#then stared in shock and cursed gravity itself

[faxaway]

💗 your art style is like a warm homemade cookie 🍪

anon! my love! that may be among the kindest things I've ever been told. thank you!!!!

nines' cookies are warm and homemade, but complimenting his baking prowess any further would be dishonest. he did make them just for you, though. just pretend to chew

[maya1525]

SUCK ~ & ~ F*CK 😋🍾

✩ Featuring Gojo Satoru ✩

18+MDNI

Pairing✩࿐Fem!Reader X Gojo Satoru

WARNINGS✩࿐Fem!Reader giving oral, unprotected vaginal sex, rough sex, cream pie, sex in front of others, language, cursed technique usage during sex

Word count✩࿐1.8k

Summary✩࿐This is based on my original post: SUCK ~ GUESS ~ F*CK. But you know ahead of time whose dick is in your slutty mouth. Gojo drew the Jack of Diamonds♦️

A/N✩࿐I had fun incorporating Satoru’s zero gravity technique in Kissing Practice and that inspired me to do it again! He obviously had to show you off in the air. Writing his dirty talk made me get all flustered 😩 Feedback is highly appreciated, I love reading your comments! 😙💖

“The game is quite simple.” Gojo stated in a matter-of-fact tone, “You’re going to be blindfolded and will have to guess which man's dick is in your mouth. If you guess incorrectly, the man gets to choose which position to fuck you in. If you guess correctly, then you get to choose the position. To keep things interesting, you’ll suck dick for three minutes and get fucked for seven.”

You nodded your understanding as you sat on the large and cushy futon in Gojo’s apartment. He had planned on fucking you alone tonight, but your boyfriends wanted in on the action, plus they thought it would be a good idea to invite two of their friends, Mechamaru and Noritoshi.

You felt your cheeks warm up with excitement, never in your life, you’ve felt so deeply desired before. Everyone’s eyes were on you, especially because you wore a revealing teddy one-piece. Satoru bought it for you, and it complimented your figure perfectly. He even put a stunning custom collar on you, with a diamond-covered ‘S’ on it.

You couldn’t help but feel a little embarrassed to be this exposed in front of Noritoshi and Mechamaru. You were familiar with both of these men, but you were still getting used to human Mechamaru. Muta was on the leaner side compared to your boyfriends, he had sharp features and a large and noticeable scar on his upper cheek. While Kamo on the other hand always seemed like a strong and serious leader among his comrades. The thought that he yearned for you just as much as your boyfriends made you wonder what he would be like when he fucked you. The thought made you anticipate his turn.

While you thought about those two men, your eyes were subconsciously drawn to both of them. Noritoshi sat on the far side of the sectional, his heated gaze stared you down hungrily. Beside him sat your boyfriend Megumi with a starved look in his midnight blue eyes. Next sat Itadori, he eyed you with such desperation, that it looked as if he was going to jump off the couch any second to get to you. Next to him sat Satoru smugly, his eyes gleamed playfully in your direction. Beside him was Muta, he eyed shyly with a faint blush on his face. To his left sat Yuuta and Inumaki, Toge was leaning into the couch comfortably, his violet-colored eyes sparkling over your stunning body with admiration and Yuuta had a similar look of awe on his face.

“Ok Y/n, I’m going to put this on you if you’re ready,” Satoru murmured, his gorgeous blue eyes gleaming down at you, while he wrapped his black blindfold around your eyes.

You were shocked at how you couldn’t even see small streams of light through it. You had always assumed that it was sheer fabric and that Gojo could slightly see through it, but you were mistaken. Satoru’s amazing Six Eyes technique is one to behold, he certainly is the strongest jujitsu sorcerer.

“OK, now that her eyes are covered, I’m going to hand each of you a playing card. Whoever draws the highest card gets to go first.” Satoru explained nonchalantly, as the sound of him shuffling the cards expertly made itself known in your ears.

After a short moment of listening to each man shift on the couch to get their card, Gojo spoke. “Now let’s reveal our cards.” You heard a few small sighs of excitement from some of the men, and you also heard some hisses of displeasure, assuming that they would have to wait a while until their turn.

Soon enough, you heard the familiar sound of someone undoing their pants right in front of your face, and quickly after you felt the warm and firm feeling of a dick asking to enter your wet mouth. You obliged and greeted him with soft and sweet licks. You trailed your tongue all over him, making sure not to miss a single part of his shaft. You nuzzled your face down to his balls and guided them into your sultry mouth one at a time. While doing this, you could hear his quiet sighs of delight.

His dick seemed to feel hotter the more you worked on him. You brought your mouth to the head of his shaft and worked your way further onto him, the head of his penis hit the back of your throat rather quickly. You curiously brought your hand up his length to see how much more of him wasn’t able to fit in your mouth. You were surprised at this man's size, you could easily jerk him off into your mouth at his impressive length. He felt all too familiar…

You pulled yourself away from him and swiftly changed your position on the futon. Now your back was against the comfortable cushions, you angled your torso up slightly so you were able to rest on your elbows. You angled your head back and opened your mouth, as ready as ever. He’ll be able to fit down your throat easier now. This man eagerly inched his dick into your mouth and down your throat, now you were able to fit him entirely down your throat. Panic bubbled up inside of you, due to the lack of air you were able to take in. But you’ve done this before, and you knew you could handle it, so you calmed yourself and alternated between sucking and breathing.

Gojo looked down at your sexy little body in approval. He could see the outline of his dick in your throat and it made the collar he gave you look even sluttier. To Satoru, your appearance was that of a magnificent goddess. Every time the two of you made eye contact, he’d hold his gaze slightly longer and secretly memorize every beautiful detail about you.

You felt his large hand caress your jaw and neck lovingly, but this was more like sweet torture due to his massive size. His fingers trailed down to the bulge of his penis in your throat, and then he fondled your tits teasingly. Earning a muffled sigh of delight to come from your throat and around his cock. Due to gravity, you could feel your drool drip from your mouth, to around your nose and onto the blindfold.

Suddenly the quiet and familiar sound of the alarm went off nearby. He reluctantly pulled himself out of your tight and pleasant throat. You could never forget a dick this size, you knew who exactly was in your mouth, “Satoru.” You croaked out hoarsely, due to your throat being stretched out.

You felt warm fingers lower his blindfold from your eyes, and you were greeted by Gojo’s charming smile, “You guessed it. Now how do you wanna take your prize?”

“I want you to fuck me in the air.” A split second of surprise flashed across your teacher's face but was quickly covered by a hungry smile.

“As you wish.”

With that being said, you were immediately floating in the air alongside Gojo. The both of you hovered over the futon so that everyone could see what he’d do to you. He pulled you into his broad chest and guided your body over his lower region. You were able to feel his sprung dick press against your slick cunt. He hastily removed his shirt and smashed his lips onto yours. His tongue teased yours while you felt his hands grip your waist securely.

“I wish I had more time to tease and enjoy you, but we’ll have to make this a bit brief.” Satoru groaned into your ear as he burrowed his extra large dick in your pussy.

Being claimed so suddenly made you moan out in a mixture of pain and pleasure. “Ahh- I missed you!” You blurted, causing you to blush at your confession.

Gojo smirked slyly at the hot and bothered expression you wore, “Mmh, that’s a good girl, missing daddy’s dick, like you’re supposed to.”

Satoru smiled at you wickedly, while he effortlessly bounced you on his rod with such brutal force. Each time his cock was fully inside you, small whimpers and moans would be forced out of your lips. Your adorable pleas rang like music in Gojo’s ears, he relished in the fact of fucking you so scrumptiously in front of the other guys. As a matter of fact, why not put on a show?

Gojo briskly flipped you around, and now you were facing all of the other males in the room. You heard him reach into his pocket and to your shock he attached a leash to the collar he gave you. He pulled the leash taught so your airway was slightly constricted. Satoru’s speed and force increased as he pounded himself deep inside you. Each stroke of his cock sent waves of ecstasy throughout your body, you felt drunk off his dick.

Everyone got a more than perfect view of their teacher's exceptionally lengthy rod, stretching out your wet little snatch. It was an incredible sight to behold. Sure enough, you noticed that each male had sprung and horny dicks, pleading to leave the confines of their pants. Even Mechamaru and Noritoshi were hard again.

Gojo sneakily brought his right hand down to your crotch and began to rub your clit in an overstimulating way. Your body melted at his touch and your pussy dampened uncontrollably, as if a pipe had sprung a leak.

“You’re such a little slut, getting so wet for me while I fuck you in front of your boyfriends. That turn you on, babe?” Satoru murmured in the crook of your neck, then biting down gently. His sultry mouth on your sensitive skin caused you to arch your back with ecstasy. His teasing fingers on your clit, became too much to handle. You were pushed over the edge and drenched his dick in your release as a heavenly moan spilled from your lips.

“Mmh, yeah cum for me baby,” Gojo growled lowly, he could feel his orgasm coming on. Each thrust of his dick felt more powerful than the last, he lost himself in your tight and slippery cunt. His cum erupted inside of you vigorously, you were able to feel the copious amount of liquid shoot into abundantly. He bounced you on his dick, making sure to milk every drop out of him.

A nearby timer went off, notifying both of you that Satoru’s turn was up. Gojo sighed and popped his dick out of you, as soon as he exited your pussy, you immediately felt empty without him. To your surprise, none of your teacher's seed spilled from you, he must’ve shot his load extra deep in you.

Satoru lowered you down to the futon with his technique and helped cover your eyes with his blindfold. He sat himself back on the couch with a lazy smile on his face. Damn, he could never get tired of you.

Next

[manjiroscum]

dead in the water

Character/s: merman!Ran Haitani

Warnings: f!reader, bimbo!reader, reader almost drowned, sexual themes, cursing, dubcon, unprotected sex, breeding, oviposition, manipulation, dark content, overstimulation, cunnilingus, monsterfucking and forced impregnation. Minors do not interact.

Note: happy birthday kiki bby @p-antomime 😆💕 love u

Synopsis: Your savior came in the form of an angel on water.

✃WC: 2.4k

Falling off of the cruise ship in the middle of the Caribbean sea at the dead of night, your life flashed before your eyes in slow motion. Gravity plays its part in your upcoming demise. A kaleidoscope of memories from childhood played through your inebriated mind up to this very moment. Regrets of drinking yourself silly, turning down that nice guy at the bar, and how your loved ones would react to you ending up missing on what was supposed to be your dream vacation consumed your thoughts before your body greeted the cold water. Akin to thick molasses saltier than the tears you shed forcing itself down your throat, you struggled to find anything—anything you can cling on as huge waves created by the huge vessel thrashed you around like a lone leaf in the middle of a storm. It was dark. The cruise ship seemed to get further and further away until all you could make out was a single light. Multiple ships in the area were too far to hear your cries for help.

And while you struggled to breathe, finding air more of a luxury in each passing second and making out of this alive was almost a miracle too good to be true—you felt something grab you from behind. Unsure whether it was a shark or any marine animal interested enough to taste human meat, your lids grew heavy as water entered through your nose and throat, slowly filling up your lungs. At that moment, death was creeping up your very neck, waiting to take your soul to wherever the dead went.

So, how did you end up here?

Shock course throughout your heaving body, lungs expanding once again at the taste of sweet oxygen. Coughing out the remnants of the ocean’s brutal assault in your system, your bleary eyes tried to make out your surroundings. Nose picking up the scent of what you could describe as sand, earth, and sulfur. White sand rough underneath your palms and legs. It was quiet, save for the sounds of water dripping down stalactites. Above was a small hole where sunlight was seeping through, illuminating what seemed to be a dome-shaped cave. Squinting at the areas where the light couldn't seem to reach, all you could see was stones and stalagmites. There was no way out. Plus, the sandy spot you sat on was surrounded by water, too deep to see the bottom—if there is one. Confusion colored your muddled brain, trying to figure out how you came in.

Where am I? Am I still near the Caribbean? What’s going on?

A sudden movement in the water that surrounded the ground where you laid caught your attention. Hand over your chest, you swore you saw something—someone peeking their head out on the surface. Just as you were about to head over and see it for yourself, the creature’s head was above the water again. Hair of onyx adorned its head, a curious stare directed at you.

It’s... a man!

Violet irises seemed to burn into your face as if reading your expression that was clearly of surprise and relief because you weren’t alone now. However, the moment you stood up and approached him, your wobbly legs stopped short. Lips gaping at the fish tail he had that should’ve been a pair of legs. Falling to the ground, you stumbled back out of astonishment rather than fear. A minute or so passed between you two just staring at each other, wary of one another. However, your fascination overruled your apprehensions at the discovery that the tales of merfolk were real all along.

Of course, your instant image of the creature was filled with innocence, the stuff fairytales were made of. Perhaps it was he who saved you from drowning—just like in that storybook! There was nothing to fear, right?

Swallowing, you slowly got up to approach the merman again. Those ethereal lilac eyes are still staring right into your soul, wondering what you were about to do. Kneeling by the edge, your hand reached out inch by inch, scared that you’ll terrify him into hiding. “H-hey. Come here, I-I’m not going to hurt you...”

Ran almost laughed at your display. How gullible could humans get? Weren’t you warned by your kind not to trust merfolk so easily? Especially when they ate human flesh such as other predators? You were probably brave or stupid. Ran figured it was the latter. Entertaining your silly actions, the merman swam closer until the palm of your hand rested on his head. Instantly, your eyes lit up while Ran’s lips curled up at the devious scenarios on how he’ll keep you around bubbled up in his twisted mind.

He has never seen a human up close that was still breathing—usually, they would be dead by the time they touched the water. Some were either feasted upon sirens, lulled by their enchanting song to drown themselves. To say that you were the most interested in this encounter is hardly a fact. For Ran was far more curious, attention sharp while you bent down to gaze at his tail gleaming under the soft light. Your eyes raked his handsome features, from his lavender pupils to the curves of his lips. Black hair long past his shoulders, color alternating from blond to black as it grew.

“Did you... save me?” Seeing Ran nod without hesitation brought more glee into your heart, thumping in its ivory cage that he understood you. “Thank you, truly... I really thought I was going to die that night, you know?” Shuddering at the memory, you then shifted to what has been bugging you earlier. “How did I get here? There doesn't seem to be any way out.”

“Down,” Ran muttered, voice almost melodic that you were sure it belonged to an angel. His hand then pointed below him, making you squint your eyes to see, but alas you couldn’t. Sitting back, you hummed at his words. The merman fought back a chuckle. Were you not going to question further? On where to go? How did he learn to speak? You were far too trusting, and this only riled him up, cold cheeks now warm.

He’s going to have so much fun with you.

“Where you goin’?” you called out, watching him sink back into the water and swim deeper into what was like an abyss the more you stare at it. His gleaming tail of blue, gold, and purple disappeared from view until all you could see was your reflection on the surface. Afraid to follow suit, you sat there for what seemed like hours. Stomach grumbling and throat parched. Staying in this cave with a mythical creature may sound amazing in books, but you knew you had to find a way out soon. You couldn't live here and frankly, you’d rather be at home or work than to be stuck in such a place. Deciding to tell the merman once he comes back, Ran then resurfaced and appeared to be carrying abalone in his hands. He then handed it to you, lilac hues piercing your face that was beaming at the offer.

“You brought me food? Thanks.”

Ran’s gaze never left you, eyeing you silently as you ate. A poor thing, you were. What would you do if he wasn’t around? Surely your carcass might have ended up in a shark’s belly before he saved you. Maybe he wouldn't eat you in the end, after all. You were far too entertaining to kill off. Too pleasing in his eyes to wind up like fodder. He just wished you’d never question or fight him, and he’ll take care of you in return. And when a fishing boat’s horn could be heard a great distance outside the cave, a sign you could get help, Ran stiffened at your joyful reaction.

“Oh my god—maybe I could swim out and call for help.” Turning to the displeased merman, you smiled at him. “Could you teach me how to get out of here? I need to go back home!” Jumping into the water without hesitation, you looked at the merman for help. Ran’s lips were in a tight line. What an ungrateful human you are. First, he saved you. Second, tried to feed you and now you were going to immediately leave at the first chance you got? No, he can’t let you. “Hey, are you listening to me? I need to leave—”

“No.” Cold hands gripped your shoulders, bringing you close to him and his darkened lilac irises, annoyance swirling in its pretty color. Shocked at his words, you then tried to protest but his grip simply tightened, sharp nails digging into your skin in warning. Ran didn’t want to hurt you, but if it’ll stop your delusions of going home, he may have to resort to violence. “You will stay.”

“B-but...” The boat’s horn was now louder, cutting off your sentence. Looking up at the hole in the cave, conflict etched your features. Ran was quick to grab your head, forcing you to look at him. His lips were then pressed against your parted ones, hoping to distract you from the noise. And it did, much to his relief. Tongue seeking out yours, Ran carried your body back to the ground's edge. Lifting you to the sandy edge, Ran cornered you, mouth never leaving yours. The moment you broke apart to breathe in air, he was quick to lick a stripe on your sensitive neck, pressing kisses and sucking the supple flesh there.

Did humans ever sound so sweet or was it only you? Breathy moans slipped past your lips at the onslaught of his tongue, his heavy weight on yours and his wandering icy fingers creeping through your dress’ top. The squeak you gave off his cold digits brushed against a nipple had Ran’s ears perking. Oh, you liked that, huh?

“W-wait—ah, s-stop! Not there...” Whimpering at how he was squeezing your nipples, your back arched at the pleasure shooting up your spine. Clothed pussy seeking friction, grinding against his scaled tail to feel... anything. The boat and goal to leave were long forgotten, especially when Ran’s head went lower, kissing his way to what was in between your legs. The scent of your arousal captured his undivided attention. A yelp was all he heard upon tearing off your dress and spreading your legs, underwear not surviving in the process. Violet orbs trained on the sight of your bare pussy glistening with slick.

The merman’s throat rumbled at the taste of you, tongue licking up your juices that Ran was sure to get addicted to. How could you ever dream of returning home without letting him taste this? What a treasure it was indeed.

“You taste good,” Ran whispered onto your folds, nose, and chin glistening with your slick. Paying no heed to your hands gripping his hair, hips bucking at his tongue. Eyes hazy at the undeniable bliss coursing through your veins as Ran continued to eat you out, drunk on your juices. Fingers prodding your throbbing clit, you came without a warning, squirting at his face. Chest coated with a thin veil of sweat heaving, arm over your eyes as you collected your jumbled thoughts. Before you could even gather them, Ran pulled your arm off of your face to stare at you once again, albeit this time, with adoration rather than alarm. Violet pupils gleamed like gems as he spoke.

“You are mine. You will always be mine. Understood?”

Was there an option of saying no? Even if there was one, it was thrown right out of the table as his thick cock emerged from a slit-like opening, close to mimicking a human’s except for the ridges along its sides. He didn’t speak a word as he sank his shaft into your folds, splitting the gummy walls apart inch by inch. Whining at the stinging stretch, you held onto his neck for dear life when he was finally in to the hilt. A groan resounded from his throat, eyes shut at the tight heat enveloping his cock. There was no other way to describe it other than it was the best thing he has ever experienced. And after a few thrusts to test the waters, Ran started pounding into you. Tits bouncing at his rough pistoning, tail splashing on the water behind him. Mewls and high-pitched moans pouring out of your lips were music to his ears, eager to fuck out the urge to leave this place, to leave him.

You were his now.

“Oh fuck—yes, yes! Fill me up! Need you... Need you so badly! Fuck!” Eyes rolling to the back of your skull, your back arched, head digging into the sand whereas your nails raked marks on his shoulders. Ran’s lips chased after yours, kissing the air out of your lungs while his cock continued to bully its way into your pussy. Aiming to mold the walls into the shape of him. Even his sharp teeth bit into your neck, earning a scream as the fangs marked you. However, he knew that wouldn't be enough to claim you. Yes, he had to have you—to tie you to him forever. And if laying his eggs into you, forcing you to carry his children and more, so be it.

Ran instantly stopped, stilling above you. A choked gasp met the air when you felt it, his cock expanding and something passing through it. Whatever it was, it shifted, moving from the base of his cock, making its way down his length and towards the tip that was kissing your cervix. Body shaking in shock, you screamed as another orgasm rattled your bones. Gummy walls spasming around his huge cock when it pushed its way into your womb, stretching the opening. And not only did this happen once—a total of six, they were. It then dawned on you, welcoming your fourth orgasm, that he was laying his eggs. Oh fuck, he was making you have his children. Stretching your womb to accommodate your future children with him. He then finished it off by shooting his thick semen into you, painting the walls white to the point you felt full and could taste him at the back of your throat.

Fucked out beyond making a coherent decision or thought, you laid there on the sand with drool dripping down your chin, legs spread out with your cunt leaking with Ran’s fertile cum. The lower abdomen slightly bulging due to the presence of Ran’s eggs. The merman hovered above you, a smile on his lips while caressing your stomach. You were going to be a good mother, he knew. And if you ever had any ideas of leaving him again, he’ll simply impregnate you once more. Maybe by the time you give birth, those rescue boats and coast guards will give up their search for you.

Of course, you didn’t need to know that, did you?

🎐taglist: @cryptred @ranilingus @wakaslut @nameless-shrimp @tobidabi @wakasa-wifey @stffychn @blueparadis @zuuki @kamisora @leavemealonebutinpink @iz-ana @marism @festive

[brimbrimbrimbrim]

As she reaches out, nearly touching her palm to the surface, Eddie gets a chill up his spine and grabs her wrist without thinking, “Wait…”

She’s sweaty under his palm and shaking. Whatever weighs on his shoulders, she feels it too. There’s something out there, watching—hunting.

Eddie swallows the stone and looks down at her, but she’s still staring at the doorway, hand limp in his grasp. The whites of her eyes are shiny and bloodshot, but the flicker of something in their reflection makes him freeze. That chill returns—those eyes on his back, licking at his neck. At the last moment, Eddie whips his head around to find something massive, sprinting from the treeline, galloping towards them at breakneck speed.

The ground shakes, rumbling with every slap of clawed paws on the earth.

“Holy-“ Eddie gasps. He yanks her sharply out of the way before he can spend precious time on curses as a massive slug thing—the Demogorgon—slams into the cement wall, face first. Something inside it cracks, or maybe that’s the wall. Several fractures snap and grow around the impact crater around his skull, destroying the painted door as a couple of chunks break free and fall to the leaf-infested floor.

“-FUCK!” They both shout.

Eddie and the fair maiden fold themselves around each other, nearly careening to the ground in panic-laced affection that has Eddie making a goofy face of horror—he knows it's there, can feel it in the corners of his mouth. 

The monster trills painfully, clicking wet swaths of black bile from its tubular fangs. It peels itself off the exterior with a broken petal mouth, a stamp of bloody slime in a perfect flower print across the fucked up wall. For a hot second, they both stand there in shock as the Demogorgon shakes its head, dizzy and off-kilter. Eddie opens his mouth to say something or scream, but the fair maiden covers his mouth with a salty, hard palm, and Eddie gulps it down, eyes wide enough he worries they’ll fall over his cheeks. He hasn’t felt this level of heart-stopping fear since seeing Chrissy levitate off the fucking floor.

“Rick’s truck is ten feet behind us,” the fair maiden pants on the back of his neck, “j-just walk with me, and s-stay quiet.”

Eddie nods feverishly as her hand slips around his stomach, fingers spread flat over his navel, and starts walking them back into the driveway. Sharp pebbles eat into his bare feet, but the sound is soft compared to the dead crunch of the leaves, and without a hitch—all except the erratic heartbeat in his throat—they make it to the rusty pickup before the massive slug fuck can regain its senses. 

“… easy,” she soothes hot in his hair. It makes his skin ache, like goosebumps but different. 

“Easy. We’re there, just… fuck …“

She fumbles for a second on the handle, then slowly—so, so fucking slowly, starts to open the passenger door. 

“Wait,” Eddie hisses. Suddenly, his dad’s in his ear, telling him how best to commit grand theft auto without making a single fucking sound—telling him how proud he is to have a son so bright.

‘You’re a fast learner, you 'lil shit.’

Eddie turns around carefully, stupidly putting the Demogorgon at his back, and grabs the door frame, lifting it enough to take gravity off the hinges, avoiding the squeal of rust as she pries it open. Both work in tandem. The door opens without a sound, and Eddie ushers her in, watching her crawl over the seats while eyeballing the hellbeast. It snuffles along the driveway on all fours, sniffing through bundles of detritus and zigzagging a path towards them. 

You can read the rest HERE.

[bandaigaeru]

a spell for you - hwang hyunjin

→ synopsis: he had spontaneously chosen you as a victim, leaving you with nothing but the desire to return his motives. → word count: 11k → genre: hogwarts au, enemies to lovers → pairing: slytherin!hyunjin x gryffindor! gender neutral reader (feat. jihyo (twice))

→ warnings: one mention of the reader's period (it's not necessary for context, but just know that it is there) → author's note (super quick haha): i feel like i could have done a lot better with this, so perhaps there will be a rewrite in the future if this one disappoints you. happy, slightly belated, new year!

i.

His hair catches the light with a shimmering pang. He brushes a hand through it, tucking a pestering strand behind his ear. Intently, he watches beside him, where his friends are shoving each other and threatening a fight. His lips are parted, threatening a smile.

"Stop trying to steal my potion," Changbin shoves, his grip on the glass bottle tightening as Seungmin reaches for it.

"You're the one who took it from me!" Seungmin whines, defensively hitting the inner elbow wielding his potion.

"No fighting in my classroom," Professor Nam breathily warns, leaning back in her chair defeatedly. She found it too difficult to try corralling them anymore.

You scoff.

Hyunjin turns to you, a smirk pulling the corner of his lip. "What? Got a problem?"

You roll your eyes. "Your presence is breaking my concentration. Why don't you go fight with Seungmin and never come back? That sounds perfect."

"What're you even concentrating on? The test you're gonna fail anyway?" Hyunjin jabs, puffing out his bottom lip in fake sympathy.

"Says the one who has worse grades than me."

He drags his chair closer to your desk, robe trailing slightly behind. His heavy breath casts a warmth against the back of your hand. "That's no way to talk to a superior."

"Superior?" you glance up, laughing. "Slytherins will never be superior to Gryffindors."

"Why is that?" Hyunjin cocks his head, a small, amused smile playing on his lips. His eyebrows jump with curiosity.

"Because snakes will only ever stay in the grass. Lions can at least jump."

He nods. "True. But a snake can kill a lion with its venom, and then your jumping is pointless."

From the seat in front of you, Jeongin groans. "Shut up already. Ravenclaws are the best and it's time you all admit it."

In unison, you and Hyunjin mutter, "Never that."

You look to him, his eyes in the same amount of shock as yours. You slam your textbook closed, shoving it into your bag. "Gross."

As you're standing from your chair, he coos, "If you're going to the common room, you should change."

"Why would I change for you, Hwang Hyunjin?"

"Because there's a stain on your pants," he smirks.

You grimace, tossing a dismissive wave over your shoulder as you leave the classroom. Nam doesn't care. She's too busy filing her nails and trying to keep Seungmin and Changbin from decapitating each other. You know, a normal day in her classroom. Plus, the bell is nearing its drone.

The hidden entry shifts for you as you approach. "Thank you, madam," you shout to the portrait above you.

The lady hums. The cement crackly replenishes itself behind you as you relish in the abandoned common room. Everyone is in classes, or should be, at least. You rush up to your room, tossing your bag and immediately changing into a different set of pants.

Sure enough, on the butt of your previous plaid ones is a small brown splotch. It can't be your period, so you slowly get closer to look at it. The waft of chocolate tickles your nose.

"Hwang Hyunjin," you grumble. He's probably sitting in that classroom still, snickering with his friends at how gullible you are. But hey, at least the stain kind of blends in.

ii.

The idea of revenge had seemed a waste of time in your formative years. Until your eyes locked with Hwang Hyunjin's in your first year. Those beady little pupils that followed every move you made. Tactical. Always ready to sink his fangs.

His first prank had been a simple fart joke (as fresh teenagers love). With the wave of his wand, he summoned a low groan right behind you. His acting skills were put to use as he brought a hand to his nose. "Ew, Y/N farted!"

Your cheeks flushed as you confusedly turned to him. You snapped, "No, I didn't."

Though, his choir of laughs had drowned your defense and left you with the heat of shame. He smiled back at you as he sat down, his dark wand still poised in his fingers.

Now, as you sit in the dining hall with hyperactive attention and a dismal pull for hunger, the target enters. His blond hair is pulled back into a ponytail, with a few straying pieces. There is a quirk to his lips as he talks to the friends at his sides. You can feel the bass of his laughter in your shoulders.

"Hello? You in there?" Changbin waves a hand in front of your dazed eyes.

"What?" you turn back to him as Hyunjin takes a seat in his usual spot.

He sighs. "You scouting him again?"

"I have to get back at him," you mutter, picking up your fork before you stab the noodles on your plate.

"Y/N," Changbin whines. Your steely eyes look to him, and he immediately softens, caving in on himself.

"You're a Gryffindor," you start, twirling the noodles, "better start acting like one."

"Are you saying I can't be friends with both of you?"

You shake your head. "Never insinuated that. I'm standing my ground, and you shouldn't be preventing me from doing that."

Changbin looks to the other faces listening in, but all of them are little help. Jisung catches his eye, shaking his head. Defeated, he sighs, turning back to his meal. He drowns the words on his tongue with water.

The dinner session ends rather quickly (thanks to your rambled thoughts). Students bustle to return to designated common rooms for the night. Your eyes are glued to the back of Hyunjin's head. He's in no hurry, evidently, because he is still seated at the table, eyes crinkled with laughter. The cold wood of the wand is a familiar feeling in your palm. It's comforting. It reminds you of a time where Hwang Hyunjin was merely a classmate. How simple life was.

The hollowness he had claimed in your stomach deepens when he finally stands. You

point your wand at him carefully, suddenly grateful Changbin isn't here, and whisper, "Confundo."

The trademarked confident stride caves in on itself as the boy shrinks. He glances around. Upturned eyebrows and lost eyes. You rush to walk past him, a small wave and a smile. He doesn't seem to recognize you.

You can't help but laugh.

iii.

Your head is held high as you're walking to your first class of the day. Last night hasn't stopped replaying in your head, and the smile has yet to fade. He looked so lost. His eyes were wide and puppylike, and it even sent a jolt through your heart. Finally, he'd gotten a piece of his own medicine.

A barrier stops you from going further. It tugs you back by the sleeve of your blazer, leaving you to stare back into the somewhat lost eyes of the boy you had terrorized.

"What do you want?" you mumble, glancing down the hall. If anyone were to see you two, this close, they'd know something was up.

"What spell did you use? I can't shake it. I've been awake all night trying to get rid of it."

You chuckle and shrug. "Well, it's already lost some of its oomph. Only time can cure you."

You try to continue your path, but he grabs your shoulders and spins you back to look at him. He leans close to your face, and your breath chokes you. His eyes are no longer wide with innocence. They hold a knife back at you. "What spell did you use?"

"Confundo. Why, do you think I cursed you?" you scoff, squirming beneath his palms. "I'm not that mean, Hwang."

He lets go of your shoulders, staring at his shoes in defeat. You stumble a little. "Dumbass," he mutters, "We have an exam today. I can't concentrate on something like that, especially since I was up all night. Why would you do this?"

A sprout of something dizzying scratches your chest. You lean onto your toes as you whisper, "Should have thought about that before you started this mess."

You continue your walk to class with newfound guilt. Behind you, Hyunjin mutters, "I'll get back at you. Big time."

Your day had always been thwarted by the presence of Hwang Hyunjin, for he was always in every class. But today, he's not there. You presume he's caught in the Slytherin tower, curled in a ball as he tries to dispel his confusion. Mayhaps he's even sleeping. In a way, you kind of miss his antics. The way he tossed his head back and let his hair cascade at the fate of gravity simply for the muse that it 'helped him think.'

You found yourself smiling at your exam packet, and you instantly recoil. Hyunjin's an asshole, and he deserves everything he gets.

Changbin nudges you. You glance at him and he begins to fight a laugh. "What're you thinking of in that pretty little head of yours?"

You look back to your test in alarm. "Nothing," you whisper, warily glancing at Professor Nam, whose eyes wander up and down the aisles.

"Is it Hyunjin?" he leans toward you.

You shake your head, hissing, "Absolutely not."

Professor Nam skips over a row to you. "No talking. I'll take points if I catch you two again."

Changbin settles back into his test, leaving you with thoughts of your own. As you aimlessly bubbled in answers seemingly obvious, you thought to Hyunjin. Maybe you were a little out of line with the confundo incident, but it was your turn for revenge. You glance up at his empty chair when you finish the test. In the far corner of your head, you swear you can hear his obnoxious laugh and breathy, "I told you so."

Overhead, the bell rings. It dismisses everyone from their classes and momentarily dismisses Hyunjin from the warmth of your thoughts. You pass your exam forward, quickly scavenging your things together and following the pack into the halls. Nam's class is the last of the day, and it's Friday. Your weekend is free ahead of you, and you consider inviting Changbin and Jisung to a picnic or something.

A hand claps down on your shoulder before a deep laugh shakes in your ears. "Y/N! I heard what you did to Hyunjin. Genius, I must say."

You glance to the owner of the voice, meeting the glimmering eyes of Kim Seungmin. He looks down on you with a warm smile. So unlike a Slytherin.

"Thank you," you straighten your posture as you continue walking.

His hand doesn't move from your shoulder. His breath is hot against your ear as he whispers, "But if it's just between you and me, you're gonna wish you didn't do that."

Shivers trail the back of your neck to your wrists. When you look at him, he's still harboring that welcoming grin. "Ciao," he removes his hand to wave at you. Then, he starts in the opposite direction, against the wave of traffic.

You walk the rest of the way with your eyes glued ahead. A Gryffindor does not back down. They are brave, you remind yourself.

The Fat Lady allows you entry into the common room, but the hallway is backed up. You stretch your neck to try and see above the crowd, though nothing but heads of hair taints your view. There's a pit in your stomach, and before you can shove through, you already have an idea what's going on.

The Gryffindor common room has been plagued with the stench of Hwang Hyunjin's mischievous antics. It is drenched in a potion of Nidore, resembling the smell of untreated B.O. Han Jisung plugs his nose as he glances around. He catches your eye, muttering, "Do you smell this?"

Your eyes are lazed with irritation. Curtly, you nod. "Yeah. Hyunjin did this. I'm sure of it."

Jisung whines, tapping his foot impatiently, "Why can't you two just keep your tricks in class? This is violating school rules. He shouldn't be in here. He's a Slytherin!"

You bite on the inner piece of your lip as heeled steps echo closer. The presence of a tall woman sends anxious goosebumps down your spine. You turn to her, though you're sure you look pitiful.

"What is the meaning of this?" she shouts, looking among the students for any clue.

Jisung nudges your arm.

"We have reason to believe it was a Slytherin's doing, madam," another professor slips into the room, promptly covering his nose.

"Do we have a name for this Slytherin?" she crosses her arms and purses her lips.

The professor shakes his head, looking to his freshly shined shoes. Faintly, he wonders if the smell will ruin them. "No. Not yet."

The headmistress sighs, waving her hand. "Gryffindors are to report to the dining hall immediately until this mess is covered. Start an investigation at once."

"Yes, ma'am," the professor's head falls as he pushes back through the crowd, which is now graciously evacuating. Those simple words were all they needed.

You feel bolted to the floor. All you can do is stare at the bun atop the headmistress's head. Hyunjin had gone too far, but you had triggered this. Jisung grabs your wrist and pulls you out.

He takes you up the hall, into the bathroom. He closes the door behind you.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" he whisper-shouts.

You shake your head, a rock lodging its way into your throat as you avert his sharp eyes. "I fucked up."

"Obviously."

Han Jisung is standing with his hands on his hips, his eyes looking like they're about to bulge from his head. He must be disappointed. "What're you gonna do about this?"

"I'm gonna have to tell McGonagall."

Jisung sighs, taking a long look at you. "If you think that's what's best, go on." He opens the door for you.

You trudge back to the Gryffindor common room. The Fat Lady grants you entrance, though she says, "It sure smells in there, love. I wouldn't stay long if I were you."

When you reach the end of the hallway, McGonagall is no longer there. Instead, there's a blond boy who laughs quietly to himself. He looks back at you. "I knew you'd come back."

"Hyunjin, what the hell do you think you're doing? You went too far. You could get expelled over this, you know?"

He shakes his head. "I won't get expelled. My family's donated too much to this school. You should have seen the look on your face, though."

You blink as he stands. "Have you ever stopped to think about other people for a change? I'm nothing without this school."

Hyunjin sucks his teeth. "Should have thought about that one."

You open your mouth to retaliate, but overhead a voice takes over. "Y/N Y/L/N of Gryffindor and Hwang Hyunjin of Slytherin, please report to the headmistress' office immediately."

Hyunjin wraps his arm around your shoulder, the tips of his fingers trailing a path along your collarbone. "Shall we?"

iv.

"I can expel you. Is that what you would like?" McGonagall inquires, pushing her glasses up on the bridge of her nose. Around her, papers float as she pointedly looks for one in specific.

"No," you mumble.

Hyunjin tips his head back, allowing his hair to fall back. There is a menacing curl to his lips.

"Your antics have been going on for how long? Nearly six years?"

Your gaze is locked on your shoes. They need a shining, you note.

Hyunjin begins chuckling. "You're not actually serious about expulsion, right? My family would never let you hear the end of it."

McGonagall plucks a paper from the air, looking at it. "No, Mr. Hwang. But keep up your attitude and I'll make the remainder of your time here a living hell."

You look at Hyunjin, whose eyes wait for yours. He smiles, offering a sharp pierce to your heart. Your eyes shoot back to the floor. The toe of his shoe pierces your vision, inching to nudge yours.

"What I think is appropriate," McGonagall starts, plucking another paper. "is that you two seek a middle ground. I am requesting that wizardry chores are to be saved for you two, and you will perform them together. I am uncertain on the duration, still, but I assure you it will not be comfortable."

Hyunjin scoffs. "You're gonna make us do laundry or something?"

McGonagall sighs, looking up at him. She offers a pitying smile. "It'll be much, much worse than that, Mr. Hwang."

"Thank you," he sarcastically remarks.

You look up to McGonagall, bowing your head gently. "Thank you for not resorting to expulsion."

"You two are immature wizards, which is incredibly dangerous in today's society. I need to knock sense into you, not allow you the means to rebel."

You don't dare look at Hyunjin, but you're sure he has smoke billowing from his ears. Because nobody, not even the headmistress, should talk down on him. "A Slytherin," you recall him saying, "is the top of the food chain."

"Now," she claps, sending a jolt through you. "Your first task is to remove the potion from the Gryffindor common room. That should be fairly easy for you, Mr. Hwang."

He grimaces, starting out of the office. He swears beneath his breath, and doesn't even make fun of you when you trip and nearly faceplant. Instead, he offers a glance back at you before continuing on his way. Not even a single sly comment.

When you return to the common room, Changbin waits outside. He pushes off the cement walls, arms crossed against his velvet robe. "Oh? Are you two finally allowing your love for each other to blossom?"

You shoot him a warning look, but it amasses to nothing when Hyunjin grabs him by the collar and pins him against the wall. "Watch your mouth."

He throws him to the ground before hesitantly entering the hallway.

"Who pissed in his Cheerios?" Changbin scrambles to stand up again. He seeks you for answers, but falls short when all you offer is a secured gaze on the floor.

The Gryffindor common room is still oozing with stench, but in the center of it is Hwang Hyunjin, the mastermind. He seems more bothered by McGonagall's comments than the smell. He raises his wand of Blackthorn, chanting an unknown spell. The odor vanquishes, leaving you only with the other elephant in the room.

Hyunjin starts out the door, bumping into your shoulder on the way. "Just stay out of my way and we won't have problems."

You huff, staring at the back of his neck, "Be mature for once."

He stops, his head slumping. He slowly turns back to you, venom laced with his words as he says, "You're the reason we're in this mess. Stay out of my way so we can get this over with, okay?"

Ice builds up your ankles. You cannot move. You cannot speak. You're left to watch as he storms out of the room. So much for a stable weekend.

v.

Things truly began with doing the laundry. Muttered remarks fluttered from Hyunjin's lips, though he does not speak directly to you. Nor does he even offer a spare glance.

Then, you had a trip to Hogsmeade. Though, under strict supervision by Professor Kim, whose gaze never left your necks. "Isn't the grocer that way, Mr. Hwang?" he had said. Hyunjin tensed, dark eyes looking back at the old man. Though, he did not speak. He simply moved on his way.

After that, McGonagall had sent for you two to clean the Slytherin dungeons. "Real Slytherins aren't this piggish," Hyunjin grumbled, scrubbing harshly at the moss buildup.

Hesitance built in your veins every time he was around. Though, his gaze has not crossed your skin once. His words, too, were never meant to travel over your robes. He treats you as though you are an imaginary friend who he vowed to erase from his life.

You release a shaky breath.

"I won't be at dinner," you warn your friends for the sixth day in a row. A setting sun peeks through the broad window panes.

"You serving time again?" Minho manages through sips of scalding coffee. For a Ravenclaw, he didn't always live up to the stereotype.

"They're not serving time, per se," Changbin counters. "But close enough."

Chan tugs at your sleeve, pulling you away from the crowd. "Are you okay?"

Tears prick the corners of your vision, but you nod. "Yeah. I'm fine. I just kinda wanna get this over with."

Chan offers a small, sheepish smile. "Okay. Just let me know if you need anything. I may be a Hufflepuff, but I can beat his ass if you want me to."

You giggle, bringing your sleeved arm to brush against your nose. "Thank you."

At the end of the hall, where it halts with the choice of the dining hall or the potions branch of the school, you take a left while everyone else turns right.

Today, McGonagall needed you to clean the bathrooms. Hyunjin, of course, was not looking forward to it. He didn't look forward to anything, you realize.

"Hey," you greet, gently setting down your bag outside the bathroom. The door is still closed.

Hyunjin looks up from his phone. He doesn't say anything, but at least he acknowledges you by slipping his phone into his pocket. His hand encases the doorknob before he pushes it open.

Disgust twists his face as he gags. "What the hell? Have these ever been used?"

"Evidently," you remark, peeking around the doorway to see a pile of green sludge accustomed to the floor.

Hyunjin sighs. "I guess we better get started."

You nod, picking up a mop that awaited. You work in silence. Hyunjin curses under his breath, grunting as he works. When you steal a glance, his face is reddened and there are beads of sweat threatening to drip from his brow.

The sludge, you presume, is mutated moss. It's actually quite common in castles like this one. Nonetheless, it's gross to eliminate. And the smell. Just thinking about it would send shivers down your spine.

On Hyunjin's end of the bathroom, behind the protection of a wall, there is a gurgle and an accompanying shout. "You're joking," he whines.

He steps out from the stall, the white of his undershirt blotched with green and orange. It looks like vomit, but it smells much worse. You don't have time to laugh, for he's gathering his things. "I'm tired of McGonagall making us do her stupid errands. Doesn't she have servants for this? I'm done!" he offers you one last glance before he leaves.

Silence was more comfortable when he sat in it with you.

vi.

You jolt with the realization. Certainly you weren't starting to enjoy Hyunjin's company. That's outright impossible. If anything at all, you were merely starting to see him as a comrade or acquaintance.

But you were not, absolutely not, starting to feel something for him.

The sun starts to leak through your curtains, portraying your sleeping roommate like a silhouette. You sigh, falling back onto the pillows. The ceiling stares back at you with an intimidating uncertainty. Hyunjin wasn't going to be doing the chores anymore, so it would be pointless in talking to him about it. So long as McGonagall doesn't find out that you're working solo, things should be okay.

You travel with the crowd, accepting breakfast alone. Your friends were probably still sleeping. Minho might be awake, but he's likely locked in the Ravenclaw chamber, hiding from the outside world on his rest day.

McGonagall's wishes for today, as delivered by Professor Kim, was to visit Hagrid's hut and obtain a dragon egg. The reason, she did not state. Probably official school business that you had no intention, nor desire, of searching into. If Hyunjin were with you, that'd likely be a different story.

You leave the castle at quarter to noon. It's chilly outside (you probably could have used a jacket) but the sun is held central in the sky. You take a deep breath, admiring the traveling scents of blossoms and lilies. The gravel path crunches beneath your shoes. A bright pink azalea catches your eye. It hangs on the edge of the forest, serving a bookmark among the green. You step off of the path, taking careful steps toward it.

"Wow," you mumble, bringing your palm to it. It's soft against your skin.

You wonder if Hyunjin likes flowers. A smile cracks your lips. "It'd be funny if he did," you whisper to yourself.

A squealing cry causes you to flinch. You turn in the direction of the noise, spotting a pig running for dear life. Its little legs overworking themselves in a blur. Close behind is a hippogriff, tall and muscular. It walks with leisure, for its legs equate to nearly thirty of the pig's.

You gulp. They're bigger than the textbooks lead on. You take a wary step back. A stick crunches beneath your weight. The hippogriff's gaze sways toward you. It cocks its head curiously.

You wished you paid more attention in Care of Magical Creatures. Stupid Hyunjin and his stupid distractions. Why did he even begin picking on you in the first place? Was it chance? Did he know you were a Gryffindor and simply nod and declare you were the one? For whatever reason, it has brought you here.

A Gryffindor shouldn't cry in a situation like this. They should stand tall and tame the beast. Fight if they have to, but that's a shrugging matter. You're not like other Gryffindors, though. Who are you kidding? You're a lousy one.

So you cry. If death is upon you, all you really can do is cry.

The hippogriff opens its beak and lets out a shrill cry. Its heavy footsteps echo into the trees, shaking birds from branches. It poises its hind legs in a crouch, preparing for the hunt. Like any predator, it expects you to run.

You shake your head, glancing to the pink azalea beside your head. You close your eyes, bracing yourself for the impact. You hear its footsteps drawing near.

"Alarte ascendare!" a voice yells. There is a boom and a crash.

Hesitant, you open your eyes. The hippogriff is laying in front of you, bloodied and gasping for breath. A wave of heat washes over you as you dizzily fall to your knees. You try to look for the source of the voice, but your vision is hazy.

Arms wrap around you. They steady you. You look up. "Hyunjin?"

"Shh, it's okay. I'm here," he pulls your head into his chest, resting his chin atop your head.

"What're you doing here?" Your mouth is dry. Any moment, you feel as though you might fall. Through the earth and into an abyss. But still, Hyunjin holds you.

"Same goes for you. Why're you out here unsupervised, huh?" his voice is in a calming whisper. His fingers trace repeating lines through your hair.

"McGonagall wanted us to go get an egg from Hagrid," you tell him, removing the detail of the flower. You didn't need him calling you stupid for straying from the path.

He sighs. For once, he's speechless. He just keeps playing with your hair, occasionally glancing to the hippogriff, who has since long stopped breathing.

vii.

Behind the large wooden doors of the infirmary, you hear a droning voice. "Slaughter of a magical creature on school grounds can be charged with expulsion. Are you aware of that, Mr. Hwang?"

The following voice is much quieter, though you don't have the energy to strain yourself. Your head is pounding, and there's a bandage around your ankle. Your eyes fall on the door. A nurse has her ear cupped to it. Heavy eyelids take their reign over you. The voice fades into the darkness, leaving you cold and lost.

When you finally open your eyes again, there is a face hanging over you. You slowly blink.

"Sleep well?" McGonagall inquires. Her glasses hang low on the bridge of her nose. You're afraid they might fall on you if she stays much longer.

You nod. "What time is it?"

McGonagall steps back, bringing her wristwatch into frame. She tilts her head. "Around 2:30. It's Thursday. You've been here nearly twenty-four hours, you know?"

You fight to sit up. Imaginary weights drag you back. "Don't expel Hyunjin," you find yourself saying, though the words seem foreign. You're not even sure you spoke them in your native tongue.

"Sorry?"

"I said," you pause, taking a deep breath, "Don't expel Hyunjin. It's not his fault."

McGonagall juts out her chin, pursing her lips. "And why shouldn't I?"

You sigh, as though you cannot believe that you're defending Hwang Hyunjin. "I was careless. I strayed from the path to Hagrid's because I saw a stupid flower. If it weren't for Hyunjin, I'd probably be dead meat."

She hums, removing her glasses and pointing the golden frames towards you. "So my plan, it worked?"

"What plan?"

"Of getting you two to mature and see each other as equals."

"I don't know about the whole equals thing-"

"Hush, I don't want to hear it. You two will meet in my office Saturday morning, I expect. I'll send a reminder tomorrow evening," McGonagall huffs, turning to leave. Her heels clobber against the tile all the way to the end of the hall.

Within no time, the nurse is at your bedside, offering you a glass of water and a blonde potion. "Can I get you anything else?" she asks, interlacing her fingers and resting them on the pocket of her apron.

You glance at your ankle. "What happened?"

She offers a weak smile. "I wouldn't be able to tell you. Ask that blond boy who brought you in. I'm sure he knows. Or at least, he'll be able to point you in the right direction."

You slowly nod. "Thank you."

"Yes, dear. Oh, and you should be able to return to your dormitory as soon as you're ready. Take it easy."

When she's disappeared into the office by the set of doors, you sigh. What mess did Hwang Hyunjin get you into? More accurately, what mess did you get yourself into? You can't even find it in you to be mad at him, though logically you should be. Especially with the way he stroked your hair before you fainted. At that moment, he seemed like an angel. A blond-headed angel, whose blood was tainted with the venom of snakes.

Even so, none of this would have happened had he not stormed off. And you'll remind yourself that every time an endearing thought crosses your mind. He may have saved you, but he had essentially set you as bait. Indirectly, but still.

Near dinnertime, you leave the infirmary to freshen up. Your hair was matted and there was dirt smudged on your cheeks. After a quick shower, wary of your wrapped foot, you hobble to the dining hall. Before you settle with a questioning Seo Changbin, you glance at the empty spot of the infamous Slytherin section. The setting sun failed to cast a glow on blond hair, for he was not there. Perhaps he had been pulled from school, and McGonagall has yet to hear the news. Or maybe he's punishing himself for even going after you. Regardless, a swollen hole burns through your chest. It sparks irritation as you push around tonight's meal with the tip of your fork.

"Hey, what happened to your ankle? Did Hyunjin do something? Why aren't you answering my questions? Why are you sulking?" Changbin racks off. "Hello? Anybody in there?" He nudges your shoulder.

"I don't know what happened. I need to talk to Hyunjin about it," you simply say, finally forcing yourself to eat the food. Despite not eating for nearly two days, you felt no sense of hunger. In fact, you felt as though you were about to explode. As if you had eaten too much.

"Ah, I see. You're sulking because you have to talk to Hyunjin."

"I don't think it's that," you sigh, slumping as you look back to his spot. Still, it's empty.

"Then what's the problem?"

You think hard about what you say next. You can't tell him about this weird concoction brewing in your chest, for he'll run with it and send the school into another Battle of Hogwarts. "I just feel off. I don't know."

Jisung nudges your shin from beneath the table. You look up to him. He mouths, slowly and deliberately, "Are you okay?"

You nod, half-certain.

Changbin continues to pester you, despite the lack of responses. Even when you stand to return your tray, he follows. All the way to the common room, he sticks close, leaning over you to whisper more questions. You can't even fathom how he hasn't run out yet.

He grabs your shoulders, spinning you around. "Look at me."

Your eyes feel slow as they scan for his. He continues, "I don't know what's gotten into you, but if you need to talk about it, I am here for you. If it's about Hyunjin, I won't run off to tell him, okay? Family before friends."

"Thanks, Binnie," you force a smile, before breaking away from his grasp and closing the gap to your room. You gently close the door before plummeting onto your bed.

viii.

Hyunjin fails to appear to any class other than Professor Nam's. His seat, though filled, holds a barren figure with bags pulling at his eyes. He spares you a small smile when he catches your stare. He even offers a spare remark about your shoes. "Don't you think it's time to retire those, Y/N? They're all shabby."

But that's all he can bring himself to say. When he turns back in his seat, he slumps a little. Seungmin whispers something to him, and his head barely shakes in response.

You try not to stare at the back of his head. Even it seems to have lost some kind of sparkle to it. The bell blares its dismissal, and the class evacuates immediately. You take your time, for Hwang Hyunjin appears to be in no rush.

"Hey, what's wrong with you?" you block his way when he tries to pass without a single word. "Don't you need to get your quota of insults in? The week's over, bud."

He looks at you like he's never met you. "Oh. Sorry."

He pushes through, brushing past your shoulder. Gently. Not the usual brash interaction.

You huff, stumbling after him. "We need to talk."

"Go ahead."

"Not if you're gonna be like this. C'mon, I wore my ugliest pair of pants to try and get a rouse from you."

He spares a glance at the bright plaid trousers. "Nice."

You smack his shoulder. "What is the matter with you?"

He shrugs. "I don't know."

You stop walking, merely watching as he continues down the hall. There's no point in this, you realize. Arguing with this Hyunjin is like talking to a brick wall encased by another brick wall. Things will resume to their normal pace in due time.

You pull yourself to the Gryffindor common room, barricading yourself in your room. The moment your head connects with your pillow, a single tear falls. It's hot against your cheek.

At quarter to six, you decide to skip out on dinner. You're not sure what you'd do if you saw him sitting at his table, drawn back from the usual conversations with Seungmin.

A card slips under your door, scraping against the hardwood. You sit up to retrieve it. On the front, in large, careful cursive letters is your name. A small letter is inside, reading, "Do not forget our meeting tomorrow morning. 9:00 A.M. sharp. If you are not here, I will have someone fetch you."

You begin laughing. McGonagall's going to have a fit when she sees you and Hyunjin. A vivacious boy with a tongue for quips turned hollow and you, a Gryffindor with a newfound fear of facing him.

ix.

The back of his neck is marked crimson by the amount of times he scratches it during that meeting. His gaze averts yours, even when you know you've burnt a hole in his cheek.

"I'm sure you're aware why I've called you in," McGonagall sighs, crossing her arms as she leans against her desk.

You force your gaze to rest on her, slowly shaking your head.

"I have no choice but to dismiss our project we had."

"You mean making us do chores together?" you question, sure Hyunjin would be proud of you for such a comment. When you glance at him, he doesn't even spare a blink out of routine.

"Well, if you view it as such I'm afraid I can't change that," she nods. You know that if Hyunjin had said that, he'd be getting yelled at. Good day to hold the Gryffindor title, you dejectedly admit.

She scans Hyunjin's face for any sign of life. "You in there, Mr. Hwang?"

His head shifts upward toward her. "Yes, sorry."

"You're awfully quiet," she mentions. He shrugs, returning his eyes to his lap. He fidgets with the dark wood at the tip of his wand.

"Well, if there are no further objections, you are free to leave."

Hyunjin runs with these words, taking his bag and rushing out. He barely even offers a polite quip. You follow him out, a few distancing steps in between. He heads for the Slytherin tower. For a moment, you consider calling out and inviting him to lunch. But you don't. Instead, you go back to the Gryffindor common room, nestling in for a game of chess with Changbin. He's not very good, but at least it serves as a laughing distraction.

The sun falls over the horizon rather slowly, as though someone tugs it back on a pulley system. Changbin wishes you goodnight a bit past eight, leaving you with a distant desire to study. You shuffle to your dorm, preparing to stare absentmindedly at a textbook, when your eyes fall over the emerald robe.

Hmm, you think. Should I? Or should I not? Well, he has been very weird. And you're overly curious. It's swallowing your life.

You sigh, picking it up and swinging it over your shoulders. You pull the hood up, slipping back out into the common room. The students continue their nightly games of Mafia. Not a single set of eyes shoot at you.

Breaking curfew is punishable by copious amounts of detention. Good thing you're invisible to the guard wandering the halls.

Sneaking into the Slytherin tower is rather easy, given the circumstances. The cobblestone corridor leads you to a darkened room emblazoned by the crackle of fire. A blond boy lays on the gray carpet, his eyes vacant as he blinks at the ceiling. His friend sits on a leather couch, shrugging as he says, "I don't know man, you've just been so weird lately."

Absently, the boy on the carpet mumbles, "Sorry, I guess."

"C'mon, talk to me. I'm your best friend, Hyunjin," Seungmin sighs. He rubs a distressed finger across his brow.

Hyunjin shakes his head. "There's just this weird feeling in my chest."

"What?" Seungmin leans forward on the couch, dangling his hand close to the boy's face.

He leans out of the way as he sits up, resting his palm on his heart. "I can't explain it. I feel full all of a sudden?"

"How long have you been like this?"

"Ever since the hippogriff situation."

Seungmin falls back against the plush of the couch. His mouth is agape until a smile creeps upon him and he laughs. "I hate to break this to you, Hyunjin, but I think you've developed a crush."

Your heart catches in your throat like a rock you're incapable of swallowing. It thrums louder than the conversation unfolding. Hyunjin's lips are loose as he glances around the room. His eyes sit on you a little too long, and you slowly back into the corridor.

What do you do with this information?

x.

A harsh sneeze interrupts your slumber. You glance around through tired eyes. It's still dark in the room. Your roommate is snoring lightly.

You rest back onto the mattress, trying your hardest to dismiss a quiet cough. A bead of sweat trickles down your neck. Just what you need, you think as you shut your eyes. Maybe this is karma for sneaking into Hyunjin's space.

You hate the euphoria you experienced when you settled into bed that night. Heart a fluttering mess and cheeks pummeled with heat. Changbin would kill to hear this. Both ends. Regardless, though, you feel way too guilty to talk to Hyunjin. Some crushes are best suppressed, you think. A Slytherin-Gryffindor duo traditionally doesn't end well.

By the time you fall asleep, the sun has begun to rise. Then, by the time you wake up, the sun is ready to fall. You moan when your roommate asks if you're feeling alright. Her shivering hand comes in contact with your forehead. "Oh my God, you're burning up!"

You hiss, trying to pull your covers over your head. She tugs them back down.

"You should go to the infirmary," she says. "I'll help you there."

Hesitantly, you sit up. There's a sour taste in your mouth that burns the back of your throat. A quick palm jumps to your lips as you rush to the bathroom.

"Here," Jihyo comes close behind you. She offers a Ginger Ale.

"Thanks," you say, rubbing your mouth with the back of your hand. You take a quick swig of it, swishing it around before spitting it into the toilet.

Jihyo leads you out of the room with an arm around your shoulder. The common room is empty, aside from a few who sit behind vast textbooks. "Everyone's at dinner," she informs.

You don't have the energy to nod. It's hard enough trying to keep a straight path, even when you're leaning against her shoulder.

"Welcome back," the nurse jokes. You try to smile.

She takes your temperature after Jihyo tells her your situation. "Ooh. 101. Thank you for bringing them, sweetheart."

You take to a bed, slowly leaning to sit on it. Jihyo leaves shortly after, telling you to seek her if you need anything.

"How's your ankle doing?" the nurse asks as she offers you a cup of pills (a fever reducer and an anti inflammatory).

After you struggle to swallow them, you say (through a crackly voice), "Good, I guess. Still haven't gotten the story to it."

She presses her lips into a line, "That boy. I'll have to talk to him."

A strange light feeling punctures your heart. She pushes gently on your shoulders, forcing you to lie down. "Get some rest, dear."

Sleep comes very naturally. There's only a few moments where you struggle to return to it. The next day, the nurse brings you a cup of pudding for breakfast. You ask her what time it is.

"It's around 10. Monday."

You sigh. "I'm missing classes."

"I'm sure your professors won't mind, given you're still feverish," she checks your forehead with the back of her hand.

You eat the pudding in solidarity, watching the small TV across from you. It's displaying The Desperate Housewives of the Wizarding World. It's on all day, which is fine by you, since you're not leaving anytime soon. The final dismissal bell jumps you from your daze.

Only a few moments pass before the large doors swing, followed by the pattering of feet. "Y/N!"

Jisung rushes toward you, his burgundy robes trailing behind him. He pushes his round frames up. "Are you okay? I heard from Jihyo."

You nod. "Yeah, I feel a bit better now."

His hand finds your shoulder and he shakes you gently. "You're not going to believe this."

Your thoughts jump to Hyunjin and your eyes widen eagerly as you wait for him to continue.

"Hyunjin was whining all day about you. He was all 'where are they?' and stuff. Did something happen when McGonagall started that chore thing?"

You fight a grossly parasitical smile, shaking your head. "No. Nothing really."

He stays a little longer, telling you things you missed from the classes you share. As he's departing, you stop him. "Hey, Sung, I got a question."

He turns back to you. "Shoot."

"Can I borrow that magic note passing thing you bought on vacation?"

The good thing about Jisung is he doesn't ask questions. So long as you're not harming anyone, he'll do just about anything for you. He simply returns ten minutes later, gently placing the notepad on the table beside you. "You just write your note and address it. It should be sent immediately. Oh, and the other person receives a pen too," he informs, passing you a normal looking pen.

"Thank you, I owe you."

He waves his hand. "Nah, it's no big deal."

You pick up the pad of paper. It appears no different from normal paper, though it smells rather lemony. You rethink the words over and over before you finally settle. In the center of the paper, you write: I heard you missed me :)

Then, you address it before you can find a reason to regret this.

xi.

You cannot find yourself an ounce of sleep, so you stare at the television screen. It's still playing reruns. A paper fizzles into your lap, the corners materializing before the center. Your note reads back to you. You flip it over, where a new pattern of ink lay.

To Y/N: I'm going to murder Han Jisung.

Your laugh echoes in the large, empty infirmary. The nurse has gone to her quarters, now that the sun has set.

You write back, He has cool magic though!

Not only because it's true, but because you would like to keep this conversation going for just a little longer. Even if it is useless and greedy to want something like this from him.

Few seconds pass before the paper returns. To Y/N: I will give him that. I didn't even know this was a thing. Can we meet up in the Charms hall?

You bring your hand to your forehead. After Jisung's visit and your nutritious dinner of pudding, you feel much better. Like normal, even. Plus, the nurse had told you it's up to you when you want to return to daily life.

So you gather your things and return to your dorm. "Hi, Jihyo," you say quickly before rushing to shower. She is left in a dismal state of shock, staring at the bathroom door.

"I'm meeting up with someone, don't wait up for me," you inform as you pull a sweater on.

"Who?" she asks, bouncing her wand as she jiggles a paper midair.

You glance at her as you pull shoes on. "Classified info."

"Just say it's Hyunjin," she starts. "I can read you like a book."

You giggle. "Then fine, it's Hyunjin."

"Don't set the school on fire, please. I would like to finish my seventh year in peace."

"I don't plan on it."

"Be safe!" she calls as you open the door.

"I will."

You shuffle through the common room and out into the halls. Curfew was nearing. Maybe you should've grabbed your invisibility cloak.

In all honesty, you weren't sure why you were doing this. Until the glimmer of blond hair beneath the moonlight pierces your view. Knowing fills your chest, warm fairies dazzling your skin.

He looks up to you, a smile rushing onto his face. "I thought you weren't gonna show."

"Well, I suppose you're in luck."

He grabs your wrist when you're in reach, "Come on, I wanna show you something."

You allow him to pull you out to the courtyard. A little way's past the quidditch fields, there is a flower box. Filled to the brim with peonies and lilies. There's even a couple pink azaleas.

"Tada," he says, opening his arms to the post.

"You snuck me out of the castle to look at flowers?" you laugh.

"Not just any flowers," he points, crouching down to look at them. "Healing flowers."

"Really?" you inquire.

He looks up at you. Beneath the moonlight, his hair shines and his eyes twinkle amongst the stars. "Yeah. They heal everything."

"How do you even know about this?"

He shrugs, looking into the stamen of a certain peony. "My mom's a flower nerd. When she called most recently, she told me about this spot."

You crouch beside him, "Did she plant these?"

"Some of them. I think she likes azaleas, so probably those."

Your heart skips a beat. "Do you like the azaleas?"

"I-"

From behind you, a voice shouts, "Now I can't keep you away from each other?"

In sync, you look back. McGonagall is standing at the top of the hill, her arms crossed against her silk black robes. "Come on, you two, it's past curfew."

You dawdle up the hill, slightly limping on your ankle. You suppose you should have asked him about it.

When you meet McGonagall, she whispers, "By the way, I'm getting more eyes on you two. No more late night meetings."

xii.

The moon takes its reign in the sky, passing time as though it never wants to leave the throne. There's a waft of nutmeg traveling through the vents. Felix must be baking again.

The lamp on your bedside table clicks on. You look over to Jihyo, who is very much asleep. Her mouth hangs open and her limbs are flailed in varying directions.

A piece of paper forms against your chest. To Y/N: I'm sorry for getting you in trouble.

You shake your head, heart taking fire, as you search for a small piece of room to write: It's okay, I willingly went with you.

You wonder why he's awake. More importantly, why he's apologizing. He's never been one for owning up to anything, so why start now and here?

Within minutes, you receive the paper. To Y/N: I guess she can't police these notes haha

In return, you write: I hope not. Can you smell that nutmeg?

To Y/N: YES IT KEEPS TICKLING MY NOSE!!

To Hyunjin: It's probably just Felix, so I'm letting it slide this once.

To Y/N: Even then, I'm still considering killing him.

To Hyunjin: Same time you're gonna kill Jisung?

To Y/N: Yeah, actually. Thank you for reminding me.

You stifle a laugh, cautiously looking at Jihyo. She releases an abrupt snore, which stands in solitude.

To Hyunjin: Hey btw, do you know what happened to my ankle?

A few moments turn into minutes of twirling your thumbs for a response. The nutmeg retracts its intensity, leaving room for the Sandman to tarnish your eyes with the temptation of sleep. You grow tired of waiting, turning off your lamp and settling into the covers.

Morning comes, but the receiving message does not. You prepare for your day, following the stream of students to the dining hall. Hyunjin is already there, and his eyebags prove his late night. He looks up upon Seungmin's pointing, offering you a wave and a grin.

Nice Hyunjin is so weird.

You smile back. Changbin waits at the end of the food line by the time you get there. "Hey, heard you got caught with Hwang last night," he nudges your arm, raising his eyebrows.

"Nothing happened," you assure.

He nods, though he's not sure he believes you.

You grab a muffin and a carton of orange juice before following Changbin to Jisung, who is nursing a bowl of burnt oatmeal.

"How can you eat that shit?" Changbin grimaces.

You steal a glance in Hyunjin's direction. He's playing a rather intense game of rock, paper, scissors, with another Slytherin. After several rounds of ties, he finally beats the other with scissors. He pumps his balled fists into the air and laughs. His hair falls over his shoulders when he throws his head back.

He looks beautiful.

Maybe you were succumbing to the greed of this desire to be near him. So what if he was a Slytherin? He could be a Hufflepuff and no one would care if you two began seeing each other as more than friends. So why should anyone care if he's a Slytherin?

Jisung presses the tip of his wand against your cheek. "Hello?"

You hastily turn back to him, nearly redirecting his wand into your iris. He flinches back. "Zoned out much?"

"Sorry," you mumble, peeling the wrapper from your muffin.

"It's all good. I was asking if you're coming to Hogsmeade with us this weekend."

You tilt your head, as if the answer is teetering to one side of your brain. "I don't know."

"Come on," Changbin whines. "You've been so disconnected from us recently."

"Plus," Jisung adds, "This is gonna be the last weekend until April."

It's October. You sigh. "Fine. I suppose I'll tag along. But you guys are paying for butterbeer."

You probably would have gone anyway, despite how little you showed interest. Hearing their pitiful whines was just too fun.

"Good. Invite your boyfriend," Changbin nods to Hyunjin, who is walking down the aisle to get breakfast. He marks your gaze, turning a bit to come talk to you. A heat jumps to your chest, slowly rising to your face as he claims the seat beside you.

"Hi," he simpers, his eyes squinted and his teeth glimmering beneath the drowning sunlight.

"Hi," you return the expression. Not because you have to out of politeness, no, but because it's so hard not to.

"Are you going to Hogsmeade this weekend?" he asks, the smile quickly dissipating when he realizes Changbin is just over your shoulder. Eyes of a hawk, that one has.

You open your mouth to speak, but Changbin has already gathered his words. "Yes. They're coming with us."

You thrust your elbow back, nailing right between his ribs. He wheezes, doubling over. "Yeah, I'm going," you tell Hyunjin.

"Good. Meet me at the sweet shop around one," he pauses, turning to Jisung, "I won't keep them long. Promise."

Jisung shakes a free hand as he pools oatmeal onto his spoon, "No, it's fine. Take as long as you need."

Hyunjin smiles. "Nice. Okay, I'll see you later," he stands, patting your shoulder as he walks by.

"What a nice guy," Changbin manages with a smile, though he's still clutching his chest.

xiii.

His gaze is tilted upward as he watches the chocolate dragonflies dart to and fro across the ceiling. There's the faintest hint of a smile at the corner of his lip. It twitches ever so slightly when a dragonfly threatens to sit on his nose.

"Hey," you greet. He jumps a little, turning to you. The chocolate bug has vanished, fluttering up to its haven.

"Oh, hi. I didn't think you'd get here so quick," he laughs.

You glance at your wrist. "It's 1:05."

He shrugs. "Aren't Gryffindors normally late?"

"Aren't Slytherins not the type to wait around for a Gryffindor?" you retaliate.

He nods, pointing a finger at you as his eyebrows furrow. "Touche."

He buys you a chocolate frog, despite your complaints that you could pay for your own. "No, no, it's on me," he insisted, shoving his money into the cashier's palm before you can say much else.

You perch atop floating stools, staring at him as he tries to wrangle his frog. His mouth hangs open with anticipation as he tries to guide it there. There's a tug at your chest that compels you to smile.

"So why'd you want to meet with me? I thought you were still in your sulky phase," you tease.

He looks up at you. There's a film of innocence to them. For a moment, you forget his reputation. He blinks, summoning a twinkle to the corner of his right eye. "I wanted to ask you for some advice," he finally says, rather confidently. His posture straightens and a cocky smile finds his lips. The Hyunjin you know.

"You didn't knock a girl up, did you? Because I will not be helping you get out of that one. You may be cool, but not that cool," you ramble.

His frog jumps from his palm, hopping away into the niche of chocolate animals with a poised ribbit. Hyunjin rolls his eyes, though a contradicting smile forms. "I was looking for this spell."

You lean closer, interested. "And? Which one?"

"Amortentia."

You pull back. That's a love potion. "Why would you need that?"

He sucks air in through his teeth, glancing away as he informs, "Well, I wanted to use it on you, but I thought maybe it's best not to drug you."

You laugh despite the thundering of your chest. Your fingers find the corner of a Wizard

Card, routinely picking at it to distract yourself. Hesitantly, you mumble,"What are you trying to say here?"

"God, Gryffindors are so dense," he throws his head back, a bubbling laugh bursting into

the air.

"No, I just want to hear you say it."

He groans, gaze slipping back to yours, "I like you a little bit."

"A little bit?" you challenge, recalling his fit in the Slytherin common room.

Hyunjin rests his arms on the table as he leans closer to you, your noses nearly touching. "It sounds like someone told you something. You don't seem very surprised," he hesitates before adding a quiet, "or appalled."

His lips are so close to yours. You can smell his green apple chapstick. You find yourself at a loss for words, for his lips keep your gaze. Oh, what the hell. You close the gap between you, allowing your lips to mingle for a few seconds before pulling away. There's a small giggle to your words as you say, "You're not good at hiding your emotions, Hwang Hyunjin. Aren't Slytherins supposed to be good at stuff like that?"

He scoffs. "Aren't Gryffindors supposed to be noble? You snuck into the Slytherin common room!"

"How'd you know?"

He chuckles, "Your shoulder kinda slipped out of the cloak."

This takes a minute to process. It seems like your usage of the invisibility cloak will now be put on hold. You can only look at the oak table, lips pursed in a disappointing defeat.

You rotate your ankles in small circles when you remember. "Hey, by the way, why was my ankle all messed up? You never answered my letter."

"Seungmin came in," he grabs your hand. "But when I was carrying you back to the castle I may have been a little careless and let your ankle run through a bush of thorns."

You smack his arm with your free hand, mouth agape. "You what?"

"It was an accident! I'll make it up to you," he promises.

"How so?"

He draws your lips to his for a quick peck. "What do you want?"

You think, squinting. "Hmm. I can get anything?"

"Within reason," he declares. "I'm not buying you a unicorn or anything."

You shake your head, for what you want is much more simple. "Can we go on cute dates?"

He hums, interlacing your fingers. "Of course."

"Oh! And we have to go to the Yule Ball together-"

"Sure."

"But we're wearing Gryffindor colors."

He drops your hand, pulling away as if your fingertips scalded him. "Absolutely not."

"C'mon, you owe me."

"Not that much. Your ankle will heal. My pride, however, will not."

You sigh. "Fine, we can settle for non-house colors."

"Deal."

xiv.

"I saw him playing with your fingers," Changbin shakes you vehemently after you sit down at the dining table.

"Why won't you let this go?" you ask.

"Well, you see, when a guy who traditionally hates someone randomly asks them to hang out, their friends should be a little concerned."

You look to Jisung, who is more interested in his soup. "Did you watch us too?" you ask.

He barely looks up. "No, I was at the book shop—I think."

You turn back to Changbin, though he's already shaking his hands in defense. "No, the difference between me and Jisung is-"

"That Jisung's smarter than you?" Hyunjin appears, sitting on the bench beside you.

"Yeah, I think it's that," you nod, sharing his smirked gaze.

"No," Changbin defends, "Jisung is only concerned for physical wellbeing after the fact. I care prior to the event happening."

"If we all lived your way, we'd be sheltered," Jisung adds, twirling his spoon.

They dive into a heated discussion bordering an argument. Hyunjin wraps his arm around you, and the sounds of Changbin whining fades to black. You look up at him, "Shouldn't you be sitting with Seungmin?"

He shakes his head. "I got banished for talking too much about you."

You roll your eyes. "Don't sacrifice your friends because of me."

"Hey, you're the one who makes me this way. If I could not be 'Y/N would like this' every time I saw anything that even remotely reminded me of you, trust me, I would."

"Do you really do that?"

"Any time I see flowers," he sheepishly admits. He catches glimpses of the flower beds every day, nearly four times. Sometimes five if he sneaks out to see you.

You chuckle. "Just say you're in love with me, geez."

"I don't want to inflate your ego," he kisses your temple.

A stray comment from Changbin floats into your bubble, "Gross!"

"Speaking of egos, do you have your suit for the ball?" you ask, pushing your spoon into the sea of spinach and kale.

"I guess I should tell my mom about that," he mumbles.

"Hyunjin! The ball is in a week!"

"Yeah, and I also need to tell her we're dating," he laughs dryly, suddenly absorbed with something down the aisle.

You shrug his arm off of your shoulder. "What? It's been nearly a month!"

He looks back at you as if you're arguing over spilled milk. "Life at the Hwangs is very hectic, okay?"

"He's lying," Changbin says. "They only see each other, pay the kids, and leave."

Hyunjin looks ready to punch the sly grin off of his face. Instead, he pats your thigh. "I'll call her tonight."

xv.

He calls to you from across the bustling room. You stand in awe as your eyes lay upon the black velvet of his blazer. In the chest pocket is a red and gold handkerchief, folded to perfection.

"You look great," he simpers, eyes slipping from your exposed collarbone down to the dark green fabric that expands out from your blanketed feet.

He wraps an arm around your waist, whispering, "You're wearing my color."

Butterflies take reign over your stomach, swarming out in packs. You grow shy as he pulls away.

"You look stunning," he presses a soft kiss on your lips.

He drags you over to Seungmin, who chats with Minho in carefully structured quips.

Seungmin takes a long look at your gown, smiling as he comments, "Slytherin colors."

"You know," Hyunjin turns to you, "I was going to get a red suit but they were incredibly ugly so I'm settling for a handkerchief."

You smile up at him, "It's okay, the sentiment is there."

Minho dismisses himself when he spots a cat swaying between dancing feet. Its eyes are wide with fright as it stares up at the unfamiliar faces in search of its owner. Seungmin smiles fondly as he watches the boy pick up the cat, delicately taking it out of the room.

"Where are Thing One and Thing Two?" Hyunjin inquires, leaning against the bar.

You scan the hall. "I'm not sure. Changbin said he'd be here. Jisung might skip out."

Seungmin laughs unexpectedly, receiving a few confused glares in return. He soon clarifies after taking a sip of water, "I was thinking about Changbin having a date. Weird."

He certainly doesn't have a date. When he arrives, the ball is nearly over and his tie is messily made up.

"Did you get dressed in the dark?" Seungmin stares as he approaches.

"Yes, actually. Long story."

A slower song comes on. It's a change in scenery from the previous publike songs. Hyunjin offers you his hand, dramatically asking, "May I have this dance?"

Your hand slips into his, "You may."

He guides you to an empty spot near the edges of the dance crowd, swiftly tucking his arms around your waist. You nestle yours around his neck. For a few seconds, you stare into his big brown eyes, watching as the twinkle shifts in the light. You fight a smile.

"What's the smile for?"

"Nothing," you say, pressing your cheek to his chest so you can grin in peace.

He sighs, though a vibration in his chest tells you he's also laughing. "I know we tease each other a lot, but I love you."

Your heart skips a beat and your breath clogs up in your throat, though your smile never falters. Each day that has passed, it has grown harder to fight saying those words. When you return them, you feel lighter. As though you have relinquished thirty pounds from your shoulders.

"Don't tell anyone I'm getting sappy with a Gryffindor," he fake gags.

"Same to you, snake."

You smile in these moments. With music guiding your feet and a boy who warms your heart, despite his stereotypically shivering attributes. He rests his chin atop your head as he repeats those cursed words, grounding you with him more and more each time. He's yours. And you're his.

Perhaps it's always been that way.

[uh-oh-howd-i-get-here]

After All This Time (Bucky Barnes X Fem!Reader) Part 2

I went ahead and wrote the second chapter, I was so excited. I did a lot of research on PTSD and the triggers. I may not have a full grasp on it, but I hope I at least got some of it right. I feel kinda iffy on writing the characters, but I did my best to stay true to who they are. I hope you like this chapter!

Summary: The real world is a scary place, even more so when you’re alone. You live alone in a apartment filed with the ghosts of your memories. You’ve both changed since you last met your fiancé, but can love mend the gap after all this time.

Pairing: Bucky X Fem!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of torture, violence, yelling. Talks about triggers and PTSD. Mentions of death and killing. If there are any that I missed please let me know!

Word Count: 2,492

Part 1

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Steve, I don’t understand why you’re dragging me out here to this museum.”

“They told me that they made a new addition to the Captain America exhibit and I didn’t want to go alone.”

Bucky clenched his vibranium hand and continued to follow Steve. “Did they at least tell you what it’s about?”

Steve sighed, “No, they didn’t. I wish they had though, I hate going into these things blind. Who knows what they’ve dug up.

“Steve, did you find it?”

“Uh, yeah Buck. I don’t think you want to see it though. It’s something they had no business digging in”

“What is it Steve. And don’t even think of lying to me, I know you too well.”

Steve sighed and led Bucky to the new exhibit. A memorial just like Bucky’s, but it was dedicated to Y/N L/N.

Bucky scoffed but read it out loud anyways. “Y/N L/N was a childhood friend of both Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes. Y/N met the two in 1923 and they were close ever since. In 1941 record says that she became engaged to Sargent Barnes, but never married. Y/N was drafted as an Army Nurse but died in Germany in 1944.” A picture of her before the war and in a case were her dog tags, which was weird. If she hadn’t been found, how were her tags here.

Bucky trailed off, the rest just going on about what kind of person she was. They stood in silence for a while, both staring at her picture. Steve finally broke the silence, “How much of her do you remember?”

Bucky looked away and tried to remember the girl in front of him. Flashes of smiles, tears, and laughter floated through his head, but he could only focus on one memory.

“I don’t remember her before the war.” Steve’s head moved to look at Bucky so fast that his neck cracked.

“What do you mean before the war Buck.”

He looked at Steve and backed up until he could collapse on a bench. A deep breath then, “I remember seeing her when I was the Winter Soldier. I vaguely remember a mission, maybe a couple, and then an order. I couldn’t help myself. All I could do was watch as I choked her to death, them dragging her away after declaring her dead.”

He shook his head as if he could erase the memory, make it disappear to never see again.

“If you killed her-“ Steve paused, “If you went on missions with her then she didn’t die in 1944. She was captured by Hydra. Then there could be a possibility that she, well that she could still be alive. Could it be possible that it was staged? Buck is there any chance at all that she could still be alive?”

Bucky shook his head again and looked at his hands. “I felt it Steve, I felt her neck crush. There’s no way she survived that.”

He took a deep sigh and felt the world shift, his heart plummeted to the ground as he realized the full gravity of what happened. “Oh god. Oh god, I killed her. I killed my fiancé, Steve.”

Steve just sat down next to Bucky, still in shock. She had been a good friend to Steve. They had come from similar backgrounds, hell they had grown up together, she understood him in a way that Bucky never could have at the time. She had been there when needed and even when she wasn’t. A ray of sunshine in a dreary New York. He had taken a picture of them after Bucky had proposed. They were all so happy.

It shook Steve to his core that Hydra had gotten their hands on her. He couldn’t imagine the horrors that she had gone through, might still be going through much like his best friend. Was she as much of a shell as Bucky?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It felt good to walk into her apartment without having to break in. She had hassled every office and bank that had her name in its databases to get her back as a registered live, human being. And to get electricity and water going to her place.

She had already been living in the apartment, but now she could cook, light a fire, and make noise. With her accounts opened again, she bought a couple pairs of clothes to wear while she cleaned the place.

Starting with the kitchen she cleaned every surface, threw away all the canned food that had been left behind.

By the time she had finished cleaning, she was physically exhausted, but she couldn’t bring herself to sleep in the master bedroom. She had managed to turn off her emotions for the day. No tears had been spilled because there had been work to get done. But her new superpower didn’t work now that she had nothing to do. Y/N stood in the middle of the living room desperately trying to stuff her emotions back into the box they had been in, but they had seen their chance and taken it.

Tears filled her eyes and she took her first real look around the place she had once called home. It was like she had never left at all. A place for everything and everything in its place. She turned to face the worn leather wingback. The thick blanket draped over the back just like it always had. She shuffled over to the chair and sat down in it. The leather was cold but familiar with the smell of her life before the war. Ghosts of days past floated through the air around her. She curled up in the chair, thick blanket pulled over her.

Things had been so easy then, and it would be so easy now to just fall back into that time when everything was perfect. Except the person that had helped make it perfect wasn’t here. A tear fell from her cheek onto the leather, and she quickly brushed it off not wanting to ruin the chair.

As she was wallowing in self-pity, a fight broke out on the street below her window, voices piercing the air and pulling her back to a place she never wanted to go again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Project Cecilia had become a nightmare. A nightmare she couldn’t wake up from. The project was a testing ground of trial and error. They tested the trial serums, triggers, enforcers, and everything else to make sure that they wouldn’t damage whoever took the role of Winter Soldier. The project was named after the scientist who did most of the testing.

The serums were bad, it felt like lighting her blood on fire, like hell itself was inside her. But trigger testing was far worse. For every test or experiment, a trigger experiment came after. Is sound more effective than smell? Are words better than sounds? What kind of words work better than others?

Trial and error for over 30 different types of triggers until they settled on a list of words that would mean something to the Winter Soldier. Her mind was blocked off so carefully that she couldn’t remember anything before the last trigger.

Here she was, testing how much electricity a super soldier could take before things started to shut down. And then the doctor walked in. Constantine Cecilia was the man who haunted her dreams. She couldn’t ever quite remember who he was, but somehow she knew that when he arrived, things would be bad.

“How is our little rabbit doing today? I believe a congratulations are in order, you finished testing.”

He put on plastic gloves and his assistant walked up to them both. “She’s due for sound this time.”

The doctor smiled. “Good good.”

Things were going well; the set-up went smoothly. She was ready to receive the trigger, the thing her mind would take as a trauma to seal away all of the bad.

But then a fight broke out, and then people were yelling, screaming at each other. The trigger was set.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Shuri had done her best at getting rid of the physical effect of the triggers, and by best, she was completely successful. Unfortunately, there was still an emotional effect that came with the triggers. Certain smells, sounds, colors, and even sometimes emotions would send her spiraling into a memory. Most were memories that terrified her, they brought her back to Hydra and their torture. Some were good, like remembering life before the war.

They happened less at home, surrounded by memories of a past that never hurt. The outside world was what tortured her. Going outside was like sentencing herself to relive the worst of her life.

And she remembered it all. Hydra had done such a good job of playing Tetris with her brain that every time that Shuri released a trigger, she remembered everything. Y/N bet that Dr. Cecilia was laughing in his grave at her tragedy.

Y/N fell asleep under the thick blanket on the chair of the man she had loved more than anything else in the whole world.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/N decided to visit the Veterans Center, hoping that they magically had the cure for what Shuri called PTSD. She walked inside and was met with the smell of burnt coffee and laughter down the hall. She followed the noise until she came to what looked like a break room, or a very poor excuse for a kitchen.

A tall man took notice of her and he excused himself to go talk to her.

“Hi, can I help you?”

“I, uhh, came here to talk to someone, hopefully.” Y/N cursed herself for feeling so small. She was a veteran after all. She just fought in a different war.

“Are you a vet?”

“Yes?”

He smiled, “Well then welcome. My name is Sam Wilson. I help run this place. Mostly I work with the people though. Business isn’t really my style.”

Y/N gave a weak smile.

Sam spoke up again, much to her relief. “Why don’t we go somewhere to talk so we aren’t standing in a door way.”

She merely nodded and followed Sam to a room with foldable chairs and a couple beat up sofas.

After they had sat down, and awkward silence filled the air. Sam cleared his throat, “So what’s your name?”

Y/N took a deep breath and “My name is Y/N”

Sam nodded. “What war did you serve in Y/N?”

She froze, of course she could just answer him. She heard there was a whole museum dedicated to the two oldest people on the planet, so why was it so hard?

“You don’t have to tell me if you aren’t comfortable with it. I’m not going to force you into anything here. It’s a safe place.” The genuinely caring smile on his face helped her relax.

“I fought in World War II.”

Sam looked startled for a second. “Excuse me?”

“I was a nurse with the Red Cross in World War II.”

She watched as Sam’s shoulders dropped. Y/N prepared to fight, to tell him that it was true, without going through the horrors that she had witnessed. She prepared to give him the riot act like she had for every person who hadn’t believed her at the bank and social security office.

Instead, he started laughing. “Man, I wonder how many more of you there are out there,” Sam said between breaths.

The look of confusion on her face must have put more puzzle pieces together for him at how lost she really was.

“You… You actually believe me?”

“Yeah I do! I work with the other two.”

She suddenly felt cold, like someone had just dumped a bucket of ice water over her head. While Shuri had told her about James, or Bucky, and about Steve and how they both lived in New York in the Avengers Compound, it had never occurred to her that they were so close. So close, yet so far away. Her heart dropped.

“How exactly do you know them? You said you worked with them, so you must be an Avenger I suppose.”

“How much do you know about this time and place?”

She felt, for the first time since she left Wakanda, that someone understood. Only a fraction maybe, but an understanding all the same. Sam somehow knew that she didn’t know much about the present she found herself in. She didn’t really care to learn either though, the world was scary, and she had to face it alone for the first time in her life.

“Not much. I’ve only been off ice for about 9 and a half months now. Most of that was spent in Wakanda, while Shuri worked on getting rid of my triggers.” The more she talked the more Sam’s face filled with understanding and horror and that scared her.

“You were captured by Hydra weren’t you?”

All she could do was nod, her head held low.

“I won’t ask about that. I know better than that. I can’t even begin to imagine the horrors you’ve been through.

“Well, I’m the Falcon, I fly and I see things really well with my goggles. Other than that I’m just a human, no serum or anything.”

It was like all she could do was nod her head, she had been robbed of words.

“Would it be ok if I went home?”

“Of course! Nothing is keeping you here. I’m glad we met, and you’re more than welcome to come by anytime at all. We do close at 9 pm, but here’s my phone number if you need anything after those hours.”

More nodding. Y/N rushed home.

The first thing she did was climb into the chair, drape the blanket over her, and tell a ghost of what happened.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Sam are you ok? You seem distracted today”

“Yeah. Yeah man I’m good.” Sam looked at Steve for a minute. “Say have you ever met someone named Y/N L/N? She came into the VA today and when I asked what war she fought in she said WWII. She was captured by Hydra. I didn’t press her on it, she got that same look that Bucky does when it gets brought up.”

Steve froze. “What was her name?”

“Y/N L/N, do you know her?”

“Are you sure about what you told me?”

“Yeah. Why? What’s going on?”

“What did she look like?”

“She had H/L hair and E/C eyes. She was about yay-tall” Sam held up a hand to about her height. “Again, do you know her?”

“I promise I’ll tell you later, but I gotta go.”

Steve took off running through the compound until he got to Bucky’s door. He hadn’t seen Bucky since the museum, but this was important. He pounded on the door, “Buck! Bucky! Open the door!”

A quiet mumbled “Go away Steve” came as a response.

“Bucky,” Steve pleaded. “She’s alive. Sam met her today.”

Silence.

Then the door opened. “Where?”

[stan-joonies]

Enemies From The Start But Lovers For Eternity

With Victoria and her newborn army, the Quiluete tribe have seen a small increase in the teens that have been prompted to phase.

One of those being Y/N L/N. If Sam Uley could choose who he wanted to shift, it would not be him.

He was tempermental, even before the shift, now it was multiplied by three, something they didn't have time to deal with. He lashed out, had a disregard for the rules and had a fierce hero complex. He believed with his new abilities, he'd save everyone.

What Sam Uley had to admit though, was his Wolf was absolutely stunning.

His coat was almost pure white, small flecks of light brown covering his body. His paws feathered with black fur and his snout a dark black.

Y/N snorted.

"Fantasizing about me, Uley?"

Sam growled in warning, snapping his jaws at the smaller wolf.

"Don't start, this is serious,"

Y/n rolled his eyes at Paul, pausing when a sickly scent washed over him and poisoned his senses. It was chemical and synthetic, tingling unpleasantly.

Paul pushed him from behind.

"Hurry up, newbie,"

A growl rose in his throat, turning sharply to snap at his packmate's face.

"Stop it!"

Sam made his way between them, locking eyes with Y/N.

"Enough or you go back home,"

With a final roll of his eyes and defiant growl, he turned around and headed towards their destination, shaking his head in desperation to shake of the awful scent.

When they got to a hill, Y/N almost slipped when they went down the steep dip, nipping at one of the others when they snorted.

Before them was the Cullen Coven, The Cold Ones.

On instinct, his hackles rose and he let out a low growl, shaking his head when his head filled with the pack making snide remarks about his control.

"I'm fine!" He insisted, not looking into their eyes, instead focusing on the people infront of them.

He disregarded most of what was being said, out of naivety. The Cold Ones can't be that strong.

"He's not paying attention,"

Y/N looked to his packmates, only to realise he was talking to him.

Y/N scoffed.

"I don't need some old dead guys to teach me how to fight."

The ginger echoed what he thought, gaining a tense look from the long haired vampire. He ignored it though, raising his head defiantly.

"Come over here then," a burly one suggested, pretending to crack his knuckles. "I can show you,"

Y/N put a step towards the boarder, earning an intense growl from Sam.

"It's the only way he'll learn." The blonde one said. "I wont hurt him too much,"

The cockiness infuriated him, so in one large leap he was over to their side, growling at the blonde.

In one fluid motion he attacked, don't give your enemy time to breath.

Yet, Y/N was naive. Young. Inexperienced.

That rule didn't apply to vampires, they don't need recovery time. They don't need time to breath.

Jasper was two steps ahead, blocking and hitting him in all his weak spots.

Then, with a hand on a furry throat, her launched him and the wolf into the ground, a whimper coming from the white wolf.

Jasper turned, explaining where he went wrong before turning back to the shifter, fully prepared to lecture him too, but he froze.

Their eyes connected and for Y/N, the world tilted on its axis. Everything fell away. This person, the one on top of him, was his. He must protect him or he fails. He is important. The only thing that matters.

Meanwhile, the pack were filling his head with shouts and curses.

"Is that possible?"

"What is--"

"No fucking way--"

"Y/N! You--"

"He imprinted," Edward filled in, looking to the Cullens.

"But--" Bella began, looking to Alice. "Alice is--"

Jasper stumbled slightly, running across the field and to Alice, grabbing her close by the waist as if setting claim on himself and her.

Y/N had rolled onto his paws, shaking his head in confusion. He didn't have to look at the vampire again to know the feeling of rejection and emptiness that coursed through him like lightning. Sharp, quick yet so strongly painful.

"Y/N?" Seth's voice trickled into his head, only slightly shaking him out of his shock. "Are you--"

Sam snarled, jumping the invisible line before darting to Y/N and grabbing his by his pelt, dragging his roughly back to their side of the treaty.

"What are they doing?" Bella questioned, shaking at the sight of those powerful jaws digging into furry skin. "They're hurting him--"

"I think we're done here," Sam echoed, turning and dragging the boys frozen form with him.

"Edward!"

"It's not our place, Bella," he muttered gently.

"But--Jasper!" She turned to the southern vampire, who just scowled.

"My place is by Alice," He stated. "Nobody else,"

Bella matched his stare with her own.

"He couldn't help it, it's not his fault so don't blame it on him,"

-

Finally, Y/N came to his senses, shaking off Sam and licking his pelt clean.

"I don't wanna hear it," Y/N grumbled. "It's not like i wanted that to happen,"

"Are you ok?"

Sam's voice shocked him, his wolf turning to look at the Alpha.

"We felt it too, y'know," Paul added, coming to his side.

Y/N snorted.

"What part? The imprinting or the rejection?"

He tried to laugh it off, but everyone just looked at him with eyes of pity, making his hackles rise.

Without another thought, he ran into the forest, away from those looks and away from rejection.

-

The next time Y/N interacted with the Cullens was during the battlefield.

Y/N had trained on his own for the past couple months, maturing when the idea of battle came closer.

He as fighting three angry vampires that each tried to rip out his pelt.

Annoyingly, half his focus was on Jasper. Making sure no vampire snuck up on him and checking for injuries.

This cost him many scratches and attacks from newborns. He already recieved a nasty scratch over the eye, something so deep and bloody in his wolf form that he was afraid of what it would look like when he shifted back.

Just when he was getting overwhelmed, another body joined him, ripping heads off with perfect, dainty hands.

When he turned, he ached with the knowledge that it was his Imprints mate, his girlfriend, his wife, his forever.

This girl was the reason he couldn't get his happy ending.

But who was he to put that against Jasper? The last couple of months he turned twenty, though the pack noted that since the incident a couple months ago, he hasn't changed physically. That thought scared Y/N to the core. The bond with Jasper gave him a more fragile immortality, but it was immortality no less. So, he would unwillingly outlive his pack, his parents, his children, for a guy he doesn't even know.

Suddenly, a vampire was on him, strangling him tightly and he felt his bones crunch for a second.

Yet, Alice came to his rescue, flinging him off.

Y/N looked at her, nodding her thanks yet freezing halfway through.

Their eyes met. His gravity shifted. One person. Two people. Two people who hold his world. The only two that matter.

Jasper stopped his fight, looking to them. The shock, fear, anger, resentment, rolled off them in waves and almost choked Jasper with it.

But he saw a dark blur zooming across the field, right for Alice. The way the blur moved made Jasper queasy. One hit and both of them would be flying over the mountain.

Pulling himself out of it, he charged, heading straight for her.

Y/N smelt it before he heard it.

The chemical, sickenly sweet, synthetic smell coming towards them. Then he looked and saw the blur seconds away from Alice.

Instinct took contol, jumping infront of Alice and growling. The growl shook the stones and made the snow quiver and melt in fear.

Two bodies, completely opposite to eachother, slammed against one another.

Both toppling over the mountain...

-

Sam felt it before the rest of them, the numbness and the break of a special bond. With all the newborns cleared, he let out a howl, something that sounded so broken and fragile and something that was echoed by the others.

Sam ran to the cliff, his pack running behind him.

Jasper and Alice were there, looking over the cliff and talking rapidly.

They shuffled out of the way when Sam made it to the edge, his body leaning over. He couldn't see anything this far.

So he turned and made his way down the slope with his pack.

-

"What happened?" Bella muttered, looking at the Cullens gathering by the cliff edge.

"It was one of the wolves," Carlisle supplied helpfully.

"It was Y/N, he stepped infront of me but was thrown over the cliff. " clutching her hands to her chest, Alice's voice sounded sorrowful. "I felt it Jasper, he did it to me too!"

Jasper held her tighter, not knowing which emotion to feel.

He would be an awful liar to say he hadn't thought of Y/N constantly in the months past.

He did. Almost everyday and night, but he had Alice and Alice was his mate for eternity. To think Y/N had also imprinted on Alice was something remarkable in itself.

Yet, no hopes rose when the wolves didn't ascend the cliffs.

-

The wolves shifted back into their human forms, running forward and crouching over where Y/N was lying in a broken heap.

His limbs were disfigured, splayed and broken in all angles. Blood seeped from his neck and chest and arms. The stench poisoning their sensitive noses.

Sam crouched near him, rough fingers resting on his neck.

"Go get Carlisle!" He ordered. "He's breathing,"

But Carlisle was already there, jumping from the mountain and landing near them, sounding like a crack of thunder.

He quickly set to work, mumbling under his breath.

"His bones are healing in the wrong places. I'll need to break them again." The doctor turned to the wolves. "Take him back. I'll come as quickly as i can,"

Sam nodded, picking him up, giving a thankful glance to Paul when he readily shifted and let him put Y/N on his back.

They scaled back up the mountain, glancing at the Cullens briefly before disappearing into the forest.

-

The third time Y/N saw them, he wasn't self-aware of himself. He was dosed up on drugs to ease the pain and it made him feel slightly light headed.

Instead of seeing solid figures, everyone was slightly blurry and disfigured.

He was aware of someone holding his hand, it was a freezing cold, dainty hand.

"He'll be fine soon," someone assured. "With his accelerated healing, I'd give it three days."

"Poor kid." Another voice sighed. "He may be an absolute prick, but he tries his darn best."

There was a pause, Y/N groaning as the hand around his tightened.

"Stop looking at her like that," a voice chimed.

"Why? It's her fault this happened."

"She was in shock," the same voice retorted. "It's not everyday to get imprinted on,"

"And you'd know all about that wouldn't you?" Snarling rose up into the room.

"Can everyone shut up?" Y/N snapped. "I'm trying to relax," he felt only a phantom of the pain he would feel had he not been drugged up, yet it was still harsh enough to make him want to clench his jaw.

"Sorry," a voice beside him whispered.

"What happened?"

So they retold his story. Him grimancing at every gory detail as if he felt the pain again.

"Can i have a moment alone with Jasper and Alice?" He heard shuffling, blurs leaving the room. Two stayed, the one beside his bed and one in the corner.

"Are you feeling ok, Y/N?"

He was barely able to lift his head do he hummed instead.

"I'm sorry. I should've seen him coming. But--"

"It's fine. I feel like we were both occupied."

Silence.

"So, you remember then?" A masculine voice.

"I have great memory..." he uttered, shifting slightly when an itch crawled up his spine.

They sat in silence, each consumed by their own thoughts, Alice trying to see the future, knowing it was pointless.

"What's going to become of this then?" Y/N felt like shrinking into the sheets. Though he felt like he matured he was still dipping his toe in the embarrassing mindset of a teenager and hated these serious talks, especially when he led them .

"An...imprint," Jasper began. "Can be anything, right?"

Y/N felt dread in his stomach at the thought.

"Friends, siblings, protectors, lovers, anything the imprintee wants, it's my job to make you happy," he said it with such a lack on enthusiasm that even Jasper winced.

"So, that's what we'll be, friends. "

Y/N heard Alice's low whisper of 'Jasper' and almost felt warm to it.

"Of course," he shifted again. "Friends."

He could just make out Jasper nodding gratefully, coming forward to pull Alice away, ignoring her protests and leaving Y/N alone.

Y/N, when he first learned of imprints, was overjoyed. He was a true romantic at heart, yearning for the everlasting, true love an imprint can bring. He imagined him at 30, a beautiful girl next to him with at least one child playing in the garden. Then, as the sun would set they'd all lay on the couch, snuggled together and watch a disney movie. Then, when their child would go to sleep him and his wife would take him into his room, tuck him in and then go to bed themselves, content with the day and happy.

That seemed so far away now. Everything about that vision was wrong. He'd never have that. Even if he tried to date, the Imprint would win every time. That person would not know about his double life, would have to understand they aren't, and never would be, the most important thing in his life.

So, with that in mind, he shifted once more and closed his eyes, trying to will the dream of a perfect family away.

-

Y/N really didn't see his imprints that much. When the feeling of emptiness and hurt would crawl up behind him, Sam would give him permission to cross the border and hang around the Cullens home, never inside, but close enough. Sometimes Alice would come out, offer him some new clothes while petting his fur, then when he'd changed they'd walk around the forest, laughing and bonding over the smallest of things.

It was those times Y/N understood that Imprints are soulmates, matched perfectly to the imprinter. Yet, no matter how his feelings for Alice grew, he always fought with himself to give them the space appropriate to pass as friends, out of respect for Jasper, who he hasn't seen since he was bedridden.

When he recieved an invitation to Bella's wedding, his mum took him straight out to look for a new suit.

He obviously would've accepted anyway. Alice and Jasper were there, Bella too, who he'd admit wasn't as bad as the others claimed her to be.

So, he stood by Billy Black and Seth's side, watching the newlyweds dance with eachother, no space left between their bodies.

Jasper and Alice was across from him, Alice appreciating the suit while Jasper denied any 'checking out' his mate claimed he was doing.

"Why fight it Jasper?" Alice questioned quietly, squeezing his hand. "You feel it too, so why do you keep your distance?"

But Alice knew. Jasper didn't want to stand out. He never did. Having a boyfriend AND a girlfriend and having them dating eachother? That was an attention beacon that the blonde didn't want.

He shook himself out of his thoughts when Alice left his side, going straight for Y/N.

"Care to dance, Y/N?" Alice held out a dainty hand. "Jasper has as much right as you do," she added when his eyes immediately fell to Jasper.

Hesitantly, Y/N took her hand and led her to the dancefloor.

"I'll warn you that I'm not a very good dancer,"

Alice giggled, eyes lighting up.

"You can step on my feet if you want, I'll dance for the both of us," She teased.

Y/N rolled his eyes, a flush presenting itself on his cheeks.

"Very funny," He twirled her, admiring the way her dress danced with her. "This makes you look like a real fairy,"

They locked eyes, both smiling gently.

Everything faded away. The music. The people. It was only them. Their bodies swayed naturally closer, their chests pressed up against one another, their faces inches away from kissing. Alice felt his breath fanning her face like gentle kisses.

"We can't do this," He whispered, yet made no effort to move away. "You can't do this to me. It's cruel."

"What am i doing, Y/N/N?"

"You're waving the thing i want most right under my nose, but when i go to take it, you'll snatch it away," he uttered, eyes casting down to her lips.

"Well..." her hands came up to circle around his neck. "If you want something enough you just got to take it, do you want it that much?"

He didn't answer, instead, he swayed closer and Alice did the same. When their lips brushed it was as if every barrier broke. Their lips came together, their arms wrapping around eachother.

It was not fireworks. It was not explosive. But it was what Y/N needed. What Alice needed. What Jasper refused to allow him to have.

When they broke away, they saw Jasper retreat to the house in quick step, trying not to attract attention.

Y/N's heart ached for him. One dam broke and without that one the other dam was struggling and wouldn't hold up for long.

"Come on!" Alice dragged him in the direction of his house, ignoring her protests.

"Alice! We should give him time," But Alice shook her head and continued, up the stairs, down the corridor, through a door.

Jasper sat on a double bed, looking out of a window and his shoulders tensed.

"Jazz," Alice began, squeezing Y/N's hand. "We're going to be ok,"

Jasper shook his head silently.

"The times have changed. Jasper, this isn't as taboo as our times." He ignored her.

She sighed, looking at Y/N and letting go of his hand.

He almost whined in protests but yelped instead when she shoved him next to Jasper and forcing him to sit next to him, while she took his other side.

The silence dragged on for a couple minutes, Y/N couldn't help but fidget his his fingers. But a hand came inbetween both his own, holding his right hand in a tight grip.

Jasper still wasn't looking at him, but his face was concentrated, looking past the window. Past the trees. Past the sky. Far away.

Y/N smiled lightly, squeezing his hand in return.

It was something fragile but it was enough.

-

Y/N smiled as he came out the forest, arms ready and prepared when a 15 year old Renesmee jumped into his arms.

"Uncle Y/N!" She giggled, kissing him on the cheek.

"Hey Georgous,"

Bella came out to greet them, smiling at the h/c-ette.

"She missed you." Bella brung him in for a quick hug.

"Only two weeks," he assured. "I'm back now."

"Thank god," someone laughed, a small figure running towards him, colliding with him chest and making the shifter let out an 'oof'.

"Missed you too, Alice," He melted into her touch, bringing her as close as he can.

Going onto her tiptoes, She whispered into the shell of his ear.

"Jasper's waiting upstairs."

Y/N grinned, nodding. Even with the years that have passed, Jasper was still sensitive to showing public affection outside, mainly with Y/N. It sometimes brought the wolf down but centuries of homophobia doesn't disapear in one night, so Y/N was willing to wait.

He made his way to their room, opening it gently and smiling when Jasper turned to greet him with a matching smile.

He easily accepted Jasper's hug, melting when he kissed his cheek gently.

"Wow..." he sighed. "You must've really missed me," his arm tightened around his waist teasingly.

"Shut up," the blonde mumbled, pressing another to his forehead.

Y/N was willing to wait, they had forever.

[delimeful]

breathing cleaner air (1)

winner of fic poll, a new BTHB fic for halloween month! the prompt for this one was "Painful Transformation"!

warnings: body horror, painful transformation, fighting/violence, dehumanizing language, antagonist (but not unsympth) virgil, religious terms borrowed to name original monsters (no actual religious connections), miscommunication/language barrier, mortal peril, thinking youre going to die

extra note: this is a multichapter fic, but this first chapter ends on a very concerning note. there is an eventual happy ending in later chapters, promise!

-

Roman wasn’t sure exactly when he’d been separated from the rest of his entourage.

One moment, Logan was at his shoulder, his firm hand keeping Roman from stumbling over gnarled tree roots, and the next, he was alone, with only faint echoes of his own voice to keep him company.

Their quarry was certainly powerful, to be able to warp so much of the woods around them with thick fog and unnatural darkness. He should have expected as much.

After all, this was the same monster that had been infiltrating the Dimiour kingdom at night and stealing away children from their families. It would have to be strong in order to pull that off.

His right-hand knight would surely recommend retreating and regrouping in more neutral territory, but this was the first time they’d actually caught the fiend in the act. Seraphs were notoriously agile, with the maneuverability of the three sets of razor-sharp wings that had earned them their moniker. Once one was out of sight, it wasn’t likely to be seen again.

This time, though, the tracer spell on Roman’s compass was still active and locked on to the target.

There was no way he could return to his court empty-handed. He was the crown prince. He couldn’t be a failure. Not when there was so much at stake.

Firming his shoulders, he pushed onwards, his sword drawn.

The forest was eerily quiet around him, making the scuff of his shoes against the ground seem harsh enough to lead any enemy right to him. He shook off the thought; he was the one pursuing here. Let them come and face him.

Roman glanced up from his compass, and paused at the sight of a familiar-looking rotting tree trunk. He’d noticed one just like it about thirty paces back because it had a rare strain of fungus that Remus would have liked. What were the odds that the same rare fungus dotted the same side of a different identical rotting log?

Sure enough, another thirty paces and the log popped up again. Despite following the needle of his compass devotedly, he was being led in circles. A mind-altering ability, along with the manipulation of light and water they’d already seen? Roman shuddered, imagining what the monster could be planning with so much power at its disposal.

Luckily, Roman had more than enough faith in Logan’s spellcasting.

He closed his eyes, letting the clink of the needle guide his steps closer and closer to his target. His mind rebelled, senses muffling as though he was walking through thick honey instead of air, and then, with a pop, he was though.

When he opened his eyes, there was a small house in a clearing in front of him.

It was less ramshackle than he would have expected, the candlelight in the windows looking almost cozy compared to the dark forest surrounding it.

Assured that the kidnapping culprit lay just ahead, he tucked the compass into his pocket, strode forward, and kicked the door down.

Immediately, his eyes were drawn to the figure in the middle of the room, who had spun around at his arrival.

It looked startlingly human, wide eyed and messy haired, but the single set of dark wings taking up half the room were a dead giveaway to the seraph’s true nature. Those fragile core wings could be hidden, protected, even glamored away, but they never vanished entirely. They were the most reliable way to expose a seraph hidden in a human guise.

The seraph swore lowly, flaring the feathery appendages out to make itself look bigger.

Roman could just barely make out the small figures crowded against the back corner of the room, anxious eyes peering out at him. He felt something in him loosen in relief at the sight of the children still alive, if undoubtedly terrified. He’d half-expected the horrific alternative.

“I’ll tell you this once, you feathery fiend,” he said, pointing his sword at the monster directly. “Release the innocents you’ve kidnapped, and I won’t make your end painful.”

Its pupils narrowed to slits, and it spread its wings wider, hiding the children from view. When it spoke, there was a high, grating discordant note under the words. “Not. A. Chance.”

“Then face the consequences!” Roman shouted, and lunged.

The seraph was surprisingly adept at defending, flexing its hands and using long, sharp claws to block his blows and get in some of its own. Even in battle, it always remained between Roman and the children it held hostage, and the poor things were too frightened to respond to his calls for them to run.

Frustrating, but nothing he couldn’t overcome. In the end, Roman had been trained with the sword since he could stand, and no child-abducting angel impersonator could best him in battle.

When the inevitable opening came, he seized it, pushing forward until the seraph’s back was to the wall. Cornered, it hissed lowly at him before catching his next strike on its claws. It strained against his sword, its shaking arms the only thing keeping his blade from reaching its throat. Only a little further, and--

“Stop it!” A small voice shouted, on the edge of tears. “Don’t hurt him!”

Roman’s head jerked up, his attention caught by the distressed call.

The children were still huddled together, but one at the front of the group had stepped forward, fists clenched and gaze angry.

“Leave him alone!” she demanded, glaring directly at Roman.

Something fluttered at her back, and Roman’s eyes widened.

“You’re--,” he started, and then the seraph twisted in his grip, and he only barely caught the motion of its hand toward his head before glass shattered against his skull.

He staggered back as thick liquid spilled over his head, too cool to be blood.

Rather than pursue the opening, the seraph stepped back, wings finally settling back against its back. The lack of aggression was strange, after it had so fiercely responded to his challenge. Seraphim weren’t known for mercy.

Roman stepped forwards, his mouth shaping the first syllable of a question, and then abruptly understood as his body began to burn coldly, like he’d pressed ice directly to every inch of his skin. His sword dropped from numb fingers, clattering to the floor.

He’d been poisoned.

“New plan, we’re moving tonight,” the seraph began to speak, addressing the children, but Roman’s heartbeat was too loud in his ears to make out the rest of its words.

He fell to hands and knees, a line of burning pain along his spine. Some of the children sent him looks, nervous or pitying or angry, but most were busy scurrying around and gathering everything that wasn’t nailed down. He could see now, the small sets of wings on each and every one’s back, marking them as his kingdom’s enemies.

Why had he been told they were human? A leak in the court? Who had lied?

The seraph crouched in front of him, gaze unreadable. Its eyes were mismatched, Roman noticed nonsensically as another wave of pain shuddered through him.

“Well, that didn’t go to plan.” It brushed the remains of a glass vial from its hand, and Roman stared at the dark liquid left on the pieces.

“Wh--at did you do. To me,” he grit out between pants, struggling to keep himself upright.

“Congrats. You get to see how it feels to be us. To be hunted,” the seraph told him with an unfriendly smile. “Maybe it’ll change your perspective a little. Or maybe you’ll just bite it.”

It shrugged and flipped up its hood, rising to its feet, and kicked Roman’s sword up into its grip. Roman protested the theft on principle, but his voice came out strained and feeble like he’d never heard it before.

Before it followed the last kid out the door, it paused, glancing at him one last time.

“Once the bones are done, it gets easier,” it told him. “Good luck.”

Roman didn’t realize just what that meant until he heard the first resounding crack.

He finally lost his battle with gravity, collapsing to the ground with an agonized cry. That noise-- from inside him--?

There was another crack, and a series of pops like dislocating joints, and then his skin was melting and he was fading in and out of consciousness, roused and put under by the same overwhelming, all-consuming agony. Each time he woke, he could hear grinding and shifting inside of him, as though his insides were rebelling against their natural placement.

The seraph hadn’t been lying: the bones were the most painful part, and once the last one had clicked back into place, there was a palpable difference in pain levels. He still hurt, ached beyond measure, but it was no longer so much that he couldn’t even think past the pain. It almost felt like relief.

Roman focused on breathing, slow and deep, until he felt a little less like he was going to shake apart. He didn’t know of any poison that could do something like this. It was magic-- strong, cursed magic, and unlike Logan’s, there was no softness in it.

It took what felt like hours for him to gain the resolve to push himself up, and even longer to maintain the motion even as every nerve ending in his body protested. His vision was blurry, and his balance felt entirely off, even more so than that time Remus had dared him to jump off the roof and he’d gotten a concussion.

When he finally properly looked down at himself, he found feathers and bone lining his hands, transforming them into sharp claws and rigid armor. Familiar, but only because he’d seen them on his enemies time and time again.

The shock of adrenaline at the sight was helpful in pushing his aching muscles to the back of his mind as he rose to his knees and twisted to look at himself, staring at the three sets of bright wings draped down from his back.

Golden and white feathers lined them, lined his ears and throat and chest, framing the white exoskeleton pieces inset in his skin.

He sat back on his haunches, and took a few deep, whistling breaths before trying to speak, to say anything in his own voice. To prove he was still himself.

The sound that emerged from his throat was hollow and resonant, like woodwind instruments in harmony. It sent chills of anticipation down his spine, for he’d only ever heard the uncanny call before battle.

There was no denying it, however much he might want to. His body had been warped, transformed into the worst enemy of his kingdom, the beasts that plagued their people day and night. He was a seraph.

He had to get help.

Surely, there was someone among the court who knew about this curse, who could procure a solution, some kind of cure. He couldn’t be stuck as a monster, he was Dimiour’s crown prince!

He pushed himself up to his feet and found he was taller than before, limbs thin and spindly. All six of the wings lifted and curled around him automatically, creating the shell of bright feathery limbs that marked a seraph on defense. They were lighter than he would have expected, seeing as he knew the true form feathers were as sharp as any knife.

He stumbled through the door into the open forest air, taking a significant chunk out of the door frame as he went. His limbs were unsteady with inexperience, the gait distinctly different, almost hunched over to counterbalance the weight of his-- the wings.

In the distance, Roman heard voices calling his name.

He loped towards the sounds with barely a thought, attempting not to overthink every staggering movement. The underbrush scraped and rattled around him, announcing his presence well before he cleared the treeline and found himself faced with the weapons of his own squadron.

He tried to speak automatically, to show them that he wasn’t what they thought, but all that left him were those discordant, eerie notes, like overlapping birds of prey. He sounded like a nightmare come to life, and he noticed with abrupt horror that some of the newer trainees were faltering, clapping hands over their ears.

A blade flashed in the corner of his vision, and he raised an arm automatically. With a clang, the attacking knight’s glaive rebounded off his arm so sharply that the man wielding it nearly toppled. Another knight quickly moved between them, weapon raised defensively as their fellow recovered.

Roman stared at his arm, now covered in an extra layer, a hardened shell of bone. The armor had appeared-- had ossified into place, quicker than he could think.

“Hold!” A familiar voice called, and Roman turned to it like it was an oasis in a drought. Logan. Logan was here, he was the smartest person he knew, if anyone would have a solution, it would be him.

An odd crooning note bubbled up from his chest, but it cut off sharply at the sight of his right-hand man.

Logan stood sturdy with his scythe staff held up in one hand, and not a glint of recognition in his eyes.

“Move on, continue searching for our liege,” he directed, voice firm. “I will handle this opponent.”

Roman screeched, wings flaring in upset, trying over and over to manage anything recognizable as human speech. Anything at all that would let his closest friend identify him.

Logan didn’t even flinch at the sound, well-practiced in filtering out the skull-splitting calls of seraphim. He’d been in more battles than Roman ever had, out on the field while Roman was stuck learning courtly etiquette.

He’d earned himself the mantle of ‘Executioner’, and the thought had never sent a chill down Roman’s spine the way it did now.

But then, Roman had never been the one on this end of Logan’s casting, had he?

The others continued forward on their commanding officer’s orders, searching for someone who stood right before them, and abandoning him to a fight he couldn’t win.

Logan knew seraphim better than anyone else, how they functioned on every level.

Roman barely knew how to operate this new body, and more than that, he was terrified of it, of the damage he could unknowingly deal his best friend. It could hardly be called an equal match.

Still, it was almost a surprise to feel the impact of Logan’s first cast, a draining spell designed to weaken the enemy. He didn’t want to believe this situation was real, any of it, but the burning pins and needles racing through him were undeniable.

His wings wrapped around him more securely, he intended to turn, to flee the way no prince should. Perhaps it was this cowardice that resulted in the way he only made it two steps before exhaustion made him stumble.

Or maybe it was the way the most painful transformation of his life had turned his body inside-out what felt like mere moments ago.

Either way, he was in no position to dodge the next spell, or resist the darkness blooming in his vision as he tipped over that precarious line into unconsciousness.

His last glimpse of the world around him was Logan, weapon in hand, striding closer with his face set determinedly. Roman’s foolishness had never managed to outlast or outwit that expression before, and he had no doubt that this instance would be much the same.

At least, with any luck, his friend would never know what he’d done.

[pbelfz]

His | 2 |

Pairing: Yandere Bakugou x Reader Chapter Title: Home Chapter 1 | Chapter 3 Story Masterlist Summary:  You're a petty villain, and your new villain-career is forced to an immediate halt when none other than Ground Zero captures you. He's convinced that you're in need of his help to change your tainted lifestyle, and you're not going to tell him otherwise. WARNINGS: ABUSE, INJURIES

Ground Zero’s grip on (Y/n)’s wrists twisted, shifting his hold on her and placing her back in the locked position she was previously, holding her arms together behind her with one hand. She felt Ground Zero’s weight shift as he reached for his belt once more. The clang of metal was behind her and immediately knew she was being detained. The gravel felt rough against her chin as she grimaced, looking forward at the dark alley her and the hero were alone in. She felt like freedom was just a few more paces away — maybe if she had been faster, or just had a quirk…!

Who was she kidding.

Ground Zero was not known for his mercy. He was not known for his compassion. He was not known for his gracious nature.

He was known for his ruthlessness. He was known for his hostility. He was known as the symbol of strength, and by God, did it show by just how bruising his grip was on her arms.

The next thing (Y/n) felt was cold metal squeezing tightly around her arms. While she hollered in pain, she quickly realized that these weren’t conventional handcuffs. Perhaps ones that only heroes use? She had no idea, she hadn’t been in business with her team long enough to know the ins and outs of the villain world. From what (Y/n) could feel, the metal felt like multiple simple bands clasping her limbs together all the way down her arms. She didn’t feel or hear Ground Zero messing with a lock of some sort, so she can only assume the metal was magnetic — and very strongly, at that. Her circulation was very quickly being cut off, and that certainly didn’t help with her wrist injury. Her whimpering was getting on the explosion hero’s nerves.

“Will you quit your fucking whining?” He yanked her up by her hair to a standing position. She couldn’t reach up to pull her hair out of his grip due to the metal binding her, and so she settled on doing the one thing she knew she could do — cry more. That was the only thing he seemed to respond to, after all. Her face was scuffed and bruised beyond belief, her tears stinging her cuts along her cheek. She couldn’t stand to her full height due to her injured ankle, which was finally starting present itself as a problem, seeing as though her adrenaline was leaving her bloodstream. She was beginning to mentally separate herself from the situation, which became increasingly difficult to do as she stared directly up at Ground Zero’s piercing gaze.

This was when she realized just how small and insignificant he must see her as. He stared down at her through his mask, her hair still wrapped in his gloved hand, almost lifting her like a puppet on a string. Her sobbing slowly began to dissipate, seeing as though she was not getting a reaction out of him anymore. The only thing she received was a silent, disapproving stare. Almost like he was mocking her. He had to have been, right? What was all of this for, otherwise? Her scalp was beginning to go numb. Her once vibrant crying was dwindled down to soft hiccups, as she stared up at Ground Zero, scared stiff of what his next move possibly was.

“Now,” he began once the hiccups were few and far in between, his voice quieter than before but no less threatening. “There’s not gonna be another peep out of you until we’re home.” It wasn’t a request. It wasn’t even a humble demand.

It was an order.

One whose message came across perfectly without the need for yelling or curses. He stared down at (Y/n)’s wide, watery eyes, waiting for a response. How does he think she could respond like this? He twisted his wrist slightly to tighten his grip on her hair, and (Y/n)’s face scrunched up at the sheer pain that surged through her scalp. She found it in her to nod to the best of her abilities. It wasn’t graceful in the slightest or even on her own volition. But it was either what Ground Zero had planned for her or prison. Neither option sounded desirable, and she’d much rather him just end her life now.

But, he’s not the merciful hero.

He’s the barbaric one.

He released her hair, letting the girl fall to her knees on the hard pavement. With her arms restrained behind her back, she had a distinct lack of balance, so she fell forward, her face hitting Ground Zero’s thigh. He knelt down and lifted her over his shoulder with one arm. Detonating a continuous explosion, the pair was propelled roughly upward into the sky, causing (Y/n)’s stomach to drop from the gravity difference. (Y/n)’s face paled as she felt her upper body dangle over his shoulder looking behind them — and underneath them. If she was going to pass out, now’s probably the time to do so. She felt her stomach lurch with each turn Ground Zero made, and each time he landed to get a better hold on her, her insides and injuries would ache from the air pressure.

Please let his place be close, please let his place be close…

(Y/n) didn’t think she could hold it.

Ground Zero managed to land on a building’s balcony relatively softly — or at least, not as rough as usual. (Y/n) didn’t have to open her eyes to know that they were on the top floor. She kept her eyes squeezed shut, hoping the ‘flight’ was over, but Ground Zero kept his hold on her. The sound of jingling keys came before anything else. (Y/n) couldn’t hold it anymore.

She spewed vomit down Ground Zero’s back.

He visibly tensed underneath her, and his posture straightened. His eyes shifted to look at (Y/n)’s reflection in the glass of the door, but the only part of her that was visible were her rear and legs. He clenched his jaw and slammed open the sliding door to his penthouse.

Not even stepping inside his bedroom, he took (Y/n) off his shoulder and threw her onto the ground. She landed with a loud thud. “What,” he glowered down at her restrained form, “the fuck did you just do?!”

(Y/n) looked like she was about to start crying again, and she tried to scoot away from him the best she could without her arms.

“Don’t you dare get that shit on my carpet,” Ground Zero threatened, easily pulling her up to a sitting position. “What are you, a fucking baby?” He knelt down, twisting his face up at the sight of some leftover vomit on the side of her face. It took everything in (Y/n) to look Ground Zero directly in the face right now in this state and not let a tear slip.

Instead, she glared.

Ground Zero didn’t seem to like that.

His gloved palm came down on her cheek — hard.

(Y/n)’s head snapped in the direction Ground Zero smacked her, her vision turning into only little specks of color. Her head hung there for a moment, either from shock or pain or both. Ground Zero didn’t wait around to find out. He took this time to pull out an extra set of metal restraints from his belt and use them as attachments to the ones already on (Y/n). He easily dragged her dazed body over to his king-sized bed and hooked the extra restraints around the bottom bed pole. (Y/n), who was finally beginning to get feeling back in her jaw, looked up senselessly at his towering figure.

She’s giving up her fight. It’s not worth it.

Right when she thought he was about to attack her again, he turned away and headed toward the balcony doors. “I’m heading to the agency to finish my job for the day. And to get them to clean up the shit you put on me!” He shouted over his shoulder. “If you’re not here by the time I get back, I’ll fucking go out and find you again myself.” Once on the balcony, he made sure to close and lock the door tight before he bent down and placed his arms underneath him. (Y/n) flinched when he detonated his explosions, but he was gone when she opened her eyes.

She wasted no time in trying to wriggle out of her restraints.

She let out a sob, as the pain in her broken wrist was shooting up her arm each time she shifted. The metal did little to nullify her injuries, and if anything, it was accentuating them. Ground Zero had to have put them this tight on purpose, knowing she was too beat up to fight now. If she continued trying to get out of the strong magnetic grip, it would not be in her favor. There’s no guarantee she’d even be able to get out of these, but trying to do so would only leave her with worse injuries than she already has. Her wrist is already broken, and she can’t move her ankle. She tried to pull her arms apart once more, and the pole of Ground Zero’s bed was digging uncomfortably into her back. Her actions ceased when there was another audible crack from her already-broken wrist.

(Y/n) screamed, howling out tears as the pain became unbearable. She didn’t know for how long she cried, but she immediately stopped when she heard the balcony’s sliding doors unlock. She couldn’t imagine how pitiful she looked, gazing up at the man with fear-stricken, watery eyes.

Ground Zero didn’t look like Ground Zero anymore. He looked like a normal 28-year-old. However, his face was still the same — furrowed brows and an obvious bad attitude. He had changed out of his hero costume while at his agency, and he now adorned a simple pair of black sweatpants and a black v-neck shirt.

(Y/n) watched his body language. It was much less hostile than before, and she carefully watched him as he closed the sliding door behind him. Not slamming it, but closing it like a regular person would. He made eye contact with her before walking over to where she was restrained on the floor. He knelt down to her height, looking her over before speaking, “I’ll tend to your wounds.”

(Y/n) thought she heard him wrong. Ground Zero, offering to help her, the villain? This couldn’t be right.

“You try anything funny, and I’ll break your other wrist,” he threatened lowly. He carefully reached behind (Y/n), not removing his eyes from her form while he worked on unlocking the metal, making sure to notice any slight difference in her posture, behavior, anything. Surprisingly, there was none. (Y/n) knew to pick her battles wisely, and right now, she couldn’t win this one. Ground Zero, even though he was kneeling down to her height, still towered over her. He was years ahead of her in muscularity, making her build look pathetic in comparison. Especially with her injuries.

He was so close to her right now, she could feel his breath against her ear. He was unlocking both the restraints keeping her to the bed, as well as the ones keeping her arms together. His hands moved down to undo the second lock, and (Y/n) was getting overwhelmed by their proximity. Are bodies always this warm? She shifted slightly away from him, and Ground Zero halted his actions and looked at her from the corner of his eye.

“Do you wanna fucking stay like this, then?” He said to her, the vibrations in his voice seeming so much more noticeable due to how close he was. His breath was hot against her ear, but (Y/n) found it in her to reply to her captor.

She shook her head quickly, “No, Groun—!” He cut her off.

“Then stay fucking still. I’ll leave you right here if I want,” he mumbled, as he resumed unlocking the remaining restraints. (Y/n) wished she got a look at how exactly he was unlocking them, but she was too afraid to turn her head and look. She was too afraid to move anything at the moment.

Once the restraints were off, (Y/n) quickly came to the realization that she couldn’t feel her arms. Even the ache from her wrist seemed like just a distant ache. They fell beside her like lifeless sacs, heavy with sand. Ground Zero didn’t waste any time in picking her up, not letting her enjoy the feeling of her unbound arms; he didn’t want her to get used to the feeling of freedom. He lifted her easily, carrying her bridal-style to his bathroom. He set her down on the toilet and began rummaging for his first-aid supplies.

(Y/n) took this time to look around at her surroundings. It was an expensive bathroom — no, expensive penthouse bathroom — with white marble decorating a majority of the room’s setup. While it surely cost a fortune, it was cold and stale. It lacked a sense of familiarity and warmth.

Ground Zero slammed a box full of first-aid on the counter next to her, and he knelt down in front of her once more, which actually brought him to her height. He reached his hand out, silently telling her to give him her wrist. She managed to lift her arm and place her wrist in his palm, the numb feeling beginning to go away and be replaced by pain once more. Ground Zero gently turned her wrist in his hand, examining the damage. (Y/n) winced and let out a yelp. Suddenly, the hero glared back up at her.

“You tried to get out of the restraints, didn’t you?”

(Y/n)’s stomach dropped. Ground Zero stared at her before sighing disapprovingly. He handed her a washcloth, “Bite into this.” (Y/n) did as she was told.

Ground Zero took her wrist and snapped it back into place, causing (Y/n) to almost instantly black out from the pain that shot up her arm. She began sobbing violently, the rag still between her teeth. The hero took out a few bandages and began wrapping (Y/n)’s wrist tightly, all while the girl bawled above him. He was getting tired of hearing her crying…

He took the rag out of her mouth, and she sniffled. The pain in her wrist was pulsating, but the bandages were keeping it in place now to prevent further damage. Ground Zero moved to tend to her ankle next, and (Y/n) feared that it would meet the same fate as her wrist. However, her ankle was only sprained. Swollen immensely, but only sprained.

As he was wrapping a bandage around her ankle and placing ice between the wraps, he spoke. “Now, what do you say to someone whose just helped you?” He wasn’t looking at her, which was a good thing because (Y/n)’s face might have gotten her hit again.

Is he mocking her right now?

She felt him slightly squeeze her swollen ankle, causing pain to shoot up her calf. She answered almost automatically, “T-Thank you, Ground Zero.”

Ground Zero’s face twisted, as he continued wrapping her ankle.

“Call me Katsuki.”

[haikyuu-sickfics]

nauseous suga during practice (or a game) and he throws up a little on the court before he’s taken to the bathroom. daichi takes care of him.

This has more than one contradiction s and the writing is poor overall, but this is all my brain is capable of atm

"Your back is really warm, Suga-san," Shoyou gaped after a quick pre-game side hug.

"It's okay, you can say that I'm hot" Koushi teased, trying to push aside the concern in the first years eyes.

"You know that's not what I meant! Are you okay?" He exclaimed, frowning.

"Don't worry, I'm fine. The sun's just really shining today," the setter shrugged off, nonchalantly drifting away before the conversation had a chance to shift into a full on interrogation.

With his back turned to the team, Koushi allowed his smile to change into a tightly sealed line. The last thing he needed was for the team to catch onto his secret. If it could even be considered a secret, a more accurate definition would be 'withholding key elements of the truth' and that technically isn't lying.

Besides, it's not like ignoring the dull cramping in his stomach would put him into a poor predicament. Nope, nothing could go wrong today. It was just a normal practice match with normal weather and the normal coaches with the normal starting line up.

Well almost normal starting lineup. Koushi was the setter today.

Tobio happen to be missing out on this game due to an illness, one he hid until it showed itself at Koushi's feet during practice a few days ago.

But that small side story had absolutely nothing to do with the dizziness threatening to send Koushi to the ground, nor did it have anything to do with the dull headache gnawing behind his eyes.

Nope. Nothing. Not a thing.

Because if anything, Koushi does not get

"...sick," Sawamura's voice stole Koushi from his thoughts.

"Huh? What was that?" He questioned, shaking the confusion from his head.

"I said, 'do you feel alright, you look sick,'" the captains forehead creased with concern, removing his hand from Koushi's shoulder.

Wait, when did he put his hand on his shoulder? How long was it there? How long had Sawamura been standing there? Did he hear what Shoyou said? And why was his hand getting bigger?

Koushi ducked out of the way of Sawamura's hand, only realizing two seconds after the fact that the latter was hoping the check the temperature of the former.

"You worry too much, I've got everything under control- when have I ever not?" Koushi steadied himself, the sudden dodge scrambling his sense of balence.

"There was that one time at the restaurant, oh and the time on the roller coaster and remember when-"

"That was a rhetorical question."

"My point stands, Suga, maybe you should bench this one," he brought his hand back up to his friends shoulder.

Koushi, shrugging off the hand, simply shook his head. His eyes were slanted in a determination Sawamura had only seen twice before. Air stopped moving, it's particles expanding in his lungs as Koushi's eyes burned holes into his own. Never had Sawamura been able to protest The Stare, and now was no exception. Though, it's usual intense power did dwindle a bit due to the feverish glaze added upon the darkness. Sawamura was only able to stand there while Koushi walked away in response to the coaches shout.

After a quick pregame chat, the various members of both teams walked onto court. Sawamura held the ball in his hand, the majority of his attention stolen by the slightly slumped setter infront of him. Setting aside his concern for the time being, he served.

The ball was easily recieved, passed to their opponents setter and spiked into Yuu's waiting arms.

"Suga-san!" the libero shouted to inform the setter who the ball was heading towards.

Koushi nodded and stepped up to the ball, confident enough to cause Sawamura to second guess his concern. Just as the ball came into contact with Koushi's sweaty palms, the player collapsed to the floor.

Shouts of concern filled the gymnasium as the ball bounced away. Koushi struggled to lift himself up with his arms, his lungs inflating and deflating quickly. A loud burp forced it's way out, forcing the setter's head forward with a gag and a small mouthful of sick.

"Shit! Suga I knew you were sick!" Sawamura cursed, sliding up to support his friend.

"Now's not-" he paused to gag, "the best time to say 'told ya so.'"

Ignoring the response, Sawamura began pulling Koushi- who was very reluctant to leave the floor- to his feet.

"C'mon let's get you outside."

Koushi shook his head, his head trained to the floor in expectance of illness. Saliva was dripping into his mouth, informing him of his impending doom.

Sighing, used to the stubberness of his friend, Sawamura firmly led Koushi away. The rooms other occupants were shocked at his calmess, no one else would have the courage to lead a quite visibly ill person anywhere. But, Sawamura was not taking a risk. He had experienced sick Koushi enough times to know how long it takes for him to actually throw up. They had adequate time to get outside, maybe even enough to find a trash bin or toilet.

The latter idea was thrown out of the window as Koushi pulled himself away outside of the gym, his knees and hands braced against the damp grass. Heat radiated from his body, rivaling the afternoon sun. Soft gags forced their way out, bringing nothing but air and pain.

"You sure you don't want to go anywhere else?" Sawamura asked, glancing around the area.

Koushi only gripped the grass harder, blades tearing out of the ground to clump in his hands. One more gag brought up a small wave of sick, gravity pulling it into a small puddle between his hands. Closing his eyes, Koushi took a couple deep breaths- calming himself from the episode.

After a minute or so, he pulled himself to his feet, swaying slightly as vertigo crashed upon him.

"Okay, let's," he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, "let's go back to the game."

Sawamura cocked his eyebrow, crossing his arms in disapproval.

"The only place you're going is home."

"But... who will be the setter?" Koushi's tone sounded heartbreaking, his fever causing his emotions to become increasingly sensitive.

"One of the second years, now do you think you're done throwing up?"

Koushi hesitantly shook his head no, the expected answer but discouraging nonetheless.

"Okay then, let's get you somewhere else then," the captain paused, at a lost for what to do thanks to the unfamiliar surroundings.

Neither of their parents had a loose enough schedule to pick him up, even if they did the school holding the practice match was far too out of the way. The only way they could leave was wait for the game to end and everyone take the bus. That was a no-go, in his condition, Koushi should be inside getting rest- not under the scorching sun.

They had to call the game off, not that is was a huge loss anyways. The match would not have been proper training due to the loss of three players, and they shouldn't expose the school to whatever illness may be going around the team.

"I'm gonna go talk to the coach, stay here really quick."

And with that, the third worst day for the Karasuno Volleyball Team came to it's beginning.

[s-creations]

Return the Flames - Chapter 12

All at Dead Bird Studios knew of Amos' (The  Conductor's) ability. How the owl could suddenly erupt into flames if  angered enough. When the studio first opened, Dominic (DJ Grooves) was  told that Amos had his ability under control. Nothing to worry about. No  possible loss of anything from an open flame.

A few years later however, and that control seems to have lessened to a dangerous degree.

It should have just been a simple, week long drive to fix the problem. It really should have been.

Dominic should have asked a lot more questions and should have been prepared for a twist ending.

_________________

Fandom: A Hat in Time         Rating: General Audience         Relationships/Pairings: The ConductorXDJ Grooves       Warnings: Eventual depictions of violence, slow burn relationship, named characters, attempt of an accent, being hunted down, a race against time (sort of).

Author's Note: I finished Student Teaching, passed my Content Test, and I have a new job lined up for the school year! I’m getting back into writing, but we’ll see how consistent I am with my stories. XD

The morning after was surprisingly quiet with knowing what was waiting for them. Dominic and Amos waking to find themselves tangled up among each other. The fire from the night before was fully dead. Both quiet as they packed up their meager belongings and headed out. While it was quiet, it wasn’t uncomfortable. A quiet hope of believing this would all be over soon.

 By late afternoon, the duo had finally reached the base of the mountain. A single hut was waiting for them, small and a deep blue scrap of fabric swaying in the entrance. A system of two carts resting on thick vines that disappeared into the mist covering the peak. It was calm, leaving Dominic to wonder how worried they needed to be. 

 “Are you also expecting the worst?” Dominic whispered to Amos, whose feathers were ruffled. 

 “In the shape o’ C.A.W.” the owl responded, “Let’s not stick around any more than we need ta.”

 Without a glance, Amos made his way towards the carts. Only to curse when he was unable to move it forward. It was a simple crank system that moved the tram forward, one that, even when working together, wouldn’t move.

 “Alright...so… What’s the next plan.” Dominic panted. 

 “...Think we could fly?” Amos teased.

 “Um, excuse me sirs?”

 Both jumped at the new voice that sounded from behind. Another shock came at the large Nomad they found, bigger than the ones they’d met in the village proper. Draped in clothes of deep blues and purples. The growing panic broke when a small Nomad child wavered happily at the birds from behind the larger companion. It was an intense shift in size between the two. 

 The smaller Nomad dashed forward, waving their way between the two of them. “Are you the two that our Elder sent a message about?”

 “I will assume so. Unless there’s another traveling duo we were unaware of nearby as well,” Dominic laughed, “I’m Dominic, and this is Amos.”

 “I’m Bakle! And this is Papa! We’re supposed to take you to the mountain’s peak. That’s where the temple is.”

 “I’m assuming yer Papa has ta be the one ta get the thin’ goin’?” Amos asked, tensing slightly as the mentioned Nomad stepped forward. 

 “Uh huh! I was also told that we need to move quickly.”

 “Aye. The sooner we’re done with this, the better… I hope so anyway.”

 “Then we need to get going.” Bakle instantly dashed forward. Entering the card and eagerly waiting for the others to follow. Papa was on next, taking his place next to the crank. 

 Dominic frowned as, when he placed one foot into the cart, he realized Amos wasn’t following. He turned back around to find the owl’s attention focused on the mist hidden peak. It was clear the other director was nervous. Dominic understood. He wasn’t sure how this all was going to end. It felt as if they had escaped death and disaster numerous times. And to be so close to the end...whatever that end may be.

 Amos was broken from his thoughts feeling something slip into his hand. Looking down to find Dominic had taken it.

 “Come on,” the penguin said softly, “We’ll be okay.”

 There was little resistance as Amos was pulled towards the cart. The small door was closed behind them and they were off. Papa turned the large crank easily to move them forward. 

 The ground around them fell away. A new worry arrived in Amos’ mind as they were swallowed up by the mist. “This contraption is sturdy, right?”

 Bakle nodded. “We may not use these very often. But they are well maintained. We won’t fall.”

 “That’s...only slightly reassurin’...”

 “Don’t worry! Only a few more minutes and we’ll be-”

 Whatever reassuring words Bakle was going to offer was cut off. A familiar dart wheezing past all and embedding itself in the wooden ceiling. Just barely missing Papa as well. Dominic, who’d recovered from shock the quickest, leaned over the side. The second cart was filled with C.A.W. agents. Five or six moving the wheel to push them forward while the rest were refilling their dart guns. 

 “Peck necks!” Amos called out, growling darkly. He yelped as he was pulled back. Another round of darts going past and barely missing him. The feeling of panic growing when deep horns sounded, echoing over the mountain and growing stronger as more joined the first. 

 Dominic turned towards the Nomads. “What is that?”

 “Our warning system,” the child answered, “The other carts must have been stolen as well.”

 “It’s a race ta the top then.” Amos muttered weakly. 

 “We’ll be trapped…” The penguin frowned, standing next to the owl. 

 Amos didn’t respond. His attention was focused on the thick vines that were acting as the cable. Eys traveling down to where the ground laid beneath the veil of mist. “How high are we?”

 “Oh, um, a few feet? I’m not really sure. But we are high.” Bakle offered.

 “I see those gears turning Amos,” Dominic frowned, “What are you thinking.”

 “Destroyin’ their means o’ transportation. I’ll need ta cut the cable.” 

 “Amos, that’s suicide, you’ll fall as well!”

 “I’ve survived worse. Besides, I was able ta walk away from that car crash before.”

 “Barely! Amos-”

 The owl reached over, taking Dominic's hands into his own. Effectively cutting the other off. “Just listen. It may not be much, but I’ll be able ta cut their numbers down. I have the best chance at survivin’ this.”

 “Amos-”

 “Ya need ta barricade yourself in the peckin’ temple as best ya can when ya get up there.”

 “How will you get in?”

 “There’s an opening at the very top of the temple. You can drop down to enter.” Bakle offered as a solution.

 “And I just need you to focus on keeping yourself safe. I’ll meet up with you all back in the temple. Alright?”

 Dominic frowned. His hands shaking as he squeezed Amos’. “I...really hate this idea sweetheart.”

 The owl’s face softened, giving a weak smile. “I know… But do ya trust me?”

 “Of course I do.” Dominic’s mind seemed to freeze when Amos’ beak gently pressed against his own. Heart beating furiously as the seconds ticked by.

 Holy peck. Amos was kissing him!

 As his brain finally caught up, Amos had pulled away. Climbing out of the cart and onto the roof. 

 “Amos, you absolute peck neck! You did not just kiss me before jumping to your possible death!” Dominic shouted, leaning out of the cart again to glare at the other director.

 The owl smirked. “I thought ya believed in me?”

 “That does not make you less of a jerk!”

 “Noted… I’ll see ya up there Dominic.”

 “...You’d better Amos…”

 Nothing was left to be said. Taking a deep breath, Amos didn’t allow another second of thought as he jumped. It was a relief grabbing onto the other sturdy vine. A strange comfort in knowing the first step in his plan worked. He didn’t look back, knowing if he did so it would cause him to freeze in fear. Amos concentrated on his free hand. Feeling no pain as flames erupted from it, using it to cut through the vine easily. A sickening sensation filling his stomach as gravity fully kicked in. 

 He could hear the caws and screams coming from the agents as they fell as well. All probably wondering how they were going to get out of this alive.

 But Amos didn’t care about them. Their cries seem drowned out by the rushing winds. His attention on Dominic, who was leaning over the edge of the cart as he watched, helpless, as Amos fell. Face full of fear. The owl wished he could find his voice. To reassure that everything was going to be fine. But too soon his vision was obstructed by the mist. Just as he began to wonder how long this was going to take, Amos collided with something solid. There was a sickening ‘crack!’ before he fully hit the ground and the world turned black.

  When Amos came to, his body was screaming in pain. It hurt to breathe and he was sure his body was trying to put itself back together. But he was alive. Which was the entire point of his idiotic plan, so good to know it wasn’t all for nothing. The sky had begun to turn a dark blue with the horizon being painted numerous pastel colors. It had taken almost to nightfall  to finally recover from the stunt. Or at least recover enough that he could move. 

 Peck, was Dominic alright?

 Letting out a grunt as he slowly sat up, Amos gave himself another moment as he looked around. He was thankfully close to the mountain’s peak. Even able to see part of the mountain that had been carved away. Ignoring the copper smell that lingered in the air, knowing what laid behind him, Amos limped his way forward. He’d done what he needed to do. Now he just need to see how this all was going to end. 

 ________________________

 Dominic was unsure what staring into the mist below would do for him. It certainly wasn’t bringing Amos back. But the penguin seemed unable to turn away. Mind stuck on watching Amos disappear into the white void below them.

 “Um, sir? What do we do now?” Bakle’s voice through. 

 The penguin took a deep breath, setting his face in determination as he faced the Nomads. “How many entrances are there?”

 “Four doorways and the ceiling that I mentioned to the Child.” 

 “Okay. Hopefully we’ll get to the temple before any C.A.W. agents arrive. We’ll barricade the doorways and...wait. I suppose. I just...Amos did have to pull a stunt like that.”

 “I believe in the Child.”

 Dominic sighed weakly. “I do as well… But that doesn’t stop me from worrying.”

 He stumbled slightly as the cart bumped against the mountainside. All clamoring out and rushing towards the doors surrounding the temple. Papa immediately rushed over to the doorway to the right. Closing them and beginning to pile boulders to keep them from opening again. Bakle grabbed Dominic’s hand and directed him towards the doors directly across from them. Passing by a pillared altar with a deep purple feather that seemed to have stars dancing on it. 

 If they all weren’t in mortal peril, Dominic would have marveled at it.

 They reached the double doors and closed them quickly. Dominic put as thick of a layer of ice he could make. “Hopefully that will be enough. Let’s get the other one before-”

 “WHERE IS THAT PHOENIX.”

 “C.A.W. can get in.” Dominic groaned weakly.

 The familiar leading crow stood in the final doorway. A large crowd of agents standing behind them. No longer looking together and smugly in control. Feathers were ruffled, hat off kilter as eyes filled with anger as they flicked around the chamber. Rage grew when he didn’t find his target. 

 “Penguin, where is the Phoenix.”

 “Not here. Obviously,” Dominic glared back, “Your agents made the trip for nothing.”

 “Do not play dumb with us! We did not come all this way here to result in nothing. Tell us where it is!”

 “Are you dumb or just playing the part well? Where in this place do you think we could even hide Amos?” 

 That gave the agent pause. Eyes once again traveling the room, his shoulders dropping slightly. “Well-”

 There was a cry of surprise when a large boulder landed in front of them. All scrambling back as more landed and pushed them back out the doorway. Papa clearly took advantage of the lull in action to go on the offensive. The last way being blocked by a large pile of boulders. Dominic re-enforcing it with another layer of ice. The three let out a deep breath as they finally relaxed. 

 “Your blockade means nothing!” The C.A.W. agent cried out, “Do you really think this will stop us! Creature or not, once we get back in there you will all pay!”

 Bakle rushed over to Papa, hiding behind the larger form. “I don’t like the screaming bird.”

 “I don’t either.” The penguin agreed. Eyes glaring from the blocked doors to the ceiling. A circular hole had been carved there. Showing the sky above, the sun barely starting to dip below the horizon. Stars starting to barely be seen over the darkened colors. 

 “Amos...where are you?”

[kaablooie]

Deathworlder - Ch 47 - Weighed Down

Jenkat had been getting up from her pallet when the ship was rocked. The jarring motion combined with already being halfway off deposited her unceremoniously on the floor. She was still recovering from the crash landing onto Quillar and getting bounced around wasn’t currently her idea of a good time. Getting back up on her feet, she allowed a growl to escape her lips. Jenkat hadn’t thought it was possible to feel this awful and still be alive. Everything hurt and the prospect of crashing in another ship wasn’t helping her mental state.

There was no doubt in her mind that the Lodra had finally caught up with them. If they were attacking them on the surface of a foriegn world, they must have brought the full force of the Lodra Initiative to bear. That was decidedly not good. When Jenkat had signed on with the Lodra she never thought she would be engaged in any sort of violence, let alone ship to ship combat. They were supposed to be a civilized society guarding the galaxy from another Virus or some other calamity escaping that cursed world. The Lodra Initiative had been successful at their vigil for thousands of years without devolving to barbaric physical assaults.

Nothing had ever made her feel as angry and betrayed as Commander Chokat turning the peaceful guardianship of the Lodra to the aggressive, vicious, and uncivilized organization it had apparently become.

She ran into the corridor from her quarters at the same time as Drassa and Chirpy. They exchanged silent glances at each other and began heading towards the bridge. They all knew the Lodra couldn’t dock with them within the atmosphere of the moon so it had to be some sort of aerial attack on their ship.

As they ran Drassa asked Jenkat, “Do you think they’re doing an orbital bombardment with asteroids like they did back on Earth?”

The corridor here was narrow and they could only go two abreast. Chirpy was only a couple paces behind them.

“Not likely,” Jenkat responded. “That was only viable back on Earth because we passed through that asteroid belt scooping up some ammunition and the Terrans don’t have an orbital defence system. Even though the Quillar don’t have one for military purposes, their system in place to deal with natural small solar system bodies that might pose a threat would make light work of such an attack.”

The ship shuddered again and all three braced against the walls to keep from falling over.

Steading themselves, they resumed their run to the bridge. As Jenkat reached the T intersection at the end of her corridor she was almost bowled over by Camden, Kensie, Sandy, and Jack who were barreling down the wider main hall which terminated at the bridge. Everyone lurched to a stop, the massive bulk of the three humans terrifyingly close to crushing her and the other two hexapods.

Jenkat’s unexpected fear of being steamrolled must have shown for a second on her face as Camden awkwardly scratched at the back of his head while muttering, “Hi. Uh, sorry about that.”

Jenkat had just opened her mouth to respond when the ship lurched upward and they were all thrown to the floor. The force was so great she couldn’t move anything but her eyes. Darting them about she could see the others were similarly pressed to the ground. Jenkat could tell if the force being exerted on her didn’t let up, she was going to slip into unconsciousness. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Camden trying, and failing, to struggle to his feet. That he could move at all was astounding. As she watched him, her vision began to dim. The edges of her sight darkened until only a narrow point of her focus was visible. With the gravity dampeners to compensate for the forces generated by massive acceleration the situation Jenkat found herself in should never have happened. As there was still power to the ship as evidenced by the lighting of the corridor not being affected, she knew that the dampeners were still operational. They were such an integral part of the ship’s safety that they had backups on their back ups. Nothing short of a complete and utter power drain of all of the systems or catastrophic failure of all of the gravity dampeners simultaneously would render them inoperable. The only conclusion for their current predicament was that they were being accelerated at a velocity beyond the capacity of the dampeners to fully compensate for. That they were still in once piece rather than stains on the floor was a testament to how robust the engineers had made them.

Mercifully, the pressure began to ease. She was starting to regain feeling to her extremities and the narrow tunnel her vision had become returned to normal. Despite that, Jenkat still couldn’t move against the incredible force being exerted on her. That is, until it wasn’t.

In an instant, the pressure disappeared and everything around her stopped. Everything except for her and the others. For a moment that seemed an eternity, she was weightless between the floor and the ceiling. In her mind’s eye, for only a split-second, the people around her seemed frozen as their momentum ruthlessly carried them upwards. Her impact with the ceiling was preceded by a deafening wrenching and tearing of metal.

—————

Jenkat was on the floor. Again. Being crushed. Again. This time, however, she was on her back and the cause was the destroyed bulkhead laying across her body. In a detached sort of way, ignoring the pain, she realized that it must be at least partially resting on something else for it not to have crushed her completely. She wondered what had happened to the ship. It was awfully quiet. Or were her ears not working? It didn’t really matter. She would be dead soon. It was hard to breath.

Jenkat wasn’t sure how long she had been lying there, staring up at the flickering light of the wrecked ceiling. She felt groggy and confused. Her mind had been wandering. It took her back to the Radasha homeworld where she had grown up. The pack that raised her and trained her before she left to join the Lodra Initiative. The group that taught her about the calamity of the Virus and how the Terrans, if not properly contained, would bring about ruin to the entire galaxy. Her memories then flitted to her time amongst the Lodra. Emergency drills and learning to operate and repair ship systems. Classes about the dangers of the human deathworld. Then she was back with her progenitors, before leaving to join the pack. Her earliest memories. Being cared for in the incubation sack while her parents provided food and cooed to her through the gelatinous membrane. Not being able to move, but unlike now, comforted and warm.

There was a soft smacking sound that brought Jenkat back to the present. She opened her eyes just in time to see an ancilla poke its body over the edge of the bulkhead currently entrapping her. Her immediate and panicked thought was this is going to be a much more horrific and painful death than she had expected by being crushed to death. Instead of touching her, it seemed to be considering her which gave Jenkat’s addled mind time to realize that this was likely Covid, Camden’s companion. As she stared up at the featureless, transparent blue blob looming over her, it started to ripple. With a wet sucking sound, it split almost in half creating a U shape with its body. It stretched outward for a moment before slapping itself back together creating a resounding clap. The sound was so loud and unexpected Jenkat would have recoiled in shock if her circumstances permitted it.

“Jenkat is over here!” A voice yelled in passable if heavily accented common. She felt she should know that voice but her head was still groggy. A head with a hairless face poked over the edge of her cage beside the still waiting Covid. “Help me lift this off of her,” Camden said.

More heads popped into her vision.

Drassa, Chirpy, and the quillarion, Jack, stood there looking down on Jenkat. Drassa touched Camden’s arm softly and leaned in to gently tell Camden what Jenkat already knew. “Camden, we cannot hope to move such a large piece of wreckage without gravity manipulators…”

Camden looked at Drassa with a perplexed frown. “Nonsense,” he told her. “Sandy and Kenzie, get on either side of that corner,” he gestured with his chin as he crouched down right over Jenkat’s face. He turned his head towards the two hexapods. “When we lift this, you two pull her out.”

Camden looked back at the other two humans waiting on him and nodded, “On three, ready? One, two, LIFT.”

Jenkat watched Camden as the muscles under his skin seemed to ripple along his arms and back before straining against his shirt. The other two humans sounded no less intense but Jenkat didn’t have the angle to see them from where she lay. For a couple of seconds the humans strained with no noticeable movement and the brief glimmer of hope she had allowed herself began to fade.

Then the debris that had pinned her down began to shift. A soft dust began to fall, getting in her eyes and forcing them closed. The pressure restricting her breathing began to ease and she gratefully inhaled the sweetest breath she had ever taken. With her eyes still clenched shut, Jenkat felt a number of tentacles wrap around her arms and shoulders. They tightened and began pulling. She was moving! Hope flared again as she was dragged out from under the bulkhead.

Once her arms were free, she was able to wipe at her eyes and open them. The humans were expectedly terrifying with their giant, teeth bearing grins towering over her sitting down on the floor. She tried not to let that rattle her anymore. Jenkat knew by now that the facial expression was involuntary when the humans were particularly happy. The other aliens were staring at the humans in whatever form being agog took for their species. Jenkat couldn’t guess at the weight the humans had just lifted off of her but she knew with certainty it was orders of magnitude more than any other species she had ever heard of could have handled unassisted like that.

Camden was just reaching out to Jenkat and looked on the verge of speaking when there was a cacophony of voices from down the hall leading to the bridge. Camden turned with the others towards the commotion. From her position sitting amongst the broken bulkhead and ceiling debris she couldn’t see what had grabbed their attention. She knew from Camden’s faltering smile that it was nothing good. When he looked back at Jenkat she knew there was going to be trouble.

“Jenkat, get up if you can and get behind us,” Camden said in a low voice. When he unslung his sword from his back, she knew that the Lodra had found them.

[mattzerella-sticks]

metamorphosis

Chapter 1 (ao3)

Prologue (ao3) (tumblr)

What if, when Jack was born, he stayed a baby?

A retelling of season 13, with a few key differences.

No planned schedule, will update when I finish chapters lol

Chapter 1 - Dean I

           “Cas?”

           Dean waited, watching Cas’s lips. He waited for his name to be spoken, said in that same mixture of fondness and exasperation and gravel that ticked the tempo of his heart up a notch. He waited for his angel to smile, then tell Dean that he’s fine; that it wasn’t more than a scratch, that he’s still here.

           Any minute now.

           “…Cas?” Dean’s voice sounded scratchy, raw, like a needle ripped through a spinning record. He blinked back his tears, embarrassed, because Cas might wake soon and see him break, see him not be strong enough. His gaze broke from Cas’s bluing lips, staring at the starless sky above. He saw night begin its transition to early morning, a sun sliver dipping into the horizon, and wondered how long Cas will play with him like this. How long will Cas pretend to lie there? How long will Cas insist that he’s –

           “Cas!” Even with the extra help from gravity, Dean couldn’t stop the pinprick tears tracing their way down to his ears, wetness setting his skin aflame. He choked on a sob, the rubber band of his body snapping and recoiling into itself. His shoulders shook. He squeezed tight to his stomach. Dean closed his eyes, but inside that shuttered darkness was Cas, emerging from the portal. Cas with the blade in his hand. Cas with a blade, poking out his chest. “Oh… oh, God…”

           He’s really gone. He’s gone and Dean hurt. Dean hurt so much.

           Dean cracked one eye open, then another. In his periphery, he saw the tips of Cas’s limp fingers lying in the dirt along with the rest of his body.

           It was something he has wanted to do for some time now. Dean noticed what happens halfway into its journey, his trembling hand hovering over Cas’s. He lowered it cautiously. When there’s barely an inch of space separating his middle finger from Cas’s knuckles, Dean stopped. Dean couldn’t close that final gap. He stared at the emptiness between them, small but terrifyingly infinite, and was frozen in terror.

           “Dean!”

           Sam’s call stirred him from that horrid trance, urgency reminding Dean of all else that happened. Of Crowley’s sacrifice, of the portal closing, of mom on the other side; those events crashed into him like a terrible wave, washing him out into a roaring sea that denied him any sense or reason. Standing, legs ready to give out on him at any moment, Dean stumbled towards where he last heard his brother.

           He forgot about the steps. Sam caught him, guiding him past the threshold and into the cabin with lumbering haste. Dean’s vision returned to him soon, though. He drew Sam further to his side, for a loose hug, then shoved his brother’s oafish frame off of him. Dean supported himself using the wall instead. “What?” he asked, growling, “What is it?”

           Sam tried to speak but got cutoff by a shrill cry coming from another room. Sam shrugged, jerking his head to where, Dean guesses, the crying originated. He’d also take a stab at who’s responsible for crying, too.

           Kelly’s son. Lucifer’s son. The whole damned reason Dean’s life lay shattered in the clearing out back.

           Hearing those whines and sobs rattle the cabin’s chilly silence helped harden what remained of his heart, enough so that the baby’s shrieking echoed in the hollow chambers of Dean’s chest. It made what he must ask next much easier. “You didn’t kill him yet?”

           Sam visibly startled, jaw clenched that familiar way Dean knows meant an argument brewed within; his brother’s puppy dog features deceived, hiding his true feelings. Again, as Sam readied to speak, the baby took his cue and interrupted with a damning wail. Sam pressed his lips into a thin, mangled line while he waited his turn.

           A minute passed, and it’s doubtful the little guy would lose steam soon. Dean sighed. He pushed off the wall, passing Sam as he followed the noisy little bastard. Sam stayed right behind him, heavy footsteps and chiding tone mixing with the crying to shred Dean’s nerves into oblivion. “You are not doing this, Dean,” Sam hissed, tugging on his elbow, “we need to talk about it first –“

           “Who can talk over all this racket!” He wrenched his arm free, storming into the baby’s nursery while Sam dawdled under the doorframe. Their entrance meant little to the newborn, who continued crying despite their entrance. “And I’m not killing him –“ he kept his yet stored in the barrel of his mouth, unfired, conscious of how it will be received in the moment – “gonna shut him up for a while, s’all…” Dean punctuated his claim by grabbing the baby, Jack if the painted name on the crib meant anything, and tucking him into the crook of his arm. He bounced him like he did Sam decades ago, like he would for any normal baby, cooing sweet nothing that tumbled out of him as if they were sand in a broken hourglass, shards mixed within. Dean spied a rocking chair in the corner and, with Sam’s piercing gaze studying him, Dean collapsed into it.

           That seemed to work. Dean’s gentle rocking, paired with a hummed lullaby cherrypicked from his past, put the hellion in his arms at ease. Jack stared up, transfixed by what Dean guessed is the tall lamp casting a gentle glow on them both; a lamp Sam, now in the room and by his side, flicked on after Dean sat down. It must be the center of his focus, because Dean wouldn’t believe the baby looked at him like he did; like he’s a bright and beautiful thing, deserving of attention, of being the center of his known universe. He didn’t want that, especially from him.

           Dean swallowed a curse and ended their contest, sure if he looked into the baby’s eyes any longer, he would damn the consequences and wring the life from this tiny body nestled in his hands. He waited for Jack’s fit to tamper lower and lower, rising only after a moment of uninterrupted silence. Dean carried Jack back, returning him to his crib. He added another mistake into the column of ever-increasing errors and glanced at Lucifer’s kid a final time. He examined him, searching for little horns or a tail or tattoos of sixes; he found nothing. Nothing that proved he’s more than a child, innocent and carefree.

           Sam hung by his shoulder, buzzing halo bothersome in Dean’s ear. “I think he likes you.”

           Dean huffed under breath, “I wish I could say the same.”

           He left. Sam trailed in his wake; tread heavy from being constipated with a smug righteousness Dean dreaded will be shat all over him when Sam had the chance. He was silent until the kitchen, then Sam struck. “His mother just died, Dean.”

           Dean shrugged, “So did ours.” He expected that to feel weird saying, but it hadn’t. Sam gaped at him, like it had. Maybe Dean’s in shock. Maybe he was too used to having a dead mom. Dean carried on regardless. “If you think a sob story’s gonna convince me of anything, try hitting me when the kids got enough pages to fill a book larger than Moby Dick’s, or ours. Right now, he’s a table of contents and not much else.”

           “Exactly,” Sam needled, poking Dean’s chest. Dean swat him away with the refrigerator door, creating a makeshift barrier to protect himself from Sam’s crusade. He dug around for something to drink, something boozy, as Sam prattled. “Look, Dean, we… I know our thing is – our thing is killing monsters but, Dean, he’s a baby. He – he didn’t do anything –“

           “He was conceived,” Dean said, “that’s enough for me.” His groping fingers pushed aside the carton of milk for a third time; he still couldn’t find the beer.

           “That wasn’t his fault.” Sam rested his hand over Dean’s where it rested on the refrigerator door, pleading for Dean to look at him by touch alone. Dean relented, darting his eyes for a fleeting glance. Sam’s brows were drawn in like a steep hill, and he appeared absolutely ghastly because of the refrigerator’s light. Dean fell back to his mission. “Lucifer… he set this in motion, and we’ve dealt with him.”

           “And what did it cost us?”

           Sam sighed. “Everyone we lost knew what this was about,” he told Dean, “knew how it might end. They were ready to risk their lives for this.”

           “We were here to take down Lucifer, end of story,” Dean spat, knocking items onto the floor in his fervor. He tore through like a whirlwind, throwing food everywhere. Eggs, lettuce, ketchup and pickles – no beer though. Dammit. “And with the kid kicking, we haven’t even finished our mission.”

           “Jack is not Lucifer!” Sam squeezed Dean’s wrist, begging for more attention. Dean’s spiteful, rigid glare burned a hole in the back of the fridge. He refused to move even an inch. “He’s a baby, and we… we kill monsters. We kill the ones who have no chance of being saved. He was just born, Dean. He had no choice in that.”

           “Who’s to say that he won’t choose to be a monster, once he’s old enough?”

           Sam strangled his wrist, now, Dean’s fingers numbing because of his brother’s impassioned grip. “We’ll make sure. We’ll raise him right.”

           This drew Dean out of the refrigerator. “We?” he laughed, bitterness churning in his gut. “We, really? You think…” Dean didn’t finish, speechless at the insanity Sam presented. He and Sam, raising Lucifer’s kid? He and Sam, sheltering the baby who ruined their lives? He and Sam… “I hate to break it to you, Sammy,” he continued, his voice returning, “but this ain’t the nineties. We can’t have it all, clearly. And we are not taking that kid in like some muddy stray.”

           “Cas wanted to raise him.”

           Dean gagged. The toxic rush of seconds ago disappeared, spilling out from the seam Sam pulled loose.

           Sam, at least, was aware enough to briefly mime an apology. His face contorted into a pained expression, exaggerated to better mangle his earlier fury. However, that’s smoothed and replaced with sterner features as he detached himself from his words, and the ugliness that they inspired. He stood tall, committed to the outburst, and from the curl of his scowl, Dean wouldn’t expect him to take back what’s been said. It will linger like the other ghosts.

           If that was how he wanted to do this.

           “Sure,” Dean agreed, “and that got him what, exactly?” He slammed the refrigerator door, startling both of them and the baby. Jack’s wailing picked up where he left off, although sharper and more annoying. Dean pushed into Sam, instinct urging him to soothe like he did earlier. Dean stopped himself, hesitating. He spun on his heel, leaving where he came in.

           Sam shouted, “You can’t just run away Dean!”

           “I’m getting some air, is all!” he yelled back, ripping the door off its hinges in his haste to leave.

           A terrifying gust rammed into him almost immediately, giving him the very air he craved. Then, a second wind blows in the opposite direction; stealing his breath as his gaze landed on the body of his angel, immobile, with black skid marks in a shoddy recreation of what might be wings splayed beside him like oddly bent branches. Dean blindly descended, too focused with Cas’s form than the stairs. When his feet reached solid, uneven ground, Dean slowed to a glacial pace. Cas didn’t react.

           Dean tried not to, too. Hand at his cheek, wiping some more stray tears, Dean failed.

           He ripped himself away, jogging from the backyard space towards the front where his true escape was. Dean white knuckled his keys, jagged teeth biting into the palm of his hand. Pain kept him from spiraling, from thinking, from staying there. And when he couldn’t use pain, key nestled in the ignition instead of his hand, Dean had the next best thing – open roads.

           The engine roared, overpowering the blood rushing past his ears. Dean demolished the speed limit easily, bulleting across the asphalt, pedal his trigger. It’s early enough he needn’t worry about highway patrolmen or wayward pedestrians. He drove fast, loose, and recklessly. Fuck Vin Diesel, Dean thought. Vin had nothing on him.

           Kelly’s cabin was a blurry spot in his rearview mirror, a speck he might scratch off with his nail if he pleased. Trees became indistinguishable from each other. Not that it mattered, Dean’s tunnel vision blocking his periphery. His eyes remained fixed ahead of him, uncharacteristically so. It took most his focus to keep like that, hands cramping on the wheel from throttling it. He counted dash after dash and tallied potholes as he hit them, stuffing his mind with senseless figures other than the lone one he abandoned in the field.

           Soon, Dean reached a nearby town. The greenery became sparser, leaves and wood replaced by buildings and city blocks and lampposts and streetlights. He hit his first light, a blip of red flashing for attention. Thoughtlessly, Dean flattened his foot against the brake; Baby’s tires squealing as she fought momentum. Dean knocked against his dashboard from the force, falling back only after his car fully stopped. He couldn’t see the streetlight dangling above. Dean knew he sat over the line, his Baby’s hood hanging in the intersection, asking for an accident.

           A second later, and what he was driving from caught up to him.

           Dean gasped, curling in on himself, hands glued to the wheel. His body seized with sobs that bruise, each tremor punching his gut. He used what little strength he had and glanced at his reflection. That speck on his rearview, that he foolishly clawed at, didn’t disappear; it was caught in his bloodshot eyes.

           He couldn’t continue driving like this.

           Red light, green light, it didn’t matter now. Dean crawled along to the nearest lot that belonged to a tacky chain eatery. Parking inside, Dean threw his car door open and spilled free of his Baby. He fell to his knees, hissing, denim ripping on impact and gravel scratching his skin. Dean staggered to his feet. Blood trickled down his leg from the open wound on his knee. He walked forward, dazed, while Baby idled at an angle, keys trapped in her ignition. If it were later in the day, someone might steal her. If Dean were acting like himself, he might care.

           He didn’t go far. Dean slowed as he approached the fast-food joint, stopping inches from the backdoor. His bottom lip wobbled, Dean raking his hair with twitching fingers. He stared at the door, at the wooden sign hanging by a single, rusted nail. It depicted a stereotypical pirate, with hat, beard, and eyepatch, painted on a blue background and encircled by cartoonish rope that framed this pirate’s face along with an oblong addition underneath of the word ‘BUCCANEERS’. The pirate glared ahead, at some far point, as if Dean weren’t there blocking it.

           But he was. Dean was here, while everyone else – everyone he cared about…

           “Why me?” he muttered, “Why’s it always… why do I have to deal with it, with the after, with picking up the pieces of someone else’s mess.” Dean growled, head bowed, eyes unflinchingly locked with the pirate’s. “Mom… Crowley… Ca” – he stuttered on his name, wounds still too fresh – “you’re gonna bring him back. You’re gonna bring them all back. After everything I’ve done for this shithole, that I’ve been through, it’s the least that I’m owed. I deserve to… I – I don’t deserve this.”

           The pirate ignored his pleas, it couldn’t answer him. And Chuck, apparently, wouldn’t answer him.

           “…Okay.”

           Dean launched himself at the pirate, picturing a brown beard instead of black, and a grayish blue eye where a black one was painted. He smashed it with one punch, face splintering and spraying everywhere. Dean continued wrecking it, nearly destroying the door in his fury. Aiming a final blow, Dean hit the sign off the nail and sent it flying from view.

           Exhausted, knuckles as bloody as his knee, Dean collapsed near the stacked crates and leaning pallets.

           A shudder traveled across his body, from the top of his head, dragged along each vertebra like a sharp, clawed finger, and finally making his legs seize and stretch out in front of him. Dean vacuumed in a deep breath, chest ballooning to contain it. He won’t release it willingly.

           “Dude…”

           Coughing, Dean glanced up at some teenager standing nearby, gaping at the scene. He wore a large brown jacket a shade lighter than his skin over a deep blue polo that matches the visor currently worn like a headband, so his bangs wouldn’t  his face. A ring of keys dangled in his hands. Keys that, Dean guessed, were for opening the very door he pummeled as if it were a punching bag.

           “Hey, man,” the teen asked, glancing between Dean and the wrecked door, “are you… like, good? Do I need to call someone?”

           A repairman. The teen’s manager. Neither would do Dean any good, but both will need to know about the damage he did to the property.

           Dean groaned, climbing to his feet. He swayed with the breeze, a lone willow in this blacktop clearing. Some of the blood from his knuckles drippled like morning dew would off its leaves. He advanced, the teen tensing as he moves closer. Their shoulders brushed, the younger of the two stumbling back a few inches, cowering in Dean’s presence. Dean thought he should say something, let him know there’s nothing to be afraid of.

           That felt like too much of a damned lie, so he caught the words in his throat and swallowed them down.

           He returned to his car, starting it like nothing happened, like his skin hadn’t torn and tears weren’t drying on his cheeks as he refused to wipe them off. Dean tapped the pedal and drove off. He drove the same path he took earlier, only in reverse. He drove to Kelly’s cabin, and all that waited for him there.

           Dean parked sloppily, again; however, pocketing his keys this time as he left Baby. He didn’t acknowledge the front door, shuffling into the backyard for another glimpse of Cas’s body.

           Cas was gone. His wings were still there, and Sam was, too.

           Sam dropped a stack of branches onto a large pile he must have begun gathering after Dean fled. He rubbed at his neck, steadily avoiding where Dean’s gaze was by looking at the pile. “I moved him,” he explained, “I figured we might as well start on the… on the pyres for him, and Kelly.” Sam paused. He grabbed a lone branch, snapping a twig from it. “I didn’t do anything else. Figured you would want to…”

           “Yeah.” Dean blinked, then imagined the shadows burnt into the ground rising and rising, flapping determinately, until they vanished. He blinked. Those wings hadn’t moved an inch.

           Dean headed into the cabin.

           He spied Cas’s body immediately, laid atop the kitchen table. Sam rearranged him during transit, closing his eyes and setting Cas’s arms at his sides. If he weren’t thinking about it constantly, weren’t reminded of Cas’s current state with every beat of his own heart, Dean might believe Cas was asleep. Or, at the very least, imitating it, since angels can’t sleep. They can’t eat. There’s a lot they can’t do. And Cas won’t ever not do any of that, not anymore.

           Sighing, Dean circled the table while tracing the edges of it with his fingertips. He reached the other side, where a gauzy pair of curtains hung. Dean swung his arm outward, going through the motions to free them. It’s quick work.

           Wrapping Cas with these curtains will take a lifetime.

            Dean started by lifting Cas’s head and slipping a strip underneath. He cradled him, unnaturally soft tufts of hair tickling his fingers. Holding Cas in such a manner encouraged further action, tempted Dean to do more. He succumbed to these voices, the fast few hours since they last sung weakened his resolve. Dean ran his bloodied knuckles across Cas’s face. He stained deathly pale skin red. He hissed, stubble like sandpaper against his cuts. He left no wrinkle untouched.

           Finally, Dean switched to his thumb and pressed it just below Cas’s lips.

           It’s maddening, touching Cas like this, like he always wanted. He dreamt of being able to for longer than he could remember. Daydreams and fantasies of Dean, curled into Cas’s side, leisurely and lovingly memorizing every inch of the other’s face. Those moments were always pretend, too human to ever be real, to expect from an angel like Cas. Now, as his thumb swept along the bow of Cas’s lips, Dean paid his respects to the thousands of imagined mornings and nights that would not be. Dean worshiped Cas in a way he never wanted to, but in the only way he’d ever be allowed to.

           “I’m sorry…” Dean placed a featherlight kiss to the corner of Cas’s mouth. Then, unable to bear looking at him, he wrapped the curtain over his face.

           He shrouded the rest of Cas’s body with military precision, robotically completing his ritual. Dean hovered at his side, tightly clutching the final knot in Cas’s wrappings. His head hung listlessly, the foundations of a prayer forming on his tongue. He gnashed his teeth together, smashing it, and the sentiment’s remains tumbled backwards. It ripped apart his insides like glass. The only person who would listen, who’d care, who might heal this hurt, couldn’t.

           Cas was –

           Dean let go, marching into the backyard. Silently Dean joined Sam, amassing wood in his stead while Sam assembled the pyres.

           Together, they completed their duties by sundown. It might have been sooner if Sam didn’t slack off to play nursemaid to Lucifer’s kid. He ran off at the slightest bit of static coming from the garish, incongruently colored baby monitor clipped onto his belt loop, dragging their duties out because of intermittent breaks. When they finally set Cas and Kelly on their respective pyres, the sky darkened to the same shade it was that they lost both of them.

           Dean handled the fire. He struck two matches from a box buried in a kitchen drawer, then tossed them into the kindling. Sam, meanwhile, held a very fussy baby that showed no respect for ceremony. His piercing shrieks rung out clearly, somehow amplified by the open space. And as Jack’s cries mixed with the roar and crackle of flames, along with Sam mindlessly grunting back in a desperate plea for Jack to stop, Dean gave in. He stole Jack from Sam, nestling the baby against his chest.

           His temper lessened while in Dean’s arms, and Jack soon quieted.

           Dean felt Sam’s stare on his profile once more, an uncomfortable heat much different than what radiated from the cremating bodies before them. He hated it, being gawked at like some zoo animal. Yet Dean refused to turn, to bark at Sam that this momentary lapse meant nothing.

           He’s only exhausted. Too tired to shutter the devastation on his face, every crack of Dean’s heart was on full display. He’s not in the mood to fight with Sam, either, aware he needed him more than he needed to lash out. He’s broken and couldn’t even manage the energy to toss Jack into the fires like he imagined himself doing.

           Instead, Dean embraced him. He watched the smoke of his angel’s body drift upwards, Cas leaving him for good, forever, and rested his chin against the small, soft head of Cas’s destroyer.

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[rhysismydaddy]

The Bodyguard Pt. 3 (Elorcan)

Remember when I said it was fluffy? Yeah, that’s actually the next part sorry. Part 4 out Friday!

Part 1 | Part 2 

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A cold sweat covered Elide’s body as she held her uncle’s stare. Victory and possessiveness rolled off of him in waves, and he gave her a little smirk, clearly enjoying her fear. 

She looked around the alley, praying Lorcan’s tall frame would come barreling towards them. If she got out of this alive, she’d do whatever he said for the rest of her life and never doubt his word again. 

“Looking for your little bodyguard?” He looked over her body, a glimmer of annoyance in his gaze. “He’s not going to interrupt us. Ever again.”

Oh, gods. Is he dead? Had Vernon-

“I wonder, though. How did you get him to protect you so fearlessly? Staying in his apartment, taking him to work... it’s almost like he’s your lover.” He gave her a wolf’s smile, leaning in to brush his lips over her cheek. “Did you spread your legs for him, Elide?”

She couldn’t breathe couldn’t breathe couldn’t breathe-

Vernon’s hand closed over her hip, the intentional placement making her jump. “Did you forget who you belong to?”

A single tear escaped, and her uncle came close to lick it away. Then he leaned back and grinned, looking every bit like the predator he was. 

Vernon ran a hand through his hair, and the movement made his suit jacket shift, allowing her to glance the glint of a knife tucked into his pants. She kept her gaze on his face, not wanting to give herself away, and tried to calm her breathing. 

“I can assure you, you will not be making that same mistake again.”

Now, the little voice in her head whispered. 

Elide smiled back at Vernon. “You’re right. I won’t.”

Triumph invaded his gaze, but it quickly turned to rage as she pushed him off and grabbed the knife from his belt. And the rage quickly turned to shock as she turned the blade on herself, swinging her arms in and up, aiming directly for her heart. 

When the impact came, it knocked her off her feet, slamming her into the hard ground below. 

Hell, that hurt.

But when she peered down at herself, Elide was shocked to see no sign of a knife wound. 

And there was blood was everywhere, but it wasn’t on her. It was on Lorcan, who was once again on top of her, huge body covering her own. His hand was a vice on her wrist, tight enough she dropped the knife still pressed to her chest. 

He gave her a very, very pissed off look, but before she could analyze that, Lorcan was twisting off of her, grabbing the knife from beside her, and hurling it towards the shadows behind them. 

Elide heard a loud cry, followed by a creative curse, and then footsteps starting to sprint away. Tilting her head, she saw her uncle running down the alley away from them, his own knife protruding from his shoulder. 

“We have to get out of here,” Lorcan mumbled, grabbing her waist and throwing her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. 

“I can walk, you know,” she said to his back, even if she didn’t feel like that was especially true at the moment. Her entire body was shaking. 

He took off at a run, one thick arm wrapped around her waist to keep her still. “Your legs are shorter.”

She rolled her eyes, even though he couldn’t see her. 

He continued to run until they were inside the apartment complex, both of them ignoring the questioning looks from people in the lobby. God, they looked bad. 

Elide realized it probably looked like she was getting kidnapped, not saved. 

She smiled at the onlookers, trying to seem relaxed but knowing it was a lost cause.

Soon enough, they were up the elevator and inside his apartment. Lorcan put her down on one of his two chairs and walked around the place, closing the curtains and making sure everything was locked. 

“What happened to you?” she asked immediately. He was covered in blood, black shirt torn almost to shreds, a vicious glint in his eyes.

“I was waiting for you outside the bathroom. Seven of your uncle’s men came down the hallway. We went outside to... handle business, the alley across from the one I found you.” He looked down at himself and sighed. “It took longer than expected to deal with them.”

Hold on. Seven? Seven? 

“You fought seven men off?”

He shrugged as if the number of assailants was irrelevant. “I’m sorry I didn’t get to you sooner.”

Elide was sure of two things: he was being genuine and he was the type of person to never apologize. 

She shook her head. “You saved my life, Lorcan. Don’t apologize because it took you five minutes to save your own.” Taking another glance at him, she got up and walked to his kitchen for a few towels. “Take your shirt off.”

Somehow she managed to keep the blush to a minimum, even as he raised a dark brow and yanked the fabric off. 

Holy mother of- focus. 

“Did I cut you?”

He shook his head. “This is from Vernon’s guys. You didn’t hurt me.”

The way he said it made it sound more like You can’t hurt me. She wet the towel, then reached up to brush off the dozens of cuts along his chest, shoulders, torso, and arms. Good gods, he looked like he shouldn’t even be standing. 

He handed her something that looked like toothpaste. “Put this on the worst ones.” 

Elide nodded, taking her time, then motioned for him to turn around. 

The breath almost rushed out of her when he did. If she’d thought his chest was marked with signs of a difficult life, it was nothing compared to his back. 

His skin was marred with more scars than she could count. Thick scars, thin scars, scars of every shape and size. She’d figured he’d grown up rough, but this was more than that. He’d been brutalized. 

It brought tears to her eyes as she wiped the blood off them, thinking about what had happened to him to cause something like this. 

Before he turned back around, she made sure to keep her expression clear. She had a feeling he wouldn’t take her sympathy well. 

Looking back up at him, she noticed he had a thick gash on his jaw, like someone had swung for his throat and barely, barely missed. She reached up, arm almost fully extended, and Lorcan huffed a laugh before reaching for her.

Strong hands gripped her waist and lifted her onto the counter, and Lorcan stepped in between her thighs. Even with the added height, he was taller than her, and that knowledge did strange things to her brain. 

She grabbed a new towel, then slowly started to wipe the cut off. It wasn’t as bad as it looked, but it would take a few days to heal. 

His dark eyes were intense on hers, and she felt like she suddenly couldn’t breathe as she avoided his gaze. 

His hands were on the counter next to her hips, putting him so close she could feel the heat radiating off him, smell the musky scent that radiated off of him.

She swiped the weird paste over his jaw, his light dusting of stubble scratching her finger. 

It was finished. Done. She should get off the counter, put a door between them, and go to sleep. 

A locked door. 

Neither of them moved, though. 

He stayed staring at her, face inches from hers. It’d be so easy to just lean forward and take his lips with hers. 

And for the first time in her life, she wanted to. 

Almost without thinking, she did exactly that, softly brushing her lips across his. 

He was absolutely still, not even breathing, as she did it. Then he pulled back, and there was a new light in his dark eyes she couldn’t read but desperately wanted to. “You shouldn’t do things like that, Elide.”

His words were anything but a deterrent since they were spoken with a slightly husky voice. “Why not?”

Lorcan shook his head, running a thumb over his lips. “Because you’re in shock. It’s the adrenaline.” Before she could argue, he said, “You should clean up.”

Looking down at herself, she realized he was right. Even though she wasn’t hurt, her clothes had blood on them from being pressed against him. She nodded, sliding off the counter to stand in front of him. 

Back at her normal height, he towered over her. They stood still for a few moments, but then Lorcan took a step back, and she took the hint, going to the bathroom to shower. 

It was only once she stood under the spray, watching other peoples’ blood run down the shower drain, that the gravity of her situation hit her. 

Vernon was here, in the city, desperate to get her back. And he knew she was staying with Lorcan. Had tried to kill him just for keeping her safe. 

Who knew what would happen to the other people in her life? Aelin, Rowan, Asterin, Manon? The only people who cared about her? She’d never forgive herself if she got them hurt. 

Elide pressed her forehead to the cool wall. Her hand found it’s way to the spot Vernon had grabbed, fingers running over the scar. Did you forget who you belong to?

A sob escaped her before she even knew she was crying. 

As if she could forget twenty-three years of captivity. Twenty-three years of wondering why it had to be her, why her own family would treat her like that. 

The tears kept flowing, and she knew it was the stress, the shock of what had happened, but she just let them. She sank to the floor of the shower, curling into a ball. 

Vernon’s face had always been a constant weight in her mind, but it was overwhelming now. His joy tonight at catching her, his smile when he saw how scared she was, the shock on his face when she fought back. 

And older memories, from years before tonight, flooded her thoughts, too. How he’d run his fingers over her throat before squeezing. How he’d wake her up in the middle of the night by pinning her hands over her head. How he’d laugh when she begged him to stop. 

Oh, he’d loved that. Her fruitless whimpers and pleas were like a drug to him.

Her body collapsed on itself as she sobbed, the line between past and present blurring as she relived years and years of torture.

Air seemed unwilling to move into her chest, and she gasped and put a hand on her throat desperately  

Part of her brain heard the door open, felt the water cut off. Part of her didn’t even care. 

Someone wrapped a towel around her and scooped her up, then she was pressed against a strong chest, her tears dampening the fabric against her cheek. 

Elide knew it was ridiculous to cry over the past, to mourn her youth and happiness when it was already long gone, but she couldn’t help it. 

The man holding was silent, careful to only touch her where absolutely necessary. He walked them over to the chair beside her bed and sat, still holding her in his arms. 

She wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face against his shoulder. She’d never liked to be touch, but everywhere they connected seemed to soothe her, remind her that she was safe. 

He continued to rock her in his lap, and the tears finally subsided, allowing her to breathe normally again. 

Pulling back enough to see him, she looked into Lorcan’s face. 

It was still hard and expressionless, but his eyes gave him away. They held a glimmer of warmth that she’d ever seen before. 

“You’re alright,” he murmured in that gravelly voice of his. “I’ve got you.”

She nodded. 

“I used to get those, too. Panic attacks.” 

Her eyebrows raised on their own accord. He looked like nothing could ever hurt him, mentally or physically. But she knew first hand that a rough exterior didn’t mean much. 

“Were you in the military? Is that why you’re...” so damn tough?

Lorcan shook his head. “No. I learned how to fight in foster care. For a few years anyway.” He leaned back in the chair, settling her deeper against his chest. “I ran away when I was eleven, lived in the streets after that. Fought for food and stole what I couldn’t win.”

Elide stayed silent, pieces of the puzzle starting to slide together. 

You didn’t get like him, hardened and tougher than everyone around you, without living through something to make you that way. And he had, for years.

“Eventually, I got a job that gave me enough money to do whatever I wanted.” She wanted to ask what it was, but the tone he used made her sure she didn’t really want to know.

“And then I met Whitehorn, and he got me into private security.” The corners of his mouth twitched up. “I probably would’ve ended up in jail or dead if it wasn’t for the bastard. Not that I’d ever tell him.”

A smile found its way onto her face. “Aelin saved me, too. More times than I can count.”

“Self-righteous pair they are,” he gruffed, but he didn’t sound angry, so she continued.

“She bought an apartment across the country for me. Set up a whole life with my name. And whenever Vernon would go and check it out, she’d switch cities.” Elide shook her head, almost in disbelief. “She’s what kept him away from me for so long.”

“She’s the one who pushed me to get my online degree while I stayed with her. Stubborn woman she is.” Lorcan nodded his agreement. “I owe her everything.”

“Fuck.” 

She looked up at him in question, and he rolled his eyes. “Now I can’t hate her as much.”

Elide smiled, but it started to feel ridiculous as she remembered who he was, why he was here, what had happened tonight. Don’t you remember who you belong to? 

“What?” he asked, picking up on her mood shift. If she didn’t know better, she’d say Lorcan’s voice was soft. Almost caring.

Not knowing how to put it into words, she grabbed his hand and put it on her hip, right where Vernon’s grip had been. Then she pulled the towel back enough his hand found her skin. 

His dark brows knitted, fingers playing with her ruined flesh. It was one of her many scars, but the only that had done something to her on the inside, too. 

Lorcan looked down, and the clench in his jaw told her he saw everything he needed to. 

“When I was eighteen,” she whispered, voice already breaking as the memory came over her. “I made the mistake of thinking I’d move out, start my life as an adult. Vernon wanted me to know how stupid that idea was. He told me I was his, for life.”

Somehow, she kept the tears at bay as she said, “He branded me.”

The thick scar was clearly a V, seated right on her hip bone. “Said anyone who ever saw it would realize I was someone else’s. Said no one would ever want...” someone ruined. 

She met his gaze, finding comfort in the cold rage in his eyes. He shifted her slightly on his lap, then leaned over. Elide was pretty sure her heart stopped as he pressed a featherlight kiss over the mark.

Then he pulled the towel back over it and sat up, looking at her intensely. “You already know this, but you’re not his property, Elide. The only one who can decide something like that is you.” 

She nodded, and he pulled her back against his chest with gentle hands. “I’m sorry that he hurt you. But I promise that for as long as I live, he’ll never touch you again.”

There was enough heat, enough anger, in his voice that she believed him without a doubt. 

“Thank you, Lorcan. For everything.”

She drifted off  to sleep, tucked his arms as he sat in that uncomfortable chair, listening to his deep, steady breathing. It was the first time in ages she’d felt truly safe. 

______________________________________________________________

Part 4

@cursebreaker29 @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @studyliketate @over300books @justgiu12 @maastrash @a-bit-of-a-cactus @aesthetics-11 @bamchickawowow @b00kworm @sleeping-and-books @musicmaam @savemesoon8 @hizqueen4life @maybekindasortaace @ladywitchling @sjmships @superspiritfestival @stardelia @keshavomit @illyrianwitchling13 @lord-douglas-the-third @blackjacks-donuts @hufflebird89 @sensitiveillyrian @towhateverend17 @empress-ofbloodshed @dottieadot @se-ono-waise-ilia @tswaney17 @jlinez @wineywitch202

[twilightsagasworld]

Male (kraken) reader x Leah Clearwater

requested by @rexburn12

It was a stormy, black, and dreary night in Forks. No one was driving around town and there wasn’t a soul in sight. Forks wasn’t a place where storms weren’t common, they happened often, but there was something peculiar about this exact one that made the Cullen clan uneasy, something supernatural was behind this and it was something big. And the Cullen’s weren’t the only ones on edge, on the reservation the Quileute wolves shared fretted whispers and murmurs, no one could explain what was going on or what the cause behind this unease was, but everyone concurred that the supernatural was involved, in some way, shape or form.

“Well if it’s something supernatural, let’s kick it’s ass!”, “No, Emmett, not until we have an idea of what this is, we still don’t know where it is, that should be our main concern for now, it’s location” Carlisle explained, they were all gathered in his study, trying to come up with a plan and an explanation. Edward leaned against a shelf, “So what? We wait?”, Carlisle gave him a look, “There’s nothing else we can do, I’ve never seen this type of phenomenon”, the family shared a few concerned looks. The tension thickened when Bella’s phone rang, she answered, “Jake, what is it?”, the room was silent as Bella and Jacob exchanged words, but the call ended quick, Bella bit her lip, Carlisle frowned, “What is it Bella?”, Bella shook her head slightly, “Jake…they all think it’s coming from La Push”, “La Push is the nearest beach from here, the wolves think it’s there?” Edward asked, Bella nodded, “Jake said they’ve been getting a weird scent near the water when they got there”, “The wolves are at the beach now?”, “Yes”, Carlisle nodded, “Alright, hopefully they won’t be too mad, but we need to go there, it could be dangerous for them to encounter something without help” Carlisle spoke, the family nodded, “We need to hurry then” and with that, they left.

Leah was the second to arrive after Jacob at the beach, the storm was still going strong and rain was pouring hard. It didn’t take long for the rest of the shifters to arrive along with the Cullen’s. Leah sneered at them, their smell repulsed her and she could’ve gagged if they weren’t in a serious situation.

“Jacob, we hope you don’t mind, but we had to come, given the occasion” Carlisle shook Jacob’s hand, “Trust me, I’m almost glad you’re here, we don’t know what’s going on but we picked up a scent not too long ago, we don’t know what it is but we don’t like it”, Carlisle nodded, “Alright, we need a plan then”, Paul scoffed, “You don’t have a plan? Great”, Sam shut him up with a glare, but Carlisle didn’t seem to mind, “We’re as in the dark as you are, trust me”, Jacob sighed and clenched his jaw, “So what do we?” his tone was hard, but tense, Carlisle glanced at the water, “Our best bet is to go in, see what we can find and take it from there”, Jacob looked at him like he was crazy, “You’re not serious!” he fisted his hands into his hair, Seth stood beside his sister, “Leah, you think Jake is okay?”, Leah pinched the bridge of her nose, before giving her brother a look of disbelief, “What do you think Seth”, Seth shrugged, before mumbling a ‘sorry’, Leah shook her head, “Whatever bu- Leeches!”, Leah’s yell turned everyone’s attention to her, she pointed to the treeline, “Yeah, we smell them too, get rid of them!” Jacob ordered. The packs shifted and assumed a defensive stance while the Cullen’s did the same, in a matter of seconds a group of newborn’s ran at them, but just as they were about to clash something shot out of the water and slammed into the newborn’s, killing them. The force of the collision shook the ground beneath everyone’s feet as they stared in awe at what they saw.

There was a giant tentacle dragging the bodies into the water, and as they disappeared something else started emerging from the water’s surface. “I don’t believe it…” Carlisle’s voice was shaky, “What is it Carlisle?!” Emmett’s yelled, Carlisle turned to look at his son, “That’s the Kraken”, his words etched themselves into everyone’s minds as the beast finally appeared from the surface, a few snarls came from the wolves as they growled at the large figure, Carlisle shot the pack a warning look, “Don’t attack it!”, Sam let out a bark to order his pack back and Jacob followed suite, everyone’s attention was now on the Kraken. The beast let out a dangerous and low drawl, the sound blending in with the thunder above it, and then it spoke,

“Go away…or die” it’s voice was deep and scratchy, sending waves of fear and shock into the Cullen’s and the wolves. Carlisle spoke up, “Please, we don’t want any trouble, but you’ve seemed to cause a disturbance in the weather which drew our attention, I hope to come to an agreement, if you’re willing to listen!”, the Kraken let out a rumble, stretching it out and making it sound like it was contemplating something. It spoke again, “…I will listen…”, before Carlisle could say more the beast descended into the waves, the storm seemed to calm too, there wasn’t such heavy rain as before, instead it was a drizzle, and the thunder and strong winds died down to nothing but a breeze. Some of the wolves whined when nothing seemed to happen after a minute, everyone was being cautious.

The waves collapsed against the shore and a figure appeared from the aftermath. It was a man, young, but husky and tall, everything about him cried danger. But to Leah, her world seemed to stop, all of a sudden it didn’t feel like gravity was keeping her down, it was him. The man stopped a few feet away from both groups, his gaze locked with Leah’s, and he frowned, he felt peculiar, uneasy, fluttering in his body, and he didn’t know how to handle it, he determined the cause to be her, and so he marched towards the white wolf, ignoring the growls and tension that grew around him. He stopped two feet from her and held out his hand, and to everyone’s, and maybe even Leah’s own, surprise, she nuzzled it. The man’s face was unreadable and Carlisle kept a wary eye on him.

The man said nothing and turned away from the wolf and made way to Carlisle. Carlisle kept his face straight and his jaw tensed as the man stopped in front of him, “Greetings…”, the man sneered, and then scoffed, “(Y/n), but the humans call me the Kraken”, his voice was deep, smooth yet had an edge of a roughness to it, his voice fit his character perfectly Leah noted. Carlisle nodded, “I didn’t think the legends were true, seems I’ve been proven otherwise”, (y/n) crossed his arms, “Indeed, now what is it you want? You clearly are not human, I hear no heartbeat, nor the rushing of blood through veins”, Carlisle smiled, “Indeed we are not humans” he gestured towards his family, “We’re vampires, and those wolves are the protectors of the humans here, they are shapeshifters, able to morph from human to their current form. Now, what we need is some form of a treaty, we don’t need the humans to come looking for something that might kill them”, (Y/n) sighed, “Should I care? Because I don’t, the humans are of no concern to me”, Carlisle crossed his arms, “Well, I’m sure you don’t want them to try and seek you out? The humans do not understand the supernatural, they won’t leave you alone until they manage to get a piece of you to study and possibly experiment on, you won’t have peace”, a frown sketched itself onto (y/n)’s face, he stayed quiet for a moment before speaking, “I see…Well then, I shall remain hidden from the humans by staying in this form until I feel like changing back of course, I don’t need them meddling in my waters”, Carlisle nodded, “Good, and we’ll stay out of your way as well, you’ll need to form an agreement with the Quileute pack yourself, we stay out of each other’s ways, we formed a treaty long ago not to cross into their land you see, but I must thank you, I wasn’t expecting your co-operation” he held out his hand to shake, (y/n) looked at his hand, then to his face and back to his hand before shaking it. Without another word Carlisle gave Jacob a firm nod before disappearing with the other Cullen’s.

Leah watched closely as the man made his way over, Sam, in his wolf form, met him in the middle, letting out a growl. “I’ll stay off your land and you don’t bother me, deal?” the man smirked, Sam huffed in his face before giving a wolf form of a nod.

Everything after was a blur.

Leah found herself as the centre of teasing and comments about her imprinting. She hated the guys in Sam’s pack for not laying off her, many of them had yet to imprint and those who did seemed to only tease her the worst for it. It gave her headaches and she spent nearly all her time in her wolf form and away from the reservation. Her mind was centred around the man? Beast? Whatever it is. She didn’t want to confront him about it, because she was afraid he might kill her or not accept her at all. She wished the recent events were only dreams, but she couldn’t lie to herself, she had to accept it. She just didn’t know how she was going to talk to the man, and she wasn’t even sure she could have a future with him, he smelt like seaweed and the ocean, and she liked it.

Her mind being occupied distracted her from her surroundings, and she found herself wandering onto the beach of La Push, she wasn’t in her wolf form and the ocean breeze gently caressed her tan cheeks as she became aware of where she was. She was midway in turning back when she heard his voice, “You’re the white wolf who bonded to me” , he was sitting off to the side near a pile of drift wood, Leah cursed herself, nodding she answered, “Yes”, the man nodded, he was staring intently and curiously at her, “Come sit beside me, let us find out more about each other then, you intrigue me”, Leah’s feet moved on their own accord and soon she was sat beside him telling him things about herself.

And this was how it went on for months, them sharing stories and adventures, learning about the others life and so on, it gave Leah a warm feeling she hadn’t felt since before Sam left her, she clung to it, she wasn’t about to let it go that easily. Not now that she finally imprinted. Now she could start living.

[fanfalc-616]

(Master of Emotion) Can you write the ninja, Garmadon and other EMs meet Chen on his island {Garm is mad that his son has been kidnapped} (You don't need to go detail in season 4 , you can add or change as you like} and Kai's first match with his powers

Ok so I worked on this and failed and eventually gave up on it but I think I can write at least the last part now- even though this ask is from November-

Also oh my god I wrote something with writer’s block something that wasn’t even RoaN I should not be this impressed with myself but I am anyway-

Jay and Cole are still fighting. The annoying emotions coming off of them is damn near giving Kai a headache, but he ignores them in favor of starting to eat.

Thankfully, Chen speaks up over the speakers, giving him a break from the bickering.

“The tournament of Elements continues. Fun time!” He begins, and Kai almost scoffs at it. Fun? Yeah, okay. They’re here to rescue Lloyd, not play in fighting rings.

“Would the following Masters please make their way to their assigned arena? Speed, Gravity, Smoke, Nature, Mind, oh, and last and hopefully not least…”

He pauses a moment, and Jay takes the chance to speak up.

“Huh, maybe we all got the day off!”

“Emotion!” Chen finishes cheerfully, before the intercom abruptly shuts off.

Kai flashes Jay a glare. “Way to jinx it.” He grumbles.

The other winces, and as Cole seems to be about to insult him about it, Kai can hear opponent- Ash, his name was?- scoff as he looks over him.

“The Master of Emotion? Really? That’s a thing?” He shakes his head. “That much easier for me, I guess.”

A mix of anger and frustration builds up inside of him. This again? Sure, he knows that it’s not a classic element, but he had assumed that at least other elemental masters would understand it!

His clothes shift to a dark, orangey-red as he speaks. “That much more embarrassing when I kick your ass without even touching my fire!” He shoots back, crossing his arms.

Zane tenses up beside him, and so do the others. He knows that he’ll probably get a lecture over this later, but at the moment, he couldn’t care less.

The other elementals have started to watch around, seeming interested in the argument.

“Fire?” Ash frowns. “Now you’re claiming to have two elements? Everyone knows that’s not a…”

Kai takes in some smug satisfaction at the way his eyes widen when he stares at the flame that he lit in his hand.

The emotion bleeds over into his clothes, the red fading as the orange turns slightly yellow. “You were saying?” He mocks, staring the other down.

Ash seems startled, and there’s murmurs breaking out among the other masters- probably because they’re not sure what to do with him now.

The Master of Smoke opens his mouth to speak, but Zane steps between them, a tired expression on his face.

“Perhaps the two of you should save this for your battle.” He recommends, giving Kai a disapproving look.

Alright, alright, he’ll stop. Not because Zane wants him to, though. It’s because he wants to. Yeah. That’s totally it.

He shakes his head. “Whatever you say, Frosty.” He adds a casual shrug to his words, noticing the orange fade completely into a mirage of red and yellow- a difference in color that only people who actually know him can really see.

Turning around, Kai goes back to his food, ignoring the harsh whispers echoing around them.

“You need to be careful, Kai.” Sensei Garmadon warns. “Your elements are powerful, and the combination of them even more. But letting your anger get the better of you will-“

Kai takes a deep breath, tuning out the rest of what he’s saying. Lloyd is captured, Jay and Cole won’t stop bickering over his sister, Zane’s already exhausted, and he’s gonna be all cryptic? Yeah, sorry, Kai’s got enough on his plate.

As they finish eating, he takes a deep breath. Impulsive words or not, he’s gonna stick to them.

No fire. Just feelings.

How hard can it be?

——————————-

Kai stands on his end of the wooden bridge, glaring at Ash on the opposite side. The Jade Blade is in the middle of it, and oh, yeah, they’re on top of a volcano, so there’s kinda lava everywhere.

Even with his resistance to heat, Kai would really rather not test if he could survive molten rock.

“Kai, Master of Emotion…” Chen begins, and Kai takes that as his chance to pull his mask up over his nose. It’s about to get serious.

“Versus Ash, Master of Smoke!” As he speaks, Kai once again braces his feet, preparing to move the moment he’s given his cue.

“FIGHT!”

With the word, Kai takes off running, hand reaching out for the green weapon.

But before he even gets close, Ash throws himself at the rope on one side and flips the entire bridge upside down, dropping the blade onto a rock below and making Kai desperately grasp for purchase as the bridge rights itself while he’s still beneath it.

He manages to grab onto the bottom, but a quiet curse escapes him as he realizes that the fight is definitely not in his favor here. Ash has the high ground, and-

Except Kai’s beneath the bridge! He could use the wood panels as a horizontal ladder and get in close!

And that’s exactly what he does, and once he’s close enough, he bursts through the bottom of the bridge, throwing a kick midair.

But much to his dismay, Ash turns into smoke, making Kai stumble as he lands.

He quickly regains his footing and makes another attack, and another, and another, and another, but annoyingly enough, Ash just keeps turning into smoke whenever he tries to land a hit!

Another brief stumble gives the Master of Smoke the chance to fully solidify and kick Kai in the stomach, hard enough to send him flying backwards and even breaking part of the bridge.

A quiet curse escapes him as he finds himself once again hanging above the lava, this time suspended only by one hand holding onto a broken piece of wood.

A spark of fear hits him, only for a moment, but it’s enough for him to create a force field below him, and use that as a springboard to push himself back up onto the bridge.

The fear fades, replaced by anger. Clothes a bright orange, he dives into spinjitzu- but even then, he can’t land a single hit!

As he steadies himself again, Kai taps into his rage, letting the emotion support him.

Super strength isn’t really the best power to have here, but hey, he’ll take what he can get.

Fists clenched tight, Kai runs back to where he started on the bridge, a smirk crossing his face. “Let’s see you phase through this!”

He uproots the bridge from where it’s held, yanking it upwards. The unsteadiness makes Ash stumble, and as he stares in what looks like shock, Kai pulls up the other side.

The bridge starts to fall to the side where it’s still held down, and Kai uses the momentum it gives him to swing forwards and land on a rock near the Jade Blade.

Much to his annoyance, Ash manages to land on one too.

Well. That’s actually a good thing. If he landed in the lava he probably would’ve died, and as annoying as the guy is, Kai doesn’t want to murder him- or anyone, actually.

He shakes his head, trying to redirect his focus. No, annoyance isn’t helpful, he said he wouldn’t use his fire powers, so having them enhanced isn’t gonna help.

They both jump for the blade at the same time, causing them to collide midair. They grapple at each other, landing on another rock. Kai throws a punch, and seeing as the little space they have and midair combat, he actually manages to land a few hits!

But Ash manages to wrestle free from his grasp, and Kai feels his eyes widen as he jumps for the blade.

Kai jumps after him, but he knows then and there that the second it took for him to process it will be the second it takes for him to lose.

Fear takes a hold in his gut as everything seems to move in slow motion. Midair, he watches as Ash starts to grab the Jade Blade-

But then a purple bubble forms around it, throwing him off.

His hand smacks on the force field, and the sudden loss of grip makes his jump go wonky.

Kai lands on the rock and snags the blade, a triumphant grin starting to form, his clothes a bright yellow. He did it! He won! He-

Then he looks down, and he sees that Ash’s jump being thrown off sent him falling not onto another rock-

But towards the lava below.

Fear grips him once again, but this time, the force field isn’t formed subconsciously.

Still with the Jade Blade in his grasp, he uses his power to create a plate large enough for Ash to land on, the field almost touching the lava below.

Thankfully, Ash takes his chance to jump off it and onto another rock. He stares at Kai for a moment as the field vanishes, his fear fading and replaced with confidence.

The Master of Smoke opens his mouth to speak, seeming stunned by Kai’s actions- but before he gets the chance, Chen’s voice rings out from above.

“Winner!” He proclaims, and Kai can feel his grin widen and clothes turn a bright yellow as he sees his teammates and even the others in the crowd cheering.

“Loser!” Chen continues, seeming pretty happy with himself. “Master of Emotion moves on.”

Holding the Jade Blade up, Kai almost doesn’t feel bad about the way his opponent is dropped into a trapdoor below.

Kai just needs to stay in this tournament long enough to find and rescue Lloyd- not to mention stop whatever plans Chen has with their powers.

But for now, he’s going to feel good about himself. He worked hard for this victory, damn it, so he’s going to have good emotions for a little bit.

Maybe.

Hopefully.

Probably not.

… ugh. Why did he get stuck with the magical mood swings?