you had lashed out at him. Normally, you weren’t one who was quick to anger, but that still didn’t excuse what he had done. 

“It’s alright,” You said, slowly, “You need to be more careful though, if that had been anyone else I don’t think you would have gone unscathed.” 

“Are most of your people so quick to violence?” He asked, titling his head slowly, a strong sense of intrigue exuding from his form. 

“I wouldn’t say so normally, but we’re all a little on edge as of late. Our livestock has been attacked and just this morning one of us went missing.”

“Missing?” He asked, a new glow to eyes. 

“Yes, I’m afraid so. The butcher’s son hasn’t been seen all day, it’s very unlike him.” You said, your teeth sinking into your lower lip, unsure if you should tell him more. But, considering it concerned him you felt maybe it was in his best interest to tell him. 

“If I were you, I wouldn’t stick around for too long. Some find it suspicious you turned up the same day that William went missing.” 

“And what if I don’t feel like leaving just yet?” He asked, disregarding the information you had just given him as if he had no reason to be worried. 

You had no answer for him, truly you didn’t. The packaged rolls sat between the two of you and a long stretch of silence as he stared at you and waited for a response that didn’t come. And, without another word, he dropped a few too many coins on the counter, gathered up the bag, and headed for the front door. 

He stopped for only a moment, his fingers gently stroking at your red cloak you had hung up beside the door. His amber gaze trailed over each stitch as he lightly grazed the material a few more times. 

“I’ll be seeing you soon, little red.” 

~~~~~~~

After he had left, your day had not gotten any easier. Just as you had expected, it had been another busy day. You had managed to satisfy all of your customers, despite that late start you had made. 

There were a few upsides to the job you had, one being that it allowed you to tune into any gossip you would normally miss out on. You were more of a hit with the older women of the village, the people your age finding you to be a tad strange and off putting. 

That day your shop had been filled with hushed whispers of what had come to pass, the search party still had not returned from their trip to recover William. The outlook was not in the boy’s favor, not with the increase in predator activity you had been receiving as of late. You weren’t so sure you would be seeing William walking back into town any time soon. 

Once the day had come to an end, the sun dipping just below the tree line and casting shades of red over the snow, you had extinguished the lights of your shop and were locking up, your hood drawn over your head. That was when you found out the horrible truth. 

As you slid the shop keys into your bag and turned on your heel, you saw the search party emerging from the woods. And with them, you could see a blanketed form lying in the snow, the sheet swaddling the body slowing turning red. 

You swallowed harshly, turning as quickly as you could and beginning to make your way through the snow and away from what you knew was coming. You didn’t want to see the look on Sarah’s face, you didn’t want to watch her go boneless in the arms of her husband. But it didn’t matter what you saw or didn’t see, you would never forget the sound of her screams piercing the crisp, snowy air.

Your breath was visible in hot puffs in front of your face as you felt the burn of tears beginning to prick at the corners of your eyes. It didn’t matter if you didn’t care for William, it didn’t matter if you knew what he was really like, there was nothing quite like the sound of a mother’s heartbreak. It was enough to send anybody down to their knees. 

Your numb fingers wiped away the warm tears rushing down your cheeks, and amidst your blurry vision you could have sworn you saw a familiar figure slinking off into the woods, a flash of silver hair that just barely materialized. You could have sworn that that was Namjoon disappearing like a ghost into the frigid depths of the forest. 

You shook your head, you shouldn’t bother yourself with what he was doing, your main goal should be getting home before the sun completely dips below the horizon and plunges you into darkness. So, with that thought, you rushed home. 

Once you entered the cottage, things didn’t get any better. Your mother was stood there, waiting anxiously for your arrival. As soon as you had stepped foot inside she whipped the door shut and helped you remove your cloak as you toed your boots off. 

“No more working late, do you hear me?” She said, gripping your shoulders to get you to look at her. “It’s not safe out there.”

“Word travels fast then?” You asked humorlessly. 

“It’s a shame what happened to that boy, and I’ll be damned if that happens to you.” She replied sternly. 

“And what about Grandmother then? What do we do about her? She’s out there, all alone, with no one to protect her.”

“She has the lumberjack-”

“And he only checks on her every two weeks.” You interrupted, “Let me go out tomorrow and bring her back to us. I’ll go first thing in the morning.”

Your mother bit her lip, her hands shakily settling on her hips as she thought to herself. “I’ll go with you then.”

“No, you can’t possibly think you’ll be able to make the trip. The snow is thick and it’s a long walk there, you’ll exhaust yourself. It’ll be better if I go, faster too.” You said as you approached the fireplace, raising your hands to the flames to warm them. 

“And your grandmother, you think she’ll be able to make it back through the snow?” She probed, raising her eyebrow. 

She had a point, if you were saying she wouldn’t be able to make it there how would you expect your grandmother to make it back with you? 

You rested your hand on the back of your neck, pacing the floor and causing your layers of skirts to swirl around your ankles. You came to a sudden stop, your eyes settling on the shotgun that was mounted above your front door. Idea.

You didn’t like the thought of her being out there all alone, but if you knew she had something to protect her from the wild animals that would make you feel much better. 

“Alright, what if I bring her some supplies instead? I’ll grab some things that’ll last her a good while and I’ll show her how to use the shotgun. I’ve saved up some money of my own, I could purchase us a new one.” You mused out loud.

You loved your grandmother, she was the last living member of your father’s side of the family, she was the only connection you had to him at this point. You couldn’t bear the thought of losing her just yet, not when you could prevent it from those creatures that were beginning to terrorize your people. 

Your mother was silent once more, her thumb settled between her lips as she nervously chewed at the nail. She didn’t like the idea of you headed out into the woods alone, but she was comforted by the thought of you taking the shotgun with you, that much you were certain of. 

“We don’t know when the next storm will hit, and the last thing we need is for her to be stuck out there, all alone, with no food, surrounded by the wild. Let me go.”

And that was enough to break her resilience. 

“Promise me, promise me that you’ll come back.” She whispered, her body visibly sagging as those words left her lips. 

“It goes without saying.” You murmured, wrapping her up in your embrace. 

It was easier this way, you didn’t want to make a promise you had no certainty in keeping. 

The air in the cottage had lost all tension, everything was much calmer than before. But your peace could only last for so long. It was when you entered your bedroom that you realized something else was wrong.

The room was positively frigid, and upon further inspection you realized that your window had been pried open, the cold winter air surging forth and snuffing out any traces of heat. 

You surged forward and grasped the window, attempting to swing it shut as quickly as you could to try and insulate whatever warmth was left. But the thick scent of copper quickly stalled your movements. Instead of closing the window, you found yourself leaning forward into the brisk air, sniffing intently as you tried to make out where the scent was emanating from. You didn’t have to look far.

Your hands sealed themselves over your mouth, smothering the scream that threatened to break through them. 

Sitting in the snow where the wolf had once laid, was a human heart. The snow seemed to sizzle around it, the organ still warm and slick with blood that carved rivers and valleys into the pure ice. 

You could feel bile rising up your throat, your vision shaking so violently it made it appear that the heart was vibrating with steady pumps like it was still alive. 

And, to your horror, you could make out a form a few feet back in the snow. The only thing that was visible in the pitch black were it’s molten gold eyes, shining back at you in recognition before it scuttled away into the darkness.

You frantically slammed the window shut and drew the curtains closed tight. 

There was no mistake now, someone or something had been following you. 

~~~~~~~

When you awoke the next morning from a restless sleep, you elected to keep your discovery to yourself.

Although you were incredibly frightened by what you had seen, the last thing you needed was to scare your already frail mother. Your grandmother was still in need of assistance, and you couldn’t allow your mother to halt your plans. You had a mission to accomplish, and you were set on completing it with a shotgun slung over your arm and a picnic basket on the other. 

So, you shakily grasped your red cloak and wrapped it around your shoulders in haste, your fingers struggling to do up the ties at the base of your throat. Once you had completed the normally easy task, you slipped your basket onto the inside of your elbow and pulled down the shotgun from its resting place above the door. 

You regularly cleaned it, a task your father had enjoyed teaching you at a young age, so you were certain it wouldn’t jam if you needed to use it in a hurry. You slid a box of ammunition into your pocket, one for you, and another box into the picnic basket, one for your grandmother. 

And then you were off, bidding your mother goodbye with a hug and a swift kiss to her cheek, and an unspoken promise tittering on the edges of your lips saying that you would be home for supper. But those words were better left unspoken. 

The sun was just barely peeking through the thick clouds overhead, you were certain a blizzard was brewing. This only urged you to move quicker through the cleared paths. 

But the clouds weren’t the only foreboding message that morning, it was the mother’s wailing in the town square. There were three more now, holding each other in a comforting manner as they wept into each other’s shoulders. 

More children had been snatched from their mothers.

Sarah sat by herself, of her own volition, an obsidian mourning veil obscuring her tear stained features. A chill ran down your back as you urged yourself to walk by them quicker, she looked more like an executioner than she did a mourner, surrounded by a choir of weeping women. 

You could still hear the echoes of her cries in the back of your mind, the raw chords striking your ears once more. 

You tightened your grip on the strap of your shotgun, your pace slowing as you reached the bridge that led you into the forest. You felt like you could breathe now, despite the knowledge that people your own age had lost their lives in the thick overgrowth before you. The relief that you felt from the women in the square outweighed your fear.

The bridge creaked in protest as your boots tapped against the wood. It would need to be repaired come spring. 

“Little red!” A voice called from the treeline causing you to suddenly stop, snow kicking up beneath your boots. 

Moments later, a familiar figure emerged from the frost coated trees, tall, ash hair, and honey eyes. Namjoon. 

“Where are you off to, little red?” He cooed, his voice low with a sultry edge that sent shivers down your spine. You couldn’t tell if they were delighted or terrified chills. 

“My grandmother’s, what are you doing here?” You asked, your body tense and defensive. 

He drew nearer now, a wide grin gracing his lips with a set of teeth so white they resembled the snow beneath your boots. The closer he got the more you noticed about him. His perfect white teeth seemed a little sharper than most, and the clothes he wore were once more, not suited for the frigid weather. 

“I caught sight of this old thing,” He hummed, his finger tracing over your cloak and the strap of your shotgun as he slowly circled you, “And couldn’t help but see you.”

You stepped back hesitantly, his presence was unnerving. Without saying anything more you pulled away from his reach and began to walk by him briskly, headed into the woods. 

“Leaving so soon? We only just met.” He laughed, it would have been a nice contagious laughter had you not heard the bitter edge to it. 

“I’m afraid I don’t have the time to dawdle, Namjoon. I need to reach her before the storm hits.”

“Well then, won’t you let me accompany you?”

“I don’t need an escort, I know my way just fine, thank you very much.” 

“And what about the beasts then?” He asked from beside you, sending you halting to a stop. 

“Beasts?” You asked slowly, gazing up at him from beneath the cover of your hood. 

“Well, surely you know?” He asked in a patronizing tone, his honey eyes narrowing. “Four people from your village have gone missing, red. Surely you know that wasn’t an accident. Great beasts have roamed this forest for centuries and they don’t take kindly to intruders. It would be much safer if I came with you.”

You stood there for a moment in silence, contemplating his words. He was not wrong, two people were much safer than just one. 

So, begrudgingly, you accepted his offer. 

His hand quickly captured your own, his fingers intertwining with yours as he pressed his side tightly to your own with a grin. How bold. You were struck once more by the fact that he was incredibly warm, it was no wonder why he wasn’t bundled up like you were. It felt like he had struck a fever. 

Namjoon filled the silence between the two of you surprisingly well, telling you stories of the great beasts that roamed the woods, effectively scaring you and holding your attention. He had a way of speaking that drew people in, like a siren from the stories your father had read to you. 

It was easy to forget with him, easy to forget why you had been frightened in the first place, easy to sink into his side as his warmth seeped into your flesh, and easy to get lost in his voice. 

That was of course, until you felt him pulling you off of the path. 

You dug your heels into the snow, tugging at his hand violently. “Namjoon!”

“Yes?” He asked.

“What are you doing? Her cottage is this way, we stay on the path, we never leave the path.” You said, gesturing towards the dirt pathway beneath the two of you. 

That was a spoken rule in your village, never go off of the path. 

“That’s ridiculous,” He chuckled, “If we continue the way you were going, that doubles the time it takes to get there, it’s better we take the shortcut.”

“No.” You sternly said. 

“And why not?”

“Because, there’s predators out there! Mountain lions, bears, wolves!”

A mischievous smirk pulled at the corners of his lips, “Are you scared of wolves, little red?”

“I’m scared of anything that wants to eat me.” You replied with a dry tone. 

“Well you do smell very sweet-”

“Namjoon!”

He took a deep breath, his eyes darting between you and the shortcut. “I promise you, nothing will hurt you while I’m here. Besides, did you know some flowers bloom in the winter?”

“What? You can’t be serious.”

“I am, there’s a field of flowers this way, all different breeds that bloom in the dead of winter. Don’t you think your grandmother would enjoy those?” 

You chewed at your lip uneasily. He knew exactly what to say to make you question your own actions. You would be lying if you said you didn’t want to see what he was talking about, and you knew that yes, your grandmother would be elated by something so cheery in the bleak winter months. 

So, after a few moments of consideration, you agreed.

And Namjoon had not been lying. After a few minutes of trekking through the deep snow the two of you emerged into a clearing, and just like he said, it was filled with flowers of all different breeds. 

You found yourself crouching down into the field, your fingers trailing over each velvety petal that had somehow found a way to survive in the clutches of an icy death. Your favorites were the deep red roses. They were a dead match for your cloak, a beautiful color that was delicately dusted with soft flakes of snow. 

You couldn’t help but greedily pluck several blossoms from the foliage, slipping them into your basket. 

And, amidst your excitement, you hadn’t noticed just how close your companion had gotten until you felt him. That incredible warmth had returned as he crouched down behind you, and just like he had in the bakery, you felt him lightly nuzzling your head and breathing in your scent as he pressed himself closer to you, his arms winding around your body in an attempt to pull you even tighter to him. 

You froze, your finger mid pull on the rose’s stem causing you to slice the appendage on a stray thorn. You hissed in pain as you watched the blood drip from the tip of your finger before rolling down your wrist and carving a pool into the snow beneath you. 

And, without a thought, Namjoon’s hand encircled your wrist and yanked it up to his face. 

His once honey eyes appeared brighter than before, his long lashes fluttering as his warm breath misted over your skin. And before you could stop him, he licked a line up your wrist, collecting the blood, and pressed your finger to his lips swiping his tongue over the wound. 

You yelped in surprise, wrenching your hand free from his grip as your heart pounded violently. You rose to your feet and stumbled backwards through the snow. 

Namjoon remained where he was crouched, a sudden hunger evident in his honey gaze, a gaze that was not so unfamiliar. 

“We-we need to go!” You stuttered, turning on your heel and retreating from whatever had just happened. 

You held your hand close to your chest as you walked, frightened by what had just transpired. A part of you suddenly wished you had made your journey alone as you had previously intended.

But the harsh crunch of snow behind you reminded you of the choice you made, and the molten glare digging into your back exemplified it. 

~~~~~~~

The rest of your journey was made in complete silence, a new tension had settled between the two of you. And, true to Namjoon’s word, the way he had taken you was indeed a shortcut. So, you felt no remorse as you sprinted toward the cottage ahead of you and threw a weak thank you over your shoulder. 

You couldn’t stand the awkward tension anymore, you couldn’t stand being in his presence any longer than you needed to. 

As soon as you approached the front door, you threw it open and let it shut behind you. You leaned against the door for a moment to catch your breath before you shrugged the shotgun off of your shoulder and strung it up on the hook beside the front door. 

“Grandmother!” You called as you began to approach the kitchen door, “I’m here!”

And upon opening it, a blood curdling scream broke free from your lips. 

The sight before you could only be described as a massacre. Your hands desperately tried to cover your eyes, but the damage had already been done. There was blood, so much blood amongst other things laid out atop the counter. 

You fell backwards, your body sliding down the wall as hoarse screams raked through your throat. The unmistakable scent of blood was thick in the kitchen sending your stomach churning in your gut. You knew that scent, it was clear as day whatever had remained in that room had once been human. 

“Sweetheart?” A familiar voice called out to you. 

And upon opening your eyes, you saw your grandmother standing before you. The sudden feeling of elation surging through your body at the sight of her alive quickly died out. She wore a leather apron stained with blood, both fresh and old, and her hands were gloved. You quickly stood and began to back away from her, your sense of self preservation suddenly kicking in, your eyes zeroing in on the meat cleaver she held in her left hand. 

“Sweetheart, calm down.” She whispered softly, carefully setting the blade down on the counter beside the gorey mess. 

Your eyes were darting everywhere but her, panicked breaths leaving your parted lips. Your gaze finally settled in the corner of the room where a pile of clothing sat and a familiar axe. The lumberjack, she had murdered the lumberjack. 

“Why?” You cried, trembling as if you had been drenched to the bone. “Why did you do it?!” 

“I had too sweetie, I have to feed them.”

“Them? Who?” You asked, backing out of the kitchen as she followed your trail, her face soft with sympathy despite the flecks of blood that decorated her cheeks. 

“The wolves, of course. I made a deal with them long ago, if I fed them in the winter I could stay here.” She replied, her voice alarmingly calm. “The lumberjack was a sweet man but this winter was a rough one, not many travelers I’m afraid.”

“You’ve gone mad.” You whispered. 

“I know this is a lot to take in, but it’s best if you listen to me darling. Your grandfather was one of them, he courted me and then we had your father and your uncles. It’s always tricky with litters, you never know who is going to take after who. Your father though, he was the most human out of all of them. Poor thing couldn’t even shift.” She sighed, her eyes glazing over.

“You need help, you’re not well.” You tried again, doing your best to keep distance between the two of you.

“I know you’re a bit shaken up, but you need to listen to me, it’s in your best interest.” She sighed, untying the leather apron from around her waist. 

“That cloak you’re wearing, it’s a symbol that you’ve come of age and Namjoon has had every intention of courting you. He’s been rather obvious really, he’s becoming quite frustrated with you.” 

You suddenly became still, your mind flashing through every time Namjoon had ever touched the very item you were wearing. What she was saying, although deluded, had some semblance of truth. 

“I-I have to go.” You mumbled, your throat tightening from the copper scent and smell of flesh that hung heavily in the air. You needed to get home and far away from her before she killed you too. 

A deep sadness spread over her features as her head hung low, shaking from side to side. “Don’t run,” She breathed, “They find the chase seductive.”

All this time you had been slowly backing away from the person you loved the most, and now you had been stopped by the feeling of a solid form behind you. You quickly spun around, a shriek of horror escaping you as you met the bright, gold eyes of your escort, Namjoon. 

And, without thinking, you ran. 

Your cloak was fluttering behind you rapidly in the harsh, cold winds, the snow coming down thicker than it ever had before. And, to your absolute horror, a loud howl was echoing throughout the trees. 

You peered over your shoulder as you sprinted to the best of your ability through the snow drifts. The wolf that had sat outside your window days before had returned and was chasing you down. Now that there was nothing separating you from the creature you were terrified, it was massive and hunting you down. It had the clear advantage, you were inevitably going to die. You were never going home again, another child was going to be ripped from their mother. 

Tears were pouring down your cheeks like waterfalls as you blindly ran, unsure as to where you were going. You knew that you didn’t have time, four legs were faster than two and you were greatly impaired by the weather. 

With no goal in mind, no destination in sight, you ran in hopes you would be able to live for a little longer. You did your best to weave between the trees, slide down hills of snow, and keep running for your life. Your lungs burned and your legs ached but still you ran, even as you heard the loud steps of the wolf coming nearer and nearer.

And, just as you had lost all hope, an outcropping of rocks became visible at the base of a snowy hill. And with every intention to save your life, you recklessly threw yourself down the hill allowing gravity to take over for you. 

The second you felt yourself cease rolling, you rose to your unsteady legs and dizzily stumbled into the cluster of rocks, pulling yourself into the shelter away from the blizzard.

But your hope was fleeting as you came to a realization. The shelter was a den, one that had clearly been in use. It was littered with furs, blankets, books, and materials for a fire. The creature had been corralling you to this very location. 

You turned as another burst of adrenaline shot through your body only to be stunted by the sight of the silver wolf blocking the exit to the den. 

It’s bright eyes stared back at you with a gleam of satisfaction as it crouched down, shimming it’s way into the den and backing you up further into its depths. 

You watched, horrified, as the wolf began to whimper, it’s body shaking violently as the sound of bones beginning to snap and crunch echoed throughout the space, reforming and distorting themselves into vaguely familiar shapes as it’s fur began to melt away. 

Those bright golden eyes faded to a recognizable honey shade, and the silver fur disappeared and showed itself as ashen hair. On the floor of the den sat Namjoon in the place of where the powerful wolf had once stood. 

He carefully rolled his head from side to side, his neck cracking loudly in response as he rose to his feet. A mischievous smirk pulled at his lips, a triumphant gleam to his eyes as he confidently approached your trembling form. 

A broken cry escaped from your throat as you felt him press his forehead to your own, lightly nuzzling his head against yours. His strange behavior now made sense, he had been courting you in a way that was unfamiliar to you, but natural to him. 

All of the people that had gone missing were male’s your age, he had been wiping out the competition. 

And the bloody organ he had left outside of your window, had been a horrific present. A show of his dominance and his twisted affection. 

You were crying uncontrollably now, everything you had experienced suddenly crashing down on you. You flinched in terror as you felt his fingers grip your jaw, his lips just brushing against your own and he hummed happily.

“You have nowhere left to run, little red.” 

#bts #bts namjoon #bts x reader #namjoon #kim namjoon #namjoon x reader #kim namjoon x reader #yandere #yandere bts #yandere namjoon #bts fanfic #yandere namjoon x reader #yandere kpop #yandere bts x reader #werewolf namjoon #werewolf namjoon x reader #yandere werewolf #werewolf bts #werewolf bts x reader #hyrbid namjoon #hybrid bts #bts rm #yandere rm #yandere rm x reader

[gunkreads]

HASH TAG LONG POST, KIDS. PRESS J

Ok more musing on decisions, or lack thereof, Jordan made:

I made a post a while ago about how interesting it is that Jordan ended the series with the Seanchan right at the crux of a massive societal revelation: the sul’dam issue. A load-bearing pillar, as I called it, of their civilization has just had a sledgehammer taken to it. The option to not be a shit person has just been proffered to every single Seanchan; the way they see the world and the Power has been completely changed. If, of course, Tuon exercises that tiny spark of morality inside her cold, empty chest cavity and publicizes this information (or at least refrains from suppressing it).

But with the specific example of the sul’dam and damane aside, there are SO MANY mysteries in Wheel of Time that are just never given a clear, explicit, in-text answer. Sure, stuff like “what the hell is up with the Finn” and “who’s the mystery desert lady (can’t remember her name)” can be explained, tentatively, with a long charlie-day web of photos and yarn and thumbtacks, but the bottom line is that we never got an answer. And, for the purposes of the story written by Robert Jordan, we never fuckin will. Sure, Harriet McDougal or Sanderson or Judkins or someone else entrusted with the world can come along and say “oh, well, here’s the answer I can give you based on everything I know about what Jordan wanted” but we’ll never get a pure answer straight from the horse’s mouth.

And personally, I think this is good. Before I explain straight up, an anecdote:

In the D&D campaign I’m in, DM’d by my best friend, we recently had about one and a half “down sessions” where we were completely adrift between plot points. We had escaped through the screaming portal, we had stolen a cart and disguised ourselves as guards, and we’d made it out of the city. We were on the road in the middle of the desert, headed down a major thoroughfare between this oasis resort city and the nearest actual civilization. Our DM had like a dozen possible encounters planned out, so we rolled for them at random, and we rolled a 20, running into a magical merchant on the side of the road. We bought stuff, talked, and left; we came across a group of cultists dragging a cart barefoot across the desert because their god liked righteous suffering. We camped out next to a traveling party, finding out the next morning that they’d all disappeared and the inside of one of their carts was absolutely caked in blood. We never found out what The Fuck Was Up with any of these things.

And you know what? It was the most fun I’ve had in that campaign so far. So many stories are all meat and bone, all an interconnected web of plots and foreshadowing and characters, where every single little thing will tie in to the main plot and the end of the world. I love those stories, don’t get me wrong, but they just don’t make sense for fourteen fucking books! There’s too much shit in the world for everything to matter; for everyone to matter. Genuinely, over a long enough period of time, a story with no loose ends starts to feel dead, or at least overly fatalistic. Really? Everybody comes across the main characters? Every place they visit is a MacGuffin vault? Admittedly, a good author can maintain this “no-loose-ends” style for a LONG fuckin time, but the length of Wheel of Time is kind of prohibitive in that regard.

Thesis: Wheel of Time needs unsolved mysteries, unexplored lands, and unexplained phenomena to seem alive. Logical-leap restrictions aside, tying everything up in a neat bow at the end would make the world feel less lived-in. If I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that the Dragon’s Peace would last forever, that the Aiel would find their place in the world, that the Seanchan would cease slavery, that the Sharans would... idk, do whatever Sharans do, then the ending would’ve left me absolutely dead inside. Not only would it directly contradict the ol’ whumptacular Veins of Gold soliloquy--precluding the need for a second chance--it would tell me that the Pattern ends here. What more’s to be woven, now that we’ve solved every problem and met every person and trod every millimeter of land? This ain’t the Travels of Jain Farstrider!

No, Jordan isn’t so dumb in his outline, nor is Sanderson so egotistical in his writing. Unless the world ends at the end of your story, life goes on. The job of an author of hundreds of characters, at the end of the story they’re actually writing, is to write the prologue for the rest of those characters’ lives.

And Jordan, the bastard, did The Pipe Thing, the final cherry on top, the final chorus, the coup de grace. The Pipe Thing is, no joke, my absolute favorite aspect of the entire series. Nothing compares to The Pipe Thing. Zero explanation. Dozens of logical explanations, none quite flawless. I have never, in my goddamn entire ass life, had to reread the final two pages of a book that many fucking times. Admittedly it was four in the morning, but still.

#wheel of time #wot

[lovelywingsart]

Metallic (18+)

-- Karl Heisenberg X OC (AFAB, She/They) --

Oh lord here we go- Ok, first off, y'all get a small paragraph beforehand, please forgive me. :'D I've... never posted smut THIS PUBLICLY before. This is admittedly incredibly nerve-wracking and I'm hella nervous because I feel like I write... 'conservatively'? You'll see what I mean. So... Please go easy on me for this one...? I'm great for sweet stuff and angst, but smut is a whole other beast despite NSFW being one of my favorite art forms when drawing. I mean, I've already made a few *spicy* art pieces for them, but just... Writing is difficult. I mean, I really hope you guys like it anyway!! But fair warning. THIS is new for me. QuQ I do have a few more smut pieces in the works, but this was the first one written.

So uh... on to the story, I guess...!

**Small reminder that I have a small 'Masterlist' for these!**

-------

*Warning?: Hella smut, lots of biting, choking and kisses, some blood from said biting, just rough sex in general? Normal, to rough, to fluff. not entirely sure what else to add?? :'D It's all consensual, no worries.

Summary: With some high tensions, a smart mouth, and some unfortunate forgetfulness, Emelia gets herself into a bit of... 'trouble' with the notorious Metal Man. But maybe this time she bit off a bit more than she could chew... Not that she really ends up minding.

A pair of footsteps echoed through the underground tunnels of the factory, almost mimicking the constant sounds of pickaxes being dug into the stone. The walking man looked around every once in a while, seemingly proud of whatever progress had been made.

"All is going well. Good, good." He said proudly, puffing on the cigar he held between his fingers. The woman next to him rolled her eye. The small lights of the tunnels glinted in the glasses he wore as he turned his head to glance at her. "Is there a problem?" He chuckled.

"If by 'well' you mean 'excruciatingly slow by dimwitted slaves', then yes."

"Would you like to join them then, Emmy?"

"Bloody hell, no. I'm still sore from lugging those damned carts around..." Emelia mumbled, reaching to rub behind her neck. The man next to her chuckled again, handing over his cigar. He stepped forward slightly as she took it, holding out his free arm.

"And yet you're still walking!" He chimed, looking back at her as she puffed on the cigar, herself. "We'll change that soon enough."

"I'm not working myself to death, Heisenberg." She huffed, picking up speed and shoving the cigar back into his face. "While factory productions are important to me too, perhaps learn the definition of a 'break', and not as in 'break my back'."

Karl took the cigar with amusement as she walked forward ahead, clearly heading back to the main building.

"First you tell me to work harder, then you say not at all." He mused, following closely. "Has it ever occurred to you that maybe I can do what I want?"

"And yet, what you want is what affects YOUR factory in the long run... Timing, Karl."

"You act as if you know more about MY factory than I do."

"And what do you know?"

"Everything."

"Good, then you know I'm heading upstairs to rest for a moment."

"I assumed so."

~

The two wandered along the corridors to a hall with stairs leading to a metal door, sharing the cigar before she went forward and kicked the door open, snorting as she heard an irritated grunt behind her.

"If you break that, you're fixing it." He muttered, setting his hammer down to the side as he took the cigar from her. She snorted, tossing her own weapon to the side, watching it land on a pile of fabrics used for either covering machinery or covering herself when she slept, whichever happened to come first.

"You say that as if it would be difficult." She retorted, taking her hair out of the tie it was in and running her hand through it before stretching slightly as he walked past her to sit in a chair next to a desk in the room they were in. It was similar to a bedroom, but not quite. 'More like an office with a small bed' , she always said, occasionally taking residence on said 'bed' when she was tired. She felt Heisenbergs eyes on her as her muscles stretched and popped, and she let out a satisfied groan.

"It wouldn't be, but you'll have to make a new one from scratch." He said, arching a brow as he leaned back in the chair. She rolled her eye, moving to stretch her arms in front of her.

"Again, not hard." She shrugged, finally moving towards the desk he was next to. "Making a door takes less brains than you already have."

"Are you calling me an idiot?"

"I'm not calling you a genius."

She almost laughed as she saw him pause before taking a long drag on the cigar.

"I'm going to pretend I didn't just hear you say that." He sighed. She shrugged, leaning over the table and looking over the papers that had been laying on it.

"It's a joke, Heisenberg. I'll admit you're more intelligent than you let on." She said, moving the papers and other objects slightly while looking at them. She then paused as she held them, her eye going over the plans, x-rays, and sketches. "Did you leave out the other Soldat plans?"

"They're in with the cadou notes. I thought you would have seen them." He said simply, reaching for a manila folder on the corner of the table. He put the cigar in his mouth as he opened it and flipped through with a huff. "The new ones haven't been functioning properly, damn things... I'm thinking of rewiring the circuits to the brain.".

"Wouldn't that cause more damage than good?"

"Not if it's done properly." He chewed on the cigar for a moment before flipping over one of the papers. "The worst that could happen is the head exploding from the current. In that case-"

"Lycan food?" She suggested. He nodded in agreement.

"Lycan food. They're mostly useless to me otherwise..."

"As are most things..." she muttered, earning a glance. She looked back at him. "What? Am I wrong?"

"Not necessarily. Others do still have use."

"How?" She asked, turning to face him. "No head means no use."

He shrugged, tossing the folder back onto the table before leaning back in the chair.

"Replace certain muscle tissue and bones with pneumatic or hydraulic systems, whichever proves to be less of a pain in the ass that day, hot wire circuits to the remaining muscle structures, add an engine system into the chest with a strong battery..." he tilted his head slightly, almost as if he were picturing the plans in his head, thinking of more details as he went along. "They would quite literally be mindless, but a few shocks and currents would make them go just fine."

"Sounds a bit like you..." Emelia snorted, turning back to the table to organize the papers as he glared at her. "Shall I pick a few poor sods from the village to test this?"

"Or I could just use you..." he muttered.

"You wouldn't dare."

"Keep making your ass-backwards comments and see what happens." He shot back, finally pushing himself up to stand. "Yes, I'd like you to do that. Fresh bodies work best for the experiments. I'll send out the Lycans as well, given they don't tear them apart."

"That wouldn't matter anyway, Karl. You'll just stitch them back up like you always do."

"I could, couldn't I?" He started, taking a step closer to stand next to her with a sinister smile. "Or I could make YOU do it. You seem to have fun with tearing things apart and putting them back together-"

"I'm NOT sewing your bloody creations together." She interrupted. "I'll kill them and I'll tear them to shreds, or I'll assist with the inner workings of the mechanics. I don't sew."

"You'll learn."

"Like hell I will."

"I'll make you."

"Bullocks."

"Keep talking, Emelia." He dared, his voice lowering in a threatening manor. "I'm not in the mood."

"You were before we got here." She challenged. She only held her breath as he suddenly snuffed out the cigar on the table itself while his eyes seemed to stare directly through her.

"That's what happens when you keep insulting me, Emmy. I start to get angry. You know that."

She felt a chill down her spine at his voice. It was different from any other time she had aggravated him... It was as if she were in actual danger. His face was only inches away from hers, and he smirked once he noticed her hesitation.

"Scared, Emelia?"

She kept her eye on him, watching his movements carefully. No, No she wasn't in danger... Maybe.

"No." She replied, lifting her chin slightly as he arched a brow.

"Oh?"

"What is it you say to me...? I'm 'in a mood'...? Because I believe you're currently in one, yourself." She asked, finally moving forward and brushing past him in a nonchalant manor despite being somewhat stiff in her movements. "Drink some coffee and throw a few things around with that power of yours, you'll be fine."

She felt his eyes on her as she neared a cushioned chair against the wall.

"I'll throw YOU around..." He growled, taking amusement in her body slowing down as he spoke. He walked towards her as she turned to face him. "See how that pretty mouth works after your head goes through a wall."

"You forget I've stopped your hammer with my arm." She huffed, crossing her arms over her chest before smirking. "You smashing my head through a wall would be as effective as Sturm trying to hold something with his nubs."

"You don't seem to understand what I can do to you, Emelia."

"And you don't seem to understand the amount of fucks I don't give, Karl."

His arm twitched slightly, and she glanced over as metal pieces on the floor began to shake just slightly. She just hoped he wouldn't direct his power towards her...

"If you would like to play, I'll GLADLY entertain you."

She suddenly got in his face, a mischievous, antagonistic spark in the gold of her eye.

"Entertain me HOW? Throw me to the Lycans? The Varcolacs? Hell, let Urias get ahold of me, see what happens."

He bared his teeth in a snarl, though the corners of his mouth stayed in a malicious grin.

"I'll turn YOU into a goddamn Soldat, you'll be so full of metal you won't be able to FUNCTION without me-"

"I'm more afraid of your SISTER than I am you!"

Her smirk widened as she saw a sudden spark of anger in his face, his smile faltering.

"Don't you dare attempt to bring that bitch into this, I'll put my hammer straight into your skull-"

"TRY ME, THEN-" She started, only to give a yelping gasp in surprise as Heisenberg slammed her against the wall by her throat.

"Shut your damn hole!!!-" He snarled. His grip was tight, but he seemed to stop once he glanced at her open mouth. All of a sudden the air around them changed, and she stared at him with confusion in her one golden eye. "Oh, Emmy, you didn't tell me!" He said with a sudden cheerful tone, moving his hand from her throat to her jaw. He switched so quickly...

"Wh-" she began, only to stop as her jaw was yanked open. She was confused until she saw the reflection of her tongue piercing in his glasses.

Shit.

"Well well, I guess you've got some metal in you after all. I won't have to try as hard..." He chuckled, tilting his head as she stared at her own reflection. "What else are you hiding from me, Emmy?"

Her eye was wide in simultaneous fear and curiosity. She knew she couldn't have hidden the piercings forever, but certainly longer than this. She usually at least took the one out of her mouth when around him given how often they talked for this reason... But even then, he had never noticed it before. Why now?! She kicked herself for forgetting. She wanted to shove him away... Shove him and run. Would he chase her? He was most definitely trying to scare her, she knew that much... But she also wanted to know how far he would actually go if she did nothing. Would he rip them out if he found the others? Use them as control like he mentioned? Or would he leave her alone? Something told her the latter was out of the question as he showed growing interest in her silence.

"N-.... Nothing..." she managed, nudging her jaw out of his grip. "I just-"

"You're a liar, Emelia." He said, his grin growing wider. She gave a huff and shook her head.

"I am not, you ridiculous-"

She was stopped with a startled gasp as a gloved thumb was shoved between her jaws, nearly propping her mouth open.

"Now now, this'll go far easier if you do it my way. Now open up."

He lifted his other hand to his face, taking a finger of the glove between his teeth and sliding it off. The glove fell to the ground between them, and she watched as he reached for her face with his bare hand. She flinched slightly as his fingers pressed against her lower jaw, though admittedly relaxed as his thumb drifted over her bottom lip. The skin was expectantly rough, she found, calloused and covered in smaller scars. She closed her eye as it drifted over her sharp lower teeth before thrusting over her tongue, pushing it back and causing a small gaging reflex. It tasted... metallic... Metallic with hints of other things. Not quite metal, not quite blood... Maybe residual oil? Maybe a hint of the cigars. She couldn't tell exactly what it was, but the mixture wasn't bad... She really didn't mind much. She could almost feel the interested look on his face as she relaxed, though she attempted to hide it. Oh god, was she enjoying this...? She only flinched as he pressed his thumb against the muscle, pushing it out of her mouth somewhat to see the piercing fully.

"Let's see how much you're hiding from me, shall we?" He grinned.

There was a moment of confused silence before she felt his thumb press against the metal rod, her eye snapping open with a gasping yelp as what felt like electric sparks and currents traveled through that piercing, as well as the others.

All the others.

The sparks lasted only a second, but a second was all that was needed as her back arched slightly away from the wall. Heisenberg took a step back in surprise as Emelia suddenly collapsed to her knees, shaking and panting ever so slightly out of shock and... something else. She doubled over with a wide eye, an arm covering her chest and the other pressed against her abdomen and ever tightening thighs. What the hell WAS that...?! What the fuck did he do?!

"W-.... Wh-...." she tried, trying to voice her thoughts. But alas, despite the tingling feeling up her spine disappearing, she couldn't. She couldn't even move as she heard movement directly in front of her, the shock of the feeling only allowing her to look up as he grabbed her chin and lifted her face to meet his. She watched as he kneeled, only to look up and see the most smug grin she had ever seen.

"Liar liar, Emmy... You know how I hate liars." He chimed, adding to the smug aura he held. It pissed her off, but she couldn't do much about it now... She then grew nervous as he tilted his head, taking in her reaction fully as she stared at him with an ever-deepening red blush on her cheeks. "If I was more foolish, I'd say you enjoyed that."

"I-I... D-did NOT...!!" She snapped, stopping with a small squeak as he shoved his thumb back into her mouth to silence her.

He was met with another squealing whine as he pressed against the piercing once more, gleefully sending more currents through the metal pieces in her body. Emelia reached up to shakily grab his arm as the piercing was left alone once more, though the residual shock still remained. She wanted to say something... Say ANYTHING... but the feeling in her face, chest and thighs was so odd and... and good... It kept her silent, and Heisenberg took interest.

"Lycan got your tongue?" He joked, chuckling as she let out a growl. He found it amusing, of course. She only frowned as he tilted his head with the ever present smirk, his sharp teeth glinting in the dim light of the room. "You know, Emmy..." he started, yanking her forward by the jaw slightly as she kept her hold on his arm. "I can't help but wonder how it tastes."

She felt another shiver down her spine at the sickeningly curious tone in his voice. Taste... Taste?? She stared at him as he removed his thumb from her mouth, though nearly started to form words immediately in stupid curiosity. The answer came to her quickly, however, in the form of a hand around her neck, a mouth to hers, and being shoved against the wall once more. She made an almost strangled noise as her back hit the concrete, her mind attempting to play catch-up as she felt something being shoved into her mouth. More sparks traveled along the piercings as his tongue slid over hers, and she let out a whining growl in response.

The taste of metal and the slightest bit of sweetness filled her mouth, along with the taste of the cigar they had shared only minutes prior. But... Why did it taste so good? Why wasn't she fighting him? She found herself frozen for a few moments as the realization set in that she... truly enjoyed this. He couldn't have known, could he? There was no WAY he could have known... Oh god, what was wrong with her? She generally wanted to strangle the man, but now...

She allowed the frustration from earlier to bubble in her chest, giving her control of her limbs for a few moments. Heisenberg began to back off, thoroughly satisfied in her reactions and his 'taste test' before she suddenly grabbed the front of his jacket and yanked him back against her, giving a quiet grunt as her back was forced against the wall again with his weight. He was brought to his knees at the force of the tug, and it was her turn to feel satisfaction as a startled grunt left this throat.

Emelia returned the forceful kiss with all her strength, her back arching somewhat with the now consistent current from the piercings. Her legs shook slightly as she felt a warm feeling in her thighs from the current, unintentionally letting out quiet whimpers and heavy breaths into the kiss. His hand stayed pressed to her throat before he moved it to the side of her neck and shoved her head upwards with his thumb. He tore himself away to attack her neck immediately, licking along the skin before closing his jaws around it. She gasped as he moved along her neck, leaving bloody bites and bruises while using his free hand to nearly rip at her shirt. The fabric was pulled it from its tucked position, his grip tearing a few holes in the worn fabric as he held it taught away from her skin. She couldn't help it as her heavy breaths turned into pants, and she gripped his arm tighter as she felt the fabric continue to tear from a mixture of his grip and her squirming from the feeling between her legs. She shuddered as he finally pulled away from her now very bruised neck, his lips hovering right against her ear.

"Let me taste all of them, then." He growled, returning his hand to around her neck and squeezing along the bottom of her jaw.

Her squirming paused in his grip. 'Please, oh PLEASE-' she thought, secretly wishing to rip the shirt off, herself. But he couldn't know that... If he did, she knew he'd taunt her mercilessly. Not that he wasn't doing the same now... Instead she shook her head just slightly, trying to even out her breathing.

"W-Wait-" she started quietly, only to gasp once more as he finally tore the front of the shirt clean off from the seams. He tossed the fabric to the side as her back arched to meet the new air her front was exposed to, the newly revealed silver nipple piercings glinting as her body moved.

"Too late." He chuckled deeply, grabbing her by the side and bringing her chest forward as if he were claiming a prize.

He leaned down slightly, his arm wrapping around her as his mouth returned to her skin. He kissed and nipped to her shoulders and collarbone until his lips met the tip of the large scar that rested between her breasts. She swore she could almost see something flicker in his shade-covered eyes as he seemed to study it before nipping at it carefully. The nips were... oddly careful. It was as if he knew what it was... She managed to compose herself enough to speak, one of her hands moving to nudge his shoulder. She couldn't help but give a nervous gulp as he looked up at her, his eyes burning as if her touch had fueled the fire.

"N-... N-Not... um..." she tried, her voice oddly timid. She knew what was happening, though the idea made her nervous... "N-Not... here..."

"Hm?" He tilted his head slightly, loosening his grip on her neck. He then followed her gaze to the small 'bed' in the corner of the room- though it was more like a single mattress over a solid 'frame' with random odd pillows along the wall and multiple covers lumped on top. It was how she liked it.

"Th-There... uh..." she looked away for a moment, heavily aware her burning cheeks. "P-... P-Please..."

She could nearly feel his smile against her skin as he chuckled, though he didn't reply. It was then that she was suddenly picked up with a surprised yelp and tossed over his shoulder, her knees pressing against his sides to balance herself. She managed to hold on long enough before he walked to the 'bed', landing roughly onto it as she was tossed. She nearly scrambled to sit up until she looked up at him, watching him quickly close the space between them, removing his thick jacket and single remaining glove.

"Stay still, Emmy. The show is just getting started." He taunted, unbuttoning the long sleeve shirt he wore before kneeling onto the cushion and looming over her. She couldn't help as her vision traveled down what she could see of his chest, seeing similar scars along his skin.

She opened her mouth to speak, giving a quiet yelp as she was shoved into the sheets by her neck, her legs now situated around his waist. Her back arched as he leaned over, biting at her shoulder and collarbone once more before around one breast and onto the other. She gave a whining gasp as he reached the peak, his tongue swirling around the sensitive skin and the small bar of metal pierced through it, his teeth grazing the it ever so slightly. He used his other hand to trail along the scar on her chest and down to her pierced belly, his rough fingers caressing the skin until they pushed underneath the tied overalls. Her legs twitched as his fingers reached the piercing between them, feeling as it was surrounded by a moist warmth. He smirked.

"I knew it." He said, rubbing against the piercing and bundle of nerves with another jolt of electricity before removing his hand. She couldn't help the whine that left her throat as her hips bucked lightly from the feeling, and he chuckled. "Easy..." he muttered, returning the palm of his hand to her stomach and shoving her down.

He dug his fingers into the skin around the belly piercing as she glanced down, and she made another strangled noise as he sent another wide current through her piercings. Her back arched as he pressed harder to keep her down, though she was startled as he suddenly crushed his mouth against hers once more. The small currents pulsed in a slow rhythm as she returned the kiss, her legs shaking and tightening against his hips. She let out a soft cry against his lips as the pulses increased, her grip on his arm tightening and even pulling him closer as the waves of a small orgasm rushed through her in spasms. The feeling was strengthened with the addition of... something pressed to her thighs underneath their clothing. But the waves... The small spasms that affected the muscles of her back and legs... While it hadn't been something she had felt even when human, and while she knew what it was, all she knew was that it felt good. REALLY good...

She could have sworn up and down she hated the man at any point before this, but as he broke the kiss and pulled away to look at her, she couldn't help but feel... want? Desire? Whatever it was, she knew she didn't want it to stop at the moment, and that's all that mattered to her. She still didn't want to give in so easily... But god damn was this feeling hard to fight off.

"D-... D-Damn you..." she nearly whispered, her voice wavering slightly. She was met with an amused chuckle as he removed his glasses and lightly sent them to the table they had been at before.

"Just what I like to hear..." He taunted, removing his hand from her throat. "Tell me, Emmy... Do you want more? Feel free to say nothing if you do."

She stared at him as he gave another sly grin, opening her mouth as if to protest... But she couldn't. Instead, she remained silent, though gave an irritated, embarrassed huff as she glanced off to the side. Her lip curled into a silent snarl as he gave another chuckle.

"I thought as much." He replied, leaning up. His fingers were dragged along her skin as he moved, trailing along other scars that littered her skin.

She glanced down to follow his hands, watching as they trailed over her hips and around to her front where the knot in the tied mechanic suit she wore. With one quick movement it was untied and loosened, and she jumped as everything was suddenly pulled away and off of her hips, sliding down her thighs. She froze at the new rush of cool air surrounding the warmth between her thighs, and suddenly the entirety of the clothing was removed as he seamlessly pulled it away from her legs. Now she was completely bare in front of him... Exposed.

The desire to cover herself was overwhelming as she met his eyes, seeing the smugness and sense of possession he gave as he took in every visible inch of her skin. Her arms and legs twitched in an attempt to cover any vulnerable areas, but she suddenly found her arms pinned next to her head and his hips against the backs of her thighs to keep them open.

"Don't you dare." He grumbled, a smirk still on his face as he glanced down slightly before looking back up at her face. "I haven't tasted everything yet."

"Wh-..." she tried, her legs twitching again.

She was met with another kiss as he leaned down, though it didn't last long. She let out quiet pants as his lips and teeth moved along her jaw to her neck, leaving more bites and bruises among the ones that already stained the skin. Her arms twitched as he reached her breasts again, hit tongue repeating the same actions as before on both piercings before finally returning to the large scar running down her sternum. He planted light kisses and nips along it, earning her confusion as he continuously moved lower. She watched as he nipped along the skin of her stomach, the corner of her mouth twitching as he seemingly, almost playfully, gently bit the piercing in her belly and glanced up at her. She rolled her eye for a moment before he sent another current through the metals, and she let out a soft whimper. It wasn't until he let go and moved to kiss and bite around her hips and thighs that she realized, her head shooting up with slight panic as she felt his lips against the inside of her thigh.

"H-Hey-"

"Quiet Emmy." He purred, the tone of his voice making her freeze. She watched as he kissed the inside of her thigh once more, her head landing back against the cushion with a shuddering gasp as he bit along the sensitive skin. Her hand flew over her mouth as he moved closer to her core, whimpering as she felt his tongue gliding along the skin.

"K-Karl, wait-" she whimpered through her fingers, only to take in a sharp, gasping breath as she finally felt his tongue against her, moving slowly as if savoring her reactions.

She tried closing her legs, though found it nearly impossible due to his hands forcing them to stay where they were. She could almost feel the bruises form where his fingers pressed against the skin, though that feeling was second in her mind compared to the pleasured sparks up her spine with each movement of his tongue. She couldn't help as her hand left the sheets, finding its way to his head as he played with the small piercing through the bundle of nerves, sending small electric pulses through her body once more. She felt the vibration as he chuckled against her, gripping his hair with small gasps and whimpers as his tongue delved into the warmth. Her back arched slightly with each movement, her thighs shaking from the new sensations. Why did it feel so good...?! She let out a long whine as the electric pulses continued, eventually biting down on her hand as to attempt to prevent any further noises. She could feel the tightness return as his teeth grazed against the piercing, and suddenly her hand was gripping his hair in a fist as she came again, a multitude of muffled whines and mutterings of his name escaping her mouth while her back arched. She barely heard the grunt he gave as he was pressed against her, not even realizing as he was able to pull himself away.

She flinched as Heisenberg reached up to grab her wrist, her body shaking slightly as he managed to nudge her hand away. He ran a hand through his hair to smooth it out, rising to loom over her once more as he licked his lips. Where the actual FUCK did he learn that?!

"That hurt, Emmy." He purred, keeping his grip on her wrist as she finally looked at him. Her face was red as she panted, her legs trembling as they rested against his hips once more. "Good girl."

He smirked as she stared up at him, his tongue swiping over his teeth before he leaned over and yanked her other wrist from her mouth, pinning both of them to the cushion beside her head. Her breath caught in her throat at the sudden movement, her eye widening as it met his. There was a moment of silence as they held a stare down, only ending as he shifted her wrists into one hand and used the other to undo the belt and button of his own pants in one swift motion. It took her a moment to register the movement, keeping eye contact once the full realization of just how far- and how fast- this was about to go hit her. She squirmed slightly in his grip as she glanced down, nearly breaking said grip, only to get caught in yet another rough kiss as she felt something warm press against her thighs. She could taste herself on his tongue, and somehow it made her arousal worse...

She let out a whining groan as she was rubbed against, her back arching once more at the new feeling, only to give a surprised and somewhat pained cry against his lips as she felt him enter her quickly and fully with a grunt. She gasped into the kiss as he returned his hand to her neck, her back arching into his chest and her thighs once again tightening around his waist. More of the pleasurable feeling shot up her spine as he moved a few times, pressing against her roughly as she gave small whimpers and whines. It felt... good... so good. Why did it feel good? Why did all of this just feel GOOD? What the hell was she missing from her old life that didn't include THIS?? She couldn't help the small moan she gave as the kiss was broken, and he shoved his hips against hers. He tightened his fingers around the sides of her neck with a sly smirk as he stayed where he was. Although the glint in his eyes may have looked malicious, his actions proved otherwise as he allowed her a few seconds to relax.

"Am I being too rough with you, Emmy?" He asked, his smirk widening into a grin as she mindlessly shook her head, though it was more like a few twitches.

"N-... No... N-Not rough enough..." she growled with a challenging tone, though her voice was still light. She was met with a dangerous chuckle.

"Good."

Emelia glared up at him with a somewhat clouded eye, her breaths coming in light pants that turned into gasps and moans as his movements continued, growing faster and harder with each passing second. She struggled to keep her voice down despite the feeling of each thrust sending sparks into her chest. The sounds of his low grunts and deep breathing weren't helping, she found, and it made it much more difficult to control her own pleasured noises. She was then aware of a low laugh from him.

"Ah... I didn't think... you could sound like THIS, Emmy...~" He purred, his grip on her neck tightening. She opened her mouth, nearly flinching as she let out more soft moans.

"S-... S-Shut...." she tried, though was unable to finish any thought with her gasps and whines.

Her arms struggled in his grip, shaking with each thrust, only to suddenly be freed as he let go in order to take ahold one of her hips. She mindlessly reached for him almost immediately, gripping the edge of his shirt with one hand and grabbing the necklaces around his neck with the other in order to yank him down. She was rewarded with another rough kiss, her head being jerked up as he kept a hand around her throat. She let go of the necklaces, instead reaching under his shirt, her fingers trailing over his own scars until her nails dug into his back. There was an internal satisfaction as she heard Heisenberg give a surprised grunt, only to give a yelping cry as he suddenly pulled away to replace his hand around her neck with his teeth.

Small sparks of pain made their way through her shoulder as his teeth broke the skin, though they seemed to amplify the feeling as the thrusts became rough and quick. She finally reached her other hand around and under the shirt he wore, her nails dragging down the skin of his back as her moans and whines grew louder.

"F-... FuCK...! K-Karl...!!" She said suddenly, her voice cracking somewhat as she was met with a possessive growl and the slight smell of fresh blood as he let go of her neck. She couldn't help but gasp as she felt his cheek against hers, his beard scratching against her skin as his lips nearly against her ear.

"You're MINE, Emelia..." He growled.

Emelia felt as more pulsing currents were sent through her piercings, and she couldn't help but cry out as the pulses caught her by surprise. Her muscles tensed, her nails tearing at Heisenbergs back as she felt the waves of a strong orgasm, making her body shake and her legs flex around his waist. Her thighs tightened at his hips, halting him enough to keep him where he was as she came, but not long enough to stop him entirely. He let out a low growl as he kept up his movements until he slammed against her hard enough to move her up a few inches. She gave a gasping moan as could feel his muscles shudder and a strange warmth in the pit of her stomach as he filled her, and her back arched against his chest as she nearly hugged him to her for dear life.

There was small silence as their movement ceased, each breathing heavily. Emelia held onto the man over her as if it meant life or death, momentarily forgetting her irritation around him in the first place as there was a sudden feel of lips along her neck in a multitude of small kisses. They were gentle against her bruised skin... The odd tickle of the facial hair made the corner of her mouth twitch as she panted, unintentionally laying her head to the side for him as she very slowly but surely relaxed. Her irritation only slightly returned as she heard a chuckle from her neck, and she glanced down.

"Th' bloody hell is so funny...?" She muttered, unable to keep the lightness from her voice. She watched as he looked up from her neck, a sly smile across his still bloody lips.

"You're adorable, Emmy." He said simply, making her groan and start to push him away.

"Piss off...!!" She growled, only to gasp as he suddenly leaned over her with a chuckle, nearly being pushed into the mattress again as he finally slipped off the button-up shirt.

"Precious little doll, you didn't seem to hear what I said."

'Doll' ...? Emelia stared at him, now also shirtless, taking in the rest of the scars she had never seen. She could feel her face heat up more as he leaned over her, holding himself up with his hands on either side of her shoulders.

"Wha-" she started, only to let out a gasping yelp as he gave a single hard thrust to silence her.

"I told you, Emelia. You're mine. In more ways than one, it seems." He nearly purred, leaning down to press his nose to hers.

Her single eye widened as he grinned, only to be met with a quick, relatively gentle kiss. It took a moment for her to calm down before she returned it, staying where she was and secretly holding herself to that proclamation. She didn't want to admit it... She never would. But somehow, despite how he could be, this made her feel... wanted. It was an odd feeling, and one she knew she would be hesitant on getting used to. But she still hated him... Right?

She gave a soft whine as he pulled away, physically removing himself from her with a shuddering breath. She let out a whimper as she relaxed back against the covers, feeling an odd coldness and even a slight sense of loneliness as his weight left the mattress. She opened her eye with confusion and watched as his pants were fixed before her vision trailed up his back to see the bloody scratches she had left.

"Whoops..." she muttered, earning a chuckle and a glance back.

"I'll let you relax for now, Emmy. I don't wanna break you just yet..." He joked, nodding to the shirt he had left. "Use that for now, we'll get you another shirt later."

She couldn't help but smirk, her face red.

"Done already...?" She asked, her smirk faltering heavily as he glanced back with an odd mischievous glint in his eyes.

"Never said I was, Doll. This is for your sake."

Emelia watched as he began to walk to the jacket he had left, but she felt... sad. Not because he had stopped. Not even because she almost wished they would keep going immediately... No, it was another reason she couldn't quite place with every step away he took. She carefully pushed herself to sit up, wincing at the tenderness that settled between her legs before reaching for her discarded jumpsuit. But she only grabbed the simple boxers she had, managing to slip them on with minimal issue. She saw him slow his movements as she managed to stand, her knees just the slightest bit weak. Holding on to a support beam on the wall, she shakily made her way over to him as he glanced at her with an odd curiosity. She didn't care if she was entirely naked save for underwear, simply covering her chest with her arm as she reached for him. She stumbled into his back, feeling his muscles tense as her arms slowly wrapped around his torso, her fingers lightly drifting along the hair and scars on his chest.

"Don't you dare leave me like this, Heisenberg..." she muttered, pressing the scarred half of her face against his back. She knew he could feel her trembling as her legs threatened to collapse on her.

There was a moment of silence before she heard and felt him chuckle.

"You really are an odd one, Emmy..." He chuckled, turning his head to glance at her over his shoulder before giving a dramatic sigh. "Have it your way, then."

Emelia jumped as he suddenly turned in her arms, her cheeks going red as his face was suddenly mere inches away from hers. What was she DOING? Why she acting this way? She didn't know... But she was pleasantly stunned as she felt his hand raise and nudge her chin gently. However, instead of it going around her neck again as she expected, he simply caressed her cheek, avoiding the scars around her missing eye; Even he knew she hated them being touched, and now didn't seem like the best time to annoy her. In fact, he almost enjoyed her more when she was calm like this... She couldn't help but feel relaxed as the rough pad of his thumb brushed over her skin. Relaxed enough to settle her cheek into his hand fully, ever so slightly trying to remind herself that this wasn't who he was all the time. This was temporary... But she could do temporary.

"... Don't tell anyone..." She muttered suddenly, keeping her hold on him as he leaned back against the shelving next to them to stay comfy. He chuckled once more.

"Who do I have to tell, Emmy?" He chimed. She stared at him for a moment before shrugging, laying her head against his chest.

It was a moment of domesticity that she vaguely remembered wanting as human... Something about someone being close physically always seemed tantalizing, yet there was no way to achieve it here... Or so she thought. If she could just have more time like this... Though she knew it wasn't meant to last, especially not with him... But for now, she appreciated it. It wasn't until her senses focused on the machinery noises outside of the room that she gave a sigh, reluctantly pulling away from him.

"I should get back to work, then..." she mumbled, taking a few steps away, her fingers dragging along his chest before she turned, not seeing Heisenbergs face as he watched her walk away and run a hand through her hair to push it out of her face.

She made her way over back to the bed-like cushion, absent-mindedly picking the button-up shirt he had been wearing and slipping it on, herself. She'd take it since he offered, and because she didn't necessarily feel like hunting down new clothing. It was only slightly loose over her frame, being only slightly smaller than him in stature, and she felt his eyes burrow into her back as she buttoned it up. Quiet footsteps approached her from behind, causing her to jump with a small gasp as arms surrounded her while the shirt was only halfway buttoned. Heisenberg pulled her back against his chest, one hand on her hip and the other around the front of her waist.

"What are you-" she started, only to stop as the arm around her waist raised to nudge the collar of the shirt off her shoulder, placing gentle bites and kisses along the skin as soon as it was shown. Small shivers went up her spine with the movements, and she let out a wavering breath in attempts to not laugh from the tickling of his beard. "K-Karl, stop-"

"I never told you to get back to work..." He said simply, his now semi-serious tone interrupting he train of thought and causing any hint of laughter to disappear. He trailed kisses and bites to her jaw and her ear once more. "Indulge me then, Emmy, and I'll let you go. Let me have my fill."

Her face fell slightly. His fill... Did he mean...?

"W-What, be your toy until you're done?" She huffed, turning her head slightly to face him. Though he was on her blind side, she could almost feel the grin.

"Well, when you put it that way..." he started, letting his hands wander. One trailed under the shirt slightly, his fingers drifting below her belly, while the other found and gave a gentle squeeze to a now exposed breast from the shirt being moved before resting over the large scar. "Yes. But don't worry. I take care of my toys... I said I wouldn't break you so soon. And besides..." he pressed another gentle kiss behind her ear, "You seem like you want more. Am I wrong?"

Emelia took a shaky breath as she felt the odd sensations once more, reaching to hold onto his forearms as his hands moved. Well, of COURSE he was right... She knew there wasn't much else she would have to do around the factory today anyway. She worked constantly, and the factory ran relatively smoothly without her. She even came here for a break, anyway... And, despite her feelings about him, what the man had just shown her was... Well, her legs still held a slight wobble. To say she wanted more was an understatement. And so, she have a small huff and looked forward, tilting her head to allow him at her neck.

"... Go ahead..." she muttered, her voice an embarrassed tone. She felt his grin against her neck taking a breath as he gave a small, rough bite.

"You won't regret it, Emmy."

She gave a small, joking snort.

"I'll believe you if you can prove it, Karl..."

"Oh, even after what I've just shown you?" He played, his lips pressing to her neck once more. She said nothing, only somewhat easing against his chest with a huff. She rolled her eye as he chuckled, though her breath caught in her chest as his hand left the scar, letting his fingers trail up and along her throat. "I didn't think I would have to prove anything."

"You never do..." she muttered suddenly, only to close her mouth as she felt him freeze behind her. Where the hell did that come from...??

"Oh?"

She was silent for a moment before clearing her throat.

"Th-That, ah..." she started, only stopping as he grabbed her throat and pulled her to him roughly.

"What?" He growled, ever so slightly moving them forward. She took shaky steps, following his direction.

"N-Not... what I... mean..." she finally managed, glancing down with a quick breath as she felt the edge of the work table against the front of her thighs.

"Hm. What did you mean then, Emmy?"

"I..." she tried, though was unable to find her voice. What was this rush of excitement...?? The tone of his voice sent chills down her spine as he nibbled at her shoulder while awaiting a response. She then decided to just speak. What could go wrong?

"I-I mean...." she managed, gaining a smirk and holding onto his arm. She could feel as he tilted his head in curiosity. "You haven't quite done so thus far, how am I to believe you could...?" she continued, feeling his grip tighten. Good. She pulled away from him slightly to aggravate him. "You always need to prove yourself Karl, you won't get far without it-"

She was stopped with a surprised grunt as she was suddenly shoved down against the table, giving a surprised grunt of pain as her chin hitting it with a light *thunk* . He kept his hand between her shoulders, using his weight to keep her down as she moved to rub her jaw. Her hand was then suddenly yanked away as he twisted her arm behind her back, earning an uncomfortable grunt.

"Bloody hell- H-hey-!"

"I don't give proof, huh?" He growled suddenly, leaning down over her to talk into her ear. "I assure you, Emelia, I have all the proof you need."

She opened her mouth to speak, only to shut it with a surprised noise as he suddenly bit down on her neck and yanked her towards him. The backs of her thighs hit his hips, and she let out a small, surprised whimper. He slipped his fingers under the waistline of her underwear with his free hand, taunting her by slowly dragging them down. There was a sudden spark at her piercings once more while her lower half squirmed, and she couldn't help but give a small, moaning whine as she felt the sparks increase. Waves of pleasure traveled up her spine, causing her back to arch into the table somewhat and nearly bite her bottom lip until it bled. Small goosebumps covered her skin as she felt her underwear finally fall to her ankles. It wasn't until she felt him adjust himself behind her that she attempted to look to the side, only to be met with a growl and his teeth digging into the skin more.

She could smell the blood as it began to seep from between her skin and his teeth... It made her head swim as she finally felt him rub against her roughly, the small sparks of pain from his teeth adding to the odd pleasure she was feeling. He removed his teeth from her neck for a moment to speak into her ear, sending more shivers down her spine.

"I've got your 'proof' right here." He purred, his smirk nearly audible. He shoved her down again once more. "HERE!!"

He gave a rough thrust forward as he spoke, filling her quickly once again and earning a yelping moan; but this time, he didn't stop. A mixture of pain and pleasure racked her body as he kept up the rough thrusts, simultaneously twisting her arm more behind her back to hold her there. She couldn't stop the now loud moans and whines she gave as she panted, nearly digging her nails into the metal table supporting her. She could feel the pulses of her muscles threatening to tighten and mutate as she was slammed into nearly mercilessly, her fingers creating small dents in the material as she forced her mutation back once she felt a familiar flutter in her chest. He seemed to notice, letting out a low chuckle through his own grunts and growls.

It wasn't long before she felt the sudden waves of an orgasm, making her give a loud cry as she shifted under him, pressing back against him for a moment. She reached forward quickly and gripped the edge of the table, easily denting and nearly crushing it in her grip with light cries as he continued his thrusts through the tightening spasms. Her body shook while he didn't slow down. Instead, he increased his movements, and she almost felt tears come to her eye with the overwhelming sensation.

Her other arm was suddenly freed as he moved to grip both of her hips, leaning down to bite at her shoulder once more with low grunts and growls. He kept going... Oh god, he kept going. She couldn't speak, the only noises leaving her throat being whines and cries. She couldn't help but lean into his jaw, almost begging him for more despite the overstimulation. Her neck was bitten multiple times as if she were being marked, each bite breaking the skin with ease. Beads of blood slowly dripped from the wounds and over her skin every time he let go, only to feel his teeth elsewhere. She felt tightness below her belly once more as she let out a wavering cry of his name, only to be met with slower thrusts and a growl at her ear.

"What do you want, Emelia?" He growled, his voice low and strained. She couldn't help but squirm and push back against him with whining whimpers as he slowed more, quickly becoming frustrated and seemingly desperate. No... No, why was he stopping... Why was he slowing down?!

"N-.. N-No...!! D-Don't- fuck- D-Don't slow-...!!" She managed, earning a dangerous chuckle.

"Tell me Emelia, or I swear to God I'll stop right NOW." He played. She could hear the smirk in his voice as he spoke. She knew this was amusing to him... It was payback for her insults. Her body shook out of desperation and anger as the thrusts slowed considerably, and she put her forehead against the table with a growling whine. He held her hips in place against the table to prevent her from moving against him. She couldn't take it anymore... She wouldn't even try to fight it. It was as if she were being denied a prize, and she hated it already.

"F-Fuck- I-" she started, barely able to get words out, "Y-YOU Heisenberg, you bloody idiot!!! I want YOU!!!" She finally yelled, her voice cracking somewhat. "J-Just... D-Don't... Don't FUCKING stop!!! Fuck- PLEASE!!"

She could almost feel the pride-filled smirk he gave in knowing he had won, but she didn’t care... Her little outburst gave her slight confidence as he chuckled, his last breath coming as a low growl.. She jumped as she suddenly felt an arm around her waist, roughly pulling her back towards him as his other hand reached to pin and hold hers as if keeping her in place. A wavering whine left her lips as he gave a possessive growl, looming over her with obvious intent.

"Good girl." He grumbled, only giving her a chance to inhale before returning to the powerful, near brutal thrusts from before, pulling her to him with each movement.

She didn't even attempt to hide her voice again, her cries and moans growing louder with each passing second. She almost didn't want the feeling to end, allowing herself to melt into him as her back arched into his chest.

"D-Don't... D-Don't stop... F-FUCK- Don't stop...!!!" She repeated, her voice wavering with uneven pants and gasps.

"You. Are. MINE." He suddenly growled in her ear, not letting her respond before biting into her shoulder once more.

More electric pulses were sent through her piercings, nearly making her scream while gripping the hand over hers. The orgasm she felt then was strong, traveling through her body in waves and overstimulation as the pulses continued. The feeling was amplified as he kept moving for a few seconds, finally pressing her roughly against the table with a loud, wavering growl and swear as he came as well. She let out another gasping moan as she felt him twitch inside of her, shuddering with the light warmth she felt at the pit of her stomach.

The room was filled with the sound of their panting and deep breaths as their rode their highs, and Emelia finally relaxed against the table with a shaky, satisfied sigh while still panting. She felt... good. Great, actually... Very sore now, as well as numb, but good nonetheless. It was as if any frustration she felt had melted away with the thin layer of sweat on her body. She gave a quiet whimper as she felt Heisenberg shift somewhat. He removed his jaws from her shoulder, nudging her head and pressing his cheek against hers as his grip on her loosened to allow her to relax more.

"Are you alright, Emmy?" He asked quietly, his voice low and catching her off guard enough to flinch. She only made a small, confused noise as she glanced over. He chuckled, catching a glimpse of the residual pleasured tears that stained her cheek. He reached over, dragging his thumb over her skin to wipe them away. "Is that a yes?"

She kept her eye on him for a moment before giving a small nod and setting her head back on the table. She attempted to shift, but found her body was... unable to move. The numbness had begun to turn into the feeling of being a puddle, she found. Her muscles shook as she tried to push herself up, and she almost collapsed under him. He nearly laughed while kept his grip on her waist, keeping her upright while he watched in interest.

"Would you like some help?"

"N... N-No, I..." she tried, her voice quiet. There was silence for a moment before she gave a shaky sigh, putting her head down once more in defeat. "... y-yes..."

"I thought so." He chuckled, finally pulling himself away with a quiet grunt. She could hear the amusement in his voice. "Alright. Keep steady, now."

Emelia glanced back as he partially adjusted himself, not bothering to fully fix his pants before he let go of her waist. A small panic entered her chest as her legs began to collapse under her, barely able to use the table to keep herself up before she felt him at her side. Her body shook as she tried to lean up once more, reaching to hold on to Heisenbergs arm as he draped it across her shoulders. He didn't even flinch as she leaned her full weight on him, and he chuckled.

"Come on, then." He said, suddenly leaning down once she was fully off the table. She let out a surprised yelp as he swept his other arm behind her knees, bringing her up into a cradling position against his chest as she held onto him tightly. She tightened her grip more as he started to walk, her face red. "Something wrong?" He asked, amusement thick in his voice. She watched his movements, only somewhat relaxing as they neared the bed.

"N-No..." she replied quietly, slowly easing herself in a sitting position the tattered covers as he set her down, wincing again at the soreness she felt. While the fabrics weren't always the best for relaxing, right now they were comforting, and a godsend for her shaking muscles. She then jumped as he sat down himself before he laid beside her with a huff. She stared at him for a moment as he held his arm out for her. What was he doing...?

"Well?" He asked expectantly, raising a brow as she looked confused.

"... what?"

He rolled his eyes.

"You're wearing my shirt Emmy, the least you could do is lay down."

"What-" she started, only to look down. "O-Oh... um..." She had admittedly forgotten what she had been wearing, and sheepishly pulled the shirt over her now throbbing shoulders and neck. She then adjusted herself on the mattress with a quiet grunt. "Ok..."

"NOW you're embarrassed??" He asked, nudging her arm slightly. "Should I describe, in detail, what I just did to you?"

She glared at him and gave a small huff as she managed to lay down.

"Shut up..." she mumbled, somewhat begrudgingly cuddling onto his chest as he smirked.

"It was an honest question."

Emelia only grumbled in response, though relaxed as she felt his arm go around her. She adjusted her head on his chest, pausing as she felt a heartbeat. It was slow and rhythmic, lulling her into a relaxed breathing pattern. He glanced at her as her arm wrapped over his chest as well, though he froze as she mindlessly began to trace over some of the smaller scars over his skin. She watched her own fingers move, an amused smile creeping on her face as she felt him tense and relax at her touch. She tilted her head slightly as she heard a light grumbling from his chest, her fingers pausing. He shifted under her, and she looked up to meet his eyes.

"What...?" She asked, resuming the movements. She watched as his eyes traveled between her and her fingers multiple times, his breathing easy with small grumbles in each inhale.

"Nothing." He replied simply, only to lift his chin slightly in confusion as she moved her hand to the scar across his neck. She felt his breath hitch as she traced it, and he looked at her again. "What are you doing, Emmy?"

"Nothing." She copied, almost laughing as he rolled his eyes.

"Don't get soft on me now Emelia, just earlier you were threatening me." He snorted.

"I still can if you would rather that."

"Hm. No, I'd rather fuck you again."

She went silent for a moment, her face heating up once more with embarrassment. "You said you wouldn't break me." She huffed.

Heisenberg gave a chuckle before turning to face her, gaining a smirk when she looked at him in surprise.

"I won't. I can't, actually." He said matter-of-factly, suddenly pushing her shoulder to have her lay on her back. She jumped, staring up at him in a stunned silence. "That doesn't mean I can't try. I haven't had that much fun in years, and I know you're durable. So am I."

"I-I can tell..." Emelia managed, clearing her throat slightly. Well, she knew he had a point... Despite being sore, she still felt oddly energized... Sure, the light exhaustion was there, but she knew she would have gone back to work immediately if she were physically able to. And she had to admit... She enjoyed this. It felt... normal. Almost.

She kept her eye on him for a moment before taking a breath. Was she really debating on this? The reality of the current situation hit her full force like Sturm on a rampage. She was silent for another moment before gulping slightly.

"What... What is... 'this' , exactly...?" she asked, her voice quiet. Karl drew back slightly, caught off guard by the question.

"Excuse me...??"

"I... You... You piss me off, Heisenberg..." she started, her arms resting at the sides of her head. Each movement of her shoulders resulted in a dull pain from his teeth, and his mouth twitched as he realized. She paused as she saw the smallest... tiniest twinge of regret in his eyes. But she shook her head, looking down at herself.

"I don't... I've been here for... only a short time compared to you, Karl... And now I... We do... THIS..." she continued, looking back up at him as he held his place over her. "What are we doing...?"

It was his turn to stay silent, obviously contemplating his answer. She had seen the same look on his face when discussing important factory matters... It almost made her feel better.

"What do you want from it?" He asked finally, tilting his head with a light shrug. She blinked.

"... What?"

He rolled his eyes, giving a small smirk.

"Ah, who's asking the hard questions now?" He played, chuckling as she glared at him. "I don't quite care what this leads to, I know what my goals are." He explained. "What are yours? What do YOU want out of it?"

"I..." she started, looking to the side. "... I don't know."

"Then don't worry about it!"

"But I-"

"Look, Emelia. If you can't figure it out, then focus on something else. Is it really worth wasting the energy if you don't know right away?" He asked.

She was silent. He... He was right.

"That... That's the most intelligent thing I've ever heard you say."

She nearly laughed at his insulted expression.

"Hey-"

"I'm joking, Metalhead..." She sighed with a small smile. There was silence for a moment before she finally gave a huff. "Just... For now just..."

"Come on, we don't have all day." Heisenberg joked, smirking as she glared at him.

"... Shut up you daft idiot." She growled finally, reaching to yank him down by his necklaces.

The movement startled him, but he seemed to know exactly what to do as his lips met hers with a light chuckle. The kiss was... gentle, oddly enough, but she relaxed once more under him. Light shivers traveled up her spine as she felt his fingers travel along her skin. The shirt was fully unbuttoned once again and nudged to her sides, and she took a deep breath as she felt the air on her chest. She only whined as her legs were moved, making him pause. There was a soreness between them from his roughness beforehand, sending small waves of a low, pulsing pain through her body. He gave a questioning hum against her lips, and she spoke against his.

"Sore..." she admitted quietly, feeling his amused smile.

"Good." He replied simply, adjusting himself and his pants to rest between her thighs. Emelia let out a quiet whimper as she was rubbed against, her legs shaking against his hips and her arms reaching out to his onto and wrap around his shoulders.

The dull throbbing sensation continued as he pushed into her once more, earning a somewhat pained whine as her back arched. It hurt... But the feeling lessened to a light sting after a few seconds, and she took lighter breaths. She couldn't help but wonder as he stayed still, his words and question playing in her mind as he returned to his position of leaning on his forearms over her. What DID she want from this...? Did she truly wish for any sort of stability from this? Or just survival? Maybe this was the first and last time she'd experience this, or maybe it would be regular. Did she WANT it to be regular, though? She didn't know... All she knew was that his touch swung wildly between rough and gentle every time he touched her, even before this. He always switched between harsher interactions and kind ones, making her angry and thankful at the same time. And yet, when he touched her NOW... Even while over the table, it was almost careful, hesitant to push her too far even while leaving bruises in her skin. Somehow, while sharing this intimacy, he was a perfect mix of the two. And somehow, it calmed her and even gave a small hope in the back of her mind.

Her thoughts stopped, letting out a breathy moan into the kiss as he started moving, this time at a slow pace. This time she kept her arms around him, hugging him close enough for their bare chests to press against each other. Her breaths and moans came from a different sort of pleasure, almost willing to believe that sharing this with him would allow some sort of normalcy. Her nails dug into his shoulders as he set a careful, hard rhythm, one of his arms moving down to press his hand against her stomach.

A single second passed before Heisenberg sent a low pulse of electricity through her body and piercings, causing her back to arch as she pulled away from the kiss with a gasping whine. She felt as he lowered his head with a low groan, starting to kiss and nibble along her jaw. Her nails dug into his back as his movements increased somewhat, creating more scratches to match the ones he already had. Her voice came out in quiet whines and moans into his ear as she clung to him. Sure this was making the soreness worse, but she almost couldn't tell between the low pulses and thrusts coming from the man. Her body shook while simultaneously encouraging more. She WANTED more... She already admitted as much to herself. Another whine escaped her lips as he nibbled just below her ear.

"Fuck, Emmy...~" he nearly purred into her ear, lifting her hips slightly and switching to smaller quick thrusts.

"K-... K-Karl-! F-FUCK-" she managed, her voice breaking somewhat as she allowed her legs to loosen at his sides to bring him closer. She whimpered as he suddenly leaned up, her nails digging and sliding down to his biceps before gripping them as she felt a familiar tightness below her belly; he could feel it, too.

Emelia suddenly held her breath in a surprised, wavering gasp as he slid his hand up her body from the belly piercing, his fingers dragging along the large scar on her chest before lingering and pressing against the sides of her neck. Her whines and moans continued, even as his hand moved higher to her jaw. She then jumped as his thumb pushed past her parted lips, resting on her tongue. She attempted to look up at him, but found it difficult to even keep her eye open... Heisenberg gave a low chuckle at the sight, pushing on her jaw slightly. He didn't even have to say a word as her mouth nearly closed around his thumb. Her whines and whimpers grew louder and her grip on him tightened, and she could only gasp as he pulled his thumb from her mouth and replaced it with his own.

The kiss was returned instantaneously, followed by her wavering, now muffled cry as she finally came once more. He grunted into the kiss as she tightened around him, her legs wrapping around his waist once more while her back arched. She wrapped her arms fully around his shoulders with overstimulated whines as his pace quickened before he finally let out his own wavering moan against her lips. She joined him with her own moan as he shoved his hips against hers, feeling the warmth enter her as he rode out his own orgasm with shaking muscles. God, it felt... It felt good... The warmth and twitching from him kept her whines going as they panted, her body shaking under him.

Both were silent for several moments, the kiss lessening to gentle movements before breaking.

"D-... D-Damn..." Emelia nearly squeaked, her head rolling to the side as her jaw was nuzzled.

"Hm. Are you alright?" Heisenberg asked, earning a small nod.

"... gonna be sore..." she replied quietly, relaxing somewhat as he kept his face against hers. He chuckled.

"You wanted it."

"Shush..." she huffed. Her breathing eased, feeling his smile against her skin. This was... Nice, she had to admit... An uncomfortable whine left her lips as he began to push himself up and away, only pausing as her legs twitched around him to keep him there. "N-No... stay..." she whined, watching as he raised a brow. "... P-Please..."

"I've never heard you say 'please' this much." He joked, earning a light glare. But he simply returned to his place over her with an amused chuckle, nearly laying on her.

She was relaxed despite nearly his entire weight on her torso, though she had no issues. He was really warm... She could almost purr with the warmth both on top of and inside her, the feeling relaxing her to the point of her limbs going lax around him. She felt him chuckle against her skin, taking a breath as his lips found her bruised neck. But her mind wandered elsewhere, and she found herself pressing her cheek to his.

"Can we... Not talk about this...?" She asked quietly, earning a confused hum as he glanced at her.

"Oh? What do you mean?"

"J-Just... Um..." she tried, turning her head to look at him. "M-Maybe this could be... just... stress relief...?"

She jumped as Heisenberg shifted, his face now hovering over hers with their noses together.

"Just stress relief?" He asked, amusement dancing in his eyes as her face reddened. "Is that what you want?"

She simply nodded, her fingers traveling over small scars that covered his upper back and shoulders. 'For now...' she thought. Wait, 'for now'...?? Did she really mean that...? She was pulled out of her thoughts as he pressed a quick kiss to her forehead.

"Then so be it." Heisenberg said simply, meeting her gaze. She stared up at him before nodding and taking a breath. But he moved before she had a chance to even think, wrapping his arm around her waist. "Hold on."

"What-" she tried, only to cling to him with a surprised yelp as he pushed against the mattress to lean up with her against his chest. She let out a light whine as she was shifted on him, small sparks shooting up her spine as she was settled against his hips while he sat and leaned back against the wall. He couldn't help but smirk as she let out a whimper, her legs twitching. "Better?"

"I..." she tried, though couldn't manage words as she felt him shift against her to make himself comfortable. So she simply nodded before leaning against his chest.

It was his turn to freeze as she nuzzled to his neck, giving a pleased sigh as his arms hesitantly went around her waist. She relaxed against him, enjoying the warmth he gave and the feeling of his arms around her.

"... You're warm..." she said quietly, earning a surprised chuckle.

"I would almost hope so." He replied, reaching up and under the shirt she still wore to drag his fingers along small scars on her back. He smiled as she relaxed. "I'm going to assume you're not moving any time soon?"

He nearly laughed as she nodded against his shoulder.

"Fair assumption..." she mumbled, closing her eye.

While she wasn't necessarily tired, there was a sliver of exhaustion in her chest. She had to admit, there was still pain from the bite marks that now covered her neck and shoulders, and the soreness of her legs came as a dull throbbing. But she oddly didn't mind... She held her breath as she realized her enjoyment of this. The touches, the intimacy... Even the dull pains she felt. Maybe she didn't even mind HIM...

No, no... She DID mind him. Did she...? She still found him infuriating... But the way he held her now was... Well, it made her question quite a bit.

She finally sighed, relaxing fully against him. She focused on his touches against her back instead of the thoughts in her mind, willfully ignoring them for once. She'd enjoy what she had for now... Her attention went to the sounds of his heart and distant machinery, letting them lull her into a light sleep. She didn't NEED she sleep at the moment, but to her, it was almost perfect.

She only hoped it would stay that way.

#oc #resident evil #resident evil oc #resident evil village #resident evil village fanfiction #resident evil village oc #re8oc #re8 #heisenberg #karl heisenberg #karl heisenberg x oc #heisenberg x oc #karl heisenberg smut #lord heisenberg #smut #lovelywingsocs #LovelyWings Writes #Metalworks Fanfiction #heisenberg fanfiction

[kaiparker-avengerssmut]

Their Doll 15

Bucky

B.Barnes x Stark!Reader, S.Rogers x Stark!Reader

series synopsis:  y/n Stark, all records of her non existent, and yet Hydra still find her. When she is kidnapped by a certain super-soldier and no one believes her, she finds herself searching for unexpected familiarity in her not-so-distant past.

Series Warnings: smut, violence, torture, swearing

Chapter Summary: Tony throws a party, bucky returns

Warnings: kissing, swearing

A/n: The timeline in this has been altered, as there I things I wanted to include but I also wanted this fic to follow the storyline/timeline of Winter Soldier and Civil war.So for purposes of this fanfic, Peter Parker was discovered by Tony at a much younger age - when he was bitten - and has been an intern with him since, almost like a protégée.(For the purposes of this story Peter was bitten much younger too - more like when he was 9 or ten rather than 14/15)

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

It's been nearly six months since I escaped HYDRA a second time, and since then all me and Steve have done is have sex. It's glorious, the freedom (and the pleasure) that comes with being with Steve, and I love him more and more every day. He told me he loved me about a months ago, over a candle-lit dinner and a bunch of roses. It was so sweet, but I am yet to say the words back to him. Well, not that I've been talking much, per say.

My voice was slowly returning, yet I still couldn't string together more than two words and my voice was far from being strong or sounding like it used to.

Bruce had miraculous found some medication that helped, and abashedly admitted that if the sex was helping me make any noise, it should continue.

One of the main issues, is that almost everyone except my dad had been walking on eggshells around me for months. And in new exactly why. It's because they're yet to bring him the soldier.

And if I'm being a hundred percent honest, I'm slightly happy they haven't yet. After all, I don't know if I could bury my feelings towards him and that wouldn't be fair to Steve. And yet in being fair to Steve, I was being cruel to the soldier. After all, to make Steve comfortable, I'm mentally condemning the soldier to continue the horrid and violent lifestyle that comes with HYDRA.

I shake the overcrowding thoughts off, resetting my stance before landing a pinch to the bag.

"Good." Steve praises, stood beside the swinging bag with his arms crossed over his chest. I continue to punch it hard, focusing more on the strength than the technique as I try and will away the flurries thoughts in my mind. "Why don't we try that thing you always get wrong?" Steve asks, almost mockingly. I shoot him a glare. He chuckled, unwrapping my fists for my before bringing me over to the table where our water sat. I took a big pull of the refreshing liquid, barely paying attention as Steve readies the targets.

When I saunter over, he hands me a set of small, but agile, blades before stepping away. I clear my throat, putting myself into the correct stance before giving my boyfriend a nod. Steve nods back, pressing the button before the human-shaped targets begin to move. They're staggered, the last one so far back I can never seem to hit the bullseye. No matter how many times a I try - which is at least once a day - I can never hit it.

The aim is to hit the targets in order of closest to furthest, burying the blade in the mannequins' chests where the red dots it. I take a deep breath, letting my wrist fall loose. I release the blade of my exhale, watching with narrowed eyes as it sinks itself into the black dummy's chest. I let out a breath I was holding, moving onto the next one. Bullseye. Bullseye. Bullseye. Onto the last target, my vision focused, my mind centred on the farther and the target only.

Inhale. Focus. Exhale. Throw.

"Holy shit!" I exclaimed, before my hand quickly flys to my mouth, slapping over my lips in shock. It was almost cartoonish, the way Steve's eyes widened like a deer in headlights before the brightest, wolfish grin became his lips.

The knife had wizzed through the air, breezing past the other targets before the tip was piercing smoothly through the little red dot at its heart. Bullseye.

"Holy shit." I repeat, a smile pulling the corners of my mouth up. Steve rushed forward, engulfing my knees a bone-crushing hug before lifting me from the ground and spinning around with me in his arms.

"You spoke!" He rejoiced.

"I can talk! My voice - it's back!" I was starstruck, completely and utterly speechless. I can talk.

"Holy shit indeed." A voice came from behind us.

"Tony." Steve greeted as he let me down, my feet already carrying me across the room until I was enveloped in my dad's arms too.

"We should celebrate. I'm throwing you a party." Tony decided, placing a kiss to my hair. "Tonight. Wear something nice, both of you." He pulled away, looking pointedly at me and Steve before retreating with a smile.

...

I stood before my mirror, hands smoothing over the dark blue fabric laying over my hips. I breathed deeply, head tilting to the side as I studied myself. I wore a silky blue dress that cling to my waist and fell elegantly down from my hips, hitting my ankles and presenting a thigh-high slit on one side. The dress barely had a back, the front showing just enough cleavage to be considered teasing. Around my neck I wore a necklace steve had given me the night he told me he loved me, and I couldn't help but breath out a laugh at the small silver Captain America shield charm hanging from it. I wore some shoes I new I'd regret - trainers. Plain, white canvas shoes that totally ruined the look. But I'd never worn heels before, and I didn't feel like embarrassing myself at my own party.

My hair fell over my shoulders in loose curls, make up simple as I never tended to wear any anyway.

I took a deep breath, opening my room door to be greeted by Steve. He was dashing, clad in a navy blue suit and tie, his hair slightly messy bit in a hot way, and his blue eyes gleaming.

"You look breathtaking, doll." He commented, eyes scanning over my body, clearly lingering on the slit in my dress. I smirked slightly, looping my arm with his outstretched one.

"You look rather handsome yourself." I smiled sweetly, not missing the way steve held back a laugh when he finally noticed my choice of footwear. "Hey!" I laughed, slapping his arm playfully.

"I'm sorry, doll. I just didn't quite expect it." He sniggered, making me scoff and roll my eyes.

"And what did you expect? Three foot tall, strappy heels? When have you even seen me in anything besides trainers or tactical boots, Rogers?" I asked pointedly, shutting Steve up. When we reached the main room when my part was already in full swing, Steve pulled my close to him, coaxing a gasp from my lips.

"And where would you be hiding your knives tonight?" Steve murmured in my ear, nibbling on the lob as his arm kept me firmly pressed against him. It was a little joke we'd formed, as every time I was out in public steve managed to find a knife on me somewhere - in a pocket, down my bra, tucked into the waistband of whatever I was wearing, you name it. To anyone else, we simple looked to be having a normal conversation like any couple would've, but it was much more than that. I assumed in his question Steve was referring to my backless dress that hung so low there's no way I'd even find a way to wear underwear with it. So I went without.

"If tonight goes how I'm planning, you'll have plenty of time to find out for yourself." I whispered against his neck, smirking when his adam's apple bobbed. I sauntered away slowly, making sure my hips swayed as I walked.

The party flew by, people I could hardly remember greeting me and telling me how much they'd missed me as if they'd been some kind of surrogate mother or something to me.

That's where I currently found myself, a fake smile so big it was probably obvious plastered over my face as I nodded along whenever May said something. Peter stood beside her, champagne flute that I just new was filled with appletiser clutched in his hand, smirk hidden behind the rim of the glass at my pained expression.

"So how long have you been home?" May asked, smile so genuine it was embarrassing how fake my own was.

"Only about six months." I smiled back, eyes darting around the room nervously looking for an escape.

"Six months?! You should've met up with Peter sooner! You would've hung out with her, right Peter?" May exclaimed, turning to her nephew who was clearly trying to hold back a snigger as he answered with a quick 'of course'. I sent him a glare that briskly morphed back into a smile the second May was turned my way again.

The smile turned much more real the second I saw my dad climb up onto the table across the room, glass and spoon in his hands. May and Peter spun to look at him along with everyone else in the room when the captivating sound of the metal clanging gracefully against the champagne flue echoed in the room.

"Thank you, thank you, everyone!" Tony called, chatter diminishing in the crowd at his voice. A smile - an actual smile - graced my lips when I realised he was making a speech about me being home. "I'm just here tonight, talking to you all, about my daughter!" Tony began, a small applause following as many pairs of eyes sought for me in the crown.

"You know, the day I found you laying on my doorstep," he stated, taking a swig of his drink, "I thought: how the hell am I gonna raise this stupid ass kid that's been dumped on my like some sort of...animal." I gasped, tears bubbling in my eyes. I thought we were past this- this hate. "This fucking bastard that's come from the filthy streets."

"Tony, that's enough." Nat says from where she stood beside the table, tugging the man's ankle in an attempt to get him down.

"You're drunk." Steve stated from beside him, anger written over his usually perfect features.

"It's all you! It's you, y/n!" He shouted.

"Dad.." I mumbled through my tears, every head in the room locked on my as my bottom lips wobbled aggressively.

"You killed me the day you showed up, and ever day I see you I realise how much I regret taking you in, raising you as my own." He spat with a venom I'd never heard in my dad's voice before.

"Tony!" Steve shouted, but he merely pushed the super soldier's words aside.

"You're not special, y/n! And you never were! Just a Thorne in my side," he explained, climbing down from the table with a slight drunken wobble. "That's why I picked Peter. Smart, agile, unique." He rambled on, making his was through the sea of people that parted instantly for him until he was right in front of me, Peter and May. "So why don't you make this easy, and don't make me chose between you a second time." Tony claimed.

"What? Because you'd chose him?" I sobbed, hand covering my mouth as I bit back the tears.

"Tony, don't!" Steve snapped, now at my side and holding his hands on my hips possessively.

"If you chose him over you're own daughter, Tony...I swear to god somebody better hide you in the time it takes me to find a gun." Nat glared, standing to my side with a wicked look in her eyes.

"Y/n is your daughter." Bruce tried to reason, flinching away when Tony shot him a look that could kill.

"Yeah, I'd chose him." Tony finally settles, silence ensuing after the piercing shatter of a glass broke the room. May stood there, broken glass at her feet and mouth open so wide her jaw must've physically hurt.

"Y/n, I- I am so sorry.." Peter barely whispered from beside May, his own face red from a mixture of threatening tears and embarrassment. I have Tony a dirty look, leaning forward slightly and spitting at the ground in front of him.

"Fuck you." I bit like a viper, spinning harshly on my heel and storming from the room, trying so hard to hide my tears until I was out of sight.

Once I'd reached the stairs, I was kicking my heels off and springing up the steps, two at a time. Reaching the top, I clutched the railing for a second as if to ground myself as a sob ripped through me, my palm covering my mouth again as if it could stop the sounds. I padded quickly across the carpeted floor, fumbling with the handle of my door before pushing it open blindly, stumbling inside.

A sharp gasp was stolen from me when I walked in, more tears clouding my eyes. I hastily swiped them away with my palms, desperate to get a good look of the man before me. His cerulean eyes, long and thick dark hair, his undeniably visible metal arm...

Then his lips met mine. Not desperate or hard like usual, but gentle and slow, as if I would shatter to a thousand pieces if he even held my soft face with too much pressure. "Y/n." he said seriously, but a small smile still glistening in his deep blue eyes. "Soldier." I responded, reflecting his playful seriousness. He pulled me in for another passionate kiss, my whole body relishing in its tenderness. The soldier bought his mouth next to my ear, leaning over me and holding my waist carefully. My thoughts raced one another over and over, but there was always a clear winner: I had him back.

His compassionate whisper floated past my ear, dancing around the loose curls of hair that were tucked messily behind my ear, a whirlwind of emotions tunnelling through me, allowing the butterflies to roam free as he murmured "It's Bucky, by the way."

"We're done."

A frown settled across my face, my head snapping the the side to see Steve stood gobsmacked and clearly hurt in the door. He must've followed me, to make sure I was alright and now he's seen this, and - how long had he been standing there?

"Steve, it's not what it looks like." Bucky tried, now also looking at the Super Soldier.

"So it's not my best friend kissing my girl? Hm?" Steve almost whimpered, as if the words physically hurt him to say.

"Well, yes, but-"

"No. No buts. I don't give a shit what you have to say." Steve interjected me, the harshness of his voice cutting through me like a knife. "Have a nice fucking life." He spat, before turning and retreating out of the door. I started wistfully after him, before glancing back to Bucky and opening my mouth to speak.

"Go. I'll talk to you later." He answered for me, a reassuring glint in his blue-grey eyes. I gave him a small nod and a grateful smile before instantly running after Steve.

"Steve! Steve, wait!" I called after him, but the man's strides were so damn long I couldn't catch up to him even whilst running. "Please, let me explain!" He turned around at that, my body colliding with the wall of muscle that was his torso.

"What's there to explain, y/n?" He said, defeated.

"I- I don't really know. I just don't want to lose you." I murmured, placing my hands of his chest and looking up at the man through my lashes. He wrapped his hands around my wrists before yanking them away from his chest, tears stinging in my eyes. "I love you, Steve." I whispered, for the first time. Steve averted his gaze with a frustrated sigh.

"It's a little too late for that. You can tell Bucky he won't be hearing from me either." Steve spoke, dropping my wrists and turning to leave again. I didn't follow him this time, I didn't call after him, I just sunk to my knees, head in my hands, and cried.

#smut #image #images #winter soldier smut #winter soldier #winter solider fanfiction #captain america smut #captain america fanfiction #captain america #chris evans #chris evans smut #seb stan #sebastian stan #sebastian stan smut #steve rogers image #steve rogers x reader #steve x bucky #steve roger fanfic #steve rogers #steve rogers smut #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky Barnes smut #bucky Barnes x you #bucky Barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel fanfic #marvel smut #marvel #avengers

[crystalrose555]

Slap me, I dare you! pt.9

“Son of a...making me run...” Marley huffed out as she continued to rush through the halls.

She spent so much of her magic repeating her wind spell, she could feel her lungs turning to lead with each gasp of air. Cursing herself, she remembered how Solomon lectured her on pacing but she had no time to consider it as she glanced over her shoulder. The demonic herd had thinned a considerate amount but that only deepened her paranoia. Did they actually give up or were they plotting something? She didn’t have time to consider as she continued to bolt through the corridors, narrowly avoiding bystanders as she left them behind in the dust.

Unfortunately, her journey was coming to an end as the only thing at the end of the hallway was a large window. She cursed out loud as the sound of stomping boots filled her ears. As she ran towards it, her body felt heavier and heavier while her joints stiffened. She was tired but this feeling was foreign as if it was casted upon her suddenly. Taking a quick glance, her eyes widened as she saw students popping out of adjacent classrooms with their hands glowing light purple. “These fuckers are cursing me!? Over a picture!?” She shrieked out in shock and awe which quickly turned to anger and frustration.

Feeling herself slowing down, Marley pushed her muscles harder as she repeated the wind spell again in an attempt to neutralize the hexes on her. Seeing how her window of escape was literally closed, Marley pulled off her veil and wrapped her arm in it. She gritted her teeth and growled. “All right, you asked for this!” She yelled as she lunged with all her strength.

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

“Dammit...which way did she go!?” Levi screamed out.

“How should I know? The mob split up in all kinds of directions!” Mammon retaliated.

“They’re probably trying to trap her, we should split up in pairs and spread out.” Satan concluded.

Asmo and Satan took one hallway while the twins zoomed down another, leaving Mammon and Levi the main corridor. The second eldest ran in spurts only stopping to glance in potential hiding spaces while the third struggled to remain standing, dripping in his hard earned sweat.

“Damn it, Levi, go pass out somewhere! You’re slowing me down!”

“Not...a...chance, need to...save...” Was all that Levi could muster out before he collapsed in the hallway.

Mammon came to a screeching halt as he double-back to his exhausted sibling. He cursed out loud as he tried to pull his out of shape brother to his feet.

“Come on, ya useless jellyfish, if you’re gonna help, then get off the damn floor!” He hissed out as Levi gave no assistance.

“I...can’t....bones...broken...lungs...shattered...”

“Ya bootless son of a b-”

“Care to finish that phrase, Mammon?”

Mammon felt his spine stiffen before it curled up inside of him. He slowly turned his head to see a towering Lucifer with his arms crossed and a darkened aura surrounding him. Mammon swallowed hard as he managed to get Levi to lean on his shoulder as he turned around to face the eldest with judging eyes.

“Lucifer, my man, I didn’t see you there~” He claimed coyly.

“Want to explain to me why Levi is obstructing the hallway with his exhausted body?” “Well, ya see-”

The distant sound of glass shattering cut Mammon’s explanation short as the three eldest instinctively looked in its direction before bolting towards the source.

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Diavolo sighed as he walked along the edge of the inner courtyard. He managed to convince Barbatos to give him a break but he couldn’t find anything fun to do which left him in a current state of boredom. Earlier he heard the sounds of students running in the hallways and wanted to join in but Lucifer gave him a strict reminder of how it would look if he was involved in such mischief. Diavolo pouted as he thought of all the fun he was missing out on. His image was important and his goals were absolute but it didn’t mean he had to be deprived of simple pleasures.

“Maybe I should message Levi, he might know where Marley is.” He muttered to himself as he pulled out his phone.

As his fingers tapped away, the sound of shattering glass caused him to misspell Marley which autocorrected to Mochi in the sudden action. He turned his head to see someone dressed in white crashing out the second story window. It took a sliver of a second but that was enough for Diavolo to drop his phone and catch them before his D.D.D. hit the ground. Shielding them from the remaining glass shards raining from above, Diavolo got a good look at them, realizing who he was holding in his arms.

“Marley!?” He yelped out as he stood tall, shaking shards of glass off his shoulders and hair.

Diavolo stared at her exhausted body dusted in glass shards as minor cuts littered her body. Marley’s chest, glistening from sweat, magic residue and glass dust, heaved up and down as her eyes fluttered with each inhale. She lifted her arm, covered in a white cloth with splotches of red, and grabbed Diavolo’s tie. From there, she pulled him closer to her so that he could hear her soft fading voice.

“Diavolo...” She whispered.

“You need to save your strength, Marley!” He frantically claimed.

“...listen...”

“W-What is it?”

“...I’m not paying for that fucking window...” And with that, Marley flopped unconscious in the prince’s arms with a groan, leaving him feeling a multitude of emotions, none of which were boredom.

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“You idiot! What was that?” “Hey don’t blame me! I casted my hex perfectly!”

“Then how did she launch herself out the window!?”

The ambushing student body argued amongst themselves, failing to realize that their quarry had landed in the arms of their prince. “Great, now we’ve lost her. I skipped class for nothing.” One sighed out with a handful of students agreeing with them.

“Send out a text, maybe one of the other groups got her.”

Nodding in agreement, the students pulled out their D.D.D.s and began tapping away on their screens, looking for any mention of the mystery woman. However, one of them stopped suddenly as a cold chill crawled up their spine.

“H-Hey, does anyone else feel a chill?” They whimpered out.

Slowly, one by one, the students turned their gazes to a smiling Lucifer whose wings spread out ominously, his horns casting a large shadow as the light behind him fought for control of the darkness radiating from him. Seeing the angered eldest brother, a few of the students backed away in fear and instinct, only to be shocked by the purple electric barrier behind them.

“We wouldn’t want anyone else going out the window, now do we?” Lucifer cooed with a sadistic gleam in his eyes.

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“There we go, that is the last of the glass, my lord.” Barbatos claimed as he placed his tweezers to the side.

“Thank you, Barbatos, I wasn’t sure I could get all of it myself.” Diavolo chuckled out as his eyes trailed to Marley who laid upon his lounge couch.

There she was, covered in bandages, sleeping and snoring without a care. Her legs spread out with one hanging off the edge, leaving little to no modesty for the crowned prince and his butler.

“She must be exhausted, I don’t think there’s anything that could wake her up.” Diavolo mentioned.

“Considering the amount of hexes and spells casted upon her, I’m not surprised.” Barbatos answered as he stood up and dust himself off.

Just then, a knock rattled Diavolo’s office door which opened to reveal a calm Lucifer.

“Lord Diavolo, it’s time for the assembly in the Colosseum.” He claimed.

Diavolo’s expression soured slightly.

“Do I have to be there? Surely, you can handle it, Lucifer.” “I’d rather not, I’m going to be busy disciplining the hex majors involved with the incident. And you must address the entire student body so that this doesn’t happen again. I would prefer if we don’t have a reason for Marley to launch herself out another window.”

Lucifer’s eye was drawn to the couch as Marley gave a small snort before turning away from the demons. The eldest just sighed but he wasn’t sure if it was from relief or frustration. Either way, he would have to figure out an appropriate punishment for the runaway seal, especially after all the ruckus she made in the public eye again. Diavolo, on the other hand, glanced at the sleeping woman before giving a sigh. “You’re right. Barbatos, will you prepare for my arrival in the Colosseum. I need a moment.” Diavolo asked as Lucifer exited the office.

Barbatos gave a bow before chuckling a bit underneath his breath, which piqued Diavolo’s interest.

“What is it?”

Barbatos gave a slight head shake with a smile.

“I can assure you that Marley will be fine in your office. I don’t see anyone else entering this room besides you and those who work directly with you.” Diavolo paused for a moment before taking off his jacket to cover Marley with it. He then turned to his butler with a wide smile that left Barbatos in a state of confusion.

“Sir?” “It’s important to show the students of RAD that I care about their well being, right?” He grinned as he rolled up his sleeves.

Barbatos just sighed.

#obey me #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me lucifer #obey me leviathan #obey me rad #obey me fanfic #obey me oc #obey me mc #crystalrose555 #mochi #mochi story fanfic #diavolo #barbatos #leviathan #lucifer #obey me shall we date #obey me mammon #mammon #levi #obey me levi

[uwua3]

Yo! Can i ask for a cute Pirate AU with an adventure seeking MC pirate captain, who, when she and her crew are making a stop at some port, meets her childhood friend, Tenma, with whom she has romantic tension, only Tenma is a big blushing tsundere mess, and MC is verrrryyy oblivious to his blushiness, but accidentally innocently flirts with him?? If that makes sense? Also oops the soldiers have seen me, the wanted pirate, wanna get out of here and join my crew?

summary: a deal is made between a pirate captain haunted by their legacy and an island medium who wants to go home

warnings: alcohol, death (mentions), cops/police, crime, fights (physical/arguments), fires, ghosts, military, near–death experiences, pirates, slow-burn, swords, unrequited love/love triangle

author’s note: thank you so much for your patience requesting this pirate story~ i did my best to do this justice, as i love pirates more than anything! .*:ﾟ（｀・ω・´）ゝﾟ:*. this was a jolly good time to write, thank you! (please let me know if you would like a part 02 to this, as it ran longer than expected)! thank you!! :D

word count: 6,163

music: ship in a bottle – fin

captain, let’s make a deal.

☀️🌻 sumeragi tenma

even out at sea, you couldn’t escape the fire that destroyed your town years ago. the fire that made you become a pirate captain

you were born by a local village by the coast, where the air tasted like salt no matter what and trade was your community’s main economy

it was home. a place where everyone knew each other as family, where the sun was hot upon even warmer smiles and the euphoric laughter of children surrounded the island. this was the land of the happy, the free, and the united

it wasn’t until the damn navy—your first enemy until death—came

according to heresay, pirates were supposed to plunder and pillage without mercy. pirates were the villain and yet, what would the navy be then? after what they did to you, they were anything but heroes

yonaguni was made of tall palm trees that provided shade during the eternal summer that sunburnt your skin, floating markets by the pier with tricky elderly and learning apprentinces in the family business, and rare wildlife not found anywhere else

now, it was nothing more than hell. you could remember it all—how the flames licked the open wounds from navy seamen, the screams of the innocent replacing what would’ve been last words meant for decades later, the sound of crashing trees blocking every available escape route as birds flew away in the distance

you were just a yonaguni native, and now, there was nothing left of your hometown. it was permanently erased from world history forever, and you were the sole survivor of the island, making you the most wanted vigilante alive

it had been years since you last had a nightmare of the attack. was haunting your brain and traumautizing you for life during every waking hour not enough?

but, you knew the answer why you couldn’t stop mourning the loss of yonaguni

it was nearing the anniversary of your friend, sumeragi tenma’s, death

and, as you climbed to the crow’s nest with the power of the ocean running through your salted veins and spite overwhelming you in the deepest, darkest parts of yourself, you could see it over the horizon

the navy said dead men tell no tales, but you were alive, and you would be a legend

“all hands ahoy or you’ll be given no quarter!” (everyone on deck or you’ll be shown no mercy)

“aye, captain!” your crew replied eagerly, their loyalty unwavering and strong as always. you stood atop of the main mast, surrounded by vast ocean bordering a blue, cloudless sky. even without your telescope, you could see everything in the world

beneath you sounded the swing of the lines (rope) against the wind before two feet landed in the crow’s nest. the sailor had the type of agility that only came from a boy born on sea

“cap, don’t tell me ya forgot about me?” your quartermaster, rurikawa yuki, grinned (a rare sight that only came when the ocean smelt strongest of salt and treasure), standing at the ledge whilst holding onto the lines with one hand. any other novice would’ve immediately fallen off with how strong the random gusts of wind were, but yuki was an enigma and your second in command for a reason

“ahoy, yuki! so long as the jolly rodger waves, this crew will always be ready to set sail.” you responded, sliding down the mast to be in the crow’s nest as well. yuki just rolled his eyes, crossing his arms and leaning upon your frame like it was nothing

“don’t hornswaggle (cheat) me, cap. what are you thinking about?” yuki read you like a map, as expected of the second best cartographer (after master boatswain muku, of course) in all the seven seas. you tried to remain present in the moment, with the wind flowing and sky clear, but it wasn’t enough

“... tell me, yuki. is it so easy to read the distraught upon my face?” you joked, but it fell flat as yuki raised an unimpressed eyebrow at your facade. yuki didn’t take bullshit from anyone, not even his own captain

“aye, do not be acting as if you’re feeding the fish (about to die), captain.” yuki carefully watched if any of their small crew was eavesdropping, but the rest were doing their proper tasks for the morning. cartographer muku was happily reading directions to helmsman misumi. the two were a fantastic pair, considering the “sky” ship hasn’t sunken

surgeon kazunari was dutifully sanitizing his medical tools besides them, taking some time to laugh loudly at some story misumi was dramatically reenacting as he spun the wheel skillfully

“boom about!” yuki called out without looking away, already feeling it in his bones moments before anyone else could. his intuition was unheard of, and you watched no one hesitate as they ducked just in time

“sorry~!” misumi responded without any apologetic tone to his voice whatsoever. his sailor’s grin was infectious and wide, a smile only those accustomed to the fatal winds and waves of the ocean could make. just like everyone else on the “sky” ship, they all were forged by the sea

“smartly make way to land before i toss you off myself!” yuki snapped, but it held no malice. he rolled his eyes unimpressed when kazunari laughed at misumi’s sarcastic salute, knowing pirates did no such navy thing without mockery

“oh, dear yuki, how could i drown with you by my side?” you reached over to ruffle his hair, the precarious creak of the wooden mast the last thing on your mind as yuki swatted at your hand, irritated by the littlest of things as always

“you’re right, i’ll have your head first anyways.” yuki said with no malice, giving you a small frown as his calculating eyes glanced over you once more, trying to find any cracks in your confident visage. when he found nothing, he climbed back down, seemingly unsatisfied when you didn’t break under his stare

(you were one of the few on the crew who didn’t flinch. the other was misumi, who just had no fear towards anything, so it wasn’t personal. after all, misumi was the finest swashbuckler around!)

ahead, your acute sight narrowed in on the growing formation in the distance, your gut tensing before realizing it was far too large to be another ship

with a grin, you hanged over the edge (a habit that no longer scares your crew), your voice amplified as it was carried downward by the wind. it was to be expected, of course, as a yonaguni native, your town always had a special connection to nature that no one else did

“my men, turn your heads and look forward into the horizon! what do you see?”

“land, captain!”

“then let us sail faster! the sooner we reach the shores, the quicker you all can take a damn shower!”

with a shared lighthearted laugh, everyone focused on their role and position towards the land mass ahead. whether it was the possibility of smelling like something else other than a siren’s cove or something more, you smiled, forgetting about last night’s sleepless disturbances

up ahead was fukusaki, sky crew’s next location for the night

after three months or so on sea, your crew’s resources were dwindling (much faster since everyone had a bottomless appetite). it was time to visit a port town to stock up and set sail the next sunrise

sure, it was a rushed habit of yours, but it was never good to stay in one place for too long. that came with the risk of losing again...

besides, who liked a crew of pirates to suddenly come to the town square in their stained clothing and gleaming swords?

after barely securing a place to tie down the great beauty known as “sky”, entering fukusaki was like any other town. merchants upon the docks were experts at haggling prices, civilians went by with their day to day life, and the sun burned everyone’s skin just the same

but as you placed your leather boot upon the wooden dock, something inside you turned. like something had suddenly shifted in the town but you had no idea what

yuki seemed to have felt the same thing, even if his facial expression didn’t change. as kazunari kept muku from fighting with a seller for a map of the local area (misumi was unfortunately encouraging him), yuki inched closer to you, his brows furrowed

“you feel that? something isn’t right.” yuki bluntly stated, eyes scanning his surroundings like usual. except he didn’t know what he was looking for, so a frustrated sigh left his lips

“aye, feels as if someone’s running a rig (playing a trick) on us...” you murmured under your breath, careful not to alarm the returning muku with haughtiness ablaze in his eyes and sheepishness from an apologizing but relieved kazunari (it was hard to believe muku used to be shy prior to joining)

“keep a look out. let you know if somethin’s amiss.” yuki peeled away, checking in with muku asking where the closest tavern was. at the mention of alcohol, misumi jumped in, rambling about how he had already talked to a local about all the best spots

you took a moment to take a deep breath in, the scent of palm trees and fruit replacing your usual endless seas. it wasn’t unsettling, just new. your sea legs itched to return to somewhere always changing, always new, but you knew you couldn’t do that to your friends

you straightened your back and walked with the confidence of a true pirate captain, swinging both your arms around kazunari and misumi, peering down at the map with an easy smile

“alright my hearties, where to?”

this gut feeling could wait, you had a few hours to relax before everything turned upside down

of course the captain got the most inconvenient yet boring jobs that could’ve been assigned

(yuki didn’t look sorry as he happily enjoyed your childish huff at being the grocery shopper, knowing how much you hated to interact with people outside of the crew)

due to your very limited people skills, you awkwardly tried to summon your confidence to come back around all the fukusaki shop vendors. when you were with your crew, all eyes were on you and how high your head was held. but, when alone... a captain was nothing without its crew, you supposed

a messily scrawled list by kazunari was in your hand (never ask a doctor to write anything) as you tried to decipher the words, holding it up to the sun to figure out what the hell he wanted

after getting the main idea of what each person wanted within budget, you stood on the outskirts of the town square, desperately trying to decide what was the best way to approach this situation

you couldn’t appear helpless or confused! how were you supposed to haggle in this state of mind?! as you slowly spun around in a circle to view all of the sellers before settling on a rather small, unimpressive stand

maybe that meant cheaper prices! you thought cleverly, walking over with the poise of a seasoned native. with a neutral expression, you reached a wooden display with a certain swagger to your step

however... there was nothing. as you stood in the front of the set-up and realized no one was there, you couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow. what kind of service was this? was there no one actually here to sell anything?

before you could leave, a flash of orange appeared in front of you, purple eyes wide as if surprised they even received a customer. “w-wait!” he called out, nearly falling over his own table. this kid would clearly not make it upon a ship, you thought

for whatever reason, you stopped, looking over your shoulder with an unimpressed expression at the simple boy. he was tall and lean, wearing a bandana around his orange hair and an unbuttoned shirt. it was a casual appearance unfit for a merchant

“what is it? i’ve got places to be and there’s nothing here to be sold.” you stated, a wave of shock passing over his face before solidifying in a stubborn crease in his forehead

“huh? what are you talking about? haven’t you come here to get rid of that?”

when he reached out, you jolted back, a surge of energy visible in your body. you felt that strongly, what the hell did this random merchant do to you?!

“w—calm down! stop moving or i can’t remove the yokai! you’re making this difficult.” he demanded roughly, his proper words clipped from an accent unlike any other on this island. there was a certain... twang, to his vocabulary. as if it didn’t sit right, as if it was on the tip of his tongue

so much for customer service! you didn’t listen, dodging his hand like your life depended on it. as you ducked beneath his arm, you gripped his bicep with a death glare. at your narrowed eyes, the orange-haired boy gulped and stared back with astonishment

clearly, fukusaki natives weren’t this rude

“yokai? what the hell are you blubberin’ about, kid?” you questioned, your patience thin like a century-old rope worn down by salt. he set his lips in a straight line, as if trying to assess if you were serious or not. when you didn’t budge, he yanked his arm back and rubbed the sore spot, giving in

“ghosts. you got more spirits than normal around you, they’ve been there for a long time.”

you were about to retort, but fell silent at the remembrance of yonaguni. had your ancestors been with you all this time? you almost couldn’t believe you’ve been actually haunted by their deaths for this long

“i have no ghosts. do not try to scam me.” you flatly said before turning on your heel, intent on leaving the possibility of ghosts behind before tenma took a hold on your arm this time

“but, they’re trying to tell you—”

before tenma could finish, an irritated and offended voice boomed just down the cobblestone pathway

“you dare lay your hand on our captain?!”

“yuki, wait!” the crew clambered after him, hands always short of his shirt fabric as yuki’s sword made a sickening sound when pulled out of its sheath. the orange-haired boy let go immediately, attempting to make a run for it before coming face to face with misumi, whose previous smile was cold and nonexistent

it was as if the other merchants disappeared, fearing a start of a fight would be terrible for business. tenma was caught in the middle of a 5-person circle, with yuki pointing the tip of his sword at his throat

“state your name and business for grabbing our captain like that!” yuki was adamant on proving his sword was real by putting it closer to the boy’s adam’s apple. he tried not to shake under the pressure, but you noticed how his feet had no shoes and looked ready to run to anywhere but here

“um... t—johnny. it’s johnny, and i simply belong to a family of fukusaki mediums, that’s all.” johnny(?) said, as if trying to convince himself. all of you secretly exchanged a look, trying to decide whether or not to believe this so-called johnny

“you see ghosts?” yuki scoffed, his position already clear on the issue. ever since you two have met, you knew yuki never believed in anything involving the supernatural. after all, so many mysteries were hidden in the ocean, yuki doubted anything could scare him on land

but, you... you’re starting to believe johnny as you notice his eyes waver towards you. maybe not so much you, but whatever was surrounding you

“yes, sir. i can communicate with them as well. ever since i was a young boy, i’ve brought peace to the dead.” your head snapped towards him at that, something inside of you turning

that boy could bring your ancestors peace? could it be too good to be true? as if hearing your thoughts, johnny nodded to reaffirm your beliefs

before anyone else can join in on the questioning, you held your hand up and everyone fell silent, waiting for your next words. you could easily tell yuki to kill this boy and he would... but you won’t

“how much are your services?”

johnny blinked, clearly not used to this question as he mentally calculated whatever in his head. “uh... i usually don’t get paid.”

“if we took you on your ship, how much then?” (you immediately hushed a protesting yuki and wary crew)

“my payment wouldn’t be money.” johnny quickly said, almost shocking himself with how fast that answer came. you raised an eyebrow at that, about to question his terms before muku turned, eyebrows furrowed

“there’s someone coming.” muku whispered in a hush, immediately on guard as everyone shifted to a defensive position. at the first sound of a boot on ground, kazunari’s eyes widened. a telltale sign of the cop’s traditional uniform, which kazunari knew better than most

“go! go! go!” you ordered, everyone taking off running. without thinking, you took a hold of johnny’s hand. he squeezed it without flinching, turning and impressively staying by your side even as you got faster and faster

you were fast, but you despised running with a passion. if you closed your eyes longer than a blink, you could almost smell the smoke and crack of the tree trunks. for some reason, johnny smelt like coconut, and that humored you to a certain extent as your crew ran for their lives from the officers. someone must’ve alerted local authorities nearby...

even with a map, muku was lost to the island’s complex system. despite being quick on his feet, muku’s eyes frantically analyzed the outdated lines and pressed his lips into a straight line out of frustration. you knew you should’ve stepped in, but what could you have done?

“follow me!” johnny whispered hurriedly, turning into a waypoint before stopping and looking back. your crew subconsciously looked towards you as well, as if asking if this fukasaki native was trustworthy

though, it’s not like you had a choice now

you ran with johnny, the rest of your crew following suit. when you reached a dead end, you expected this to be a mistake before johnny nimbly flung himself up the ivy-covered wall, landing with a hard thud as if he hadn’t done so in a long time. ignoring the pain, johnny extended his hand an impressive height away

“grab my hand and we’ll be free!” pirates weren’t one to say no to freedom (or put all their coins in one chest...), so you got down to provide a boost to your crew mates. it wasn’t a time to be noble, so they all took your support without complaining, easily being able to run past johnny

when it was your turn, the sound of polished boots grew increasingly closer, much to your chagrin. you backed up quietly, gulping and trying not to look behind you as you glanced up. both johnny and yuki were standing there, their hands extended as you got a running start

you closed your eyes, breathed in the imaginary smoke, and leaped, feeling the grip of both their hands upon yours as they helped you up. just as you ducked beneath the foliage, you breathed a sigh of relief as the officers ran by without sparing a second look

when you opened your eyes, you noticed johnny was still holding your hand, his fist tight around yours as you could practically feel his heartbeat through leaning on his shoulder

you got up to thank johnny before noticing yuki’s uncharacteristic quietness and the way his eyes looked between you and johnny... as if he was betrayed

you didn’t think more of it despite the sinking feeling in your stomach

it was a night to celebrate! escaping the cops was no easy feat, especially on a foreign island. your crew, who had taken a liking to johnny’s ability to hold his own, invited him to drinks (not that they needed guidance to the safest tavern, of course...)

you nursed your own drink of choice at a rickety table with the crew, watching as they became less like pirates and more like their own ages with a few drinks and good music. yuki didn’t drink, which was something that had always occurred no matter where they went

johnny was flustered under all the attention, or it was the alcohol everyone insisted he could keep down. you stifled a chuckle when kazunari hooked his arm around tenma’s neck and ruffled his hair, the look upon his face priceless

you took a sip before lowering the cup’s rim, noticing yuki’s wary gaze. he met your eye with a frown, as if hesitating on what to say next. once again, how strange

“captain,” at that, you tried not to outwardly wince. it wasn’t common for yuki to be so... formal with you, at least. “do you truly intend on bringing this stranger with us?”

“johnny is no stranger anymore, yuki. he saved our lives, we are indebted to him.” you flatly said, glancing at johnny once more. yuki huffed, clearly disagreeing with your opinion as he rolled his eyes

“we would’ve been just fine without him. plus, he’s a medium! how do you know he’s the real deal, anyways?”

“i just... know.” you tried to elaborate, but it fell on deaf ears. there were some parts of your past you just couldn’t elaborate on, some parts that wouldn’t make sense to a non-yonaguni native

yuki slammed his water on the wooden table, a sound barely distinguishable in the rowdy atmosphere before getting up with a skid of the stool. he silently left, no doubt heading back to the docks where the stars shined the brightest and moon made things shrouded in dark more visible

you got up and followed without speaking another word. the crew knew disagreements between you & yuki were far and few, so there was no time to ask silly questions

when you reached the outside, the salt in the air and muffled sound of everyone having fun made you stop. behind you, you noticed the door didn’t slam completely as a quick-footed pair of feet made their way besides you

“are... you okay?” johnny asked, his hands in his linen pockets as you exhaled, nodding as you leaned onto the wall. johnny stiffly stood by the door, as if guarding it

“yeah, yeah. i am... just a little tussle, that’s all.” you sounded as if you were trying to convince yourself, but neither of you pointed it out. a few moments of awkward silence passed, before johnny cleared his throat

“okay, i didn’t hear nothin’. just... heard the spirits around you get loud.”

there he went again about the ghosts and spirits! you subconsciously patted your hair down flat, turning to look at johnny with yuki-like skepticism in your narrowed eyes

“how can you see there are ghosts on me? how do i know you’re not pullin’ my leg?” you suspiciously questioned, watching as johnny bristled under the attention. it seemed as if the island natives didn’t question his credibility as a medium

“you know i’m right. you have tens, maybe more, spirits attached to you. i can help you take them away, for a price, of course.”

“which is?”

“i want to find an island lost to me long ago.”

if you blinked, you could’ve sworn you were talking to a past-version of yourself. why did that request seem so familiar?

“do you know its name?”

“nay... my family refuses to tell me anything about where i’m from. all i know is the navy is the reason i lost my parents.”

“mine too.” you admitted with a breath and the conversation paused, you two sharing an understanding expression of sympathy but unshakable faith. you two understood each other despite knowing one another for a few hours

“then, is it settled?” johnny held out his hand, which you took with a firm grip. his palms were soft for an islander, funny enough. he must’ve thought differently since this was one of the few times you took off your leather gloves

“as long as you bring peace to my ancestors, you’re comin’ with me.”

when the hours became late and you ultimately decided everyone passed their limit a long time ago, you and johnny led them all to their barracks with laughs and humor in the air

when you reached the docks, yuki was barely noticeable in the night as he stood upon the mast of the ship, his hair waving in the wind like a flag

he didn’t look at you, not once, so you didn’t climb up. how could you when johnny was holding your hand with his eyes flickering back to you, or whatever was around you?

you introduced johnny to his new quarters and left him to be, feeling free for once in your life that night

morning came with the unfurling of your sails and your position in the crow’s nest. the sky was blue and cloudless, just like everyone predicted as the sea welcomed your crew into its arms

“ahoy, my hearties! off we go to find our next treasure!” you commanded joyously, the crew hurrah-ing in return at your enthusiasm. like most pirates did, your crew’s goal when off-land was to find a ship to rob and make off with their goods

you turned to the side, about to say something before realizing yuki wasn’t next to you. he must’ve slept in, that’s all. you didn’t question it even if he was always on time the years you knew him

disguising your expression of disappointment, you left your crew to their own means, sliding down the mast as per usual. when you landed, you noticed johnny standing awkwardly to the side as everyone was doing their own job

“hey, johnny! what are you muckin’ around for?” you questioned lightheartedly, slamming your freshly-shined boots (after an unfortunate drunk throw-up incident) upon the oak boards. johnny flinched from the sound, unaccustomed to the constantly-busy atmosphere of a large ship

“do you... need any help? i kinda, feel guilty just lazing about in my quarters.” johnny confessed, a red flush against his face as he rubbed the back of his permanently-sunburned neck. you were taken back for a moment, not used to being offered help

“um... you seem to know how to throw a person off their rhythm! i have nothing on mind as of now, hmmm....” after much consideration, you snapped your fingers with a start. “perhaps consider shadowing me for today! get the feel of a captain’s life—”

“no need, captain. i will take him off your hands for you.”

you turned to see yuki besides you, his feet silent and eyes attentive as always. you sensed the tension still imbedded between you two, gulping as you tugged at the collar of your shirt. for some reason, you immediately felt disappointed at the missing opportunity of tenma being with you

why were you feeling this way?! there was no reason to think like that as a busy, efficient pirate captain!

“thank you, yuki. return him in one piece, alright?” you joked, turning away to review what needed to be done that day. as you left, you didn’t notice yuki place a cold grip on johnny’s shoulder with an uncharacteristically eerie stoic pose

johnny looked after you, wondering what was behind that shroud of spirits who wanted nothing more than to see you freed of them

“you’re quite lucky the captain has taken quite a liking to you, johnny, was it?”

yuki & johnny found themselves ending the ship’s tour in the underground of the main deck, located along the cannons placed in their corresponding holes. the smell of gunpowder and flint was nearly suffocating, but yuki moved with ease and seemed to revel in johnny’s tight expression

“y-yes... the captain is very kind and charitable to take me on board.” johnny managed to get out without coughing, his eyes inspecting the materials and wondered how loud it truly was during battle

“you agreed to come so soon. you have no family of your own?” yuki asked innocently, mindlessly fixing the placements of the bombs behind the barrels. johnny shook his head, explaining it wasn’t an emotional attachment he had to fukusaki

“how... suspiciously fortunate.” yuki deadpanned, suddenly whipping around with a blank stare. it caught johnny off guard, who nearly stumbled back into a cannon. yuki wasn’t armed, but his tense demeanor and personality change was jarring

“listen, kid, i’ve got no clue who you are, but you have no reason to be upon this ship.” with every word, yuki seemed to come closer until his pointer finger pushed in the center of johnny’s chest

“you may have fooled everyone else, but our captain has always been too naive. i see right through you, johnny. who are you, really?”

johnny shuddered, backed against the wall and desperately holding onto anything that can keep his wobbly legs up. he didn’t know if it was the rocky seas or yuki’s simmering anger, but he felt like he was staring straight into one of those cannons

“i’m johnny, an island medium who sees ghosts on your captain. it is my duty to let them go, that’s all.”

a moment passed, before yuki took a few steps back. before johnny could react, he found the tip of a real sword pointed at his neck once again

“you’re lying, i know it. do not make me ask you again, who are you?”

johnny tried to remain placid in the face of a weapon, but he gritted his teeth and couldn’t help himself

“why the hell does it matter to you? are you in love with your captain or something?!”

silence, then yuki lowered his sword. he sheathed it back, before turning and leaving without another word. johnny let out a deep breath, sinking to the floor as he closed his eyes

if johnny listened hard enough, he could hear your spirits try to communicate with him. but, their voices were garbled and unlike anything he’s heard before. who were you and why was he here?

the first time you & johnny met in terms of spirits was two weeks after a pattern of sleepless nights

he already found you teetering close to the edge, your hands folded as you searched for something, or someone, past the blackened seas

it was as if some savage sea monster had spilt its ink-like blood into the waters, the once blue surface that reflected lucky skies now murky and as mysterious as the dark side of the moon

with your usual guarded glint now gone, you still seemed just as capable to be the one responsible for such dark seas

“good evening.” johnny mumbled lowly, placing the lantern besides his feet as he made his way next to you. you hummed, not particularly fazed by his sudden appearance despite not paying attention. it’s as if you had eyes in the back of your head, like a sea monster

“i suppose fukusaki isn’t used to the rocking of wooden ships?” you retorted, to which johnny sharply exhaled through his nose, a sign of amusement at your observation

“nay, but... i haven’t been able to properly maintain my sleep schedule ever since boarding. your spirits... are rather loud for ghosts.”

you full-on laughed at this, disturbing the intimate atmosphere between you two. johnny couldn’t help but smile at your worn-down exterior. you presented yourself like you were made of a glass bottle, but you were as intricate as a carved artisan ship

“try living with them your whole life, boy, then you can start complaining about their volume.” you jested lightheartedly, offering a soft smile at the newest recruit. as you leaned back onto the railing of the ship, you watched the constant surface of the waves, as if you could anchor your endless thoughts to davey jone’s locker

johnny mimicked your position, his elbow knocking into yours. his hands were much too soft for a seasoned sailor, you noticed this in the dim lantern light. for a moment, you let your impulses take over and you wondered how they felt against yours

“pardon my words, but when will you let me speak to them? i can never find you through the day...” johnny began to ask, but trailed off when your salted eyes and weariness became apparent in the way you exhaled quietly

“it is not your fault but mine, johnny. this is my ship and i am the captain, that’s all. i cannot allow myself to suddenly become weak in case i am needed.” you spoke like a true hero, well, as much of a hero a pirate could be

johnny didn’t exactly understand, considering he just got up and left his entire life on a whim of a promise to find out who he was. but, he nodded anyways, watching blurred movements of entities swirl around your head like troubled smoke

“what about now? will you let me—?” when johnny reached out, you immediately stepped back, your lips pressed in a straight line as if restraining your true reaction

“you look for every reason to touch me, don’t you?” you tried to force it out like it was nothing, but it was clear how your boots twisted like they were prepared to run away

when was the last time someone physically comforted you in any sense? or... comforted you at all?

“captain...” johnny mumbled, eyes wide with pity and you couldn’t stand it. he called you captain, but he didn’t revere you like a typical person would. he didn’t flinch at your sword or head held high, it was unnerving

“what is the purpose of having a crew if they cannot help you through this?”

the wind wailing against your ears reminded you of how little time there was in a day, and how the sun would rise soon and this cycle of pretending everything was okay would begin again

it was maddening, to live the same day again and again with no change

johnny perhaps was someone you looked forward to, a diversion from the expected

“do you consider yourself apart of my crew, then?” when johnny took a moment to think, you wondered what he was remembering. was it the night where misumi pretended to fall over board to scare everyone or was it when kazunari didn’t react to seeing a skeleton that time? was it when muku could predict every type of weather for the next day without fail or when yuki finally cracked at a joke after a hour of pretending nothing was funny?

or, was it when you two shared glances across the deck, clinked your glasses a little too long, or when your hands ghosted over another when pulling lines?

“yes, your crew is my own as well. and like them, i wish to help you, if you’d let me.”

you always found yourself unsure around johnny, unaware of how to respond in a way worthy of your pirate captain title. as you hesitated, johnny looked you in the eyes and his eyes reminded you of storm clouds thundering in the distance

“why else would you take me on the ‘sky’? if you didn’t want help?”

perhaps those were words you would reveal later, but you couldn’t bring yourself to share the real answer. it was a gut feeling that your world would be turned upside down, and you were right when you felt your throat dry at johnny’s hopeful gaze

johnny continued on, straightening his usual bent posture and his voice carried, like he was one with nature. as if they supported him unconditionally

“i know this is your own battle to win and this is your ship and you are my—our captain, but please... let’s make a deal.”

you stood, intrigued, as you witnessed a side of johnny never seen before. once meek, once easily intimidated, now talked to you like an equal

“let’s promise to say things we both really feel. be honest with me, do you want me to help? to remove the spirits and let them move on?” when you nodded, johnny let out a breath of relief and moved closer, gathering your hands in his. when you didn’t pull away and only tensed, he spoke as if he was sure things would change

“i can help you, i can make them go away. you bring me back to my home, i let your spirits go home. deal?”

“is that how you truly feel?”

“and more.” johnny’s eyes glanced down, and you felt your heart stutter as if the surface rocked

“i feel the same way. i wish to help you.”

that night, you remembered for the first time in a long time, a captain was nothing without its crew

#sumeragi tenma #tenma sumeragi #a3! act! addict! actors! #a3! #act! addict! actors! #a3! actor training game #a3! headcanons #act! addict! actors! headcanons #mankai a3! #mankai company #a3! x reader #a3 x reader #tenma x reader #a3! tenma #a3 tenma

[hargrove-mayfields]

hey all! have some very specific headcanons while I procrastinate working on the story I’ve been trying to finish!!!

Steve is obsessed with drinking milk. Pop makes him feel queasy ‘cause of all the sugar and the carbonation, water tastes bad, juice is way too sweet, and he’s allergic to coffee which you can’t really drink that all the time anyways, so he pretty much exclusively drinks milk. Billy is horrified to learn this fact and tries desperately to get his boyfriend to drink something, anything else. The milk craze is finally over when they discover that Steve loves iced tea just as much!

Billy cracks his bones all. of. the. time. It literally doesn’t matters what’s goin on like, they’ll just be sitting there watching tv and Bill will crack his fingers and knuckles one joint at a time, roll his shoulders so they crack, pop his elbows just because. Sometimes he’ll be like, “hey Stevie listen to this!” and like, violently crack his collarbone ten times in a row.

Steve is very allergic to pet dander but he refuses to not have at least one pet at all times once he’s out of his parents house. Billy gets sick of Steve being sick, having migraines every day, constantly being congested and itchy all over, so he talks Steve into getting allergy shots. They discover at the first appointment that Billy isn’t going to be able to come to these things because needles freak him out too much after getting out of the hospital.

In addition to needles they learn overtime that Billy has a lot of post Starcourt phobias and aversions actually. To name a select few, he gets jeeped by spaces that are too open, like empty buildings and fields, anything with too many legs (bugs, crabs, etc), windows, (more specifically, he’s afraid of what he’ll see if he looks out there, especially at night), and storm clouds in the day time.

Billy also becomes extremely superstitious after his stay in the hospital. Things like having to sleep on the right side of the bed so he can get out on the right side every morning, thinking odd numbers are bad luck, which means he won’t do anything important if the last digit on the clock is an odd number, letting the phone ring exactly three times before answering (if it rings four or more it’s just not getting answered), and locking and unlocking every door in the house twice. At first Steve thinks it’s kind of sweet, maybe a little funny because like, his gramma did stuff like that, but it gets a lot more serious when they discover that if Billy doesn’t get to go through the motions of one of those things, he’ll shut down entirely with panic attacks. This was learned the hard way when Steve answered the phone after only one ring because he was already expecting a call from Robin and Billy panicked and yanked the cable out of the phone jack and had an hour long meltdown. Not too long after that he gets diagnosed with OCD.

Steve is a dog person and Billy is a cat person. These are indisputable facts. But they get a cat first because they live in an apartment and they want a yard before they can get a dog, and it’s just easier for Billy to take care of a cat until he’s fully recovered anyways because she’s not gonna be yanking him around on a leash. The cat I imagine for them is a big old orange and white ragdoll named Bunker Buster!

When they do finally move into a house, not quite making the jump to Cali yet but just getting out of their apartment, they get a dog like, immediately. She’s a huge white shepherd, like, werewolf sized, named Little Miss Sunshine!

Billy is yellow-blue color blind! He thought for sure his Camaro was green and never actually realized his triple denim outfits weren’t all matching! Steve is the first person to call him out on his not quite accurate descriptions of colors because let’s face it, when he was learning his colors his parents were too busy fighting to pay attention to him, and he was too afraid of teachers to participate all that much, so it just gets ignored and never addressed until he’s with Steve. His brain feels all jumbled up for months after this discovery because he never knew the way he was classifying what he saw was so not on par with the typical experience.

Steve gets glasses halfway through college because he realizes in the middle of a very important lecture that he can’t see jack. They’re pretty sure the sudden deterioration of his vision has mostly nothing to do with all the head trauma and is just a genetic thing because both of his parents and all of his cousins and aunts and uncles have glasses. He has two pairs just to spice things up, one pair is some super thick, round frames that the lenses make his eyes just a little bigger, and the other is a clear-ish chunky pair for when he doesn’t want to look as much like a nerd. He also gets prescription sunglasses to keep in his car and he basically has to wear them as his third main pair because really, he went twenty something years without having to worry about the things, there’s no way he’s going to remember to put on his glasses every single morning.

Billy never ever showers alone after Starcourt. Hot water is too much like the sauna and cold water is too much like the ice baths and he just can’t stand being by himself. He honestly sort of hates water in general after the fact, rain drops, swimming pools, even the ocean, which makes him kind of depressed.

Steve is a little bit of a hoarder. It’s because of his mom, she used to be really big on collecting stuff for the kitchen, like, they have a few complete Pyrex dish sets (yellow and white gooseberry and butterfly gold, to be specific) and a huge collection of wilton's cake pans, so the habit just sort of rubs off on him. It’s things like snow globes, wall clocks, specifically ones with unusual chimes (they have one that plays Christmas music at the turning of every hour), and fancy trinkets that he gets into ‘collecting.’ This is how he and Billy end up with a disturbingly large porcelain clown collection.

Steve’s favorite icecream flavor is black raspberry, and Billy’s is a solid tie between Superman and chunky monkey! (He claims it’s impossible to choose simply because sometimes he wants chocolate and sometimes he doesn’t but!it’s secretly because of Steve’s nut allergy that sometimes he won’t pick chunky monkey!)

When they move into their forever house in the California suburbs they totally have one of those cement goose statues in their yard that they religiously dress up for the changing seasons/holidays!

#harringrove #billy x steve #billy hargrove #steve harrington #ej writer #nonsense from ej #I had a real bad day yesterday so just take me dumping my whole personality onto my boys #these are so specific to nobodys interest but my own but I have decided I dont really care

[yogi-thee-bear]

Improving Writing Style

Our writing can be flat sometimes. It’s the worst thing that can happen to us. If the writer is bored, then the story is boring. We need to spice up the recipe. Once writers brush up on their writing style, they’ll find more motivation and inspiration. How the project reads and floats is what gives your story life. Writers have to roll out a red carpet before revealing their main character. Style is a complicated concept to learn. In school, I never covered these kinds of topics; instead, I looked through Youtube videos. After days of research, I’ve found 5 fundamentals that writers need to keep in mind.

Metaphors:

For me, metaphors are the most difficult parts of writing yet the most important. Metaphors connect us to the scene, the character, and even the villain. Readers will understand the situation more once you compare whatever it is you are writing about. But how do we do this?

“Maven is more desperate, surprising himself as much as me. He knows I’m sinking fast, a stone dropping through the river. And he wants to drown with me. Excerpt From: Victoria Aveyard. “Red Queen.” Apple Books.”

Mare is comparing herself to a stone. The connection points Victoria Aveyard makes are; 1.) She is sinking in her situation, 2.) she’s sinking into her steamy kiss with Maven, and 3.) the setting takes place near a river. Metaphors don’t always need 3 connection points, but the more power the connection, the more influential the metaphor. I’d also like to point out this example has a lot of the build-up to it, so don’t think you have to start this strong. The best place for a metaphor is when you’re facing an obstacle, or you’re trying to describe something the senses can’t capture. Yes, the sense could capture Mare’s kiss, but the metaphor gave it meaning.

Sensory:

I’m sure you know of the five senses, but can you work them into your writing. We sometimes forget readers can’t see what the writers see. They are a blank canvas ready to be splattered with the bright colors of paint. You shouldn’t overwhelm us with several senses but instead just explain two.

““I was just trying to watch the game.” Scarlett wrapped herself deeper into the curtains, but Legend pulled her away. His hand was as cold as snow, his youthful face concealed by a shadow. Frost nipped Scarlett’s naked shoulders. Legend laughed and wrapped both hands around her waist. “I didn’t invite you here to watch, precious.” His mouth moved closer to hers, as if he was about to kiss her. “I want you to play the game,” he whispered. Then he threw her off the balcony. Excerpt From: Stephanie Garber. “Caraval.” Apple Books.”

We see and feel what Scarlett is experiencing along with deceptive dialogue. Knowing how the scene looks and feels causes the audience to be sucked in. We feel the frost nipping at her shoulders. Next, we see Legend pull Scarlett out of the curtains. Finally, we experience the fall and fear Scarlett is witnessing.

Word choice:

Denotations vs connotations. Curiosity vs nosy. Denotation is the dictionary definition. Connotations have a different tone of the word. Nosy has a more negative depiction, and you would NOT use it if you were writing about Sherlock Holmes. ( Well, maybe you could)What you should focus on is your word choice. Keep in mind your sentences require clarity and simplicity. Don’t overload the reader with unnecessary words.

““Don’t touch me!” I jerk away, glaring, clutching the foot of his bed like it might be a weapon. “I should shoot you all over again for doing that to me! I should — I should — ” “What?” He laughs. “You’re going to throw another pillow at me?” I shove him hard, and when he doesn’t budge, I start throwing punches. I’m hitting his chest, his arms, his stomach, and his legs, anywhere I can reach, wishing more than ever that he weren’t able to absorb my power, that I could actually crush all the bones in his body and make him writhe in pain beneath my hands. Excerpt From: Tahereh Mafi. “Ignite Me.” Apple Books.”

Juliet is trying to fight her love interest, and from the sound of it, she’s angry. The words she uses to describe her movements make sense. We have a sense that she is fighting aggressively but failing at the same time.

Show vs Tell

Show me, don’t tell me your character is in pain. Instead, show me your character crying in the corner. The show sees your character using her power. This part of the writing style brings your story to life. Every writing professor emphasizes with this in their teaching. This fundamental is like adding frosting to the cake. In fiction, you have to show the scenes. Other than words, Readers have no other visual. This is how you experience the final battle or explain the first kiss. Show us.

“Her hands felt guided. She didn’t fully understand, nor was she completely in control. But she trusted. Kyoshi braced her stomach, filled her lungs, and slammed her feet into the Crowding Bridge stance. Echoes of power rippled from her movement, hundredfold iterations of herself stamping on the ice. She was somehow both leading and being led by an army of benders. A column of gray-stone seafloor exploded up from the surface of the ocean. It caught the hull of Tagaka’s cutter and listed the ship to the side, tearing wooden planks off the frame as easily as paper off a kite. Excerpt From: F. C. Yee & Michael Dante DiMartino. “Avatar, The Last Airbender: The Rise of Kyoshi (The Kyoshi Novels Book 1).” Apple Books.”

Kyoshi, the GOAT Avatar, is bending earth she can not see. From the words we are given we are able to see the picture of the earth bender using her extraordinary strength

Descriptions

Descriptions can make or break your story. Either you can set the scene, establish a problem, or overload readers with exposition. We have moments where we stop and absorb how the character looks and why the things the way things are in the description. I would try to avoid dialogue for as long as I can when writing these. Get your description out before or after the conversations.

“Principal Falcon has a bronze sculpture of a falcon on the edge of his desk. I stare at it, wondering if it’s the sole reason he became a principal. No other office would have held this sculpture so well. Maybe a government office, like Governor Falcon. I’m sitting between my mom and Olivia. My mom got dressed up and insisted that I dress up too. I didn’t, per se, but I’m not wearing sweats. She sits on my left in her attorney clothes — wide-legged black slacks that tie at the waist, silk white blouse tucked in, black pointed-toe stilettos. Her legs are crossed, the bottom foot bouncing. Excerpt From: Joya Goffney. “Excuse Me While I Ugly Cry.” Apple Books.”

This example Establishes the scene. We observe the thought process of the main character Quinn. It’s simple and to the point, paving the way for more dialogue. We learn how Quinn views her principle, how serious her mother can get, and how anxious she feels.

#creative writing #Writing #Writing tips #Books #Authors #Fiction

[wonderland-in-bloom]

a feeling of warmth during the coldest of winters

[octavinelle trio x mc!reader]

so technically this can count as my day four of my 30 days of twisted wonderland huehue -3- i present to you a floofy yet very short oneshot with our beloved mermen 

story under the cut :))

YOU were happy. no, no. you were excited. no, wait. you were elated! the point was that you couldn’t sit still and stop fiddling with your fingers as five pm almost rolled around. the winter break started a few days before and to be honest, you were homesick. you missed the scent of your comforters, your fluffy pillow you always hugged when you felt lonely, and a warmth you always felt when you were at home. as you spent these past few days with grim, he could obviously tell that there was something up. he tried cracking up jokes a few times or cuddle close to you during the night as you sat by the fireplace, but he knew that none of those things worked. 

although ramshackle dorm was somewhat warmer, you still felt cold. it was a whole different atmosphere. you felt even colder because some of your closest friends went home, and basically left you stuck in night raven college. heck even all of the teachers and staff went back. grim was fed up seeing you act this way. he was fed up that you would always frown or smile a smile filled with sorrow. he wanted the usual, always cheerful (y/n) back, so that’s what he was going to do. the other day he sneaked out of the dorm to head to octavinelle, as the three informed both you and grim that they weren’t heading home for the holidays. grim begged for the three of them to try and do something to cheer you up. he even wanted to sign a contract if it had to lead to that. alas azul knew a thing or two about being all alone so he came up with a plan. 

you were wrapped in a blanket when you heard a knock on the door of your bedroom. you were shocked once it opened to see the leech twins. “good evening, (y/n)-san.” jade spoke first. “hiya koebi-chan~” floyd chirped. grim clung onto floyd’s shoulders until he finally jumped down and stood beside you. “azul wanted to invite you over. tomorrow. at five pm.” you bit the inside of your cheek. oh no, what trouble did you get into this time? “don’t worry koebi-chan! you’re not in trouble. we just decided that we should do something together!” you paused. “wait...what?” the two smiled. “(y/n)-san. grim here was worried about you. and to be honest, so were we.” jade commented. “so we decided that we should all spend time together! aren’t the holidays about spending time with the ones you love anyways?” you felt somehow warmer, and it wasn’t because of the burning fireplace. the one you love. it does have a nice ring to it. “so! we gotta be there tomorrow at five okay, (y/n)?!” grim beamed. you scooped him up in your arms and practically squeezed him in a bone crushing hug. although your first meeting with grim was...unusual and you honestly thought you’d hate him, all these changed within the span of a few months. you loved your furry little friend and you were so thankful to have him by your side. 

“hm, okay! i’ll see the both of you then, then.” you smiled. “i’m sorry you have to walk out all this way!” you started to panic. jade and floyd only chuckled. “it’s alright, (y/n)-san. the only payment of apology we’ll except is your presence at our little gathering tomorrow.” you hugged grim tighter. you were much happier than before. “mmh!” the two of them said their goodbyes and started to head back to octavinelle. “(Y/N)!!! (Y/N)!!! CAN’T BREATHE!” grim struggled underneath your gasp. you gapsed before you abruptly let go of him. “ah! sorry!” you panicked as he took deep breaths. that afternoon, grim was happy to see you smiling once more. not a smile filled with sorrow, but a genuine one. you couldn’t even sleep that night. you were longing for five pm for the next day to just roll around so you could spend time together with azul, the leech twins, and grim. 

and now here you were in your pajamas with a bag in one hand and your blanket and pillow in the other. grim had a red scarf around him which was way too long for him as it dragged behind him and he was trying his best not to trip on it. when the both of you arrived in front of the mostro lounge, as you were about to knock, the door already swung open. “(y/n)! welcome.” azul spoke from all the way in the bar. you gave him a little wave as you started to head inside. you and grim placed your things on top of a table and was greeted by jade and floyd while doing so. “please help yourselves.” your eyes sparkled as azul already prepared an array of food carefully positioned on top of the bar area. you and grim didn’t hesitate to dig in and the other three boys joined the two of you. 

while you were eating, you talked about the most random of things from school work to ‘who’s more likely to’. after cleaning up and feeling like going into a food coma, azul led all of you to his room where he already had a whole set up going. his room was huge and so was his bed. he also had a huge tv set up in front of his bed. floyd suggested that you all should watch a horror movie. as much as azul and grim didn’t want to, they agreed to hide the fact that they were actually scared and they just wanted to show off to you that they weren’t. floyd and jade sat at the edges of the bed while you were sat in between azul and grim. “hah. this is nothing, i’ve seen plenty more horror movies.” azul commented once but when a jump scene came out he screamed so loud it could probably be heard from the main campus. azul and grim actually snuggled closer to you, and whenever the scary parts were on, azul buried his head on your shoulder, shielding his vision from the screen. floyd and jade were actually entertained by the movie and not scared at all. and thus by the end, you all ended up sitting closer to each other than how you were originally.

jade then mentioned how you should all try to get your minds off of the movie with some good old board games. this was azul’s time to shine. i mean, he did join the board game club, so this was the time to show off his skills. with floyd not wanting to lose and having the same competitive nature as azul, he actually won almost all of the rounds. it was a tie between azul and floyd in all of the games you played actually. from monopoly to uno to some normal card games. by the time you were done, you had a sobbing grim (because he was jealous he never won), azul and floyd arguing over who was better at board games, and jade pouring you a glass of hot tea. you all were having so much fun that you all failed to realize that it was almost midnight. grim was already fast asleep from all the food, jump scares, and sobbing, so he was tired. he literally just flopped on the bed and passed out. 

azul then shut the lights and started to head to the bed. you were in the position before when watching the horror movie. you slowly started to drift off into sleep when you felt a warm sensation overcome you. floyd was hugging you in his sleep. grim was also clinging onto your arm. azul and jade also got closer to you. you missed this sensation. this warm sensation. not physically because of the weather or atmosphere, but just genuinely, a feeling inside you. you felt like your old self again. happy to be in night raven college even though you were far away from home. snores erupted all around you but you didn’t mind. you shut your eyes tightly and slept with a smile glued to your face till the next day. your friends really would go lengths to make you happy and to make you feel warm, even in the coldest of winters. 

“aren’t the holidays about spending time with the ones you love anyways?”

yes. indeed it is. spending time with the ones you love brings a warm sensation. a warm sensation you can always feel in your heart. although far away from home, it seems as you’ve found a new home. home isn’t a physical place or a specific location, but perhaps, it is wherever the ones you love are. 

♡

yes i would love to spend the holidays with the twst bois *sigh* it would be a dream come true. anyways how are u guysss :)) stay safe and stay at home alriggghts! stuff here has really been getting out of control and im lowkey highkey worried, but hey, at least i’m doing my part at staying at home and being a responsible citizen. once again, stay safe!!!

love, a♕

#disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland #30 days of twst #30 days of twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland oneshots #twisted wonderland imagine #twisted wonderland fanfiction #night raven college #octavinelle #azul ashengrotto x reader #azul ashengrotto #azul ashengrotto imagines #azul ashengrotto oneshot #jade leech #jade leech x reader #jade leech oneshot #jade leech imagines #floyd leech #floyd leech x reader #floyd leech oneshot #twisted wonderland grim

[civilorange]

story time.

On the 19th of April in the lord’s year 2005, my mother thought I had a horrible brain trauma.

It began as a normal enough day—I was your average uninterested high school student, I was going to only half my scheduled classes, and I had recently convinced my now wife—then good-student great-influence friend—to walk back into a class I had ditched to retrieve my jacket that I had forgotten therein.

(She still won’t let me live down how the teacher had cornered her, and read her the riot act so that she might in turn read it to me, but I digress.)

The school day was coming to a close and one of the upperclassmen—a girl-woman of an amazon named Christine—invited me to come to an impromptu party at our mutual friend Meredith’s house. I had nothing to do and no plans to do any work assigned to me, so I agreed and off we went.

I feel like it needs to be mentioned that Christine had a bright red Jeep Wrangler with a tongue decaled on the side and the spare tire covered in a wrap declaring it the “Kiss Mobile!”

We picked up the boy I dated for a lukewarm forty five second the year prior before he realized his mother liked me better—no, seriously, when he moved to another state she asked if my mother would allow her to have temporary guardianship so I could move with them, again, I digress—and off we went.

Neither me, or Greg—the boy—were of age to drink legally, but no one in the suburbs cares about that.

When we arrived there were already eight to ten cars parked on the lawn—this is an absolutely unremarkable Tuesday in spring, mind you.

We drink a little, we dance, and once there was enough liquor involved we decided the party could only get better if it became a toga party.

Now, most people might have methods to tie togas so they’d stay in place—but a handful of drunk suburban babies don’t have those skills.

So we stapled them to ourselves.

Opening a pretty hefty office stapler, we slapped the prongs against each other’s backs until the little metal teeth dug into our skin and kept the togas in place. We took Meredith’s beta fish from his lovely little bowl and put him into a pair of platform shoes that were meant to be filled with water for—I don’t know—effect, probably.

“Behold! I am Jesus Christ, walking upon water!”

Nevertheless someone showed up with two carvel cakes and more beer. We ate cake by the literal fistful and played a far too dangerous game of darts in her basement.

But everyone knows drunk people always want something—the more off the wall, the better.

We wanted Jello.

One of the four responsible people—sober and loving it—offered to drive us to the supermarket so that we might procure jello. We stumble into cars and after almost forty minutes we returned—packs, on packs, on packs of Jello mix in our possession.

We read the instructions, skip the steps we don’t like, and then we have Jello.

Well, we have colored and flavored water—apparently it takes hours to set.

We sip the very-hot flavored liquid and it fills none of our needs—our desires hardly quenched, we tried to improve on the situation we find ourselves. We start adding.

Sprinkles, tabasco sauce, pickles—anything and everything was on the table.

“Hey,” someone—I can neither confirm nor deny that it might’ve been me—says mid-way through consuming pickle filled lime Jello liquid (green on green, you know?). “What if we, I don’t know, snorted the mix?” 

We still had packs, on packs, on packs of Jello powder left—we had, truly, bought way too many boxes.

All the cowards—intelligent humans—plead out and it was left up to me and that statuesque girl-woman of an amazon, Christine. I picked raspberry because I surmised—in my underage drunken haze—that it would have the nicest “nose feel”. We aimed to make lovely lines of powder on the tables—not with credit cards because we were children, but high-school IDs—and rolled stiff one dollar bills.

To this day that raspberry Jello mix is the only thing—other than pool water—that has gone that far up my nose. It was fine enough of a powder that it was easy enough, prompting me to go three lines in.

With that being done, I was sufficiently out of bad ideas—or so I thought—and me and Greg—the boy—started to walk home. We both lived only about five minutes from Meredith’s house, so the slight drizzle didn’t seem that bad.

Oh, it got bad.

Deluges of rain started only a minute after we left and we were immediately soaked to the bone. Water logged in my JNCO oversized denims and well-chosen Coheed and Cambria hoodie, I realized I wasn’t out of bad ideas.

Me and Greg would switch pants.

Why? To this day I don’t know, but it seemed imperative at the time that we did.

Though he was—at least—five sizes larger, I steadfastly held them up with one fist while he wiggled into my oddly-small-yet-oversized denims. We laughed, we cried, and then when we hit the main road, we parted ways.

I entered my house carefully, stealthily, not wanting to wake my mother if she was asleep—she wasn’t. She was watching television, something stupid looking—and I was counting steps, and carefully rolling my tongue so that I might coherently express my need to go immediately to my room for no untoward reason.

Of course, that was aborted immediately as I watch plumbs of white smoke drift lazily across the screen—standing there, dripping on my mother’s carpet. I ask her what she’s watching, still not facing her.

“White smoke,” she replies, as I turn toward her. “It means they elected—Oh my God! What happened?! Did you fall off your bicycle?”

Now, you need to understand that when you have a traumatic brain injury one of the many signs you can look for is something called CSF—cerebrospinal fluid—also known as a “halo”. It is a clear oily looking liquid that can leak out of your nose or ears.

My mother works in the emergency room, she’s very keen on these things.

Apparently, raspberry Jello mix looks startlingly close to cerebrospinal fluid when it has started leaking out of your nose. And I can’t blame my mother for assuming head injury before snorting food powders, but I was just this side of drunk that I wasn’t putting any of that together.

“S’raspberry,” I slur while wiping it at my nose.

This, of course, doesn’t give her any reason to not assume I’m somehow concussed—the slurring and wobbling didn’t help either. She sat me down while I watched the smoke on the screen, and started doing field tests to see what was wrong. She eventually just realized I was a drunk idiot toddler with a penchant for bad ideas.

And that’s why I’ll never forget what day Pope Benedict XVI was elected.

#civilorange is an idiot #story time

[battendownthewhatsit]

An Extremely Informal And Longwinded List of Black Sails Characters ordered by my Most Favorite to Least, After Watching the Series Twice, For No Reason Except It’s My Blog and I Want To 

- coming in at a Close Second to Madi, it’s every other named woman in the show ??  Max? Incredible.  Brilliant. Powerful and limited, complex and driven and deeper every time I think about her arc?? wow. Eleanor? absolute Shakespeare -level tragedy and the best blouses, amazing.  Anne? Holy Hell. Miranda? Lost too soon but still more powerful and insightful as a ghost/psychopomp than most characters on most shows when they’re alive. Full of righteous murder and I love that for her. Abigail Ash?? what a gem , deserved better family, I hope she lives to become a pirate queen. Idelle? comin’ up from left field to be an absolute force of hope and healing and defiance all in one, best stealth character arc.  The Maroon Queen? how does she rule the whole show with like ten minutes of screen time. Need a whole show about her.  Frigging. Charlotte?  an Artist. an Artist dealing with a Terrible Client and so in five minutes flat she was My character omg. Grandma Guthrie? unexpected kingmaker and I love how much of a Story she’s implied to have.  Mapleton? ...ok maybe I don’t care about Mapleton. but otherwise I can’t? pick  a favorite? my favorite is whichever of them is onscreen at the moment and extra when it’s more than one of them , which happens a lot but could never happen enough , not in forty seasons. 

- Godammit, Silver. Someone should shove him off the edge of a boat. Everyone  should shove him over the edge of a boat. But I can’t deny he’s a Perpetual Shenanigans Machine and I am always a fan of Shenanigans. Damn my weakness. 

 Vane?? I care about Charles Vane ??? How did this happen. When. What. I sobbed when he died and I’m still mad about it. 

 Billy Bones,  who amazingly did Nothing Wrong Ever until he suddenly did EVERYTHING Wrong Forever, and it made sense  and I’m upset about this too but it’s so solid and  aaaaah

 Jack Rackham, unexpectedly poignant Comedy Gold 

Teach, what a solid Dragon, what an amazing setup and payoff on a character who was only barely there

MR SCOTT , I wish he had SO much more focus, what an absolute revelation of character, absolute exemplar of planting a Character Revelation in a show , all his scenes are a thousand times richer on rewatch , the show  had to kill him bc if he’d lived he’d have solved everything 

RANDALL, CHAOS MENTOR, and rightly Judgey Food Service Worker 

Mr. Gates, F in the chat again , we only got glimpses of just how much was going on under the surface but it was eNOUGH omg I still tear up watching his speech about Billy

Captain Naft, for some reason a Genuinely Nice Guy who decided he was gonna PIrate and then was Terrible at it?? hilarious.  I’m so glad he got out . Hope he sailed away to star in a Pratchett novel. 

Tie between Featherstone and Mr de Groot (F in the chat, buddy, I hope you’re sailing on in a magical world where people respect your technical expertise and practical recommendations), champions of Just Being Good at the Job

 Julius, I’m sure he’d be top five if he’d have even thirty combined minutes of screentime but realistically I can only love him for his Potential 

likewise every person on Maroon island who never gets any focus, they All Deserved Better but didn’t get it so I can only love them Conceptually 

OH HELL, FLINT, I ALMOST FORGOT ABOUT FLINT , I want to move him further up the list now but the fact that I didn’t even  remember to include him  until now tells me this is probably a Fair and Accurate ranking of where he stands in my Heart? which is. Completely wild??? he’s  one of the most main of main characters?? But (a) I really truly despise the way he treats his men like disposable straws for most of the series? I mean look how much I love so much of the Walrus crew and then this guy’s going around frigging blowing their brains out and tossing them off ships and obviously We Have a Problem  and (b) I think for me he wound up suffering from overexposure-- not in the show, but in terms of seeing him around Tumblr for years before I watched the show.  I saw all his big speeches and character reveal moments screecapped and gif’d for years, in a way I almost never saw anyone else’s, and when those moments rolled around for me in the series there was always a feeling like “oh, this is where that happens. OK then” , instead of experiencing it as a new emotional revelation. Given that the scenes where he did something I hadn’t  seen gif’d to death were still really powerful for me, I think all those years of out-of-context quotes and caps are really the main thing in play here, and that’s Unfortunate and also very much a  Me Problem, but also it’s just such a visceral emotional thing that I can’t really change the reaction.  Sorry, Captain , you’re great and well-written, I was just Spoilered out of a strong emotional reaction to you. :/ 

Thomas? Thomas.....

Israel Hands

uuuuh Hornigold and Dufresne I guess? Dufresne in particular is striking to me bc I hate his Choices but the  way he winds up making them is v. sympathetic 

uuuh Eleanor’s bodyguards in S1/early S2 I guess? 

the pastor who kind of hilariously has no plot relevance to anything ever 

....

that’s it

there are no more characters in this show :) 

no there aren’t :):) 

#long post

[fuckyeahharryhart]

PART 6

THE ART OF SEDUCTION SEXY HARRY HART FANFIC

HARRY HART FAN FIC: (sing songs) smut, smut, smut! Inspired by Harry Hart and his glass of scotch. And also the one below of him in his shirt, tie and shoulder holster.

HARRY HART/ ORIGINAL CHARACTER M/F

WARNINGS: Mature, Smut, light D/s, lust 

Words: 7600

SUMMARY Harry and Gwendolyn, after getting acquainted with each other, share a rare evening alone together in the Kingsman lounge. What starts out as an innocent challenge and a glass of scotch, leads Harry to teach a lesson on the finer points of the gentleman spy's art of seduction.

NOTES: This is part of my main series for KINGSMAN 3, but since this is the chapter with sexy gentleman spy Harry Hart combined with smut that many of us like the most, I decided to also separate it so it's easy to find and read on it's own. If you're looking for the whole story, check out my other fics. Still in progress though

------

After working months at his side, whether it be in the field, during training, debriefing in his office, or simply occupying the same space in quieter moments, reading in the lounge with a cup of tea, enjoying a few precious moments of peace, Gwendolyn was no closer at deciphering the gorgeous mystery that was Harry Hart. Her time with him merely reinforced what she already knew. And what she knew had, much to her chagrin, become increasingly and disconcertingly distracting with every moment she shared space with him. He was beautiful, obviously. She determined that the moment she saw him. Even from a distance, he cut a striking figure. But is was the understated way he acknowledged his own appearance, knew that it was pleasing and accepted it with grace, dignity and a matter-of-factness, that only made him more attractive.

His appeal wasn’t just based on his good looks. There were other men who had more classically balanced features. It was significantly more than good genes or the symmetry of bone structure. Not that his purely physical attributes were lacking in any regard. She had already committed to memory every aspect of his form and figure, from his hair, with a distinguished flurry of silver, all the way down to his feet in their gleaming oxfords. No doubt polished with every wearing; they carried him with purposeful movement and long measured strides.

Harry was a tall man. She would never forget the first choke hold he put her in. Often folding his legs as gracefully as possible under tables and desks that were just a breath too short to accommodate a man of his stature. He carried himself differently. Always with a posture, walk, a gait, that had a purpose.  Never rushed unnecessarily, he possessed the ease of someone in full control of his physical body. His movements were light, sharp, and kinetic. When he was still, he held himself straight and tall, without strain. In more casual moments, his weight would shift to one side or the other, or he might lean against a support, breaking up the long, precise lines of his full height.

Mostly, this had to do with a hyper awareness of his environment and his place in it. If he needed to calm a new recruit, he might stand with authority, but tuck his hands in his pockets, conveying a sense of ease and familiarity. When confronting an adversary, his stature seemed to grow as he pulled himself to his full height.  In those rare moments where he was free from personal and professional obligations responsibilities, as much as he could ever be, his figure would take on smooth curves and relaxed angles. The space he occupied was his to claim, mold, and manipulate. And he did so with his body, his voice, his gaze, his way of dress.

Surprisingly, she discovered that Harry was a man who often communicated through physical touch. As a man of few words, who often guarded his privacy and personal life, she expected him to be even more reserved with his body language, to be even more wary of close physical contact. Quite the contrary, he was often more generous with a hand on the shoulder or a gentle pat on the back as a form of approval or encouragement. Sometimes, he would place his hand over an agents as gesture of support and understanding. He was more demonstrative with contact and touch than he was with using words of praise or comfort. Even his proximity, whether it be as a figure in the distance or his physical closeness, could affect the energy of the room.

Rolling it over in her mind, she realised that it made sense that Harry would be comfortable communicating through touch. In some regards, he was a very tactile man, a sensual man, if not overtly so. He was a man that celebrated the senses.

In his office, though minimalist by Kingsman standards, austere even, there were touches of extravagance not influenced by tradition. All the furniture, as well as being beautifully made, focused on designs that were hospitable as well as functional. The chairs were comfortable. The lounge was upholstered in a dark, rich leather, well oiled and worn smooth by years of use. It was masculine, but also soft and inviting, a piece that you could relax and sink into.  A sumptuous throw. Pillows covered in dark velvet that were actually soft, not just decorative.

The items that did adorn his office were obviously selected thoughtfully and with care. The enticingly smooth curves of a vase, seemingly out of place, brilliant jade against the subdued tones of hunter green, tartans and plaid and the deep tones of polished wood and leather. The delicate lines and breathtaking color of a framed butterfly.  A small, sterling silver paperweight in the shape of a terrier. A cut crystal decanter, with matching tumblers, no doubt holding an insanely old and very expensive scotch.

There was an emphasis, not on the prestige or price of an object, but on its, color, texture, lines that were pleasing or challenging to the eye. Not as a flaunting of wealth, but a source of pleasure. It wasn’t an ostentatious display of the rich, It was the luxury of selection and taste. Any piece of clothing or fabric that touched his body directly was often luxurious, as well, scarfs, gloves, fine cashmere or calfskin leather. Though she had no way of knowing, she assumed his sheets would be of the highest thread count.

His manner of dress was immaculate and as precise as the polished, clipped tones of his aristocratic accent. He presented himself as a man who was self-assured with his appearance. Whatever he wore, he wore with confidence. He wore it well, without vanity, pretension, ego or conceit. Not that he needed the help of his wardrobe to face the world. His manner of dress seemed to highlight, magnify his innate sense of self.  He was not a flashy man, but he appreciated the expert craftsmanship that went into a finely cut suit. That good clean lines, quality materials, understated but interesting details could be the final polish on an already finely honed presentation.  

His clothing was the other area where he allowed himself some extravagance. A firm believer in the principle that if one’s self and surroundings are not only presentable, but impeccable, then one will always be prepared for what surprises life may decide to throw in one’s direction. In his line of work, unpredictability was as predictable as the sun rising in the east and setting in the west. His wardrobe countered the erratic nature of life as an agent.  Thus, his was a look of man who had his life in order.

He was a man of consistency. His tie was an unfailing full Windsor, tucked under the spread collar of a pristine white shirt. An equally crisp pocket square, folded neatly, peeked from his breast pocket. French cuffs were secured with custom gold links, bearing the Kingsman insignia. His suits were mostly double breasted, in classic shades of black, charcoal, navy and grey and cut in a wool that was appropriate for the occasion, whether solid, pinstriped, or woven with a pattern such as herringbone, or houndstooth. After years as a Kingsman agent, he had amassed a considerable and varied wardrobe that consisted of classic suits, formal wear, overcoats, ties, scarves, for any occasion or any type of mission. Each Kingsman agent also wore a gold signet ring on the pinky of their dominant hand. Harry wore the ring on his right.

Kingsman suits were cut close to the body, but designed with allowances made to accommodate weapons, ensure manoeuvrability and flexibility in all types of action. They were also bulletproof. It was a feature created after decades of experimenting with different textiles and weaves and exploring processes and techniques that would result in a material that could withstand the velocity and impact of of a bullet shot at close range. The lightweight, flexible lining was sewn into every Kingsman suit and many times proved to be a lifesaver.

Shoulder harnesses were used for carrying. Not belt clips. Belts constricted the body whereas a harness allowed freedom of movement. They were also easily and quickly detachable in case they needed to be removed. Belts, on the other hand, though they had their uses, could also cost valuable seconds when needed to be taken off. The carry position prevented printing and maintained the lines of Kingsman’s suits.

The fine, bespoke tailoring emphasized Harry’s height and build. Trousers were slim cut, long and hemmed with a perfect mid break. He preferred the simple Oxford rather than brogues. His shoes would glow with a mellow shine. He styled his hair in a classic, handsome cut, and was always clean shaven, (unless in the field where there was no opportunity for a straight razor shave). His aftershave and cologne were unobtrusive but memorable. Rather than preceding him, the warm and masculine sent of woods and spices, with hints of cardamon, the tactile sensuality of rich leather and suede, would linger after his departure, like a layer of warm dark velvet. Even his hands were beautiful. Beautiful but not delicate. Large wide palms, long elegant fingers, his nails were neat and clipped. They sometimes bore the marks of time spent in the field. They were strong and capable.

Overall, he had the appearance of a man who embraced classics, honoured tradition, but defined his look with his own individual aesthetic personality and sense of style.

In quieter moments, when she had the opportunity to watch him without being too obvious or call attention to herself, she allowed her curiosity to wonder over all the small details and mannerism that were unique to Harry. How his fingertips would gently find the arm of his glasses and rest lightly there, when he was thoughtful or pondering a question, as if it helped him focus or think.  The automatic gesture probably developed after years of transmitting information through the eyeglasses, which also functioned as communication devices.  Through her experience in human psychology, she recognised this as a self soothing gesture. Finding the comfort of something familiar. She was fairly sure that Harry was aware of this gesture and allowed himself some habits, that were, not particularly productive but, helpful nonetheless. Rubbing his thumb along the band of his signet ring. The way he would always shoot his cuffs when rising from his seat. Or run the palm of his hand along the back of his head, smoothing down the already polished hair.

Never had she met someone who had the ability to asses and evaluate any given situation as throughly and unerringly as Harry. Whether it entailed clearing a room, identifying a mark, or even just something as simple as slowing his pace when she walked along side him so she wouldn’t have to struggle to keep up. He was constantly aware of his surroundings and deconstructing what needed to happen to make the environment more pleasing, the conversation more engaging, the meeting more productive, the mission more likely to succeed. He was nothing if not thoughtful. Thus when she walked with him, he always slowed and allowed her to maintain her own graceful stride.

His physical appearance, his exacting nature, his precise moments, his carefully maintained wardrobe, his formal patterns of speech, his refined accent, not to mention his good looks could intimidate even the most confident agent, let alone a green one.  That was until the person in question realised that this outward perfection was merely the layer that he presented to the world.

It would seem impossible for man to be blessed with so many gifts, but Harry Hart proved to be the exception to the rule, for he was as charming and gracious as he was handsome. His quick wit, his clever way with words, as well as his dry, incisive sense of humour could enthral even the most unwilling participant.

He could placate the most difficult handler, assuage the most reluctant agent, enchant the most reserved target, or ingratiate himself into the most inhospitable of circumstances. When he turned on the full force of his charm, the people he met, let alone the men and women who worked with him, frequently found themselves elevated in his presence, their own experience heightened by his vitality and charisma. They left the experience a little breathless, a little awestruck, a little seduced by Harry Hart. She herself was no exception. And she had been spending a lot of time with him.

————

They found themselves alone one evening at the manor. In the lounge, when they both happened to desire a drink at the same time. Most of the Kingsman had already departed for the shop if they were returning to the city. The rest had dispersed to their own private quarters, or were participating in whatever activity they had planned for the evening. The lounge was quiet. They way he liked it. Apparently, it was the way Gwendolyn preferred it as well.

He spotted her the same moment she lifted her gaze at the new arrival. Her eyes narrowed slightly in pleasure at the sight of him. She gave him a small, but welcoming smile. The musical clink of crystal against glass as he poured a scotch from the fully stocked bar was the only sound aside from the cracking logs in the grand fireplace.

The club was a vast space with a vaulted ceiling. The stately fireplace stood on the far wall. Like most of the manor, it was dressed in masculine shades of dark brown and hunter greens, tartan and plaids. Polished hardwood furniture, mostly antique, and historical paintings, displaying the rich history of Kingsman, whispered class and wealth. In the center was an arrangement to accommodate a more substantial group with larger sofas and chaises surrounding a massive polished low wooden table.

Around the room were smaller clusters of tables and leather club chairs tucked into alcoves for smaller gatherings or intimate conversations.  

It was at one these clusters that he found her, tucked in a quiet corner near the fireplace.

In the most relaxed arrangement he allowed himself while still on kingsman property, he had his coat draped over his arm. Dressed in his shirtsleeves, tie and shoulder holster, tumbler in hand, he approached her, also with a pleasant but small smile. Pleased that she be the one that was sharing this space with him.

She was dressed quite differently from how he first remembered her. Well, her clothes hadn’t been memorable, but she had been. Since she was not a knighted agent, they weren’t quite sure how to classify her yet, she took the freedom to dress beyond the Kingsman uniform. Though always appropriate and surprisingly on brand, she was not quite regulation. If she was out in the field, she was in tactical, or the women’s version of the kingsman suits. She even had the shop tailor some custom pieces so she could have more diversity. When she was at Kingsman HQ or at the shop in support, she dressed appropriately, but in her own style. There were handfuls of fashionable men at Kingsman. You couldn’t turn around and not run into a gentleman turned out in Kingsman’s finest. But an attractive, stylish woman was a rarer sight. Even he noticed the heads that turned when she walked by.

Walking toward her, he took the time to observe her appearance, he told himself as spies always did out of habit. Today, she remained on the property. Without the need for being in the field, this would be her most ladylike look. She was dressed in a way that was very elegant, but sexy at the same time. Or, perhaps it wasn’t supposed to look sexy. He set that observation aside. Not the time nor the place, he thought to himself.

She was dressed in a slim, knee length pencil skirt in a very deep shade of oxblood red. It was velvet he noted when he saw the sheen of the grain as she shifted her knees in his direction. A matching tailored jacket, that, like him, she had removed and draped over the back of her chair. Topped with a delicate, almost sheer silk blouse the color of sun bleached bone. It had tiny pearl buttons down the front, and lace detailing at the collar, cuffs and similar detailing along the button placket. A narrow dark brown leather belt circled her waist with a gold clasp rather than a prong buckle.  Dark brown suede court shoes with a tall, but reasonable heel. Her makeup was minimal and natural. She looked like she just somehow heightened her features, but in no discernible way he could describe.

As he got closer, he was able to notice even smaller details. Her long, wavy, he had to admit, beautiful hair, was twisted up and away from her face and secured in some secret way women have where it would stay perfectly in place by means he could never quite see. Her accessories were feminine and understated. Small gold earrings in the shape of teardrops, a simple gold cuff around her wrist, a Kingsman issue watch on the other. A signet ring on her own pinkie. Her nails were trimmed short and clean, either no polish or something bare. A thin gold chain around her neck with a small solid gold version of the Kingsman pendant.

He didn’t know what he wanted a woman to look like until he first saw her. The first time, on that first chaotic night, he had the same thought. He could give you a basic description of what she was wearing, but he could describe every feature of her face. The way she looked when she was reflective. The line of her jaw when she was determined.

And then, for the very first time he saw her, dressed, properly, walking down the long marble corridor of the HQ manor, when she had the opportunity to present herself on her own terms. He thought, this is what I want a woman to look like. It wasn’t that she was model beautiful, or that her features were perfect. In London, on the streets, you could see plenty of models. They were beautiful, no doubt, and pleasing to look at, but once you were done, you were able to go about your day without a second thought.  

Her beauty had substance. The fact that he knew what her skill set included, to know what she had overcome to be where she was, to be the person she was, made her beauty a real tangible thing, regardless of what she was wearing. Perhaps it was that, whatever she wore, she made it part of her. It wasn’t just a pretty skirt or a flattering blouse, it was the way she wore it that made you notice her. She could have look completely different, with the opposite features, petite and curly brown hair and brown eyes. He would have still have felt the same. And he would still say, this is what I want a woman to look like.

This young woman had the capacity to stir his heart. Something that had been quiet and still for a very long time. Even something that he thought no longer had the desire to be moved. It was certainly not something he was seeking. He, long ago, had accepted the fact that the life of agent isn’t one that fosters lasting relationships. Relationships were based on communication and he had far too many secrets as a Kingsman.

He was beyond the time in his life for these kinds of thoughts. He knew he had been handsome in his youth. He had his fair share of relationships and much more than his fair share of sexual encounters. He was aware that his looks had carried him quite well as he got older and that if he wanted, there were women, very desirable ones, that would be more than willing to engage in a casual relationship. He was by no means vanilla. It wasn’t that he was prudish in the least, or one to deny himself physical pleasure. If she wasn’t who she was, then he would have most likely allowed himself to pursue her and enjoyed whatever that relationship had to offer. The crux of it was, that he would not be as attracted to her, or charmed by her if she wasn’t exactly who she was. He would not want her as much as he did if she were any different. But it was who she was, ironically, that kept him from her. She was Merlin’s daughter.  It was a knot too tight for him to untie.

——

He set these thoughts aside as he approached her. Even though it was obvious she was alone, Kingsman manners never failed. Never ask a lady directly if she’d like your company. Give her a polite way to refuse without making her say no. She will indicate if your presence if desired.

“Excuse me, miss.” he opened. “Is this seat taken?”

She awarded him with an amused smile. She always enjoyed his little game of manners.

She nodded toward the chair. Please.

Draping his coat on the back of his chair, just as she did, He adjusted his slacks so he could sit down comfortably and gracefully. The club chairs were low and designed to sink back into. He took his seat, adjusted a little until he, too, was settled in.

Since both of them were now relatively stuck in their respective positions, where they couldn’t move without significant effort, he simply raised his glass in her direction. She followed suit.

———

Gwendolyn was pleased when he was comfortable enough to sit in silence with her. It was one of the first tells she would look for in asset or mark. Did they have enough self assurance to be silent? Were they uncomfortable, awkward, fidgety? Did they try to fill the silence with their own words? Most often, if they lacked confidence, she would notice these tells immediately. One of her favourite activities was to sit in silence.

It was also one of her favourite activities to look at Harry Hart. The fact that he was handsome was no surprise. When she initially started at Kingsman, this was simply an objective observation, like masterful way he handled weaponry. Or the fact that he was right handed.  The more they were partnered on the field, the closer they became, both in proximity and as colleagues, his physical attributes began to affect her in ways that continued to make her increasingly uncomfortable.

She was aware his body was that of a man that she admired and looked up to. Tall, broad shouldered, slim hipped. Strong, driven, powerful. She became aware of all the things that his body could do. She had the opportunity to observe him every time they were in the field, in combat, in action.

But she also began to discern a softness, a gentleness that he could convey when he gathered her up after a surprising blast had knocked them both off their feet. Hands that smoothed back her hair from her forehead upon waking up in medical after a particularly dangerous mission. A warm hand on her shoulder as she successfully accomplished a challenging task. Arms that held her after a devastating loss.

She was aware that as her mentor, he had a responsibility to maintain a professional relationship. But with escalating frequency, she imagined how it would feel to have him pressed up against her, to feel his body, purposeful and confident. While not in a chokehold.

————

The evening was relaxed. Both of them, without the urgency of an upcoming mission to prepare, took the opportunity to simply rest and unwind. A seldom occasion. Feeling more and more at ease when they were together, she allowed herself a little space to test the waters. When engaging targets, if they seemed comfortable sitting in silence in her company, would they make direct eye contact? She took another small sip of her drink, savoured it for a moment, and swallowed.

Hmmm. She was very curious about Harry and she was feeling surprisingly playful. She wanted to try something. Let’s say an experiment in tradecraft. She waited until she caught his eye. He seemed amused and matched her eye contact with equal directness. She was pleased that he made eye contact and even more pleased when he maintained it. But he was a spy, after all. Making and maintaining eye contact would be elementary for him.

With a little cheekiness on her part, she raised her glass to her lips again and took a small sip. He did not waver. His eyes even took on a little bit of curious amusement. She held the scotch on her tongue, pulled it to the back of her mouth, rolled the scotch around a little bit longer than necessary, before she swallowed.

Neither of them would look away first. She gave him a half smile, half smirk, crinkled her eyes a bit in amusement. She seemed to be saying. Ok. Your turn.

He had never seen her in this kind of playful mood and Harry suddenly found himself enjoying this little match immensely.

He could more than participate in this game. He, literally, had decades more experience than her. An agent may be able to seduce. But a gentleman agent was a master at the art of seduction. And Harry Hart was the consummate gentleman agent. One did not get to where he was in life without knowing how to pleasure a woman. He was often told he had beautiful and talented hands. That may have been years ago, but those kinds of skills, they stayed with a man.

A quick raise of his brow. Darling, challenge accepted.

Holding her eyes with his, he lowered his glass just enough to where it was in her sight line, but slightly off to the side, at the edge of her peripheral vision. She would still be able to hold eye contact, but would have to make an effort not to glance down at his glass. Especially, when she saw what he was going to do with it.

He held her gaze suddenly with an intense focus she was unprepared for. Out of the corner of her eye she saw that he was holding his glass, cupping it in the palm of one hand. He began to simply roll it around gently, as one would while enjoying a proper scotch. He rolled it around harmlessly, in a slow, lazy, rhythmic pattern.

She had to concentrate a little harder not to look away, but she kept his gaze. If she was uncomfortable, she didn’t show it. She hoped her gaze held a similar intensity as Harry’s. His felt, well, piercing, for lack of a more appropriate word.

This was certainly turning out to be an interesting evening, Harry thought. She seemed determined to stick this through. He would be required to dial his technique up a notch. He nested the heavy base in the center of his palm and let it rest there for awhile without moving. Then, once again, he started rolling the glass in his hand, not to stir the liquid, but to feel the surface of glass itself. He bounced the glass, lightly, as if testing the weight and feeling the heaviness.

The movement was subtle, slow, and sensuous. He let his hand explore the texture of the smooth surface. The base of his thumb pressed against the glass in slow, languid circles, sometimes rolling on to the pad of his thumb, sometimes to his finger tip. But he did this as if he were doing it unconsciously, because he was staring at the young woman who sat in front of him with the focus and intensity that said she was the only woman on earth, and that he wanted her.

There was truth to the term, the male gaze. It was not looking at something through a man’s eyes, it was seeing into something as a man. There was a reason why they called this particular look penetrating. It was a gaze of desire, a singularly male want and need. If done properly, it was a way to make love to a woman without touching her. It was far beyond physical contact . It wasn’t hard for him to harness his essential masculine energy. He had done it for years on countless honey traps in his younger days with the agency.  He hadn’t thrown the full force of himself to seduce in quite awhile and found that he was enjoying a little flex of his muscle.  If desire had a name, at that moment, it would be called Harry Hart. He let his desire roll off of him in waves.

What she didn’t quite understand, was that the game she was playing with him, wasn’t about who could keep eye contact the longest. It was a question of who was going to be seduced and who was going to be the seducer. She was approaching what she thought was a staring contest as a battle of the wills, which was why she was going to fail. Making eye contact may be a test of power and confidence, but that was a quick, brief test. A simple meeting or a darting of the eyes. It was very easy to find out who was going to be able to make and hold contact. However, eye contact for a prolonged period of time, especially between a man and a woman? It became something quite different. It was a game of seduction. It wasn’t a test of power. It was a test of control. Control of two things in this case, the seducer’s own desire, and the desire of the other person. Could the seducer harness his own desire to control the seduced.

She had not faltered yet. He raised to single brow. Would you like me to keep going?

She narrowed her gaze. Please, do.

The expression on his face all but said out loud. “You asked for it.”

He saw the flush in her cheeks when she noticed what he was doing with his glass. Her breathing intensified. Her pupils dilated and there was nothing she could do to stop it.  

They were very small movements, but very deliberate movements. He cupped the bottom of the glass in one palm, fingers spread as if he were holding up a small tray. Using only his middle finger, the rest of his hand now cupping the base, he began to stroke the center of the glass. Like he was using his finger to say, come here. In very slow, very deliberate, beyond suggestive movements. His other hand simply rested on the top rim of the glass. Gently holding it in place while he moved his bottom hand. He did this without twitching another muscle in his body, as if nothing had changed.

Her eyes widened. Holy fuck, she thought. With very exact and explicit movements of his hands, he was not just implying, but overtly demonstrating how he used them to give pleasure to a woman. The shock of seeing him within the frame of something so blatantly sexual, all the while looking at her the entire time? It was intensely arousing.

He was not only looking at her, he was positively devouring her with his gaze. She could feel him, his energy in pulses of heat. This wasn’t merely eye contact. This was something unexpected and she was not prepared for it. Harry was suddenly changed, maybe not changed, but different. He was harder, stronger, more demanding. He was more of everything. The polite, honorable, considerate gentleman was still there,  but now he added an aspect of himself that she had never seen or experienced before. The man was still Harry, but it also as if a part of him had been unleashed, whatever primal energy that was held in check by the handsome suits and the manners and the chivalry, had been released.

She fought to maintain her composure. He knew exactly what he was doing. His hands moved expertly, and with ease. His gaze, became even more intense, if that was even possible.

He continued to play and to tease as he held the glass in his palm. She knew where he had his hand. She could feel the exact placement as if it were on her own body. The base of his palm would cup her center, with the rest of his fingers spreading between her legs. His middle finger was still moving in achingly slow circles, one direction, then slowly moving in the other direction. He curled his finger under, using his knuckle, rolling it in tiny circles. Not even really moving just shifting the pressure moving from one side to the other, from top to bottom.

She saw in his eyes, that he knew, that she was not only being affected by his movements, but she was feeling sensations as if he were touching her directly.

It was the most erotic experience of her life.

Here was this beautiful man, still dressed as properly as ever in his dress shirt and tie, his shoulder holster with his side arm. His perfect hair, his perfect face. With all his dignity and respect, relaxing comfortably back into his chair, his legs spread wide, an ankle crossed over his knee, one elbow resting casually on the arm of his leather chair. Radiating such a profound sexual energy, that without even touching her, had the ability to control her body with only his eyes and the the way he moved a glass in his hand. He was so confident in his movements. His expression said, however brief this moment, that he owned her, that she was his, and he knows that she wants it that way. He can see it all over her face. He can see it in her eyes.

——

He wasn’t even close to being done.

He took his other hand, laying his palm over the glass, as if it was resting there. On the other side of the glass, where his thumb fell, he began to roll it around in very explicit, very familiar circles.

He felt himself harden as his own arousal grew. He didn’t try to stop it. Instead of letting it distract him, he channeled that energy through him and into her. Allowing her to witness the physical evidence of his own desire would strengthen his hold. Never underestimate the power of the imagination. She would see it. Her mind would do the rest.

He saw her lips part, even the slightest bit. Her chest rising and falling under her ladylike blouse as her breathe quickened. Her knees pressed tightly together. He watched her face very, very carefully and intently, watching the subtle changes in her expressions as he shifted the movements of his hands, knowing that she was feeling his movements in her body. Every time her brow would furrow, or she took a sharp intake of breath, or would clench her pretty hands, as he moved his own, he knew she was feeling pleasure. And that he was the source of that pleasure.

He knew that there were men who were turned on by violence. For him, however, there was nothing more erotic than the sight of a woman experiencing the pleasure that you were giving her. So, he was especially aroused when he was free to look at the nuances of her face and body freely and openly. Her pleasure had reached a constant as she moved almost imperceptibly to the consistent rhythm of his hand.

And she still did not drop her eye contact. He knew, now that she was fully aroused, she would not break eye contact. She probably couldn’t at this point if she tried. For, half of her pleasure was a result of seeing the man who was controlling her pleasure. And seeing that she pleased him, that he was also sexually aroused, intensified her pleasure. And she wanted to offer that to him, very willingly. He was finding out much about her in these few moments. Things that he wasn’t even sure she knew about herself. Very few women would have been comfortable enough with their sexuality to be purely on the receiving end of pleasure. In the intimacy of their own bedroom in a committed relationship. Let alone in an extremely public and therefore vulnerable way. With a man who may be, slightly off limits. Which, in fact, probably added to her pleasure.

To see just how much she was under his thumb, pun aside, he paused for a moment. He kept his hand, his fingers in the exact same place. He just stilled. And watched her. After a few moments he could see the tiniest furrow of her brow. When he continued to remain still, he saw the movement he waiting for. She probably didn’t even know she had made it. It was the slightest lifting and rolling of her hips. He didn’t realize he could be more turned on, but he felt himself harden even more. It was the motion every woman made, in his experience, when they wanted more, when they were asking for more, and when they were begging for more.  The ability to actively listen and comprehend another person was the most profound influencing tactic one could hone in communication, and therefore seduction.  Which is exactly what he was doing. In a very non verbal, very physical way.

He began his movements again, with more intensity and purpose. He let his finger, for the first time, slide all the way up the side of the glass, even letting it lift with the upward movement of his palm. He saw her body move as if she were receiving him.

He knew she was experiencing waves of intense pleasure. He could tell she wanted to close her eyes and tip her head back. As he witnessed her need, he went in for his last movements. His palm pressing up into the base of the glass, his thumb rolling in small firm circles and his entire middle finger along the entire length of the glass, the tip almost reaching the top of the rim.  As if his finger were deep inside her, he made deliberate strokes while pressing into the glass, slow, but then gradually increasing in speed and pressure.

He knew, that she knew, the exact two parts he was pleasuring.

Her lips parted, her breathing grew heavier. She had no idea what was going to happen next, all she felt were waves of pleasure. The only thing she could concentrate on was not losing eye contact with the man in front of her.

Harry knew at this point, he had let what was a silly, flirtatious game, go too far. He also knew this began as a challenge, and Harry Hart was never one to back down from a challenge. He also knew that he never purposely lost a game. If it took climaxing for her to break eye contact, then so be it.

He also knew he was mesmerized by the sight of her. He didn’t know if he could stop. But it didn’t matter because he didn’t want to. This moment had to hit the list of the top most erotic experiences of his life. Both fully clothed, siting in separate chairs, more than six feet apart. With only eye contact between them. He didn’t know if he’d experienced something more intensely arousing, knowing that he was the one she was feeling when she made herself come.

He began to see the tell tale tremors, the quickening breath, her lips parting with cries that she desperately wanted to make that she would not let herself, and the dear girl, was still trying to hold on. Psychologically she was making it harder for herself, denying her own release would only make it that much more physically intense when she had to give in.

It was at that moment, that a door banged within the manor and someone appeared at the large entrance of the club room.

“Harry. That you?”

Damn it. It was Eggsy,

“Just headin’ out.” Eggsy called over. “What’s up? Looks like you two’re having a staring contest. Whose winning?”

“It’s a tie” Harry replied.

Eggsy held up his hand in a quick wave and left.

He glanced back over to Gwendolyn, where she was still trying to maintain eye contact, wait no, she was just staring into the space behind him, concentrating on something he could not see.

——

She knew she had to stop staring at Harry, so she looked past his shoulder into the empty space behind him. At this point, even the sight of him might set her off. She was still right at the cusp of her climax and her body was still so aroused she was afraid that any movement could push her over the edge. She wanted to tell Harry to leave, but she couldn’t think of a way without embarrassing or offending one or both of them. All she could do at the moment was sit quietly. So that’s what she did. She was waiting for her body to catch up with the rest of her and settle down. He was waiting patiently until she was ready to move or speak.

After a bit of time, she glanced over at him, made sure it was safe. It was, and she began to relax a little, though her body still felt like a flame that was ready to ignite with any hint of friction. She just needed to stay still for awhile.

She saw Harry watching her, his face both concerned and amused.

He broke the silence.

“And that, my darling,” he said pointedly. “Is how one create’s an effective honey trap.”

In an attempt to further diffuse the situation, he wanted to be frank and direct with her and not to brush what just happened under the rug. That would be awkward for both of them.  He did not want her to feel embarrassed or ashamed or uncomfortable with him or what had happened. The best way was to be as blunt as possible. He pushed down on his palms and rose out of his chair with minimal effort.

“My dear, I’ve been in the spy business for over 30 years. One does not get this far without knowing how to pleasure a woman.”

He winked at her.

“Not to worry, you’ll get there.”

He reached behind him for his coat, draped it over his arm, but not before she clearly noticed his own erection. Which before had just been a suggestion in the shadows. He’s hard!

The thought made her flame all over again.

“I need to take my leave. Will you be alright, here?”

All she could do is nod. She didn’t trust her voice yet.

Always the gentleman. He leaned over and brushed his lips against the top of her hair.

“Thank you for the lovely evening.”

She still couldn’t look directly at him so she turned her head slightly to the side and gave him a small nod. With a quick squeeze of her arm, she heard his departing footsteps. He was heading to the tunnels. He was going back into the city, He wouldn’t be staying at he manor. She didn’t know if she was glad or disappointed.

She was grateful to him for providing at least a somewhat graceful way to exit the situation, referring to the seduction technique that ALL agents are trained in. He was letting her chalk it up to a learning experience.

She opened her mouth. Nothing came out. She tried again.

“Fuck.”

It was the first word that she had said all evening.

——

“Fuck.”

Harry thought as he boarded the train back into the city. He had actually planned on staying at the manor, but with what just happened with Gwendolyn, he wasn’t sure if that would be the best course of action. It took all of his self control to remove himself from any temptation by leaving the place entirely. Making it impossible for him to act in a way that was inappropriate. Not that what had just happened would qualify as appropriate. At least it had the veil of a lesson on seduction. He wasn’t sure it would convince judges, but he found it a weak, but passable excuse.

Now, the problem for the moment was that all he could see was her face as he pleasured her. How her lips parted, and her breasts underneath her blouse, the flush of her cheeks. He wanted to hear what her cries would’ve sounded like. He wanted to be the one to make her cry out. His sex drive, always healthy, may have had a prolonged dormant period in recent times. But now it was raging like a fire that he unleashed and now he couldn’t put out. By letting the full force of it out this evening, it was fully awake and needed something to do. He had feared that if he had stayed at the manor even a moment longer, he wouldn’t have been able to help himself and would’ve taken her and had her right there.

If he could do that to her with his eyes and just the suggestion of his hands, he couldn’t imaging what it would be like pleasuring her with his entire body. He knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep until her took care of himself, and when he did, he would allow himself the sight of her trembling, responsive, body underneath his own as he gave her the pleasure he knew she so desperately wanted, him deep inside as he felt her body shudder around him when she climaxed, feeling his own release as he heard her cry out his name in pleasure.

———

If you got this far, thanks for reading! There will be additional chapters, but I thought this could stand on its own. Hope you liked it! Comments are always welcome and appreciated.

Also to come is a chapter when they finally get together :O (Smut is the main reason I started to write about Harry Hart anyway :)

#Kingsman #Kingsman The Secret Service #kingsman fanfic #Kingsman AU #kingsman the golden circle #harry hart #harry hart fanfic #harryhart #harryhartfanfic #harryhartfanfiction #harry hart fan fiction #smut #fanfiction #fan fiction #fanfic #fan fic #fandom #gentleman #Galahad #agentgalahad #Agent Galahad

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night sky - atsumu miya x reader

the volleyball player you're gonna be falling for today: miya atsumu

word count: 3900

summary quote: "See, Angel Eyes, there are some things that cannot be whispered, some feelings too strong to be degraded to the level of being silent."

and lets go!

***

"You were very endearing while you were half asleep, you know that?" he laughed, touching your nose with the tip of his cold finger. Your body shook, freezing a bit when the train door opened, and the icey night air flooded the inside. The girls' school uniform, mostly the skirt, surely wasn't designed for such weather conditions as the november nights provided.

"What time is it?" you just asked, still sleepy from the nap you took on his shoulder.  

"Six thirty" he laughed quietly, putting you head back where it was previously resting. You didn't mind at all, after all, he was comfortable. "We're getting off in eight minutes, so try not to sleep" You nodded slightly, watching the city landscape change in a matter of seconds just outside the dirty window in front of you. The raindrops were creating lively patterns on the glass, changing every now and then due to the blowing wind. Kobee's lights were already on, because, as it was november, six thirty was already a mid-night hour. You looked around the smelly train, noticing only few people left, as the route was already coming towards it's last stop. You noticed two people you knew from school, going home as well, altough it seemed they were not riding together, as they both listened to music with headphones in.  

You growled, pouting, when it was finally time to leave the warm train and walk four blocks home. At least you got your boyfriend with you, because walking alone in such darkness would definitely scare you, though you would never say that to his face, no, that would boost his ego too much. You smiled unconsciously as he took your hand into his, as if he was worried you'll get lost.

You followed him out of the train and into the station. You lowkey enjoyed the blue light of the the screens, showing which train will arrive next, the people rushing in every possible direction, as Kobee was a huge city, some of them waiting with their suitcases, coffee mugs in their hands, and some just going home with their backpacks, talking on the phone or listening to music. The shops on the main station were already closing down, but you two managed to get to McDonald's and order large fries, which Miya payed for, then insisting for you to eat them, because "he's suddenly not hungry anymore".

It stopped raining, when you finally got out of the train station, and walked into the cold night. He took your hand once more when you finished the fries.

"Ew, yer fingers are all greasy. Omi-kun would've freaked." he joked, glancing at you. You turned red, snapping away from his grip.

"Don't hold them, then, dumbass" you adjusted the scarf on your neck so it covered your cheeks. Like a stubborn kid, he got the hand out of your pocket and intertwined your fingers once more.

"Nah, you're gonna get cold if I don't, and we can't have that, can we, Angel Eyes?" you blushed once more at the nickname, facing away from him, so he doesn't get to satisfied with the impression he caused. All of the sudden he appeared in front of you, smiling widely.

"What's that, Angel Eyes, does the new nickname fluster ya in some kind of way?" You looked at him with pure irritation in your eyes, as he pulled you into a slight hug. "Hey, yer shoulders are shaking, are you cold?" suddenly he didn't sound like a douchebag, but concern took the place of confidence. You stayed silent, really hating to agree, but before you could disagree, he took of his jacket and put it on your shoulders. "Wait" he added, realizing one mistake, he made and took the jacket back for a second, grabbing your schoolbag and piled the strap on the one of his bag, resting it on his arm.

"That's heavy, give it back" you said, trying to reach for his shoulder, as he was way taller.

"Hell no, what sorta boyfriend would that make me?" he grinned, catching your wrist as you were halfway through to reaching your bag, already standing on your toes. "Aaand another point for Miya for blocking that!" he yelled, immitating the TV sport's commentator.

"You're not a blocker, though" you giggled, getting back to a comfortable, standing position.

"Aww, my Angel Eyes remembers what possition I play in? Well don't you deserve the best girlfriend award"

"Only because you never shut up about being the prettiest setter in Japan. And even that opinion is biased" he gasped dramatically, putting a hand over his forehead, as if he were about to faint.

"Well excuse me, I have to win a bet with an old friend of mine from a little village next to Tokyo. AND YOU COULD SUPPORT ME IN DOING SO, YOU KNOW" he pouted way too loud. You just rolled your eyes.

"And hey, I know you always watch me from the first row, I have eyes."

"I watch Osamu"

"Now THAT hurted" he looked at you with theatrical heartbreak in his sight. "You know what, you're walking alone for that" he added, leaving you there, next to the station, disappearing into the night. You laughed, at first, knowing that he still has your bag and has to come back, but then you shivered, feeling the cold wind against your bare skin, and remembered that he wanted to give you his jacket. You knew he was probably around the corner, waiting to scare you as you were walking around in search for him, so you decided to look.

But the longer you kept going back and forth around the fifteen metre distance he could possibly walk, there was no sight of him anywhere.

"Cool, Miya, now would you please get out? Or else I'm walking home!" you shouted, hoping that would get him to come out of his hiding spot, but you received no response. You held your arms against your chest to keep warm.

You heard footsteps behind you, and turned around, relieved, actually, that he'd came back.

"Finally, you dumba-" you didn't finish your sentence, noticing the person behind you wasn't Atsumu.

"What're you doing out here, freezing alone?" you heard the boy in front of you ask, but you were too distracted by his sudden appearance to respond.

You knew that boy, you knew him damn well, he was one of your closest friends, growing up, but then moved, because his father worked for the army and have to reposition every few years.

"Sato-kun? What're you doing here?" you asked in shock, looking at the boy you had seen for the last time around 4 years before, now standing in front of you, all grown up, so much, in fact, that you barely recognized him.

"Hello to you too, honey" he smiled, hugging you. You felt slightly uncomfortable, not liking to be touched by strangers, but then you remembered he wasn't a stranger. He was a guy that knew you to the bone since diapers.

But also the guy who then promised to keep in touch and disappeared from your life completely.

"Now would you mind explaining what're you doing here alone?"

"Oh, uhm, I am actually not-" you tried to explain, tilting your head around, searching for that idiot, Atsumu, but again, he was nowhere to be found.

"You do seem alone, though. Who would leave you here?" he said with a polite smile, but even so started to get on your nerves. You were not some pretty doll to be LEFT somewhere, what if you were just waiting for someone to show up?

"Well, it's a long story" you replied, but he insisted on keeping the conversation going.

"Mind telling me over a walk home? I do know where you live, obviously." You were still in too much shock to turn him down, mixed feelings flowing in and out of your head.

"Sato-kun, I am really interested in knowing your side of how the last 4 years have passed, but I am really with somebody right now" you answered, but noticed something else got his attention, like he was looking just above your shoulder.

You suddenly felt arms tie around your neck in an embrace, and felt someone bending over to match your level. The cologne you smelled was so iconic you'd recognize it from a mile away.

That idiot finally came back.

"Hi there, buddy!" he smiled politely, resting his chin on your shoulder. Considering the height difference, that must've been really uncomfortable, but what wouldn't Atsumu Miya do for a good first impression.

"Hi!" Sato responded, also smiling, but now less vividly than he did a while ago. "Who're you to lean over her like that?" he added, and the sound of possesiveness in his voice freaked you out. He wasn't in a position to say that, he left you here for four whole years.

"Oh I?" you boyfriend broke the embrace in order to straighten up and walk over to your childhood friend. It was safe to say he was at least fifteen centimetres taller. "Miya Atsumu" he said with such fake sweetness in his voice, that you couldn't help but smile a bit. "And do you mind explaining who you're to tell me I can't hug my girlfriend?" he scratched the back of his head, smiling from ear to ear, looking absolutely adorable, except from the fact that you and Sato were both scared to death. The taller boy reached out to Sato, wanting to shake his hand.

"Miya? Are you the spiker or the setter?" he asked, gripping Miya's hand. "See my brother plays volleyball and I think they've played against you on-"

Atsumu didn't let him finish. First he turned his head back to look at you with a pitiful expression in his eyes, then back to the boy.

"Did he now? I think I would've remembered seeing a face just as annoying as yours on the other side of the net" he laughed, patting his shoulder in a true "big brother" style. "I appreciate the recognition, I really do, but I have many people knowing my name on a daily basis, you know. Let's talk about you, instead!"

You were slightly freaked out by Atsumu's sudden sarcasm and bitterness, as you weren't used to seeing him... jelous? Is that how you'd describe it? He was a very confident person so he never got insecure about your relationship. He knew how crazy about him you really were, even if you tried to hide it as much as you could. You also knew about his affection to irritating people, but it was all jokes and nothing serious most of the time, and even if it was, he always managed to be lowkey and funny about it, but now it seemed as if he was dense and really pissed.

Did he have a bad day? Did you fail to ask him? Countless quesitons ran through your head, but you couldn't seem to recall anything like that. After all, what brought you two together was the fact that you always seemed to know what was happening in his head, even when he tried to hide it as much as possible.

"Sato Yakeru" he said, deadly glaring at Atsumu. "But why do you want to know, Miya-kun?" the boy put his hands on his hips, trying to gain back his confidence. "Are you really that insecure about the fact I took three minutes of you girl's precious time?"

This was not the Sato you remembered. That one was a sweet, sure, confident, but still sweet boy who always walked you to your house when you finished your classes, helped you with chemistry and played with your little sister when she interrupted your study dates. He always listened to all your problems, been there through all the ups and the downs and stood up for you whenever you needed that.

But now you've realized, he was always like that. He was always such a chauvinist, wanting to be the prince charming, wanting to rescue you out of any opression there was, but then you didn't mind, you didn't even notice, because you were percisely the little scared girl he wanted. And now that that's changed, he was suddenly irritating. Miya glanced back at you, concerned when he noticed you weariness. He looked Sato up and down with hatred in his eyes. Now, that's a look you hadn't seen in a very long time.

"Now, now" he laughed with pity. "Don't get too full of yourself there, little one" he said reffering to the fact that he was significantly taller than the boy "It takes a lot more than just a pipsqueak like you to make me loose my composure"

He came back to you taking both your cold hands into his.

"Was that boy bothering you, Angel Eyes? Do you know him?" you looked him deep in the eyes only to find him trying to mask his obvious irritation by acting calmly. You hesitated before answering, not wanting to deteriorate his mood even more.

"That's actually my childhood friend, 'Tsumu. I was just suprised to find out he was back in town"

He nodded, facing away from you, as if he was trying to calm down for real before letting you look into him again.

"What, didn't she tell you about me? Aw, that sucks, man" Sato laughed under his breath.

"What was that, munchkin? Couldn't hear ya." he smirked, proud of the childish insult. Once, you hear Osamu say that Atsumu's mental age decreases for about five years when he plays. Well, it decreases for seven when he gets angry. "Alright, honey, take the jacket now, you're trembling" Miya added much calmer, putting the fabric on your shoulders and adjusting it a bit so it covers the front of your body as well. You loved how big it was on you, you could literally fit your arm twice in those long sleeves of his. "Anything in particular ya want to do, or should we just head home?

You raised an eyebrow, not sure what he was getting at. You already agreed to go to your place and just chill, since it was friday, why was he asking now? And then, looking at the mixed expression painted across his face, you realized, he tried to show the other boy how different than him he truly is. You couldn't help but laugh.

How childish.

"Let's go, I'm getting tired" you responded, standing up on your toes, trying to match his eye level, knowing how much he adored that.

"Aight, we'll be going then. Pleased to meet ya, Sato-kun. Hope I'll never get the opportunity to speak to your annoying little face again." When you two walked passed the boy, he patted his shoulder. You heard giggling behind you.

"Fine then, short stuff,  if you want to go somewhere and catch up this weekend, call me!" Yakeru shouted, already going his own way.

You froze upon hearing the nickname you've been called by him so many times in the past, and suddenly tears formed in your eyes, coming along with the memories you forgot you had.

"She won't!" Miya yelled back, putting his arm around your shoulder. You instinctly rested your head against his body.

Silence fell upon you two, nobody wanted to start the conversation, and to be honest, you already moved on from that little, ridiculous fight, and were now dwelling in your own thoughts, remembering all the happy times with Sato, back when you were kids and life was simpler.

"Short stuff, really? Out of all nicknames?" Atsumu finally said, out of nowhere, faking laughter. "It's the lack of creativity for me"

You didn't respond, barely even hearing him speak.

"I mean, it was obvious the guy was all pure vanilla and no flavour, but still, pathethic." he went on "And the nerve of this dude! Would ya believe? Who is he now, your prince charming coming to the rescue? Since when?" Atsumu started to get really worked up over something he should pay exactly zero shits to, but you chose not to interrupt him, afraid your voice will break, which was highly likely, judging from the tears, still present in your eyes. "Hey, Angel Eyes, shouldn't ya be telling me to shut up by now?"

He suddenly stopped walking, lifting your cheek with his finger, and noticed the little wet mark going across your cheek. Now quiet and worried, he wiped of it off, turning you around to be facing him directly.

"What's up?" he just asked, not knowing how to react. You were always the one to calm him down, not the other way around.

"Nothing's up, can we keep walking? I feel bad about you freezing without your jacket, I'll make you tea"

"I'm counting on that, but first stop with the bullshit and tell me" never once had he even sworn around you, so you guessed that he was still angry, even though he was being kind of supportive.

"It's just that... Oh, it's stupid. Forget it." You started walking again, causing him to have to run up to you.

"It's not stupid, come on. Was that guy bad memories?" he frowned, walking backwards to keep eye contact with you. You didn't respond.

"Or was it me? Did I overreact? Are you mad?" damn, you really didn't think you could shake him this much just by not reacting to what he was saying. You had trouble remembering when was the last time he ask if it was him that made you upset.

"No, nothing like that." you finally decided he'll blow up if you kept on staying silent. "That pathethic nickname you're so stressed about, it just brought up the version of him I'd much rather remember, instead of this <I'm a nice guy> piece of crap I've witnessed today."

Shock came across his face, hearing you get upset like that. He stayed silent for a while, going back to walking by your side, and not in front of you.

"So, uhm... is that why I never heard of him?" he asked quietly, it was almost a whisper. You glanced at him and noticed he was looking away, probably hiding how much it must've costed him to skip his pride and ask that. You took his hand in a reassurring gesture, finding that his fingers were pressed hard against the inside of the hand, so hard his knuckles were probably white by now. It took you a bit to untangle that, but he finally let you hold his hand, still not looking.

"No. I was just trying to forget that guy." your level of voice matched his, giving the conversation an intimate vibe.

"Why?"

"Well, he was my best friend all my life, but then moved away and cut me off, even though he promised never to do that" you kept staring at the pavement, holding back the wave of emotions.

"Was he always such a prick?" you giggled, hearing the noticeable accent on the word "prick". Miya looked at you and smiled as well. "What, does the word <prick> amuse ya? What're ya, five?"

You kept laughing even louder.

"What? What did I say?" he broke into laughter watching your eyes light up, but a clueless expression still decorated his face.

"Remind me why do I love you again, you brat?" you mumbled between bursts of uncontrollable giggling.

Something suddenly held you back from walking. You turned back to see Atsumu, staying still, pure shock in his eyes, red colouring his cheeks. He kept glaring at you as if you just came back from the dead.

"What is it?" you asked, holding back the amusement, still smiling widely.

"You... do?"

For a short while you didn't understand what he was reffering to, but when you finally got it, it shocked you as well.

Did you really just...? Was it really the first time? You knew that for so long it felt as if you'd already said it a thousand times before.

"Oh god, sorry, sorry, forget I said anything" you apologized, remembering his fear of commitment. You broke the grasp and started walking fast, but heard a loud "no wait!" behind you.

Miya managed to catch up with you and put both his hands on your shoulders.

"Wait, just... do you really...?" what, couldn't he say it? Didn't he feel the same way? Why would he be with you for so long if he didn't? Were you just a playtoy? Really, you wouldn't be suprised, judging by the stereotypes going around about him, but you really hoped you guys were different than that.

"I'm sorry if that's a bother to you" you said, tears forming in the corners of your eyes again. You heard him laugh almost histerically.

"God no, it's not, Angel Eyes, how could you think that?" he lifted your chin to look you in the eyes, but you faced away. He shook his head in disbelief, pulling you into a tight hug. You suddenly felt at home, burying your face into his t-shirt, smelling the cologne you so liked.

You didn't want that moment to end. Whatever he had to say, you were now sure it wasn't positive and you didn't want to think of him any different than right then and there: as you precious little saltshaker of a boyfriend who was unbearable to be around for most of the time, but you still adored every single word that came out of his mouth and loved him alltogether so much it hurted your brain to process it.

He probably felt his shirt becoming wet, though, because he leaned over just a bit, to be able to whisper something in your ear. You clenched your fists, waiting for the inevitable.

"Well if that's the case... then that makes all my previous possesiveness out of place, doesn't it?"

You didn't say anything back, not really knowing how, but you were sure, that in an embrace as tight as that one he surely felt your heart jumping out of your chest even more every growing second.

"Hey, Angel Eyes" he then said, pulling away from the hug, and smiling upon seeing your hands still squeezing his shirt, from how much you didn't want to let go. "Relax, I just want to look into those eyes. Also, I don't want to whisper, that's sorta out of character for me, right? See, Angel Eyes, there are some things that just cannot be whispered, some feelings too strong to be degraded to the level of being silent. So I wanted to use my full voice to say — and it's not an easy thing to say, because, ya see, not only did I fall for you, but I am in fact, still falling! And that feeling creeps me out every single day. I guess that's why I was so afraid to tell you this. But I got it now."

He cleared his throat, looked you in the eyes, and put your hair behind your ear, which caused you to shake, due to his fingers being extremly cold.

"I love you to the point where no words are enough."

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