#(his face would be on fire watching that show)

[itneverendshere]

invisible string - r.c series (three) (+18)

pairing: pogue!rafe x kook!sweetheart!reader warnings: angst; smut; fluff. part one; part two

Rafe rarely ever fought with you. 

Sure, he’d thrown his weight around with just about everyone else, but with you?

He’d dropped the whole tough-guy bullshit months ago. Hell, he’d even cried in front of you, ugly sobbing and all. He didn’t let himself be that vulnerable with anyone else, but today... today he felt like his skin was too tight and he was two seconds away from losing it.

He didn’t understand why you were pushing so hard. You kept going, saying the same things over and over, and he was trying so damn hard to stay calm, but every word you said just felt like gasoline on a fire.

He wasn’t even mad at you, not really.

He was mad at everything else—at himself, at how nothing ever seemed to go right, at how he always felt one wrong move away from everything falling apart. And now you wanted to talk about it again, like you didn’t see how close he was to just snapping.

It felt like you didn’t get it. No matter how many times you two talked about it, you still thought there was some perfect world where you could just be together out in the open, like it was no big deal.

But it was a big deal. A huge fucking deal.

He leaned against the wall of the shed, arms crossed, just watching you. You looked so damn hopeful like he was really about to show up to your graduation party and stand next to you like some lost puppy. You had this big party planned at your place. Parents, family, all your Kook friends. The whole scene. And you wanted him there. Like your parents weren’t gonna lose their minds if they saw him anywhere near you.

He could practically see your dad’s face already, that look of disappointment or disgust or whatever the hell he’d call it.

Rafe wasn’t dumb. He knew his place around here.

And sure, you knew the basics too: you were heading off to college soon, your life was on this perfect, shiny path, and his...well, his was a whole mess in comparison. But it was like you couldn’t see the bigger picture. Or maybe you just didn’t want to.

You acted like everything between you two would stay the same, like you could just waltz into your new life with him still in it, like he could just follow you there. But Rafe knew better. You were leaving in four months, and that thought sat heavy in his chest every time he was around you now.

And here you were talking about the party again, like his presence there wouldn’t blow up everything.

He wanted to be there for you, more than anything, but not like that. Not surrounded by your perfect little world while he felt like an outsider, waiting for someone to call him out. It was like you didn’t even see the bomb that was about to go off if he stepped foot into your life like that.

“Are you listening to me?”

He ran a hand down his face, trying to hold onto whatever thread of control he had left. “I am listenin',” he muttered, though his voice came out harder than he meant.

“No, you’re not,” you said, a little firmer this time. "You’re shutting down again, like you always do when I bring this up."

He didn’t want to fight. He didn’t want this to turn into some big blow-up. But damn, why couldn’t you just drop it for once? Why did you always have to dig, always push when he was hanging by a thread?

“Are coming tonight or not?” you asked for the millionth time, like it was no big deal. Just a party. “It’s nothing crazy.”

He let out a short laugh, not even bothering to hide the sarcasm. Yeah, right. “Like your dad’s not gonna lose his shit the second he sees me?”

“Rafe—” you started, but he already knew where this was going. Same conversation, different day.

You were standin’ there, looking at him with those big, hopeful eyes and it killed him. You were always calm, always trying to make sense of shit when sometimes there just wasn’t any sense to be made.

And right now, he didn’t have the patience for it.

He cut you off. “You really think it’s that easy? You think I can just show up, grab a drink, and blend in with your crowd like we’re in some damn movie? Tell everyone how ‘m your homeless boyfriend?”

You looked frustrated like you couldn’t wrap your head around why this was such a big deal. He wished you could see it from his side, but how could you? You weren’t a pogue.

You didn’t know what it was like being the guy no one wanted around anymore. Hell, he barely had anywhere to crash before you helped him out. And now, what? He was supposed to show up to your graduation party and pretend like he belonged?

He was getting worked up now. He knew it. But damn, how was he supposed to just walk into that house, standing next to you while everyone whispered about how he would be dragging you down?

“It’s my party,” you said, taking a step closer. “I don’t care what they think. I want you there.”

He clenched his jaw and looked away. You didn’t get it. This wasn’t just about your daddy or your friends or even you. It’s about the fact that no matter how hard he tried, he was always gonna be that guy they look at sideways like he wasn’t worth a dam.

“Yeah? And what happens when they start askin’ questions?” He asked, voice low, trying to keep the edge out of it. “When they find out we’ve been sneakin’ around for months? You think they’ll just be cool with that? You wanna throw all that away, for me?”

Your face tightened up, hurt showing in your eyes, and damn if that didn’t make his chest twist up inside. He hated seeing you like that.

“I’m just tired of pretending like I’m ashamed of you.”

That one hit hard, harder than he expected.

He dropped his head, rubbing the back of his neck, feeling like he was about to lose it. “M’ not doing this to hurt you,” he muttered, trying to pull himself back together. “I’m doing it ‘cause I care about you.”

He was protecting this.

You shook your head like you didn’t believe him. “No, you’re doing this ‘cause you think you’re protecting me from something that doesn’t even matter. None of this—my parents, the Kook bullshit—none of it matters to me.”

You didn’t curse often, but when you did, he knew you were upset. Rafe let out a frustrated sigh, looking down at his boots, the ones you’d bought him a month ago, kicking at some dirt on the ground. He hated this. Hated how you made it seem so simple. Like you could just snap your fingers, and everything would fall into place.

"Doesn't matter to you," he muttered, shaking his head. "But it matters to them. It matters to the people you gotta see every day. Your parents, your friends... hell, half the damn island. You think they won’t care? That they won’t look at you different if they see you with me?"

You were right there in front of him now, reaching out to touch his arm, but he tensed up, not ready for the comfort. Not when his head was a mess.

“I don’t care what they think. Why do you?"

That question. That damn question. It was always the same one, and he never had a good answer for it. He didn’t care what they thought, not about him.

But you? You deserved better. And even if you didn’t see it that way, he did.

“I care ‘cause you’re... you’re better than all that, alright?" His voice was gruff, trying to keep from saying too much, but it was getting harder. "You got your whole future lined up, you’re set. College, whatever the hell you wanna do. And then there's me, dragging you down with all my bullshit. You deserve—"

“I deserve to make my own choices,” you cut in, stepping even closer, so close now that he could feel the warmth of your skin, hear the frustration under your breath. “And I choose you. I don’t care about any of that other stuff. I want you there tonight. With me.”

The way you said it, it almost made him want to believe it. Almost.

Rafe clenched his jaw, eyes drifting up to meet yours. You really believed it, didn’t you? That this could work. That you two could just show up, be together, and it wouldn’t matter what anyone thought. Part of him wanted to grab onto that same hope, hold it tight, and say “fuck it” to everything else.

But the other part—the part that had seen how the world worked, how Kooks looked down on Pogues like him—knew better.

"Just 'cause you want it, doesn’t makes it real.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, "Like we can just walk in there and no one’s gonna give a shit that you’re standing next to me.”

You crossed your arms now, jaw set in that stubborn way that usually meant you weren’t backing down. “I don’t care anymore, Rafe. I’m tired of living by their rules. This is my life."

He felt a flare of anger burn in his chest. Not at you, but at the situation. At the fact that he couldn’t just be the guy you wanted him to be, the guy who could walk into that party and not feel like he was sticking out like a sore thumb.

“Yeah?” he snapped back, voice rough. “And what about next time, huh? What about the next party or when your dad finds out and says you’re not allowed to see me anymore. What then?”

You stared at him, eyes hard, like you were daring him to say more, but there was something else in your expression, something that made his throat tighten. "You’re just looking for an excuse," you said quietly. "You’re scared."

Maybe you were right. Maybe he was scared.

Scared that if he let himself believe this could work, he’d end up losing you in the end anyway. Scared that the moment you really saw how different your lives were, you’d leave, and he’d be the one standing there, broken.

“Can’t you just drop it?”

“You’re being mean.”

He wasn’t trying to hurt you—not really. But he didn’t know how else to get through your head, how to make you see what he saw.

“So what if I am. Maybe I need to be. You’re not listening to me.”

You didn’t flinch, didn’t back down, and that just pissed him off more. You should be mad. You should hate him for not just going along with this, for making it all so damn hard. But there you were, looking at him like you still believed in him. Like he was worth it. And fuck, that was the hardest part.

Your eyes were glassy, and he could see it—the hurt. The way you blinked fast, your lips pressed tight, like you were holding it all in, it killed him.

“You’re pushing me away,” you said, voice shaky as hell. “And I don’t get it. You’re actin’ like I’d be better off without you.”

He clenched his fists, feeling that familiar burn of frustration flare up. He didn’t want to yell at you.

Hell, he never wanted to make you cry, but you didn’t get it. Part of him wanted to shake you, make you see things the way he saw them. The other part? The part that hurt every time you talked about leaving, about how you had this whole future ahead of you... that part just wanted to pull you in and hold on tight.

He laughed, a sharp, humorless sound. “Yeah? Well, someone needs to. 'Cause you’re blind if you think this ends with us living happily ever after.”

You flinched, like his words had hit you straight in the chest. And then, the tears came, and he couldn’t stop them this time. You wiped at your face, trying to hold it together, but he’d already done the damage.

He was falling apart right in front of you, and he hated that you had to see it. Hated that you were the only person who ever saw him like this.

He hated himself for saying it, but he couldn’t stop now. Couldn’t stop the truth from comin’ out, no matter how much it hurt. “You’re leavin’ in four months, and I’m still here. Still... me. And I’m not draggin’ you down with all my crap. You deserve better than that.”

You reached out, grabbing his arm, and the way you touched him made somethin’ inside him crack. “I don’t want better, Rafe. I want you.”

“Yeah?” He barked out a laugh, bitter and hollow. “And what happens when you’re gone? When you’re off at college, livin’ your life, and I’m still here, stuck in this place? You think this... whatever this is, is gonna last?”

Your voice broke a little when you spoke again. “Why are you doing this?”

“I’m doin’ it ‘cause I care about you,” he said, voice dropping low, rough around the edges. “More than anything. But you... you got a future. You got everythin’ ahead of you. And me? I ain’t got nothin’ but a one-way ticket to nowhere.”

You were cryin’ now, and that damn near killed him. You never cried, not like this. “That’s not true. Why can’t you see that? I’m not leaving you behind.”

Rafe finally looked up, meeting your eyes, and he could see it—could see how much you meant it.

And damn, he wanted to believe it. Wanted to believe that maybe, just maybe, you were right. But he’d been around long enough to know how this world worked, and it never worked out for guys like him.

“I can’t be the one to ruin your life,” he said, stepping back, pulling away from your touch even though it felt like it was tearing him apart to do it. “I won’t.”

“Rafe,” you whispered, voice broken and pleading, but he shook his head.

“Just... let it go,” he muttered, turning his back to you. He couldn’t handle it anymore. Couldn’t handle seeing you hurt, knowing it was his fault. Knowing he was the reason your heart was breaking.

"Fine," you choked out, voice only just holding steady. "If you don’t want me there, then I’ll stop trying.”

You turned on your heel, storming off, but not before he saw your shoulders shake. 

Fuck.

That shit crushed him, but still, he didn’t move.

Just stood there, fists clenched, staring at the ground while you walked away from him. He knew he’d ruin the best thing that ever happened to him, he just didn’t expect it to happen this soon. He wanted to go after you, and say something to make it right, but what was the point? 

He always fucked it up somehow.

He leaned his head back against the shed, staring up at the sky, feeling like an absolute waste of space.

You had everything going for you—family, friends, a future—and what the hell did he have? Nothing but bad luck and a reputation that dragged behind him like a chain. He didn’t even know why you bothered with him sometimes. You were too good, too kind.

And he? He was the definition of a screw-up. Always saying the wrong thing, always ruining the good moments before they even had a chance to get started.

He slid down the wall until he was sitting in the dirt, head in his hands, wishing he could just be different. Wishing he didn’t care so much about what your dad thought or how your friends would whisper when you weren’t around. He wished he could just be the guy you saw, the guy you believed in.

Hours later, the party at your place was in full swing, and he knew you were there, trying to have a good time without him. He hadn’t shown up, of course. Just like he said he wouldn’t. Rafe stayed back, back in that stupid abandoned house, trying to tell himself this was for the best. 

He could hear the distant sound of music coming from your house, the laughter of your Kook friends echoing through the night air. It was the kind of party he never really belonged at—one where everyone showed up in their clean-cut clothes, fresh haircuts, and fancy cars. The kind of life he never had a shot at, not really. And here he was, stuck in the dirt, hands covered in grime, still trying to figure out why the hell you kept fighting for him.

He wasn’t stupid. He knew this was what was supposed to happen. You deserved to be there, with your people, not hanging around with someone like him. You’d be fine without him weighing you down. Hell, you’d probably be better off in the long run. He’d hurt you. He knew it. Saw it clear as day when you walked off, tears in your eyes, but he didn’t go after you. He didn’t know how.

But then his phone buzzed—the phone you had gotten him—and he looked down to see your name flashing on the screen. He stared at it for a second, his gut twisting, then picked up.

“Yeah?”

All he could hear on the other end was you crying. That soft, broken cry made his chest feel like it was caving in.

“Hey, hey,” he said quickly, standing up straighter. “What’s wrong?”

You didn’t answer right away, just kept crying, and that was worse than anything you could’ve said. His heart was pummeling to the ground, and he was already on his feet, ready to head over before you even asked.

“Sweetheart,” he tried again, trying to keep himself from sounding as panicked as he felt. “What happened? Talk to me.”

You sniffled hard, trying to talk through the sobs. “Rafe, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to—” You couldn’t even finish the sentence, your voice all shaky and broken.

He couldn’t stand to hear you like that, not when he knew it was his fault. He ran a hand through his hair, pacing now, feeling like a total jackass.

“Stop crying, darlin’,” he muttered, voice softer now. “I hate when you cry.”

“I’m just so upset,” you whispered, still trying to catch your breath. “I didn’t want us to fight like that. I just miss you.”

Rafe clenched his jaw, feeling like shit. He could hear the party still going in the background, but all you wanted was him. He knew that, but somehow he’d still managed to mess everything up.

“Where are you?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

“My room,” you muttered, “I couldn’t stay down there. I feel so stupid.”

His heart twisted, and before he even knew what he was doing, he was throwing on his jacket, heading out.

“I’m coming’ over,” he said, his voice firm.

“What?” you sounded surprised. “Rafe, you don’t have to—”

“I’m coming’,” he interrupted you, his voice low but serious. “Stay there. I’ll be there in a few.”

Twenty minutes later, he was sneaking around the side of your house, ducking behind bushes to avoid being seen. The party was still going, people everywhere, but all he cared about was getting to your window. He knew how to sneak into your room like the back of his hand by now. Too many months of practice.

He climbed through, landing quiet as a mouse, and saw you sitting on the edge of your bed, looking down at your hands. Your eyes were red from crying, and he felt that familiar guilt twisting in his gut.

When you looked up and saw him, you stood fast, like you couldn’t believe he was actually there.

Before he could say anything, you were in his arms, holding onto him tight, like you were scared he might disappear. Rafe held you, his chin resting on top of your head as you pressed into him, your fingers clutching at the back of his jacket like you didn’t want to let go. He knew he'd screwed up. He always did. But when you were there, clutching him like he was the only thing that mattered, it made him question everything he'd told himself.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your face buried in his chest, your body shakin’ from the sobs.

Rafe wrapped his arms around you, holding you as close as he could, like he was trying to make up for every shitty thing he’d said. “You don’t gotta apologize, alrigh’?” he muttered, his voice low and rough. “This one’s on me.”

You pulled back just enough to look up at him, tears still in your eyes, and damn if it didn’t make him want to punch himself.

“I don’t care about the party or the people,” you practically whimpered, “I just want you, Rafe.”

He stared down at you, feeling’ that knot in his throat. He didn’t deserve you. He never had. But here you were, saying you wanted him anyway.

“I’m sorry for being a dick,” He exhaled, “I just... I don’t know how to do this right. I’m scared I’m just gonna hurt you.”

You shook your head, your hands resting on his chest. “You don’t have to protect me. I just want you to let me in.”

He swallowed hard. You were all he wanted, but damn if it didn’t scare the hell out of him sometimes.

Still, he wasn’t about to lose you. Not like this.

The warmth of you against him, the way you fit so perfectly into his chest—it made him feel like he might just be okay. Like maybe, for once, things didn’t have to be so damn complicated.

But that didn’t mean the doubts were gone. He pulled back just a little, enough to see your face, brushing a tear away from your cheek with his thumb.

 “You know I’m not good at this, right?” His voice was low, rough, like he was almost ashamed to say it. “I don’t wanna screw things up, but I don’t always know how to… be better.”

You looked up at him, your eyes still watery but soft, full of that same stubborn affection you always had for him. “I don’t need you to be perfect. I just need you to let me in when it gets hard.”

He let out a slow breath, trying to wrap his head around how you could want him—still want him—after all the times he’d messed up. “I’m tryin’, alright?” He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated with himself. “I don’t wanna push you away, but sometimes it feels like that’s the only thing I know how to do.”

You gave him this sad little smile, like you knew exactly what he meant. “I don’t care if you push sometimes,” you conceded, “Just—don’t leave. Don’t make me feel like I’m in this alone.”

That hit him harder than anything.

He realized then, as much as he was scared of dragging you down, you were scared of him disappearing. No matter how fucked up things got, no matter how much he doubted himself or the future, he wasn’t about to let you slip away.

You bit your lip, like you were debating whether or not to say something, and for a second, Rafe felt like he couldn’t breathe.

“I love you, Rafe.”

Those three words hit him harder than anything ever had. Harder than all the fights, the doubts, the shit he carried around like it was glued to his skin. His heart just about stopped in his chest, and he just stared at you like you’d knocked the wind out of him.

“What—what did you just say?” His voice came out hoarse like he didn’t trust what he heard.

“I love you,” you said again, a little more sure this time. You smiled, but your eyes were still searching his, like you were waiting for him to say something back.

Like maybe he wouldn’t.

His head started spinning, like the room had just tilted sideways.

He could feel his pulse hammering in his throat, and suddenly he wasn’t sure if he was about to pass out or just drop to his knees. How the hell were you standing there, looking at him, and saying that?

His mouth opened, but nothing came out. He felt his knees wobble for a second, like his legs were going to give out. Jesus Christ, get it together, he thought, trying to pull in a breath, but it felt like the air got stuck halfway down his throat.

“You love me?” His voice cracked, and he hated how insecure he sounded, how unsure. But it was like his brain couldn’t process those words coming from you.

You nodded, stepping closer, your hand slipping back to his chest, right over his heart. “Yeah. I love you.”

Rafe’s heart was pounding so hard now, he thought it might actually explode. He blinked, then swallowed hard, still trying to make sense of what was happening.

It wasn’t like he didn’t believe you—it was just, how the hell did he deserve that? Deserve you?

“Shit…” He whispered, almost to himself, and suddenly his legs felt weak again. “I... I—fuck, I don’t know what to say.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “You don’t have to say anything. I just wanted you to know.”

But he did.

He needed to say something, anything, to let you know what that meant to him. His throat felt tight, like he might choke if he didn’t get it out.

 “I—I love you too.” It came out fast, like he was scared if he didn’t say it quick enough, you might take it back. "I love you, too. So fucking much, I don't even know what to do with it half the time.”

He looked down at you, and for once, he didn’t care if he was being soft or vulnerable or any of that shit that scared him before.

He just wanted you to know how much he needed you, how much you meant to him.

And as soon as the words were out, you smiled, this big, radiant smile that lit up your whole face, and Rafe felt like he might actually faint this time.

His heart was gonna burst wide open. He pulled back a little, still holding onto you, his forehead resting against yours. 

“You don’t know how much I needed to hear that,” he muttered, “I’ve never—no one’s ever...”

You smiled, brushing your thumb over his cheek, and it was so gentle, so full of love, that it almost knocked him off his feet all over again.

“You deserve it,” you reminded him again, “You deserve to be loved.”

There you were, always telling him of what he was deserving of. 

“I love you,” he whispered again, just to make sure you knew. He buried his face in your neck, his arms enveloping you tighter than before.

You loved him. You loved him. And he loved you.

It felt like the confession had lightened up something inside you.

He’d thought about how it would go, the first time you two would be together like that. In his head, it was always this big moment, something special. 

He was rough around the edges, sure, but he wanted to do it right. He wanted it to be perfect for you. He'd even thought about planning something out—candles, a slow build, maybe a weekend when no one was around.

His breath was ragged as he felt you pull him closer, your hands gripping the fabric of his shirt. He’d thought about this moment a thousand times—hell, probably more—but never like this.

Not rushed, not with everyone downstairs, and definitely not with you looking at him like you couldn’t wait any longer. You kissed him like you couldn’t stop, fingers already slipping beneath the fabric, making it hard for him to think straight.

“Sweetheart...” his voice was low with that familiar southern drawl, like he was trying to hold it all together. “You sure ‘bout this? We got a house full of people downstairs.”

You kissed him harder, pulling his shirt over his head, and he nearly lost his mind right then and there. He wanted to slow down, make this moment perfect for you, but the way you were all over him? It made him forget every plan he’d ever had. He let out a shaky breath, his hands settling on your waist, trying to ground himself. 

Jesus, this wasn’t how he’d imagined it.

He wanted to slow down, wanted to make this moment last, but you were already working your hands up his chest, and it was driving him insane.

“I don’t care,” you muttered against his lips, your breath hot and all desperate.

Damn, if you weren’t the most stubborn, determined girl he’d ever met. But he loved that about you. Loved how you always knew exactly what you wanted. And right now? It was clear you wanted him. His hands slid up your back, fingers tracing the curves he’d been dreaming about for months.

Rafe let out a groan, trying his best to keep it together, but you were making it damn near impossible. “I was... I was tryin’ to be romantic for once,” he mumbled as he looked into your eyes, practically begging himself to slow down, to make this right. “Was thinkin’ candles, music... not with your whole damn family downstairs, baby.”

You laughed, breathless, and pulled him even closer, your body against his. “You don’t want me?” There was a hint of challenge in your voice like you didn’t believe him.

His blue eyes went wide. “What? ‘Course I want you,” he said, almost shocked you’d even think that. “‘I’ve always wanted you. You gotta know that.”

You looked up at him and he nearly came on the stop, “Then stop holding back.”

Every last bit of control he had glided right out of his hands. You were there, right in front of him, pulling him into you, like you didn’t care about anything else. All his plans, all his ideas of some perfect first time? Out the damn window.

 “You... you look so damn beautiful. This dress— I can’t get over how good you look in it.”

You giggled, and for a moment, the heat between you two softened into something tender, something that made his chest ache.

He loved that sound. Loved the way it lit up your face, like you had no idea just how much you meant to him.

He kissed you again, slow at first like he was trying to be a gentleman, but the way you kissed him back, so eager, so damn hungry—it broke whatever restraint he had left. His hands gripped your hips, pulling you closer, feeling the soft fabric of your dress against his skin, and it sent a jolt through him, making him lose track of everything but you. The room felt too small, and all he could think about was how long he’d been waiting for this—for you.

His hands trembled as he reached for the hem of your dress, hesitating for a second before pulling it up, revealing the soft skin of your waist. He was trying to stay calm, to keep his mind from racing, but it felt damn near impossible with the way you were looking at him.

You were everything.

He swallowed hard, “I... I wanna take my time with you,” he murmured, like he was scared he’d crack the spell between you if he spoke too loud. His fingers brushed over your skin, gentle, as he lifted your dress the rest of the way, eyes flicking up to yours, searching for any sign that you wanted him to stop.

You didn’t.

If anything, you moved even closer, your breathing coming out in quick, giddy breaths. There was something endearing about it—like neither of you really knew what you were doing, but you both wanted it so badly. You were learning together.

Your dress fell to the floor, and he just stared for a moment, blue eyes all wide, like he couldn’t believe this was happening. “Goddamn..”

His hands hovered over your skin, like he didn’t want to rush, but you were yanking him impossibly closer, urging him on. He began to move again, gliding slowly over your bare skin, every touch reverent, like he was afraid you’d disappear if he wasn’t careful enough.

He kissed you again, deeper this time, his hands still roaming over your body, savoring every inch of you. The soft sighs you made only pushed him further, made him forget everything except how much he wanted to make you feel good, how much he needed this to be good for you.

His was light-headed as he whispered your name, “God, I love you— I don’t think you even know how much.”

“I think I do,” you whispered back, lips brushing his neck. “Show me.”

He reached for the delicate straps of your bra and pulled them down your shoulders, like he was unwrapping the most precious thing in the world.

He paused for a second, looking into your eyes, making sure you were still with him, still wanting this as much as before.

You nodded softly, your lips parted, your breath coming out in shallow gasps. His fingers found the clasp, fumbling slightly, and he cursed under his breath with a rough chuckle, “Sorry, baby… it’s just—damn, I’m mess right now.”

You beamed at him, all the tension melting away, “You’re doing’ just fine,” you whispered, urging him to keep going.

With one final tug, the clasp gave way, and your bra slipped off, falling to the floor. Rafe’s eyes darkened as he took you in, his mouth going dry. He swallowed hard like he couldn’t believe this was real.

His hands moved steadily, fingertips grazing your bare skin as he lowered them to your waist, where the last piece of fabric still clung to your body. He hesitated for just a second, his eyes coming back to yours, silently asking for permission.

 “I want you.”

That was all it took.

He hooked his fingers under the waistband of your underwear, sliding them down, savoring every inch of you as you were revealed to him. He let out a low groan, as he finally saw you—all of you.

He needed to remind himself this was real. That you were his. “Fuck,” His voice was filled with awe. "You’re perfect.”

Your fingers drifted lower, tugging at the waistband of his jeans and you felt noticed how his body tensed under your touch, his muscles rippling as he tried to keep himself calm.

“C’mon,” you purred, just teasing as you pulled at the button, “I think it’s your turn now.”

Rafe’s lips curved into that cocky grin he knew you loved, "You sure ‘bout that, sweetheart?" 

You nodded, small hands already working to unbutton his jeans. He almost let out a prayer, biting his lip as you slipped them down, his body shivering as your fingers brushed against his skin.

His jeans fell to the floor, and you took a step back, admiring him like he was worth all that staring. Rafe stood there in nothing but his boxers, chest heaving with all that uncontrollable love he felt for you.

His eyes were locked on yours, full of that same intense need, but there was something tender in them too, he still couldn’t quite believe you were here, undressing him like this. But you were real, standing there with him and undressing him like you wanted every single piece of him. 

With a soft smile, you reached up, fingers twitching at the waistband of his boxers, your eyes never leaving his. The way you looked at him as you slid them down slowly, revealing every inch of him? He was never letting that go.

Rafe just stood there for a moment, completely bare, his body a little rigid with anticipation, and you felt a shiver run down your spine as you took him in.

"You're perfect too," your eyes roamed over him, taking in the sharp lines of his body, the way he looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered in the world.

When you stepped closer, hands touching his hips now, dragging him towards you, his fingers found your hair, tangling in it as he leaned down to kiss you, slow and deep, pouring everything he couldn’t say into that kiss.

"Jesus," he whispered against your lips, eyes closing as he tried to breath through his excitement, "You're drivin' me crazy.”

You just let out soft little laugh that made his stomach flip, your fingers mapping over his jaw, keeping him close. His whole body was buzzing with need, his skin burning wherever you touched him, but there was something else in the way you were looking at him—a kind of trust that he wasn’t sure he deserved but fuck if he wasn’t going to do everything to live up to it.

His hands skimmed back down to your hips, your bare skin against his, and for a second, he couldn’t think straight. Couldn’t breathe right. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling the familiar scent of you, trying to calm his racing heart.

“You know I’ll take care of you,” he promised, "I want this to be good for you— I’ve always wanted this to be good for you."

You tilted his face down, your lips brushing against his “It already is, Rafe. Just...just be with me."

That was all he needed.

Rafe’s hands touched all over you like he was trying to memorize every part of you, like he couldn’t believe you were letting him have this.

He kissed you, slow but needy, his tongue slipping into your mouth, and the way you responded made his entire body shake. His hands ended up back in your waist, thumb brushing the skin, lifting you just a little and guiding you to the bed, where you both sank into the mattress together.

His weight settled over you, your bodies fitting together in this perfect way that made his head spin. He leaned down, kissing your neck, your collarbone, every inch of skin he could reach.

Your breath came in short gasps, your hands gripping his shoulders as he kissed his way down your body, and Rafe swore he could die.

“You’re everything,” he whispered against your skin, voice hoarse with emotion. "You don't even know... how long I've wanted this. How much I want you."

His fingers moved down, brushing the inside of your thigh. He hesitated for a moment, eyes searching yours, needing that confirmation one more time. You nodded, biting your lip.

His fingers slid between your thighs, slow at first, the warmth of your skin making him shudder. He exhaled sharply, opening you up to him, feeling how ready you were, and it nearly drove him insane. His fingers moved carefully, testing the waters, the softest groan escaping his lips as he found that sensitive spot.

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” he whispered, like he couldn’t believe the way you felt under his touch.

Your breath caught, hips shifting toward him, a soft moan breaking loose as his fingers pressed against you. The sound of your voice, the way your body responded to him—it drove him wild. He wanted to make sure you felt good.

Two of his fingers slipped inside, careful, tentative at first. He watched your face, making sure you were okay, his other hand resting on your hip, steadying you as they curled slightly, finding a rhythm that made your body arch into him.

“Rafe…” you breathed out, your voice wobbly, eyes fluttering shut as the sensation overwhelmed you.

He worked a little faster now, getting even harder as he felt you tighten around him. “Like that, baby?”

You nodded quickly, biting your lip to stifle another moan, your hands latching on his shoulders as your body quivered under his touch. He groaned softly, his lips finding your neck, licking and sucking at the soft skin there as his fingers continued their slow, deliberate movements. 

Your body curved toward him, every nerve ending tingling as his fingers moved deeper, curling just right. He swallowed hard, his lips brushing against your ear, "Is this okay?"

Your heart thumped against your rib cage, every movement of his fingers making you gasp softly. You managed to give him a small nod, barely able to find your voice. "Yeah, Rafe... it's perfect."

His breath came out a little less unrestrained, clearly relieved, and he continued, the pace slow, testing. The uncertainty in his touch was endearing, but you wanted more—you needed more.

“Baby,” you murmured softly, biting your lip as a rush of heat stretched through you, “Maybe… one more?”

He froze for a moment, his voice coming out in a ragged gasp as he looked at you. “Are you sure?”

Your heart swelled at his concern, and you gave him a reassuring smile. "I’m sure. Just take it slow."

Carefully, he pulled back just a little, his fingers slipping out before he added a third finger. His brow furrowed in concentration, his eyes flicking up to yours, watching your face for any sign of discomfort.

The sensation was different, intense, but not too overwhelming. You let out a soft moan, your body adjusting to the new pressure as he filled you more.

“Does it—does it feel good?” Rafe asked, his face inches from yours, vulnerable.

“Yes,” you breathed out, “It feels amazing.”

His lips parted, a nervous smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He let out a soft laugh, almost as if he couldn’t believe it himself. “I was worried I’d mess it up.”

You shook your head, pulling him closer, your hand twisting in his hair. “You're doing great.”

He exhaled slowly, his body relaxing a little as he found a rhythm again. His fingers moved more confidently now, more certain, his jaw falling slack as he watched you react to him.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” Rafe muttered, eyes glued to your face. “You feel that? You’re taking me so well.”

You whined at how deep his voice sounded, your body buzzing as his fingers worked in deeper, the pressure mounting with every movement. Your mind filled with nothing but the feeling of him inside you.

“God, yes,” you breathed out, the pleasure building to a point where it felt like you might break apart.

Rafe's pace quickened, as he pressed his fingers harder, deeper, hitting that perfect spot inside you over and over again. 

"Come on, baby," he practically begged you, voice hoarse. Your breath came out in short, shallow gasps as you felt yourself creeping toward the edge, every movement of his hand bringing you closer. His name fell from your lips in a breathless moan as the tension snapped, your body shuddering as the pleasure washed over you.

His eyes widened in awe, his fingers slowing as he watched you like he couldn’t believe what he’d just made happen. He groaned softly, feeling you pulse around him, "You did so good," he murmured, lips brushing against your temple. "So perfect."

You felt a shiver run down your entire being as his hands glided up your thighs, spreading them gently as he settled himself between them. He was shaking a little, and you could see the hesitation in his eyes—the nervousness that came with doing something for the first time, not wanting to mess it up.

But when he leaned down, kissing you slow and deep, all the apprehend melted away. He couldn’t help but take in every detail—the way your lips parted as you breathed him in. He felt like he was drowning, but in the best way possible.

“I don’t think I can wait any longer.”

You looked up at him, your own breath uneven, eyes wide and the way you saw through him—it was like you were giving him the world. His hand was still shaking slightly as he reached down, lining himself up with you, taking his time, not rushing even though every fiber of his being screamed to.

"I wanna make this good for you," he murmured, his lips brushing your ear. "I don’t wanna hurt you." 

There was a hesitation, a vulnerability that he only showed in moments like this. His focus was entirely on you, on making sure you felt nothing but pleasure. You gave him a small, reassuring nod, your hand finding his, fingers slipping through his, squeezing. "I trust you.”

He exhaled slowly, nodding to himself as he eased into you, inch by inch, watching your face the entire time, making sure you were still doing okay.

The sensation overwhelmed him, the warmth of your body, the way you welcomed him so completely. He groaned, low and deep, knowing he could do this for the rest of his life. You were so fucking warm.

"Fuckkk," he moaned, "You feel so fuckin' good, darlin'."

His eyes fluttered shut for a moment, his forehead pressing against yours as he sank deeper, the feeling of being inside you nearly sending him over the edge. He wanted to take it slow, to savor every moment, but the way you clenched around him, the way you whispered his name like it was the only word you knew—it made it impossible.

Your eyes fluttered closed, lashes brushing against flushed cheeks, lips parting in a soft gasp that made his heart skip a beat. His hips moved on instinct, slow at first, testing, his breath coming out in shallow pants as he tried to hold back. "Tell me if it’s too much," he managed to say, his voice strained.

“It’s p-perfect.”

His hips snapped forward, the movement more sure, more confident as he lost himself in the moment. A low groan escaping his lips as he buried himself deeper, his hands gripping your hips as he moved faster, harder, the need to be closer to you taking over.

You mewled pathetically at this point, nails digging into every bit of skin you could get your hands on, body arching beneath him as he hit that perfect spot over and over again. It wasn’t fair that he was a natural.

The way you responded to him, the sounds you made—it had to be the best day of his life.

“Touch me.”

He cupped your tit, thumb brushing over the hardened peak with a gentle touch that contrasted the desperate way his hips moved against you.

His eyes never left your face, watching every flicker of emotion as his hands explored you. "Like this?" he murmured, his thumb circling again as his hips moved deeper. The way your body reacted—sucking him in like a goddamn vice—it nearly undid him.

“Mmhp—Fuck. J—Just like that.”

He leaned down, like a man possessed, lips brushing the soft skin of your tit, his warm breath ghosting over your sensitive skin, sending a shiver up your spine. His mouth found the hardened peak, lips wrapping around it with a low groan, and his tongue flicked over it slowly, teasingly. You gasped, your hands entangling in his hair, holding him there as he sucked harder, his teeth grazing just enough to make you whimper.

He hummed in satisfaction, feeling the way your body responded to him. His tongue circled slowly, drawing out every sound you made, savoring each gasp, each moan as he lavished attention on your body. 

“Fuck, baby,” he muttered, voice muffled against your skin as he switched to the other breast, giving it the same attention, his lips trailing over your heated flesh. “You taste so good.”

You couldn’t help the way your body responded, pressing up against him, your hips rolling to meet his. The dual sensation of his mouth on you and the deep, steady thrusts left you tingling all over, beneath him, completely dazed by the pleasure he was giving you.

“Rafe—" you huffed, the word barely more than a breath as your grip tightened in his hair, pulling him closer. His mouth latched on harder, sucking with a fervor that left you breathless.

He pulled back just slightly, lips wet and swollen as he looked up at you,“I could do this all night,” he whispered, “You like that, baby? You like how I’m making you feel?”

He didn’t know where these surges of confidence kept coming from, but he never felt so relieved. It felt like his body knew exactly what to do when it came to yours.

His hand skidded between your legs once more, fingers finding your swollen, sensitive clit, rubbing slow, deliberate circles that matched the rhythm of his hips and mouth. You could barely think straight, couldn’t form a coherent thought.

When his lips finally crashed back into yours, the taste of him overpowered every sense as his hands pulled your hips tighter. His kiss was messy, all spit and need, like he couldn’t get enough of you—like he needed to feel you, taste you, breathe you in all at once. His tongue slid past your parted lips, slow and teasing at first, then deeper, as if he was trying to consume you whole.

He groaned into the kiss, his teeth grazing your bottom lip before tugging on it softly, then harder as he swallowed the sound of your whines.

When he broke the kiss, it was only to press wet, fevered kisses down your jawline, to your neck, leaving a trail of spit and heat in his wake.

“I love you,” he muttered against your skin, his lips latching onto your collarbone, sucking on the sensitive spot just below your ear, biting gently, “So fuckin’ much.”

“I love you,” You breathed out between kisses, his hands gripping the flesh of your ass and pulling you flush against him, the hard line of his body pressing against yours in a way that made you gasp, “Never g-gonna s-stop,” you whispered back, the taste of him lingering on your tongue as he kissed you harder, rougher, swallowing every sound you made.

"Fuck, I’m close," he gasped, his forehead resting against yours as he fought to hold back, to make this last, but you could feel him losing control, feel the tension coiling tight in his body. His hips moved with a relentless, desperate need, his breath broken and uneven.

“Rafe—” you nearly cried, your body shaking beneath him. Every thrust, every touch, every breath was pushing you closer to the edge, and you knew you weren’t going to last much longer.

“Let go for me, baby,” he encouraged you, two fingers still rubbing teasing circles over your sensitive clit, “Come for me.”

Your body tightened around him as you came undone with a cry of his name. Rafe groaned as he felt you clench around him, fluttering so perfectly.

His release was not far behind as he thrust into you one last time, before pulling out with a strangled moan, his body shuddering as he came all over your tummy, his head falling to your shoulder.

Rafe stayed there for a while, catching his breath, his body still shaking like a leaf as the tremors of pleasure coursed through him.

Taking his time, he lifted his head, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, then your cheek, and finally your lips. "I love you," he said it again, as he gazed down at you, his thumb brushing tenderly over your flushed cheek. "So damn much."

You never looked so heartbreakingly beautiful. Like a fucking painting.

You grinned from ear to ear, your heart swelling with affection as you held his face in your hands, pulling him for another kiss. "I love you too," you murmured against his lips, your fingers threading through his hair, "Always."

Rafe’s lips curved into a smile against yours, his arms wrapping around you, holding you close.

And in that moment, nothing else mattered. You were his, and he was yours—completely, utterly, and without question

[mayasikeu]

Hi I wanted to request enhypen x fan like nda kind of thing

so sorry for taking ages on this ive been really busy 🫶

"You really shouldn't be here, Y/n," Jake said.

You swallowed hard, "I know."

He pinned you to the wall, closing the gap between you two. "Do you have any idea what could happen if anyone finds out?"

"That's why I signed the NDA, Jake."

"Still, how can I trust you?"

Your pulse quickened as he stepped closer, his presence overwhelming you as his tantalising breath fired you up. "You can Jake," you whispered. "I would never do anything to hurt you."

He reached out, his fingers brushing against your cheek gently. You shivered under his touch. "Why are you really here, Y/n?"

You closed your eyes, savouring the feel of his skin on yours. "Because I couldn't stop thinking about you."

Jake cupped your face in his hands, "You're playing with fire, you know that, right?"

"I don't care."

His lips twisted into a playful smirk. "You should."

You leaned towards him, your body beginning to ache for more. "Maybe. But I can't help it. I've wanted this for so long."

He let out a slow breath. His eyes never left yours as he stared at you lovingly, his gaze overflowing with sincerity and affection. "You have no idea how dangerous this is."

You lifted a hand to his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heartbeat beneath your palm. "Your eyes are telling me otherwise."

"Alright then. If that's how you want it."

Suddenly, you felt a pang of disappointment, but it quickly vanished as he stepped back, reaching for the hem of his shirt.

"Take it off," he ordered.

He groaned as he watched you take your shirt off, a sound that sent a thrill of adrenaline through your spine. "Now the bra."

You did as he asked, unhooking the lacy bra before tossing it on the carpet. "Good girl," he murmured, stepping forward again.

This time, when he reached for you, you didn't hesitate. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him close, and kissed him.

You whimpered against his lips. His tongue slipped past your lips, exploring your mouth hungrily. You met his thrusts eagerly and clutched onto him, afraid he might disappear if you let go. It all felt so surreal. Never in a million years would you have ever imagined yourself in such a situation with your bias.

He broke the kiss with a groan, his forehead resting against yours. "God, baby, you drive me fucking crazy," he panted.

His expression turned serious. "Are you sure about this?"

You nodded immediately, “Absolutely."

Jake's hands moved lower, unzipping your jeans and sliding them down your legs. He knelt before you, his face inches from your throbbing heat.

"You're already wet for me," he teased. With that, he pulled down your panties, exposing your glistening pussy.

You moaned as Jake's tongue flicked on your clit. He licked and sucked on your sweet bud. His fingers delved into your tight hole as he made out with your cunt.

"Oh, Jake... I'm gonna cum!" you cried out, your orgasm beginning to build up.

Jake didn't stop, his tongue and fingers working in perfect harmony. You threw your head all the way back as you came on his tongue. “You taste fucking amazing.” he hummed, licking all of your juices like a puppy.

"Get on your knees," he commanded, his voice suddenly cold and authoritative.

You obeyed instantly, sinking to your knees before him.

"Undo my belt," he ordered.

You tugged at the belt, your fingers shaking with excitement.

He exhaled sharply, his breathing heavy. "Now pull my pants down."

You did as he instructed, sliding the fabric down until they pooled at his feet.

"Like what you see?" he taunted, his voice dripping with arrogance.

You nodded, unable to tear your gaze away from his large cock. "You’re just as big as I imagined."

He smirked, reaching down to grasp your chin. "Good. Because you're going to show me just how much you like it."

He released your chin, his hand moving to stroke himself. "Suck it."

Your breath hitched, a thrill coursing through your veins. You hesitated only a moment before reaching out, wrapping your fingers around his veiny shaft. He let out a hiss of pleasure, his eyes closing as you began to stroke him.

"That's it baby," he encouraged. "Now put me in your mouth."

You complied, opening your mouth and taking the tip of him inside. He groaned, his hips jerking forward involuntarily.

You swirled your tongue around the head, tasting his salty pre-cum all over your tastebuds. Jake's hands tangled in your hair, guiding your movements as you deep-throated him, taking him all the way to the back of your throat effortlessly.

"Oh fuck," he cursed, his fingers untangling to rest on the back of your head. "You're killing me, Y/n."

He slowly fucked his dick into your mouth as he let out soft moans with every thrust. You gagged slightly, the sensation both uncomfortable and exhilarating.

He pulled back, his eyes blazing with desire. "On the bed, now," he rasped.

Jake entered you in one deep thrust, burying himself in your cunt. You gasped as Jake began to move, his cock massaging your G spot with precision. He pounded into you, his balls slapping against your ass relentlessly.

Your body trembled with pleasure, back arching off his bed as the room became filled with his name. He fucked you slow and sensually, wanting to enjoy the feeling of you clenching around him for as long as you both could take it.

"Fuck, that's it," Jake groaned. "You're gonna make me cum."

"Cum for me, baby," he grunted, his own release building.

Your body tightened around Jake's cock as you climaxed, your pussy milking his cock. Jake roared as he emptied his load deep inside of you, his hot cum mixing with your juices.

[onepiece-writting-forest]

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 5 - ʟᴀᴛᴇ ɴɪɢʜᴛ ꜰᴜɴ

Summary: After your shared exam was finally over, Law invites you to the party, showing a more relaxed side of himself. As the night progresses, his boldness starts to emerge, especially after a few drinking games and making out session in the bathroom.

a.n.: Ikakku as the bartender, Shachi being drunk and Penguin somewhere drunk as well. Enjoy! (4,5k words whoops got a bit carried away)

tags: One Piece, Law x Reader, Modern AU, University AU, Penguin and Shachi as Laws flat mate, Law on a sick motorcycle cuz its hot

>>[ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ɪɴᴅᴇx]<<

“You invited her?! Dude, nice!” Shachi exclaimed, holding up a hand for a high-five.

Law just stared at it, unimpressed, and ignored the gesture. He didn’t really feel like it was something to celebrate. Sure, he was glad you wanted to come to the party, but beyond that? Whatever. He was more relieved the exam was over and had gone well. The fact that you’d be there too? Casual excitement—nothing to make a big deal about.

"Shouldn’t you be getting ready for your party?" Law said, towel-drying his damp hair while still dressed in his sweatpants. He had a bit of time before he needed to pick you up. After giving you the address and realizing how far the nearest bus stop was from the party, he suggested giving you a ride.

“Boo, you’re such a buzzkill,” Shachi grinned, throwing on his jacket and grabbing his keys. “Better bring a better mood to the party.”

“Whatever.", Law scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“Aigh, see ya later!” Shachi called over his shoulder, before heading out the door.

Law watched him leave, glad for the silence settling in the apartment. He took a deep breath, finishing up getting ready, and tried to shake off the exhaustion...or was he nervous?

While Law was casually getting ready, you were in a whirlwind of chaos. It wasn’t that you were nervous—okay, maybe just a little. Who were you kidding? You were a nervous wreck. It had been a while since you went out with someone, let alone to a party full of strangers. At least Law would be there, a familiar face in the crowd. But speaking of Law, you really had to hurry—he’d be there soon.

Minutes later, the doorbell rang, just as you managed to pull yourself together. Grabbing whatever you might need, you hurried to the door and opened it, greeted by Law, who looked pretty much the same as always. His hair was a little neater than usual, but what really caught your eye was the extra helmet he was holding.

"Hey, you ready?" he asked, his tone as casual as ever. You nodded, quickly closing your apartment door behind you, and followed him outside…while your keys were still on the kitchen counter.

"Thanks again for giving me a ride," you said with a smile, tugging your jacket tighter against the chilly night air. Law shrugged, as if to say it was no big deal, and handed you the extra helmet.

"You know how to backpack?" he asked suddenly, and you blinked, confused. Backpack? What?

Seeing your puzzled look, Law grinned and nodded toward his motorcycle. "Sitting behind someone on a motorcycle."

You couldn’t help but chuckle. "That’s kind of a cute term. But no, I haven’t done that before."

Law gave a small nod and stepped toward his bike. "No worries, it’s easy. I’ll show you."

He straddled the motorcycle first effortlessly, then waited as you climbed on behind him. He knew it took a little getting used to the first time, but thankfully, the ride wasn’t too long. “You can put your feet here,” he instructed, pointing to the foot pegs. “Hold on tight to me, and lean with me when we hit the curves. That’s all there is to it.”

You gave a quick nod and pulled on your helmet as Law did the same. Before you could adjust it, he turned around and snapped your visor shut, then clicked his own into place. You watched, before he fired the engine to life with a throaty roar.

Feeling a bit unsure, you leaned forward slightly, gripping the sides of his jacket with a tentative hold. Law noticed and stopped for a moment, then without warning, he reached for your hands and pulled them tighter around his waist, making you grip his chest and fall against his back. The sudden closeness made your heart race.

“I said tight,” he teased, his voice laced with amusement. “Don’t want you falling off.”

A light, embarrassed chuckle escaped you as you adjusted your grip, hugging him more securely. “Right, got it,” you murmured.

With a grin you could almost hear, Law revved the engine, and moments later, you were off.

 “Come, this way,” Law said, nodding toward the faint sound of music already seeping into the air. You followed him while you two left the bike at a parking spot, feeling the buzz of anticipation as you approached the building. The party was tucked away in the basement, and as you descended the steps, the volume of the music grew louder.

The moment you stepped inside, you were hit by the heavy, stuffy air mixed with the distinct smells of alcohol and something you couldn’t quite place. The crowd was already thick, bodies swaying to the rhythm in the dark colorful lights, and despite the chaotic energy, there was something about the atmosphere that started to get you in the mood.

Law seemed familiar with the place, confidently navigating through the room. “Want to take off your jacket?”

“Yeah, thanks,” you replied, handing it over to him. When he pulled off his own leather jacket, though, something caught your eye. For the first time, you noticed the tattoos that stretched beyond his knuckles, trailing up his forearms. The black ink swirled in intricate patterns, with just a hint of it peeking from beneath the sleeve of his black T-shirt.

Suddenly, you felt a rush of heat. Was the room always this warm, or was it just you?

Law turned to you and gestured toward the bar, silently suggesting to get a drink. You nodded with a suddenly shy smile and followed him through the crowd. You had to admit, the party was surprisingly well-organized. The lighting, the music, the setup—everything looked pretty impressive, especially the bar. Apparently, the engineering students knew how to throw a party.

When you reached the bar, a young woman with dark, curly hair held back by a bright yellow headband greeted you with a warm smile. Her eyes landed on you first, then shifted to Law.

“Hey, Law! Glad you could make it!” she said cheerfully.

“Pleasure's mine, Ikkaku,” Law replied, giving her a friendly smile. It was clear they knew each other. You stood there, a little shy, but smiled politely.

“Oh, hi! I’m Ikkaku! I don’t think we’ve met before,” the woman said, extending a hand toward you. You shook it and introduced yourself, instantly being taking in by her radiating smile.

“Y/N, nice to meet you.”

Law watched the exchange, a small smile tugging at his lips. He wasn’t too worried about you meeting Ikkaku. Unlike Shachi and Penguin, who could be a bit much at times, Ikkaku was a breath of fresh air. She radiated confidence and had a feisty side that Law respected very much.

“So, what can I get you two?” Ikkaku asked, leaning forward with a grin. “First drink’s on the house.”

“You got the northern vodka by any chance?” Law asked, leaning slightly forward with a casual air. Ikkaku’s grin widened, clearly in on it. Of course she had it, especially since Shachi had specifically brought it for the party. He’d stashed it under the bar, trusting Ikkaku to keep an eye on it and only serve it to close friends. After all, it wasn’t cheap or easy to come by.

“Sure do. With soda?” she asked.

“Yes, please, but for the love of god, mix the drink like a human this time,” Law said, causing Ikkaku to laugh along.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she teased, shaking her head with a playful grin as she turned toward you. “And for you, Y/N?”

You placed your order, and she got to work, carefully mixing both drinks. As promised, she kept it reasonable, not trying to drown either of you in alcohol. Law kept an eye on her as she poured, just to be sure she didn’t pull any tricks. The memory of getting absolutely trashed on the first he came here flashed in his mind—along with the unpleasant experience of throwing up into his helmet. He was careful not to repeat that disaster tonight.

With your drinks, you both decided to move to a quieter table, away from the crowd. Setting your glasses down, you slipped into an easy rhythm of conversation.

“So, you said your friends were here too?” you asked, leaning in a bit closer.

Law hummed in response, casually leaning back as his eyes scanned the crowd. His long legs stretched out below the table, brushing your knee ever so slightly.

“Yeah,” he said, finally nodding towards a corner of the room. “See the guy over there trying—and failing—to juggle the beer pong balls? That’s Shachi. He’s studying engineering, good friends with Ikkaku, the bartender.” His gaze shifted to another spot. “And that’s Penguin, the guy in the beanie. You’ve met him before, right? We live together.”

You chuckled at the sight of Shachi fumbling with the beer pong balls. “Penguin seemed pretty nice when I met him. Shachi, though… definitely can’t juggle.”

“Nope,” Law said, grinning as he took a sip of his drink. His eyes drifted back to you, and for a moment, he found himself quietly studying your face. It suddenly hit him how stunning you looked tonight, the soft light from the party casting a warm glow over your features. The way your eyes sparkled when you laughed, or even just how you looked at him—it was captivating. He found himself lingering in the moment longer than usual.

How has he never noticed how pretty you were?

You broke his trance suddenly by asking, “Kind of in a mood of beer pong, are you good at it?”

It caught him off guard a bit as he came back to reality, but only for a second. A playful grin spread across his face when he heard your suggestion. Was that a challenge?

“Maybe. Wanna find out and lose?” His voice had that teasing, competitive edge. Law could get fiercely competitive with games like these, a trait he knew well enough to admit. He didn’t just want to win—he needed to.

“Oh, I don’t plan on losing,” you said boldly, ready for a challenge.

Law raised an eyebrow, the spark of competition fully lit and enjoying your bold anticipation. “Alright, game on,” he said, pushing his chair back and standing up, already mentally preparing to take the win—or go down swinging.

You and Law made your way to the beer pong table tucked away in the corner, where Shachi was struggling to pick up the ping pong balls. He kept fumbling, his coordination long gone thanks to the alcohol he’d consumed. Law, amused by the scene, stood back with a lazy smile and simply watched his friend, leaving you to step in.

“Here, let me help,” you said, handing the ball directly to Shachi. He blinked up at you in surprise, clearly thrown off by your pretty face. For a second, he just stared, caught by how good you looked. But when he spotted Law next to you, the gears in his foggy mind slowly turned. As much as his drunken state allowed, he pieced things together. You must the girl he had the study date with.

"Law! There you are!" Shachi greeted, pulling him into a sloppy, brotherly hug, clapping him on the shoulder. As he did, he leaned in closer to Law and grinned, whispering into his ear, “You didn’t tell me she was hot.”

Law rolled his eyes at Shachi’s comment, a flicker of both annoyance and amusement crossing his face, but he didn’t bother to respond. Shachi, still riding the high of his drunken state, flashed you a wide playful grin.

"You guys wanna play?" he asked, already grabbing the cups with a clumsy enthusiasm.

You shared a glance with Law, and something unspoken passed between you, before you stepped closer to the table.

The game kicked off. You helped arrange the plastic cups, filling them with something light, cautious not to overdo it too soon. Law handed you the first ball with a subtle smirk, one that made your pulse quicken. He was watching you intently, his gaze lingering just a bit longer than necessary as you lined up your shot.

With a flick of your wrist, the ball sailed effortlessly into the cup. You grinned, teasing him with a playful look. “Try to keep up,” you taunted lightly, savoring the first little victory.

Law raised an eyebrow, his lips curving into that faint, knowing smile. “Alright,” he said smoothly, before taking his first cup in one clean motion, his eyes never leaving yours.

For a moment your mind went blank, those stormy eyes locking with yours so intensely completely threw you off guard. You had a feeling Law knew what he was doing.

Shachi, playing the part of an overly enthusiastic referee, was more of a distraction for Law than anything else. He cheered only you on and did his best to throw Law off, witch loud coughs and "Look over there"s.

Every time Law stepped up to take his shot, there was an obvious tension in the air. He wasn’t just throwing the ball; he was challenging you with each toss, silently daring you to keep pace. And while you landed a few solid shots, Law’s precision was undeniable. Even when he had to hold on on the table, the alcohol clearly starting to catch up with him, he still managed to sink the ball into your cups with impressive accuracy.

By the time your side was completely wiped out, Law still had three cups standing. You huffed in mock frustration, but deep down, the competitiveness had only made things more fun.

Shachi clapped his hands together, grinning like an idiot. “Rules say you’ve gotta finish the winner’s cups!” he teased.

You sighed defeated, “Fine, Law. You win.”

As you reached for one of his cups, though, Law’s hand shot out, stopping you. His fingers brushed against yours, sending a small jolt of electricity through you. He held your gaze for a moment, before he spoke up. “Let’s share it. I’d rather not have to carry you home wasted.”

The teasing edge in his voice made your stomach flip, but the offer itself was unexpected. Law was competitive by nature, and Shachi knew he usually liked to rub his victories in. This time, though, he was...different.

You accepted his offer with a small smile, taking one of the cups while Shachi gleefully grabbed the last. Shachi, clearly impressed, raised an eyebrow at Law. “Wow, Law. Didn’t expect you to go soft on her.”

Law just shrugged, his eyes flicking to you briefly before he downed the rest of his drink. “She made it a decent game,” he said with a casual smirk, though the look he gave you was anything but casual.

“Another round?” Shachi asked, grinning as he set down his cup, already eager for more.

You shook your head with a soft laugh, feeling the alcohol making your head spin just a little. Even Law seemed to be feeling it, though his cool demeanor didn’t falter. He looked at you, the corner of his mouth lifting in a slight, teasing smile. “Maybe next time.”

As the night continued, Shachi separated from you two, wanting to go on a dance battle with Penguin. You watched him stumble away with an amused grin, and leaned against the beer pong table. "He's pretty fun."

Law leaned beside you, arms crossed, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Yeah, he’s chaotic, but he’s great." It was something Law probably wouldn’t admit when sober. He valued his friends more than anything, but he wasn’t the type to be openly affectionate.

“How did you guys meet?” you asked, seizing the moment. Law seemed more relaxed than usual, probably thanks to the alcohol and the lively party atmosphere. His eyes remained fixed on his friends, who were currently tearing up the dance floor, before he turned back to you.

“We’re childhood friends,” he replied, rather casually.

Your eyes widened slightly, a warm feeling spreading through you. There was something undeniably sweet about hearing that. Law, already sensing where this was heading, scrunched up his face and quickly looked away.

“Don’t say it—” he began, but it was too late.

“Aw, that’s adorable.”

“God, here we go,” Law groaned, rubbing his eyes in mock exasperation. But despite his feigned annoyance, a grin tugged at his lips.

"Sorry, I had to," you said with a grin. "Hey, how about we play a question game? Taking turns?"

The suggestion piqued Law's interest. It was a good idea, and honestly, he was relieved that you came up with activities instead of him. He wasn't the type to take the lead with things like this.

"Like 'Never Have I Ever'?" Law asked, thinking of the drinking game. You hesitated for a moment before nodding, even though you knew it would probably loosen you up more than you intended.

After returning to the bar and ordering some diluted shots from Ikkaku—not wanting to black out too soon—you both sat back down at the table. Law took the first turn, thoughtfully considering his question. He didn’t want to embarrass you; it was just a fun opportunity to get to know you better.

"Never have I ever… cheated on an exam," he said with a smirk.

As you lifted your glass to your lips, Law shot you a mock judgmental look, causing you to laugh.

"What? The professor left the damn room for twenty minutes."

"You don't have to justify it," he chuckled. "I didn't say anything." He watched you down your drink, still amused.

"Alright, my turn," you said, thinking for a moment. "Never have I ever… slept with my ex."

Law lifted his glass, and this time, you gave him a playful judgmental look. He shrugged before he downed his shot.

"What? I'm not proud of it," he admitted with a wry smile.

"Why did you do it, then?" you teased, leaning in closer with a grin.

Law scrunched his eyebrows and sighed, rubbing his face as if the memory itself drained him. "No clue. It was a bad decision, and I’m definitely not making that mistake again. Not with her."

His tone made you even more curious, and you mentally noted that his relationship with his ex hadn’t been the best. You couldn’t help but wonder what had happened between them—and what kind of girl Law had dated in the first place. He was so guarded when sober, often keeping his walls up. Yet here he was, relaxed and open, at least for the moment. It made you wonder who had managed to break through those walls and actually get into a relationship with him.

"Okay, my turn again… never have I ever… stalked someone online before a date." Law asked, and leaned back in his seat.

You acted without thinking, your hand already lifting the glass. But as realization hit, you froze mid-motion and looked at Law with wide eyes. He raised an eyebrow and leaned in closer, clearly intrigued by your reaction.

You remembered how you’d stalked Law’s Instagram before your first study session together at the café, and the embarrassment started creeping in. But it was too late now—you downed the drink and set the glass back on the table.

"Why did you hesitate?" Law asked, narrowing his eyes at you suspiciously.

"What? I don’t know what you mean," you replied, laughing nervously.

"Cut the crap, tell me," he said with a grin, clearly enjoying this.

The alcohol made your tongue loose, and you couldn’t help but admit the truth. "Fine... I may have, possibly, looked you up online before we met for the first time. Maybe. Just... a little."

Law leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms in front of his chest. He wasn’t sure how he felt about this. Being a private person, he let the silence stretch between you two, deliberately creating a sense of pressure. It felt like an interrogation.

You shifted uncomfortably. "I just... Look, you were a random delivery guy. I didn’t trust that you were actually a med student. You even know where I live, and remember how you picked up my uni ID?"

Law listened, nodding slowly, his expression unreadable.

"I kind of panicked," you continued, running a hand through your hair. "I thought maybe you were just pretending to be in med school to... I don’t know, lure me in. Since you knew I was studying medicine." You sighed, feeling a bit ridiculous now. "Sorry, I was just anxious."

You braced yourself, half expecting Law to lecture you—or, worst-case scenario, leave the table and leave you sitting there alone at the party. But what you didn’t expect was for him to give you an amused smile, followed by a low chuckle.

"Smart girl," he said, surprising you. "Makes sense. Anyway, your turn."

"Wait, you don’t mind?" you asked, blinking in confusion.

Law shrugged casually. "Probably would have done the same if i was a chick living alone and inviting a random stranger to meet up."

"Wow you make me look like a loser." You laughed an rolled your eyes, to which Law shook his head with a grin. "Just laying out the facts, now go on, your turn."

You continued your game with Law, enjoying the lighthearted fun, until eventually, nature called. All that liquid had to leave your system, and you asked Law where the bathroom was. He motioned for you to follow him, leading you to a small unisex bathroom. He waited outside while you quickly headed in.

As you finished up, you suddenly became aware of how dizzy you felt from the alcohol. You were still able to walk and talk without slurring, but your head was spinning badly. Gripping the sink, you took a moment to steady yourself, trying to calm the whirlwind in your mind. The dim bass from the party music in the background only seemed to make the dizziness worse.

Meanwhile, outside the bathroom, Law leaned against the wall, checking his phone. You’d been inside for a while, and he was starting to get concerned. He debated whether to check on you, but worry quickly got the better of him. Knocking gently on the door, he called out, “Y/N, hey, you okay in there?”

He listened closely but didn’t hear a response. Anxiety bubbled up inside him, and he knocked again, louder this time. “Y/N?”

Finally, the doorknob turned, and you opened the door, holding your head. "My head is spinning. Give me a sec," you mumbled, stumbling slightly as you leaned back against the wall for support, slowly sliding down against it.

Law was quick to react. He stepped inside, closing the door behind him for privacy, and crouched down next to you. "You need some water?" he asked, his voice calm but filled with concern.

You shook your head slightly, the dizziness still overpowering your senses. Maybe the drinking game after beer pong hadn’t been the brightest idea.

He watched you for a moment, taking in the way you sat there, trying to compose yourself. Silence fell between you two, but this time it was comfortable. You leaned your head back against the wall, Law sitting next to you, mimicking the gesture.

Your gaze drifted back to him, and as if by fate, your eyes met. The dim lighting softened everything, but his grey eyes still seemed to cut through the shadows, intense and focused. He really was something, you thought, as your gaze unconsciously dropped to his lips.

Without realizing it, you began to inch closer, noticing how Law didn’t pull back. In fact, he seemed to lean in as well, the air between you thick with unspoken tension. Your heart raced, the moment stretching longer, making it almost unbearable.

Law swallowed, hesitant for a split second before his hand lifted, gently cupping your chin. His touch was careful, as if he was afraid of breaking you.

The space between the two of you disappeared, you could feel his breath on your skin as he tilted his head slightly, bringing your lips closer to his. Unsure of what to do, but not wanting to stop, you let the moment happen.

The second your lips touched, your eyes fluttered shut.

At first, the kiss was light, almost tentative—neither of you rushing it. But then, you moved your lips softly against his, and Law followed, matching your pace. The hesitation faded, and the connection deepened as you both let yourselves get lost in the moment.

Laws hand traveled from you chin to the back of your head, suddenly grabbing a handful of your hair and pulling you in closer. You grabbed his T-shirt instinctively and let the kiss get more heated. Your breath was going heavy, desperate for air, yet neither of your two wanted to break the kiss.

Without pulling apart, you managed to somewhat clumsily get on your feet. Law walked you back against the sink, his lips still attached to yours, as he grabbed your thighs and effortlessly lifted you up. Sitting at the sink was pretty uncomfortable, but your mind was busy with other things. Your hands traveled down from his chest, to his belt, blindly trying to loosen it impatiently.

And Law seemed to be on the same page, he let his inked hands disappear under your top, fumbling with the clip your bra. The air was thick with tension as you two made out and tried to rip each others clothes off.

Laws zipper was already open and his belt hung lose on his jeans, while he was kissing your neck sloppily and pushed your top upwards, trying to get more of your sweet flesh.

While you two were in the heat of the moment, you completely forgot that you occupied the only existing bathroom at the party. The impatient knock of someone at the door reminded you what you were doing.

"Hey, I gotta piss, hurry up!"

Suddenly both of you froze, feeling like being caught in the act.

Law sighed in frustrating and let his head hang low, while you pinched the bridge of your nose. Great, getting cock blocked by a random stranger.

"In a fucking minute!" Law shouted back, and slowly let go of you, letting you hop of the sink. Both of you adjusted your clothes quickly and gave each other a disappointed look. It was great while it lasted.

Law walked ahead, swinging the door open with a bit more force than necessary, revealing the unfortunate person who had been banging on the door. The guy stood there, confused, clearly piecing together what had been happening inside. Law gave him a cold glare, making it obvious that he was pissed off and didn't really care the guy probably knew that you two were making out in the bathroom. You, on the other hand, followed Law out, feeling too embarrassed to meet the guy’s eyes.

As you walked away, still flustered, you spoke up quietly, "Hey, I’m still feeling a bit dizzy... I think I might call it a night." You rubbed your arm shyly, not wanting to seem like you were bailing, but the dizziness was still lingering mixed with exhaustion.

Law nodded in understanding, brushing a hand through his hair as he sighed. "Yeah, let’s leave," he agreed, his tone softer now. He placed a hand on your back gently, guiding you away from the noise of the party, and the two of you headed for the exit, leaving the chaotic atmosphere behind.

tag list: @mars-mizuko @tadomikiku (Comment to be added 🖤)

[sarawritestories]

Tell Me A Story, Nes

Nessian Fic

NESSIAN WEEK DAY 5: BEHIND CLOSED DOORS

Summary: Cassian offers to braid Nesta's hair and she begins to talk about her Book. Which leads the General to make an unusual request.

A/N: I Adored this prompt because I know these two are so soft behind closed doors!

If you see mistakes, no, you didn't!

@nessianweek

Dividers by @tsunami-of-tears

Cassian smiled as the door to his and Nesta's room opened. The later walking in eyes bright but tired. "A good book club with Em, and Gwyn?" He began to rise from his seat by the fire when his mate held up a hand.

"Let me change and I'll tell you all about it." She tugged her bottom lip between her teeth, "When I come out, would you be willing to braid my hair?"

Cassian's grinn widened, "As if you have to ask, Nes." He motioned for her to come toward him, and she complied. With his thumb, he softly pulled her bottom lip from her gnawing. Placing a chaste kiss on her mouth, he whispered, "I love you."

Nesta, face warmed with a flush, never tiring of the Illyrian saying those words to her, her silver eyes twinkling against the light of the flame. A flame she no longer feared, no longer pictured her father's neck snapping at the sound of a crack. The male in front of her was to thank for taking the time to work with her through that trauma from the war.

She kissed him once more, and she could hear Cassian's wings rustling in response. "And I love you, Cas." She watched as his Honey colored eyes warmed at the sentiment as if he too had waited for someone to utter those words to him. She lightly patted his cheek as she headed to the bathing chambers.

When she returned her favorite silk nightgown in her favorite shade of red hugging her body, Cassian patted the spot between his legs comb in hand, "Feel better." Nesta smiled and watched as the General took in her whole body. She shifted under his soft scrutiny. She wasn't sure if she would ever be used to someone who not only looked at her with such fierce passion as Cassian's eyes always did. Not sure she would ever be used to being seen as someone worth cherishing worth protecting and asking for nothing in return.

"Nes?" His low voice pulled her from her thoughts to find his dark brows furrowed with concern, "You alright?"

The eldest Archeron grinned widely, showing teeth, a smile reserved for him, Her Valkyries, and Azriel: her inner circle. "I'm wonderful."

Cassian chuckled, "Then come here, I'm wanting to hear about this book."

Nesta grabbed the book from the table and rushed over to where he had motioned her to sit, when she adjusted to a comfortable position on the floor between his legs, he began to separate her hair and began to braid. Nesta hummed and leaned into his touch, reminded that the calloused hands of the Lord of Bloodshed held a gentleness to them. Cassian loved doing these things for her, and when she once asked him about why he loved braiding and brushing her hair he had said:

"It reminds me that my hands are capable of being gentle and loving, not just a weapon of war."

So became their nightly routine. Nesta would tell him about the book her book club was reading as he brushed and plaited her hair.

This particular night, she was telling him a story told in a series of books that Gwyn found in a dark corner of the library, it had Assassins, hidden princesses, witches and fearsome warriors and an epic battle they were about to embark on in the final book.

Once Nesta had finished explaining, silence fell between them in the room. She knew he was awake as his fingers were gently tugging her hair to manipulate it into going where he wanted it. Another moment went by before she took a glance at the mirror beside the fireplace to find Cassian smiling at her reflection. "What?" She whispered.

"You always look so free when you talk about your stories? Just like when music plays out by the rainbow, your body comes alive, as does your facial expressions." He pauses his work on her hair to rub his tanned hands against her bare arms, causing a shiver down her spine. "You are breathtaking every day. But I could spend centuries watching you talk about the things you love." He pressed his lips softly to her temple before moving to pinning her braids into a crown, just the way she likes it.

"Cassian, you're too sweet, I fear."

Cassian's chest rumbled with laughter, "You deserve the world, Nes, you deserve someone being sweet to you." Cassian tapped her arm, indicating he was done, and she quickly rose to move toward his lap. Cassian quick to wrap an arm around her waist and hand wrapping over her bare thigh. "You don't want to check my work."

Nesta scoffed, "I trust you." She kissed his cheek, "Thank you, My Love."

"Anything for you, Sweetheart." His wings curved to provide an extra warmth to the room. They fell into silence once more.

"Tell Me a Story, Nes." Cassian whispered.

Nesta faced him, his eyes meeting her silver once with sincerity, "What?"

"Read to me." There was no question to the statement. He continued, "I want to know how the Princess reclaims her throne."

Nesta pressed her hand to her cheek, making sure the warmth of them were not due to a fever. "No one i have courted before has ever been interested in my books," her voice barely above a whisper.

Cassian's hand moved from her thigh to cup her face, "I am not, 'no one'. I would crawl to the ends of the earth for you. There is nothing about you that I don't want to know. I want to experience storytelling with you the way I have with music. You have given music meaning for me, Nes. Let us have that with reading to."

Nesta eyes began to glisten with tears, "Okay."

Cassian reached and handed her the book. "Okay."

Nesta opened to the first chapter and her voice a sweet Symphony to the Lord of Bloodshed's ears, "Once upon a time, in a land long since burned to ash, there lived a young princess who loved her kingdom..."

General Tag: @milswrites @lady-of-tearshed @tsunami-of-tears @readychilledwine @ceoofyearning

@velariscalling @daycourtofficial @prythianpages @writingcroissant @itsswritten

@illyrianbitch @acotarxreader @pit-and-the-pen @nocasdatsgay @labyrinth-of-stories-and-stars

@ninthcircleofprythian @thelov3lybookworm @riddlesb1tch @lilah-asteria

@kylaisra @nickishadow139 @aelincaddel @nighttimemoonlover @demirunner

@marvelbros-oneshots @lanea-1 @enchantingcupcakecollectionfan

[la2yn0va]

Crazed Deprivation

CW: Crazy Reader.

Character: Feixiao

——

Feixiao had always known there was SOMETHING off with you. From the warnings and constant worries from your one close friend about your sleep schedule, to your strange tendency to sleep wherever whenever.

She didn’t think much of it at first, until she heard you laughing late at night. The laugh was nothing like the laugh she grew to love from you, rather it was…crazed. Unhinged, Insane, Creepy.

The laugh that made her shiver in fear of YOU. Her own lover. She couldn’t help it anymore, she couldn’t stand being afraid of YOU, she needed to find out what was wrong with you.

She asked your one and only friend if they had any idea what that laugh was about. They were terrified, which made her more curious and scared.

They explained what they knew about your condition. If you miss a day of sleep, your whole mind changes into something dark, crazy, inhuman.

Feixiao couldn’t believe it, what condition was that? Surely it couldn’t be true? If it was, why wasn’t it well known?

She decided to take a risk, and sent you out on a late night mission, a simple escort mission through a borisin camp and towards a remote village.

She watched you from the trees as you effortlessly finished the mission, but then once you left the vicinity your demeanor changed. Your eyes wide, a smile creeping onto your face, bloodshot lines appearing in your sclera.

She watched in disbelief, believing it was a hallucination or a trick of some kind. But then she heard that laugh, the same laugh that made her start this whole ‘experiment’

You weren’t ‘you’ anymore, she immediately knew this was someone else. Your once charming sleepiness was replaced with a fire in your eyes, fire that wanted to see chaos.

She swallowed, her mind screaming at her to stop you before you do ANYTHING, yet her heart told her it’s still you. She listened to her mind once she saw you punching a tree and laughing at the pain.

M/n?: Come out! I know you’re here somewhere!!

Feixiao’s eyes widened, suprised that ‘M/n’ could sense her. She sighed before showing herself, and surprisingly, his eyes widened with…love?

M/n?: Darling!! It’s you!!

Feixiao:…M/n?

M/n?: That’s me, dear~!

She didn’t lower her guard, this was m/n’s face. But NOT m/n. Instinctively, she dodged an attack to her face. Grabbing this impostor and slamming him onto the ground, quickly restraining him.

Imposter: Hey—!! That’s not how you treat your lover~

Feixiao: Silence! I won’t tolerate your trickery impostor! Who’re you!

Imposter:…Tsk…I’m your lover— NGH!!

She tightened her grip, not allowing any movement or smartass responses.

Impostor:…LET ME GO!! IVE BEEN IN THIS BRATS BODY FOR TO LONG TO LET HIS FUCKING MASTER TO CHAIN ME DOWN!!!

Feixiao: Answer my question!

Imposter: For a bitch with ears that reach the sky, you’re fucking deaf. IM NOT YOUR SLAVE!!

He bashed the back of his head against Feixiao’s face, making her flinch and release you for a second. He quickly tried to attack her, but she immediately stopped any movements, grabbing this imposter and slamming him against a tree, keeping his hands pinned ontop of his head.

Imposter: NGHH…!!! Ahahaha…! You know your just hurting this brats body the more your fight back. Right~?

Feixiao growled, seeing her lovers body being piloted like a meat puppet by this freak was sickening to her. She gripped harder, watching this fake wince in pain.

Feixiao: But you still get hurt. Now answer me!! WHO ARE YOU!!

Imposter: Ahahaha…!! Let me tell you something….!! I’m gonna rip those pretty fucking orbs out and— AHH!!

She began to choke him, believing if she can put this person to sleep, then the ACTUAL m/n would return to her. Her idea seemed to have merit, as the impostor was panicking and hitting her, every hit becoming weaker.

Imposter: YOU FUCKIN…. BORISIN SCUM…!!! ILL FUCKING KILL YOU….YOU MANGY DOG…!!!

He threw insults at her, yet she remained unaffected. The only sadness she felt was hitting her lovers body to save him from this scum. The imposter then smiled and began to laugh at the pain, deciding to leave some words of wisdom before IT leaves.

Imposter: Let me tell you….! When you fucking die, this brat’ll mourn…!! He won’t sleep, and I’ll return….!! And when I do…I’ll burn your precious ship….TO THE GROUND!!! AND MUTILATE….THAT PATHETIC ASSASSIN AND DOCTOR OF YOURS……!!!!

He spat out, his laughter dying out as he passed out. She let go, looking a mixed of fearful at the thought and saddened at the events.

She closed her eyes and picked you up, deciding to sleep on it.

-The End-

Sorry this ended abruptly, I got tired.

[em-ontv]

What you wanted.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x supe!fem!reader

Summary: you were the newest member of Payback, and despite everything, you stayed, wanting to prove yourself to them, to Soldier Boy. And in the end, you did get what you wanted.

Warnings: angst, violence/death, cursing/language (x2), emotional distress, toxic dynamics with a change of heart, not proofread, english is not my first language

Word count: 1.5k

…

Payback was like a hierarchy, everyone tearing each apart constantly, and you were at the bottom.

As the newest member of the team, you were hopeful, bright-eyed, and eager to prove yourself. Help people, it's what you always wanted, and when given a chance to Payback, of course you took it.

Yet, it didn't take long for reality to strike you.

In the beginning, it was small things. A jab at your ability, mocking your power set. While others on the team could incinerate enemies, bend steel, or slice a man in half with the flick of a wrist, your gift seemed... underwhelming.

You had the ability to project shields, barriers that could defend, you were meant to protect. No one cared about defense in Payback. You weren't flashy, weren't vicious, and most of all, you didn't fit into their mold of what the "perfect supe" in this world should be.

At first, you tried to laugh along with their teasing, play it off like it didn't bother you. But it did. Desperately. You wanted to fit in. You thought joining Payback meant you'd finally have a family, that maybe your powers would be seen as useful. Heroic, even. But they viewed you as weak. Pathetic. Worthless. A "nothing" supe, as Swatto called you during one of their endless group training sessions.

But it wasn't just words.

They'd shove you around, put you in dangerous situations during missions just to watch you squirm. When you tried to prove yourself—tried to show them what you could do—they'd turn their backs or laugh harder. They didn't care how hard you worked, how many times you had thrown yourself into the line of fire, hoping for even a shred of respect.

And Ben?

Ben was different. He barely looked at you in those early days, unless it was to sneer at your constant smiles, your relentless optimism. It grated him. You were too... happy. Too soft for this world. Trying too hard. He couldn't stomach it.

The first time it happened, you didn't even see it coming. A punch, swift and hard, sent you sprawling to the ground. You remembered the words he said to you. How could you forget? "You don't belong here."

You tasted blood in your mouth, your brain disassociated with the world after that. You couldn't hear what he said afterwards.

You felt your vision starting to blur, your eyes starting to sting, but you refused to let him see you cry.

The tears came later, in the dark corners of the compound, when you were alone. You wiped them away, but more took their place. You told yourself tomorrow would be better. Tomorrow, you'd do it. You'd earn his respect.

That tomorrow never came.

Day after day, you were waiting for that tomorrow—when that look on his face would be replaced with something else. But it never happened. And in the worst moments, when his anger flared and he got violent, you didn't scream, didn't fight back—and didn't know how to. You just looked at him. He didn't understand it, but it just seemed to enrage him more. How could someone be so stubborn? So stupid?

But after a while, something changed. Ben started getting used to you. You were like an annoying fly buzzing around—always there, always smiling, even when he put you down, when the team put you down. Those injuries you soothed yourself. He couldn't understand it. Couldn't understand why you stayed.

But you stayed, no matter how many times he tried to break you.

And that did something to him. Slowly. Painfully.

He started to notice things about you. How you could take a punch, but never once raised your fist in return. How you didn't flinch anymore when he shouted orders, your eyes not wide with fear but some kind of... trust. When he lashed out, you didn't look at him like he was a monster. You just looked like you saw something more. Maybe you found something, maybe you found nothing. But you tried. And for the first time in a long time, Ben felt something crack in that cold heart of his.

Maybe he wasn't as invincible as he thought.

But as much as his feelings shifted, his behavior didn't. Not at first. He still pushed you away, still spat insults. And yet, you remained. The team still treated you like a joke. But Ben? He started seeing you differently. There were moments, brief as they were, where he'd find himself watching you, wondering why you still showed up every day. How you hadn't given up yet. It would be so easy to just walk out the door. But no, you didn’t.

What was it about you?

One night, after a mission, you were sitting in the dark, nursing bruises and scratches, trying to stitch up a nasty cut. Ben had found you, watched from the shadows as you silently worked the needle, slow inhales and exhales of your breath in the air.

"Why are you still here?" He muttered, and for the first time, he didn't seem angry.

You looked up, slightly startled by his presence, but you smiled—of course you did. "Same reason as everyone else, I guess. To prove I belong somewhere in the world."

He scoffed softly, shaking his head. "You don't belong here. Not with us."

Those words again. You should've been hurt by that, should've let the words cut deep like they always did, but instead, you just chuckled under your breath, sounding a bit tired. "Maybe not. But I'm not leaving."

Ben didn't say anything for a few seconds, and it seemed like he might just turn and walk away. But instead, he sat down nearby, something unreadable flickering in his gaze. You didn't ask why he stayed, didn't bother to question it. You just continued stitching yourself up.

The turning point happened during a mission. It was supposed to be a simple operation, nothing Payback hadn't dealt with before. But as with most things, nothing went according to plan. Not this time.

The enemies had been waiting. They were ready—prepared with weapons designed to hurt supes, and they were gunning for Soldier Boy. The leader, the face of the operation.

The moment you saw the explosives, something inside you snapped. This was your moment. Your chance to finally show Ben—and the whole team—that you could be more than the punchline they saw you as.

The explosion was coming, fast and unforgiving, and Ben was in the line of fire. He was distracted, too busy ripping apart enemies to see it. But you saw it.

You acted without thinking. Your powers flared to life in an instant, the energy surrounding him like a shield just as the explosives detonated.

The impact was unlike anything you'd ever felt. The force of it knocked the wind from your lungs, and you could feel the burn tearing through your skin, shredding your body. But you held on. You had to.

Your shield absorbed the brunt of the blast, protecting Ben, keeping him safe while it tore you apart. The pain was blinding, sharp, every nerve in your body screamed, but you didn't let go. Not until the danger had passed. Not until he was safe.

And then... the world went quiet.

When he turned around, it was too late. You were on the ground, body broken, barely even recognizable anymore. But even then, your hand was still outstretched, fingers curled as if still trying to shield him. His eyes widened, a strange panic rising in his chest. He dropped to his knees beside you, hands hovering over your form, unsure of what to do.

You weren't breathing.

His chest tightened, his throat dry. He could barely speak.

"Hey... come on, get up," he growled, but his voice faltered. "Get the fuck up right now."

You didn't move. You didn't answer.

Ben's heart pounded in his chest, he felt something close to fear. His voice wavered. "Don't you fucking do this to me… I didn't ask for this.”

He grabbed the front of your suit, shaking you, but it was no use. Your head lolled back, your face bloodied, eyes that were once bright now dull and lifeless.

He stared at you, the weight of it crashing down on him, crushing him, and he felt like he was suffocating.

You had saved him. You—a supe with the power of protection, a supe who Payback thought was nothing. You, who had stood by him even when he'd treated you like nothing. You, who had looked at him with those stupid, trusting eyes. You had proven yourself today, hadn't you?

But you were gone.

The world around him faded into the background. The shouts of his team, the chaos of the mission—everything disappeared. There was only you, lying there, your light extinguished. And as Ben stared at you, he couldn't shake the thought that maybe death wasn't the one that took your light.

Maybe it was him.

And he would have to carry that weight with him for the rest of his life.

In the end, you got what you wanted. You had proven yourself. You had shown Ben—shown everyone—what you were capable of. You saved him, protected him like you always did. But the cost had been your life... and you weren't here to finally see the acceptance that you were a part of the team, a part of Payback. And a part of Ben's heart.

[lulublack90]

Prompt 19 - Cheek

@rosekillermicrofic September 19, word count 790

Previous part First Jegulus part

A round little man waddled into the café and Regulus nodded his head towards him. Barty grinned a toothy grin as he eyed up his prey. This was going to be fun. He nudged Evan and jutted his chin towards Pettigrew. Evan patted him fondly on the cheek and stalked towards the man, who’d just sat down at an empty table. 

“Hello,” Barty heard Evan say in his most velvety voice. It sent a shiver down Barty’s spine. He loved that voice. Pettigrew jumped, not realising Evan had sat down at his table. Barty pulled out the chair next to Evan and sat down, making sure his pointed teeth showed clearly. He’d been called a vampire many times over the years, as his canines were rather sharp. Smiling like that didn’t help the rumours, but Bart couldn’t care less. 

“Oh, er, hi. Erm, I don’t really like sharing a table, if, if you don’t mind,” Pettigrew squeaked nervously as Barty picked up the fork from in front of him and twirled it in his fingers. 

“Well, we don’t like little rats who film our friends,” Barty said in an over-calm way. He pulled his top lip up even more, knowing how insane he’d look to the other man.

The sound of scraping chairs behind him alerted him to the Potters moving in. He didn’t take his eyes off the rat for a second. 

“And we don’t appreciate our son’s being used for your entertainment,” Effie hissed as she and Monty sat down beside Barty. Barty looked at her, impressed. Effie Potter had bite!

“What she said,” Monty said so cheerfully that Barty nearly broke character to stare at him in bewilderment, but he didn't have time for that as Pandora popped up beside Evan. 

“Peter? Peter Pettigrew, is that you?” She gasped. Wait, did Panda know him? “Oh, haven’t you been naughty? I’ve a good mind to tell your mother on you. Using my dear friend Sirius to get views online. That’s not very nice, you know,” She wagged her finger at him. Barty felt nervous himself. When Pandora wagged that finger, usually someone would be filled with regret not long after. 

Another two chairs were pulled over to the table and Regulus and James sat down. 

“The only one who can torture my brother is me,” Regulus sneered, his voice full of venom. "The fact you think you have the right to film him at all is beyond me." 

“Dickhead,” James shot at him. Barty had to try very hard not to snort.  

“James Fleamont Potter, language,” Effie gasped. 

“Sorry, Mum,” James flushed and tried again. “You hurt my friend, prepare to di—” Monty elbowed his son in the ribs, “Have a good telling off,” James huffed as he rubbed his side. 

Finally, Remus and Sirius joined the group around the table.  

"It gives me great pleasure, Mr Pettigrew, to inform you--” Remus said sweetly, too sweetly. Barty looked Remus over again and saw the fire behind his eyes. Oh, Remus had a crazy side. No wonder Regulus liked him.  

“Sling your hook, you're barred!” Sirius shouted at the cowering man, making Barty jump. Pettigrew leapt to his feet and ran for the door.    

The odd assortment of defenders chased after him. Barty felt exhilarated as he charged down the pavement. Regulus had been adamant that they were to scare Pettigrew only and not actually harm him. Sirius didn’t want that. So Barty let him escape. The stubby man could move surprisingly fast. He stopped running once Pettigrew disappeared around the corner and waited for the others to catch up. 

“I got it all on film! I got it all on film!” Effie cried out excitedly. 

“So did I,” Monty grinned wildly. “Oh, wait,” His face fell. “I had it on the wrong camera. It’s just my face.” Barty couldn’t help it. He burst into knee-slapping laughter. James’s parents were hilarious. 

“So who’s watching the café?” James asked, looking around the gathered people.

“Oh shit!” Sirius yelled and raced back to the unmanned café.

“Speaking of videos, wait until I show you what Barty did the other day. I can guarantee it’s the best thing you’ve ever witnessed in your life,” Evan said, baiting them until everyone wanted to see what Barty had done.

“Let’s wait until the café shuts,” Barty added. “I think there might be multiple viewings required. Evan agreed and put his phone away as they all walked back to the café together. Barty took Evan’s hand in his and winked at his boyfriend mischievously. He couldn’t wait to see Regulus’s face when he watched what Barty had done to his mother, but he could wait a few hours more. The anticipation was the best bit. 

Next part

[wherewritersgotodie-blog]

You’re too sweet for me— Kai Anderson x reader

tell a friend to tell a friend…

Pt. 1, Pt. 2

warnings: masturbation, stalking

For days, you didn’t text.

He was going absolutely wild. He scoured the internet, every Instagram post of everyone you knew, everything with your name or face from the past week.

Where were you? What were you doing? Were you ever going to text?

He tried to push you from his mind, tried to block out his obsession with you. He said he wouldn’t go out to find you, not in person. It was too risky.

But he couldn’t help it. He was truly obsessed.

He had resolved himself to believing you’d forgotten him. It was for the better, anyway. He was too dangerous for you. You were too soft for him.

If he was never going to speak to you again, though, then could it hurt to keep tabs on you? Who was keeping you safe if not him?

You sat by your window, reading a book, wearing silky shorts and a tank top, fuzzy socks and headphones over your ears, your shoulder leaned against your window.

He sat in his car, popped an adderall and stared. You were truly ethereal.

You tossed your book past your feet, then looked out the window. You shuffled, glanced at your phone, then stood up, staring at it, walking back and forth across your floor, your nails in your teeth.

What had you so worried? he wondered. Were you waiting on a text from a boy in class? Were you picking out a dress for your night out? Were you-

Ding.

His phone buzzed in his pocket just as you threw yours down and sat back at your window.

No way.

(Y/N)

Hey, knight in shining armor. Is a weekend with no plans danger enough for you to come to the rescue?

Were you worried about texting him?

He couldn’t answer you right away. He would wait a few minutes. Not too long, but enough that you knew he was a busy man.

After five minutes, you began to bite your nails. After ten, you paced again. You couldn’t be worried about him, were you? No. Impossible.

He texted you back after eighteen minutes.

Kai

Coffee. 3. House by the woods. I’ll pick you up.

You looked at your phone light up, your smile so wide he could see it from his car, and jumped.

You jumped.

(Y/N)

Can’t wait.

Kai

See you tomorrow, princess.

He prayed that you understood his referencing to your little charade.

(Y/N)

Princess. I like that.

I bet you do, he thought.

(Y/N)

Is that a weird thing to say?

Sweet, sweet girl.

Kai

Not at all.

He watched as your hand played with the hem of your sleep shorts. Oh, how he wished you’d take it off right in front of your window. He watched as your hand slid down your shorts.

No fucking way.

He stared in awe as you worked yourself in plain sight of the street. You really were so careless.

(Y/N)

Phew.

Kai

See you, princess.

You threw your head back, smiling.

You were touching yourself for him. His dick was on fire.

(Y/N)

Can’t wait for tomorrow!

You began messily playing with yourself, arm moving faster as you stared at the screen. Dirty little girl.

He needed to show you how to be bad. He needed to taint you.

Kai

See you then.

(Y/N)

<3

That was the last text you sent before you placed the phone down. You worked your hand against yourself, your other hand reaching up to your chest, playing with your nipples through your shirt fabric.

He pulled out his dick, rolling his window up halfway, still able to see you clearly, but making sure the car was dark.

He began to work himself, watching your little hands play with your sensitive body. He just knew he could get you so wet so quickly.

You continued play with yourself, biting the back of your hand, quieting your moans, Kai assumed.

He came quick, well before you did. He continued to watch, but it was much less unbearable for a few moments afterward.

He could tell you were coming when you started gripping the walls and rolling your body, biting your hand to silence yourself.

You sat still for a moment, chest heaving.

He stared for another dozen minutes or so before putting his car in gear. When he looked back up, you had turned off your light. 10:15pm. Good girl.

He drove away, a smirk playing at his lips the whole ride home.

long one coming tomorrow. few on the way. it’s that time of year

[genz420]

Beauty of Scars & Flowers - Chapter 8: Mother Forgive Me.

Master List

Previous Part - Next Part

Aemond had never been good at understanding his feelings, and after claiming Vhagar and what happened at Driftmark, it was like a tub of wildfire was poured onto the anger of fire that burned within him. Anger was the easiest of his emotions to understand and the most common. 

Anger at the king and queen. At his brother. His sister. His nephews. Aemond felt as if anger and pain were his true nature. 

He could tell himself that the blood of the dragon made him so hot-tempered and resentful, but he knew the truth that the lack of retribution made him such, the torment he faced at the hand of his brother and for the eye that was taken from him. 

He had thought that he would spend the rest of his days hating the bastards of House Strong and the rest of that entitled false-nobility house. 

But then there was Lyanna. 

Kind and sweet, Lyanna. Who loved her flowers. And never showed false interest in the conversations that they shared. Lyanna, who would gift him her personal annotated books and flowers, pressed herself.

He did not know why his anger toward House Strong did not apply to her. She bore the same head of curls as Harwin Strong and Lucerys Velaryon. The same mischievous smile and freckled face as Jacaerys Velaryon. 

He did not see those traits as belonging to another whenever he looked at her. They were hers.

He enjoyed being in her company, listening and talking with her. Even the silences he enjoyed. He found himself aching to sit within her presence simply, smell the floral oil she wore, and hear her small snickers and side comments. To merely exist near her. For breathing the same air was enough for him. 

Yet he had overstepped. Allowed his ambition and hope to control his actions. He should have simply stayed within their comfortable friendship. 

The events that transpired that day kept playing over in his head. How soft her skin felt against his lips. How her breath quickened as he got close to her, the heat from that came off her skin. 

The memories often came to him at night, and he was ashamed at how he pleasured himself to them. 

He was ashamed of the dreams that would plague him night after night. Of him pleasuring her, her pleasuring him. It was a consistent fact that he would wake up in a cold sweat after a point in his dreams. The same part every time, with his head between her thighs as he feasted on her arousal before the hearttree. Her breast exposed for the night sky to see as she moaned and gripped his hair. 

He would not be able to face Lyanna the next day, would turn and walk the other way if he saw her in the corridor, and would stand on the opposite side of the room during court. The two had not spoken to one another, yet Aemond still sought Helaena out to see how Lyanna was doing. 

He spent too many hours at the threshold of the Godswood, wanting to join her kneeling figure, but he could never bring himself to. He would feel like a creep as he watched her prey, but it seemed that was all she was doing lately. The few times he could find her outside of the Godswood, she was often in the presence of the hand. 

Aemond had found himself seeking the solace of his dragon more often, taking to the skies in the early morning so that he might feel the heat of the rising sun on his face. The wind was like a danger against his exposed skin. It was a way for him to feel something other than shame and guilt. 

But now he was not on his dragon. His protector. But beside his mother as she lit her candles. The sept was not a place he wanted to be but there was one sure fact about visiting the sept, Lyanna would not be there. He wanted to see her. Truly, but he did not know what he could do. How he would be able to hold back his desire. 

Aemond gazed at his mother, the queen, with her head down as she preyed. She was the symbol of virtue in his mind. He turned his gaze back to the table of candles, watching the fire dance and mix together. 

He felt no better than Aegon, just as depraved.  

He needed to talk to Lyanna. He needed to beg for her forgiveness so things might return to what they once had.  

– – 

Lyanna’s chest was tight, and the muscles of her thighs were cramping, yet she could not care about the pain. Each movement she made was worth the small moment of pain for the waves of pleasure that would follow.

Her skin had a layer of sweat, and her hair was stuck to the back of her neck. The throbbing feeling of her heartbeat thumped in her head, and the smell of sweat and the smouldering fire filled the room. The man between her legs also smelled smoke, citrus, floral, and wood, but there was a hint of spiced oils that could only be bought from dorn to the higher buyer. The small whimpers and groans could no doubt be heard in the hallway, but the occupants in the room couldn't care less. 

The pains in her knees were almost enough for Lyanna to stop, the same pain she would feel when she knelt before the heart tree, but the firm grip of his hands kept her up. 

His fingers dug into the soft flesh of her thighs and lower back, guiding her. But they held a sense of possession as if he was afraid she would disappear if he were to let go. If his nails had been any longer, then he would have drawn blood with his grip.

Lyanna’s breath held an unheard beg as she leaned forward against his body, chest in his face as she gripped his shoulders. 

Her eyebrows were pulled together, eyes clenched so tightly closed as his lips continued their savage attack against her skin. With each kiss, she knew that he was committing the feeling and taste of her skin to memory, the rise of her chest with each rise and fall, and the thumping of her heart against her chest. 

Lyanna let herself sink into his arms, the exhaustion taking over, but that did not stop Aemond. 

He drew her close, arms wrapped around her body as he planted more sloppy kisses against her skin. The feeling of her walls clenching around him made his head spin, but he continued to thrust–

“Lyanna?” Helaena's sweet voice snapped Lyanna out of her daydream. 

Lyanna turned away from the paper before her and toward the princess. Part of her felt ashamed and depraved for thinking about Helaena’s brother in such ways, in front of her no less. But those thoughts had been worming their way into her mind every hour of the day and night. 

No matter where she went, all Lyanna could think about was the lewd things she wished to do to Aemond and what she wanted him to do to her. 

Lyanna might have been a proper lady, a virgin and innocent, but that didn’t mean she didn’t understand what happened when people succumbed to their lustful desires. She had attended weddings and taken part in the bedding ceremony. She had male cousins who found it funny to see how interested she got when they talked about their conquests. 

She had first seen such things when she was no older than ten and three, sneaking away with a few other Riverland ladies around her age to spy on the married couple. All of them had been giddied for the rest of the night. 

“Sorry, my princess, my mind was wondering,” Lyanna relayed, her throat dry, and Helaena nodded as if she understood the feeling. 

Helaena had been talking for nearly ten minutes until she realized Lyanna had not been paying attention. She did not mind; she enjoyed the presence of Lyanna. 

“I asked who the letter was for,” Helaena repeated as she returned to the peonies she was embroidering for her friend. 

Lyanna sighed as she leaned back in the wooden chair and stared at the finished letter on the desk and her ink-stained fingers. 

“My cousin, he is riding to the Keep, and I hope to send a letter for him when he arrives at Brindlewood,” Lyanna answered as she stood and moved to sit next to the princess. 

It was just the two of them in the room; the twins were off somewhere and Aemond was avoiding being anywhere near Lyanna, as if she had some kind of skinness that he would catch if he were even in the same hallway. 

But Lyanna did not mind today; she was happy to be with Helaena. The two girls offered each other protection in some kind of way. When Lyanna was near, the queen and Aegon were sure to leave Helaena alone. When Helaena was near, Larys was nowhere in sight. 

Lyanna made herself comfortable next to Helaena. She rested against the princess's shoulder as she watched Helaena’s fingers move like a spider weaving its web as she embroidered.   

Helaena did not mind Lyanna's touch; she had no alternative movies to touch behind them. 

Helaena leaned her cheek against Lyanna's head, humming for her to continue speaking. There was more troubling Lyanna; Helaena knew as much. 

“Though I think that it will go unread. I just wish for a word from him to ensure that he has not been killed by thieves or wolves…It is hard being away from my family,” She told Helaena, her voice getting quieter toward the end of her words as the worry seeped back into her gut. 

She hardly thought of Larys as family; he was just kin, not family. Lyanna had grown up around family. She loved them and would go to any means to help them. Her meals were spent with her family, with laughter and talk that wasn’t about how she failed to find a husband and do her duty as a heiress and a woman. 

She hoped that the arrival of her dear cousin would brighten her days, and then she could be confined to someone about her problems. She did not want to burden Helaena, nor was it appropriate to say such things to a princess. 

“You have me,” Helaena assured Lyanna, who could not help the small laugh that escaped her. 

Not a mocking laugh, a happy one. Lyanna was happy with her friend's words.

“I am grateful for that. Your company keeps me sane,” Lyanna assured back. The two girls were more grateful for one another than they could express. 

The two of them sat in silence as Helaena worked away, the only sound being the faint song of the birds outside. They could spend the rest of the day in the presence of one another and be happy with the time they wasted. 

But that peaceful afternoon ended the second the door opened. 

Aemond knew that Lyanna would be with Helaena. But as he entered, everything he was planning on saying and doing burned to ash, and he spotted Lyanna and Helaena practically snuggling one another. 

Lyanna looked away from Helaena's movements and toward their visitor. She straightened instantly at the sight of Aemond.  The two of them held a second of eye contact before Lyanna quickly stood up, giving Helaena a quick goodbye before practically running out of the room. 

Lyanna could feel the shame burning her skin at the sight of the one-eyed prince. Shame at the moment the two shared in the Kingswood—the shame of the thoughts and dreams she had. 

She felt dirty. Her skin. Her thoughts. Her soul. 

Aemond watched her as she moved, holding himself back from grabbing on her arm to stop her. He stared at Helaena for a moment, waiting for Helaena to break the silence, and Helaena waited for Aemond to leave. 

Helaena turned her attention back to her work as if nothing was happening. She did not care to know why Aemond and Lyanna were avoiding one another. It was not her business.  

Aemond quickly moved to follow Lyanna, his shoulders back as the courtiers of the Keep moved out of his way. He should have stopped her in the room, not allowed her to leave before he could get two cents in. Now, he was practically chasing her through the keep. 

He spotted Lyanna's dark blue dress amidst the sea of green and red. He quickened his pace to catch up with her. His gaze was set on her, and the second he was close enough to her, he wrapped his hand around her forearm.

Lyanna snapped her gaze behind her shoulder, her eyebrows pulled together, and she couldn’t help but roll her eyes at the sight of the prince. He could not face her this morning, but now, in a hallway filled with court members, he not only followed her but grabbed her. 

“I am busy, my prince,” Lyanna quickly spoke, her words spoken so fast that Aemond could barely understand them. 

He knew Lyanna well enough to know that she would not stay put. As she tried to remove her arm from his grasp, he could not help the slight smirk grow on his face. With one quick and soft yank, Aemond pulled Lyanna closer to him. 

The action was enough to gain the attention of a few passing couples, who gave both Aemond and Lyanna looks of worry and disgust. 

“As your prince, I command you to wait,” Aemond told her, keeping his voice as calm as he could, but Aemond could feel the bubbling of anger and frustration grow in his stomach. 

His voice held no kindness that Lyanna was used to. It held bitterness and anger that she had never heard from the prince. The prince who, in her mind, could do no wrong. But his tone only reminded her of her bitter male relatives who held ill feelings towards the seat of Harrenhal being given to a girl. 

Lyanna’s shock at his grip and tone quickly turned to anger. Anger at his entitlement. They had been ignoring one another for almost a week at this point, and the first time Aemond dared not to flee at the sight of her, he was putting her reputation at risk.   

The shock and anger growing on Lyanna’s face was enough for Aemond to understand he should have taken a different course of action. 

“Command?” Lyanna asked. Aemond was a prince, but she never thought he would command her to do something.

Aemond grabbed her arm before pulling her away from the watching eyes of the passing bystanders. He needed to talk to her alone. 

But they were being watched, the usually composed prince pulling the young lady of Harrenhal into a corridor. 

Lyanna did not try to struggle against Aemond guiding her away; she wanted to get this over quickly, and complying was the best way to do so. 

“Do you lack a basic understanding of what you're doing?” She asked the prince as he finally let go of her arm, yet she felt just as trapped even now. 

She was trapped between Aemond and the wall. She was aware that if anyone were to see them, they were too close to one another for there to be an excuse. Both of their chests heaving as they scared down one another. 

The fire and blood of old Valyria burned in Aemond as he stared down at Lyanna, his one eye darted between her eyes and lips. He made himself remember why he chased her down and pulled her into this corridor. 

He needed her to understand that he was sorry that he overstepped, but the proximity to her forced all the blood to leave his brain and move elsewhere. All Aemond could think of was how her skin felt against his lips, how her naked body would feel against his own. 

“You need to listen to me,” Aemond whispered to her. He needed to make her understand that he was sorry, but with each passing moment, his guilt was slowly being replaced with lust again.

Lyanna took a deep breath and shook her head. Part of her just wanted to fulfil the desires she had. To pull Aemond closer to her and just give in. 

But that desire was quickly being replaced with anger. She and Larys had worked hard to rebuild House Strong's reputation. But Aemond was putting that all at risk; a simple rumour of Aemond and Lyanna being alone in the corridor could ruin everything and put Lyanna on the wrong side of her uncle. Would prevent any chance of her getting a husband. 

She was no better than her father. She was falling for a Targaryen who would face no repercussions for their actions.  

“Listen to you? People have heard you have seen us just now. I must leave,” Lyanna spat at Aemond. She was more scared than angry—scared of what Larys would do to her if he were to find out this. 

Aemond moved his hand to hold her forearms in place to stop her from leaving this conversation. His grip was loose; he did not want to hurt her, but he needed to keep her in front of him. 

“Wherever you are going, it can wait,” He told her, leaning down more so that his hair created a cage around them. Lyanna’s hair was done up in a crown of braids, he noticed now.

She was dressed up. Maybe she was dressed up to meet a suitor. Perhaps she would expect a rushed offer for her hand before he could stop it.

Lyanna shook her head softly; she wasn’t talking about leaving to go to an engagement, but rather the suffocating land of King’s Landing.

“Here, I can’t stand this anymore. I am returning to Harrenhal,” She whispered, her voice tired. She wanted to go home. 

“You have yet to secure a match,” Aemond told her, as if he could not understand why she would leave before fulfilling the reason why she came here. 

“I will make my uncle Simon officially my heir and allow the lordship to pass to him or his sons on my death,” She sounded as if she was trying to convince herself rather than Aemond, her head slightly shaking as if her mind was disagreeing with her words.

She had fought hard to keep her inheritance. Making pleas at Riverruns, threatening her male relatives with demanding a trial by combat for being the head of the house, and even resorting to allowing Alys to deal with those who would dare to deny her her birthright or conspire against her. 

“Just wait,” 

Aemond did not let Lyanna say a word to stop him before he lunged at her, his hands going to grip her waist as he leaned down to smash his lips against Lyanna.  

It was not like the kiss he had shared with the few lovers he had in the past. This was different, a sense of need that he could only compare to a person eating after being starved for weeks without food.

The feeling of the embroidering of her dress was a reminder of their status, but that didn’t matter anymore. He pulled her closer by her hips to the point where the hilt of his sword was sure to be digging into her stomach. 

Lyanna could not believe what was happening. The feeling of Aemonds lips against hers, the grip of his hands on her hips, and the sword digging into her. She might be a virgin, but that did not mean she had not kissed anyone. She had spent plenty of time at Riverrun with lads around her age. Sharing a kiss or two in the stables was a right of passage. 

But she never thought she would be kissing a prince, even after what happened in the Kingswood. Much less kissing a prince in a dark corridor like some common whore. She wished she had enough self-restraint to not give in. 

But this is what she wanted so badly. 

His lips were soft just as he thought, and he smelled the same Dornish spiced oil. Lyanna couldn’t stop her hands as one wrapped around his bicep and the other around his back to pull him closer. 

She didn’t want him closer; she needed him closer. 

Lyanna pulled up her left leg, and Aemond was aware enough to move his tight grip away from her hip and onto her thigh. Her dress had been pushed up her leg enough for Aemond to grip the flesh of her thigh. He could feel the end of her stockings and the heat from her skin. 

Gods, she was warm. 

His hands were not as soft as she thought they were. She could feel the calluses on his hands from his training. But gods, did they feel good gripping her skin, she did not care about the bruises or marks that might appear. She did not care or know how she would explain them to her handmaiden. 

Aemond let his hand wander further up her skirt until he realized what they were doing. He didn’t want to stop, but he knew at this rate that they would be ripping each other's clothes off and rutting on the bare ground just steps away from courtiers.

With every piece of self-strength, Aemond pulled away from Lyanna. His hands were still holding onto her as if she might slip away.  

“Stay,” He said, his voice and tone much different from the one he had before. 

Aemond leans down and places a small kiss against her forehead, then her left cheek, then her right. A smile on his face as he did so.

Lyanna shook her head. A simple kiss could not sway her to change her plans. 

“Stay,” He repeated, his lips brushing against hers. 

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@delaynew @coldmermaidhologram @snh96 @sahvlren

[whatswrongwithblue]

The Fire in the Sin

Chapter 26 - The Show Must Go On

Word count: 9,332. Read on AO3. Series Masterlist. <- Previous Chapter

Summary: the battle and the consequences

Series Summary

In the 1950's, Alastor met the woman he would eventually marry but unfortunately his Radio Demon persona went for her soul rather than her hand. He has to learn what it means to love, and cherish, without possessing and he does. Their relationship is beautiful, strong, unbreakable . . . but he carries a dark secret through their marriage for decades until eventually he has to face the consequences of that secret and leave her, without warning, for seven years. He returns, finding her at the Hazbin Hotel, and has to convince her to forgive him, while being literally bound to secrecy, unable to tell her any of things he now is desperate to explain to her.

(This is a duel timeline fic, timestamps will be a the top of every chapter.)

Chapter 26 - The Show Must Go On

Alastor was a master of hiding his true feelings and intentions. Since his return, he had often relied on that skillset to manipulate his way through the workings of the hotel, to twist and turn his guidance of Charlie where he needed, and to charm others into trusting that his presence there would be of their benefit. It wasn’t necessarily untrue though it also wasn’t explicitly honest of him to allow them all to believe what they did of him.

However, on the morning of the extermination, there was no need to pretend away any of his feelings. His glee, his absolute eagerness to see those angels descend upon the hotel, allowed him to express himself in an open and true way that he usually had to reserve for his private moments alone with Mina.

His wife was also an open book, though she was more anxious than he was. She gripped onto the ledge in front of her, watching as her friends battled with the few angels that had made their way to the hotel before Alastor’s shield had been raised.

Mina was the very image of beauty that morning. It was rare to see her in anything but her usual attire and he had to admit, he rather liked her in pants. The tight black trousers and long sleeved orange shirt hugged her figure and gave her a grace and agility her preferred dress could never achieve. Her hair was pulled up into a bun with side braids that laced just beneath her ears. After seeing her show off her improved fighting style with her spar against Vaggie the day before, Alastor kept looking over at her with a rekindled appreciation for her hidden strengths. Mina was always such a petite, unassuming person that it was easy to forget, even for himself, how positively deadly she could be.

So far, her worry over their safety appeared to be needless. The small army from cannibal town seemed to be holding their own, the hotel residents were doing quite well for themselves, and Mina’s friends from The Pit were demolishing any angel that came near them. It was easy, effortless work, with sheer numbers and preparations on their side, where the angels were separated from the rest of their army and had vastly underestimated what they were up against.

Alastor still wasn’t worried when his shields fell.

It was of little consequence if he had to face Adam, in fact, a part of him had been looking forward to the thrilling challenge of it.

Mina had turned to him as soon as it happened, reluctant to follow through with what she had agreed to.

“Go,” Alastor told her, gesturing towards the next wave of angels that were nearly on the people down below. “They need you far more than I do.”

“If you die, I’ll never forgive you,” she said, giving him one last hard look, before stepping through a portal and leaving him alone on the roof of the hotel.

For the first time, he was truly grateful for their seven years apart. He was sure if she hadn’t experienced the pain of it, hadn’t had to dig through the remains of her heart and find the strength to face what he had put her through, she wouldn’t have been able to follow through with leaving him to face Adam alone.

And even afterward, when everything had gone terribly wrong, he still didn’t regret his decision to make her leave his side. He had just barely survived the blow from that terrible weapon of Adam’s and he was certain that Mina wouldn’t have been able to do the same. And if she died, every last shred of goodness still left inside of him would die with her.

No, it simply wouldn’t be allowed to come to that. She was far safer and more useful to his cause down below, keeping Charlie safe and fighting exterminators of a less impressive caliber than the one he was now staring down.

____

Mina stepped out of her portal and into chaos.

She had a moment to look back up towards the hotel and catch a glimpse of Adam in his white and golden robes flying lower, clearly headed towards Alastor, before an exterminator was on her. Just in time, she lifted her spear and blocked the attack, throwing the angel off balance and smashing the blunt end of her spear into the other woman’s mask, knocking her to the ground and impaling her through the chest hard enough that Mina had to put her weight into yanking the spear out, its tip having lodged itself into the concrete beneath the angel’s back.

Her head tilted to the side as she considered her fallen enemy. The woman’s mask was shattered, the insulting demonic visage sputtering as the imagery failed, though her true face was still hidden from Mina. After a couple gurgled breaths, the angel went limp. Mina bent down and grabbed her spear, happy to now be duel wielding them, and kicked the dead angel in the head as she stepped away from her. She’d always hated those fucking masks.

Vaggie was glued to Charlie’s side so Mina kept nearer to her comrades from The Pit, though she kept one eye on the couple in case something were to happen to Vaggie and Charlie needed the added protection. She had promised Alastor she would keep her safe and though Charlie was more powerful than anyone else there that day, Mina wasn’t confident in the princess’s ability to understand and wield that power just yet.

She watched as Astra used her chameleon powers to camouflage herself in the darkest recesses of the battle ground before striking out with simple yet devastating strikes of her spear. Fae and Lilah were the very images of grace, their hyper feminine forms making them look more like they were doing a ballet rather than fighting to the death, if it weren’t for the splatters of gold blood on their features. Alina was in her full demonic visage, a terrifying giant bat, her large leather wings allowing her an ariel advantage. The angels were not used to having victims that fought back and they were extra poor at defense when airborne. Any of them that tried to attack the hotel residents from above was met with Alina’s perfect combinations of angelic spear and the wide gaping maw of her hungry mouth. Kaden and Silva were mostly fighting amongst the cannibals, their own fighting style less refined than that of the others but more brutal, and their high-pitched cackles echoed through the courtyard, even over the din of the battle around them.

Mina wasn’t keeping track of how many angels she had taken down. She had joked with Angel the night before that they should make a competition of it, like Legolas and Gimli, but he hadn’t gotten the reference. Her spear sank into the gut of an oncoming exterminator and it didn’t exit out her back so Mina twisted the spear and pulled it sideways and out, leaving a gaping hole in the angel’s torso.

That had to have been at least a dozen.

Something whizzed past her ears and half a second later a large explosion came from a few feet behind her. She turned behind her to see Husk with his hand still midair, having just thrown a card and sending her would be attacker into a box of empty crates stacked at the side of the courtyard.

Mina gave Husk a small smile of appreciation before turning on the angel that was now getting up from where she had landed, shoving a crate off herself with a disgusted grunt.

The angelic steel-edged axe Mina had been eyeing the morning before was strapped to her hip and she dropped one spear to reach for it, eyeing it almost lovingly as she tossed it once in her grip before the handle settled into her palm, perfectly balanced, and she pulled her arm back and threw it. Her aim was true and the axe landed with a satisfying crunch in the middle of the angel’s face.

“FUCKING BULLSEYE! FUCK YEAH BITCH!” Cherri’s voice shouted from several feet away before the blonde set a stream of bombs flying over Mina’s head and into the next oncoming surge of angels.

Mina smiled, taking in a long deep, open-mouthed breath, savoring the sweet smell of golden blood all around her.

This was going well.

A moment later, Mina’s confidence was shattered as she saw a great flash of gold lightning from the corner of her eye and turned to see Vaggie and Charlie thrown to the ground.

“SUCK MY HOLY LIGHT, FUCKERS!”

Adam.

“-but Alastor was supposed to handle him. Oh no, he must be- ”

Charlie’s voice had said out loud what Mina had been thinking. Before she could process anything, she was stepping through a portal and back on the roof of the hotel.

“ALASTOR!” she screamed, running around the rooftop, looking for any signs of him.

She closed her eyes and breathed slowly, and her feline olfactory senses picked up the sharp metallic tang she knew so well. Mina was familiar with the unique smell of Alastor’s blood, had tasted it on her own lips, and delighted in the way his scent strengthened every time she drew it from his body. It was a smell she associated with desire and pleasure, of their most intimate moments together. It was hardly something she was used to associating with danger and dread but that was what the scent was making her feel now.

Mina chased the smell across the rooftop and found a disturbing amount of it splashed onto the floor of the rooftop. She knew from experience that blood spilled from a body always appeared to be far greater in volume than what was true, but from the pattern of it and the deep crimson color, it looked to have been spilled quickly and from an incredibly deep wound.

But there wasn’t a trail of blood leading away and there was no body.

Mina squeezed her eyes shut, holding closed fists to them as she felt the sting of tears and the crushing grip of panic threatening to spill out of her. Her chin quivered and she grimaced but she still forced herself to keep it together for a little while longer.

His shadow could have moved him. Conscious or unconscious, it would have been able to get Alastor to safety and there would have been little Adam could do it to stop it. She knew this and held tightly to the hope that no matter how badly he had been hurt, he would have gotten away.

But it was an angelic weapon that had hurt him. And there was so much blood.

Even if he had gotten to a safe place, he wouldn’t be able to heal from that kind of a wound.

Alastor could still bleed out and die before she ever got to him.

Maybe his shadow would come back after getting Alastor to safety. It would know he needed help and that she would be his best bet of getting it.

But Alastor had told her to stay by Charlie’s side. He had said she needed to keep her away from Adam. Maybe he wouldn’t send his shadow for her after all. She couldn’t imagine Alastor being that selfless of his own accord but if he had been forced to ask that of her because of his deal – she just didn’t know.

She didn’t know what to do.

Now panic’s beastly nature was truly digging its claws into her, making her lungs feel like they were being ripped from her chest and her heart bitten clean in two. She was frightened beyond belief, frozen in place by the fear that Alastor was dying and that she would utterly fail him in every way.

Two angels landed on the roof top just a few feet from her and suddenly the blinding white mask of panic was lifted from her eyes and in its place, the burning red of fury.

Mina screamed as she let her rage and despair burst out of her, her fists consumed in golden fire that she sent in a torrent across the rooftop that completely engulfed the angels and within seconds they were nothing but smoldering blackened bodies lying on the ground.

The flames had caught Adam’s attention and she made eye contact with him the second he turned and looked at her.

“Well la-dee-fucking-dah bitch. Looks like someone’s been making friends with the bitch-ass loser squad you got running the place down here.”

“Where is he?!” she shouted at him and Adam’s smile grew wider.

“Let me guess, Mr. fucking jazz hands? Yeah, I sliced his ass in half. Sucks for you, bitch.”

He flew straight at her, his weapon held high over his head, and she let another scream tear out of her as she sent the biggest wave of fire she had ever seen at him.

The heat felt like it was going to boil her alive, she could feel the power pulling her inside out, like a taught string that started all the way down in her toes and threatened to tear her muscles from her bones and dislocate every joint in her body.

She kept the flames going as long as she could stand, a tornado of golden fire that could have burned an entire crowd of Sinners and leveled buildings.

When Mina could take it no longer, she dropped to her knees, her arms and head falling forward, and she gasped for air, trying to cool down her overheated and feverish body.

Laughter was the first thing she registered and she lifted her gaze back up, blinking in confusion.

Adam was hovering in the sky. His robes had a singular spot of soot on them but he was otherwise completely untouched.

It wasn’t possible.

She had seen what her fire had done to the other angels. Adam may have been the first man but he was still a human soul. The kind of fire she just wielded should have been enough to take out the likes of Lilith. Even Abaddon and Lucifer would have been hurt by it.

The other exterminators may not have come prepared, but Heaven had clearly imbued Adam with powers far stronger than he should have had.

“Awwww, what’s the matter? Not hot enough for ya? I bet I can spice things up!”

He slashed his weapon out in front of him, sending a beam of light her way. Mina got to her feet and just barely dodged it, watching as it hit the edge of the roof and sent a corner of concrete and brick falling to the ground several stories below.

We’re all going to die.

Alastor’s shadow did not seem to be coming back for her, which may mean he was very likely already dead.

There was no way she could fulfill her promise and keep this man away from Charlie.

But she wouldn’t die with his annoying fucking laughter ringing in her ears.

Mina felt her body morph, her hands and feet morphing into gigantic clawed paws, her face elongated into that of a hideous demonic feline predator, and took a running sprint towards the ledge of the roof.

She jumped, her front feet catching the edge, with her back feet landing between them a second later, and she kicked off with all her strength, and reached her long front legs out towards the angel.

A moment later, his laughter finally cut short as her claws and teeth found robes and flesh. Mina dug in with all her inhuman strength, and tasted the mouthwatering sweet flavor of angelic blood. But it was only a little.

In this form she would have been able to bite a Sinner clean in two but she could barely puncture his skin.

”Ow! Owww! Oww you fucking bitch! Let go of me you cunt!”

He was putting in every effort just to keep them from going into a freefall, her massive weight dragging them slowly downwards as his wings struggled to keep him airborne. Luckily for her, in his distraction, his deadly angelic weapon was forgotten as he squirmed and shrieked under her grasp.

She should have brought one of her spears, held between her teeth as she leapt, but she had been consumed with rage and exhausted from her attempt with the fire and not thinking clearly.

Even in this form, Mina was exhausted and losing her grip on Adam. He was tiny compared to her and the only thing holding her up, and she couldn’t dig her claws and teeth in like she had expected to be able to. With every difficult, struggling flap of his wings, she was jostled and slipping lower, leaving pathetic little tears in his robes as she did so.

But at least he wasn’t laughing anymore.

With some unseen strength and momentum, Adam was able to spin midair and remember his weapon, hitting her with the flat side of it and knocking the wind out of her. It didn’t slice her skin or leave any kind of lethal wound, but she still felt her ribs crack under the impossible force of it, and her grip faltered.

As she fell, she heard Charlie’s voice cry out her name. She looked up and saw Sir Pentious’s war machine being blown to bits.

She turned midair, her cat-like sense of direction instinctually kicking in and making her fall feet first. Even in the last couple seconds she had as the ground rushed towards her, she knew she wouldn’t make it through the impact in one piece. When the loan sharks had come for Mimzy, she had made the jump of just a few stories but Adam had them at a height far greater than that of the entire hotel. In all her years in Hell, she had yet to be injured bad enough to die and respawn but she thought she might get the opportunity now.

In the very last second, she saw a movement of black streaking across the ground below. It was Alastor’s shadow. It had come back for her and it was racing towards her now, putting in every bit of speed and power into reaching its form off the ground in order to stop her fall.

It reached her too late.

____

Charlie watched helpless as Mina’s leopard form hit the ground with a thunderous boom of cracking asphalt and shattering bones. She ran to her side as unconscious and near death, her body formed back into that of a petite black-haired woman, her limbs twisted unnaturally and blood pooling out from beneath her head.

She cried out Mina’s name, afraid to touch her, unaware of Vaggie covering for her and holding off more exterminators as she knelt beside her friend.

Charlie then watched as two black hands reached up from the ground and ever so tenderly wrapped themselves around Mina. A pair of glowing green eyes and an equally illuminated smile peered at the princess from behind Mina’s shoulders, and Charlie pulled away, afraid at first but then quickly understanding what was happening. She nodded to Alastor’s shadow, although it clearly wasn’t asking for her permission, and then they were both gone.

____

Alastor had stayed in his shadow realm for as long as he could allow before his shadow had dumped him in front of the ruins of his radio tower and left. He could only assume – hope – that it went to go find Mina.

Losing, especially as devastatingly as he had, had not been in the cards for him. It had been a grave miscalculation, and one he could not afford to make again. He had told Mina he had back up plans to his back up plans and that was true. A last minute escape plan for himself was something he always had in place, he just never expected to have come so close to death to have to use it.

Once inside the safety of the tower, he bent over double, coming to terms with the wound across his torso and the inevitability of what his failure meant. He was bleeding out, shivering from the chill the blood loss was causing, and wrinkling his nose at the stench of death that was surrounding him. And without him present at the battle, Charlie would go straight for Adam – and that meant Lucifer would be free to intervene.

Alastor had barely escaped with his life, but he imagined, with quite a bit of reluctance, that Lucifer would have no problems disposing of Adam. It would make him look weak and vulnerable in comparison and that would just be the start of his problems with Lucifer’s presence.

Uuggghhh

He grimaced as he pulled his hands away from the shredded remains of his jacket, taking in the bloody mess on his palms.

One problem at a time.

If only his shadow would hurry up. He could really use Mina’s help stitching up this mess.

As if on cue, he felt his shadow’s return and turned around to see the crumbled mess that was Mina’s body on the floor as his shadow remained attached to her rather than coming back to join its master.

Despite his dire wound and the dizziness brought on by a lack of blood, Alastor moved quickly, albeit clumsily, over to where Mina lay and fell to his knees in front of her.

She was a mess. Limbs twisted in unnatural angles and her hair matted with blood from a terrible wound at the side of her head. He could hear her breathing; raspy and gurgling, like each intake of air was a struggle against lungs full of blood.

His shadow stretched out beneath her and connected him to her, allowing Alastor to take full stock of her injuries.

Ankles and wrists were completely shattered. Several fractures along each long bone in her limbs. Dislocated hips and shoulders. Broken ribs with punctures lungs. But the worst was her head trauma. One temple was crushed in, causing swelling on her brain. If she were still alive . . . well, she’d be dead already. But since she was already graced by death, she would be fine. She wouldn’t even have to respawn; her body was already healing. It would take time, and she would be unconscious for the next several hours, but she would live.

Alastor felt a rage like nothing he had ever known burn up inside him. Not even when Kassandra had tortured her body and taken over her mind had he felt so insulted. Not even when he had been made to leave her for years did he feel this disgustingly helpless. For someone to encroach upon what was his in such a defiling manner went far beyond what he could tolerate.

And the very worst part about it all was that there wasn’t a God damn fucking thing he could do about it but be patient and watch over her while she healed.

Alastor brushed a lock of black hair that had come loose from her braids away from her face and let his fingers trace down her pale cheek before his hand fell away from her. As he stared down at the one precious thing he allowed himself to keep close to his heart since his mother’s death, he felt a mad sense of determination take over him.

I’m hungry for freedom like never before.

It was so clear to him now that he had made his deal in haste; that there were consequences he couldn’t have ever imagined when he had made it and now Mina was bearing the brunt of his poor decisions.

She wasn’t supposed to have happened.

Love.

It had been the last thing he had thought capable of happening to him and yet here it was, crushing him, the weight of it unbearable, and also the greatest, most wonderful part of his long and suffering existence.

He watched his shadow slink away from him and to his utter astonishment, slip inside of Mina. All at once her body seemed a little more whole, her limbs pulled back just a few more inches towards normalcy. It wasn’t just joined with her – a feat he thought it incapable of doing with anyone but himself – but it was like it was helping hold her together. Not only was the display of its power a shock to him but the fact that it was willing to do that for Mina, without Alastor commanding it to, was the biggest surprise of the day.

Even it understood the importance of her.

Well, that was . . . interesting, to say the least. Alastor wondered what the person who held his chain would have to say about that. Mina was such an integral part of his soul that even his shadow could – no, wanted ­- to be joined with her. Maybe it was part of the deal they made with each other when they were married. Or maybe it really was just the power of love. Who was to say?

When his chest wasn’t nearly ripped in half, he would allow himself a good petty laugh about that.

Take care of her.

He sent the thought towards his dark companion and stepped away to stitch himself up while he waited for her to recover. It wouldn’t do to have Mina heal and wake up to find herself a widow.

____

The first thing she was aware of was singing.

In the dark of her unconscious state, with no body to feel other than a distant dull pain, there was little else but the sound of Alastor’s voice soothing her few remaining senses and keeping her calm.

So hold your breath

And bite your tongue

My love

I will hold you til’ the morning comes

The night is young

And the darkness long

But my love

I will hold you til’ the morning comes

It was her lullaby but made anew by his unique voice and radio static affect. She tried to move towards the sweet sound of it but she remained motionless in the black. His voice was everywhere but drifting away and try as she might to strain her ears, she couldn’t triangulate which direction the singing was coming from.

Alastor.

She sent his name out into the abyss, a desperate cry for him to stay, but his voice abruptly stopped. Silence rang in her ears and the darkness swallowed her up.

_____

Pentragram City was laid out in front of her, it’s skyscrapers and city streets lit up even in the earliest hours of the morning.

The color of the red tinted city scape was exaggerated by the large glass windows she was looking through. It was a different city, and from a different vantage point, than what she was used to seeing and yet still very familiar.

This was Alastor’s radio tower. His real one.

Their home.

“What year is it?”

She heard Alastor shift behind her and turned to find him on his couch, stretched out in nothing but his bathrobe and a pair of black boxers with little red deer skulls and antlers on them. He had a book in his hands and he set it open on his chest as he looked at her with a raised eyebrow.

“What a peculiar question, my love. And what are you doing up this early?”

“Couldn’t sleep.”

“You seem to be sleeping just fine.”

“I guess I am, but it doesn’t feel right.”

“Come here, ma cher.”

She stepped away from the window and walked over to him, her bare feet almost silent across the smooth floor. She was wearing an old pair of sleepwear she hadn’t seen in years, a button up silk shirt and matching emerald shorts. There was no wedding band on her finger and judging by the state of the city, this was either the late 1970’s or the very early 80’s.

Mina sprawled across Alastor, letting her body settle between his legs and her head on his chest as he wrapped her in his embrace and began stroking her hair.

“I miss this,” she said.

“You still have this.”

“No, it’s not the same. I miss our life. Our home.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, and she felt his chest rise and fall with a gentle sigh that betrayed his own sadness. “I suppose you’re tired of hearing me say things will work out eventually.”

She said nothing for a moment, just listened to the sound of his heart beating beneath her ears. She was tired of hearing it but she also needed his reassurance more than ever.

“I need to wake up,” she said, and tried to rise.

His arms tightened around her.

“Eventually yes. After all, company in coming. But right now you need to rest.”

“What’s going to happen next?”

“All in due time, my dear. All in due time.”

____

The darkness wasn’t as deep this time. She could make out a reddish haze and see the swirling shadows move around her. But the pain was much closer now, an ache she tried in vain to pull away from but it only made the pain bloom brighter, blinding her against all else, so she stopped trying to move.

Alastor.

She tried to scream his name and felt nothing but a breath of air escape her lips.

Hush now.

Alastor?

A deep, soft chuckle.

Yes and no.

Who are you?

I am more than Alastor. I am less than Alastor. I am him and he is me but we are not one and the same.

You’re his shadow?

Ah yes, that is what you call me. That is accurate enough for now.

I didn’t know you could talk.

I cannot. I am sending you images, feelings, . . . impressions. Your mind is turning them to words.

How?

I believe it is a consequence of being immensely . . . brain damaged. You’re hallucinating. But my presence is very real.

You’re inside of me? Why? How?

Because you need me. And he needs you. So this is where I must be.

I saw you watching us last night. While we were making love. Why were you doing that?

Another laugh.

That is what you wish to speak of while I’m keeping your brain matter from seeping out your skull like a boiling over pot of rice pudding?

It must be the brain damage.

A moment of silence and Mina thought it had left her.

I was curious.

Do you love me?

It was a childish thought and still it escaped her mind, her thoughts unable to be hidden in this in-between state.

She felt a shift in the shadows and got the impression that it was considering her question.

I alone can not feel love. Alastor loves you. I . . . am drawn to you.

Is Alastor going to die?

He is already dead.

You know what I mean!

She tried to move again, felt her face twitch, her eyebrows pinching together for a moment. She was waking up, she was almost there. The pain was unbearable but if she could just get her eyes to open-

A frustrated sigh and a force tightening around her, keeping her still and dulling her pain. It was heavy and immovable but comforting, like an infant being swaddled.

He will be there when you wake. I will be here while you sleep.

____

The sound of ocean waves came first and then the emotions; absolute bliss, happiness and peace beyond what she had ever experienced.

Mina blinked and she was lying naked on a beach, the sky a blend of deep orange at the horizon and midnight blue overhead, with a few star constellations already in view.

This was the pocket dimension Alastor had given her as a wedding gift.

Her smile split her face and she rolled onto her back, enjoying the warmth of the sand beneath her naked body, and began laughing.

She was high as a fucking kite.

Alastor shifted next to her, pressing his face into the side of hers, and kissing her cheek as he joined her in her laughter. He was as naked as she was, his body even softer and warmer than the sand.

“I want to be inside of you,” he whispered in her ears once he stopped laughing.

She remembered this night well.

1994. They had each taken a large dose of molly and laid under the stars all night. It was one of her happiest, most intimate memories of Alastor and they hadn’t even had sex that night. Just laid naked and pressed to each other, talking about how wonderful their lives were and basking in each other’s love.

She giggled some more, running her hand down the expanse of his scarred chest.

“You’re not even hard right now, love,” she teased.

“Not like that,” he said with a chuckle and a role of his eyes.

She knew what would come next, remembered this moment in perfect clarity, and let herself be completely immersed in reliving this wonderful night.

“I want to be as close to you as possible,” he said. “I never want to feel anything but you. I want you to hold me, and touch me, and surround me, and never let me go. Everything else makes me feel so poorly but not you so if I’m inside of you all the time, I’ll always feel good.”

His ineloquent words made perfect sense to her drugged-out mind. As silly as he sounded, and stupid as the dopey smile on his face was, it seemed like the sweetest thing in the world to be told.

“Then hold tight and never let me go,” she had said, rolling back over on her side to face him, curling her smaller body into his.

“I already tried that.”

His voice had lost all its joy. That wasn’t right, she didn’t remember this part.

“Alastor?” she questioned, sitting up so she could look down on him.

He sat up with her and she watched in horror as his chest began to split open, a gaping bleeding wound that looked like it would cleave him in two.

“But fret not, my love,” he said and as the words left him, stitches began to loop through his lips, pulling on his skin and making them bleed as he continued to try and speak to her. “This is not where this ends.”

____

You have a rather dark imagination.

I’ve heard that before.

I told you Alastor will be fine and yet you continue to worry.

Oh sorry, I’ll just turn off my feelings then.

You are being sarcastic.

No shit Sherlock.

Alastor often says the same thing about his feelings but I don’t think it’s with sarcasm.

That sounds like him.

You sound bitter. But it’s how he survived the last seven years.

Good for him.

There is someone else in here with us. Someone who brought you even more pain than he did.

I don’t want to talk about it.

But you’re thinking about her.

Am not.

Have it your way. I’d prefer you to stay asleep anyway.

Kinky.

There was no response except for a deeply annoyed sigh.

____

“Margarette.”

Mina turned from the waves crashing against the rocky cliffside view that had been just a short walk away from her childhood home and was surprised to find her sister standing behind her.

“You should have stayed here,” said the younger woman and Mina took a moment to study her.

They were both spitting images of their mother; hair the color of a wheatfield at sunset, sapphire blue eyes, with small rounded faces and button noses. The only feature they had inherited from their redheaded father was the smattering of freckles across their noses, cheek bones, and shoulders.

“It’s been a long time since I dreamed of you,” Mina said.  

“You ruined your life.”

“I saved my life.”

“You killed everything you ever touched.”

“Because everything that touched me wanted me dead.”

“And now you’re in Hell.”

“And now I can finally live.”

Her sister crossed her arms, a defiant and proud look to her features that Mina wanted to slap away. She never used to look at her that way. Before, her sister had always seen the best in Mina. But then they’d grown up, as only the luckiest children get to do, and her sister had found her own happiness and had no more room in her heart for Mina’s suffering.

“Why do you hate Heaven so much?” her sister asked.

“Because I love Hell.”

“Then you really are beyond saving.”

Mina stormed towards her sister, her fist clenched at her side.

“Hell gave me a life worth living. A real family that understands me and cares for me. Hell gave me love, a man who knows me for what I really am and neither fears me nor feels the need to control me. I got everything I ever wanted and never found in life when I went to Hell and all Heaven sees when they look at us down there is a threat when all we want is to be left alone!”

“Do you have any idea what will happen now? What it is you’ve started?”

Lightning flashed above them, followed by a clap of thunder that shook the ground beneath them.

They both looked up at the sky, full of angry rolling clouds that seemed to be much lower than before. They swirled and twisted, almost as if they were reaching down for them.

“Company is coming,” her sister said, looking back at her.

“I know,” Mina said, her eyes still stuck on the storm.

“They’ll choose Heaven, you do know that right? When the time comes, they’ll choose to go home.”

Mina frowned, confused at what her sister meant, but when she looked away from the clouds and back at her, she was gone.  

____

Was it worth it?

Yes.

How can you say that? Even now. We almost died.

We are already dead.

You left me.

We are here now.

What made it worth it? What was worth bargaining for that made his deal worth it?

Alastor.

I don’t understand.

Alastor was worth it.

You’re making less sense than him!

Would you have Alastor as anything more or less than what he is?

What does that have to do with his deal?

No response.

No, she finally relented.

Then you already know it was worth it.

What is going to happen now?

What has to be done.

____

Mina opened her eyes.

She blinked slowly, taking in the blurry images around her, managing to turn her head side to side despite the awful stiffness of her neck and shoulders.

Everything was a wreck. Windows shattered, furniture tossed around, large cracks ran up the wall, and everything seemed to be at the wrong angle. It made her head spin with vertigo as she tried to get her bearings.

Mina groaned as she sat up, feeling her body weak and trembling with the effort. Her bones, having freshly pulled themselves together, creaked and popped with the effort, but stayed in their proper places. Besides her splitting headache and nausea, the worst part was the stiffness. She felt like she was underwater, her limbs barely responding to the commands of her damaged nervous system, and her muscles suffering from whiplash severe enough to make her feel like she had literally been run over by a bus.

Or fallen from the sky.

“You gave me quite the fright,” Alastor’s voice called to her from across the room. She turned in that direction and saw him with his back turned to her, his jacket discarded to the side, as he seemed to be focused on something in front of him.

He glanced over his shoulder at her, just enough for her to see the glow of his eyes and the wide strain of his smile. His silhouette against the low red light coming through the window betrayed him, showing how tightly his long ears were pinned back. “How are you feeling?”

She tried to laugh and coughed instead, grimacing as the motion pulled on her still tender rib cage. “Like I could take on the world.”

His shadow pulled out from beneath her and danced across the wall as it let its master reclaim it. It connected itself at Alastor’s feet, though it stayed stretched out and visible along the floor.

Alastor turned to look at it and raised an eyebrow as if considering something it had said.

“Someone doesn’t find your sarcastic nature very amusing,” he said after a moment.

Mina slowly got to her feet, wobbling a bit and leaned on the wall for a few seconds before she righted herself.

“Funny. It seemed to me like it was having a grand ol’ time sneaking around my thoughts.”

It was then she noticed his broken microphone laying in two pieces on the floor next to him. Her head spun as she tried to make her way over to him, her concussed state struggling terribly to make sense of the tilted nature of the room they were in.

“Al’,” she choked out, stumbling towards him as she tried to process what she was seeing. “What happened. Wh-what- . . . you’re microphone . . . what does this mean?”

“I’m honestly not sure, my dear,” he said, still turned away from her. “I’ll have to deal with that later. Right now, I have a bigger, more imminent problem.”

She noticed then the severity of his tone of voice, the barely hidden pain as he spoke through gritted teeth, and the sharp intake of breath he took every few moments.

As she came around to the side of his chair, stepping carefully around his broken staff, she gasped as she took in the sight of him.

He had managed to stitch up most of it, but there was a gash from hip to opposite shoulder that looked like it went quite deep across the middle. The stitches were the same magical illuminated green as the ones she had seen on his mouth, which normally would have intrigued her more, if she wasn’t so concerned about the severity of the wound she was looking at.

Alastor allowed her to pull back his unbuttoned shirt, exposing the part of the gash high up on his shoulder that still wasn’t stitched up. Though a bit of blood was still seeping through the rest of the stitches, this part was flowing freely, soaking his shirt and leaving a wide path of red down his ribs and all the way to top of his trousers.

She met his eyes and saw the embarrassed, frantic look in them.

“I need your help,” he whispered, looking to the side in shame. “I can’t . . . I can’t reach the last part.”

“Okay,” she said softly and then gestured at his lap. “May I sit?”

His smile spread although there was still no humor in it.

“My darling, when have I ever denied you that privilege?”

Mina didn’t respond, thinking of the many times he had done just that, and took her seat, taking the needle from his hand. It shook in her grasp, either from the shock of seeing him in such a state or from her still healing concussion, she couldn’t know, but she braced the side of her hand against Alastor to steady it before threading the needling through one side of the wound to the other, pulling the green string through as she did.

Alastor hissed in pain as she did so, instinctually flinching as the string slid through his flesh.

“Sorry, love,” she said. “Pain inflicted by someone else always hurts worse than when it’s self-inflicted, so these last few stitches are going to be even more unpleasant than what you’ve already experienced.”

“Spoken like a true professional torturer.”

She side-eyed him.

“Do ya want my help?” she said, her accent unusually thick as she struggled to keep her stress at a manageable level.

His ears pinned back tighter and once again, he looked away.

“Please,” he relented.

An idea came to her then and as she cut the string and tied the stitch, she began to sing.

If you fall I’ll stand beneath you

I’ll wrap your wounds and kiss you tender

Rip my heart out still warm and beating

To place between your ribs if yours falters

Your sweet embrace

Has made a monster of me

I can not live, I can not speak

In a world where you cease to be

Can you feel me where you are

Are you torn and bleeding too

Do the skies cry wherever you’ve gone

With rain that burns, more black than blue

Well my love, what can I do

I can not save what is missing from here

I cannot die for what’s already gone

So I’ll hunt for you for many more years

My love for you

Has made a beast of me

I cannot live, I cannot breathe

In a world where you cease to be

Your love for me

Has left this creature in me

It cannot live, it will not leave

In this world where you’ve ceased to be

She tied the last stitch and used a rag to clean away most of the blood from his skin, though some of it was so dried she decided to leave it for now, rather than risk pulling on the stitches in an effort to rub away the little mess left behind.

Once she was done, Mina leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the now closed wound, feeling the stiches poke at her lips as she did so.

Alastor blinked, coming out of the lull she had sung him into, and tilted his head at her.

“What was that for?” he asked and she smiled at him.

“Kissing it to make it better,” she teased.

“That can’t be sanitary.”

Mina reached a hand behind his head and pulled his forehead down as she leaned forward and kissed him between the eyes. His body was stiff against her, the large stitched up wound making any kind of movement of his torso difficult, but he leaned into her embrace as much as he could.

She felt her chin begin to quiver as she held him. Now that she no longer had a task to focus on, the dam she had built up around her emotions was threatening to break.

Mina had never seen Alastor so defeated; so broken and near death. It frightened her, and what was worse was that she could see that paralyzing fear reflected back at her whenever she looked at him.

He was scared. She didn’t even know Alastor could be scared.

No one had ever managed to hurt him like this, at least not that she knew of. But here he was in her arms, barely having escaped being killed by a hair. His body nearly as cut in half as his microphone was.

The first sob broke free and Alastor brought a hand to her back, pulling her head towards his uninjured shoulder.

“Mina.” His tone was low as he said her name, free of the static and the accent he used to cover up his natural voice. “Mo chagren, ma cher.” I’m sorry, my dear. “You were never supposed to get hurt.”

She shook her head slightly, sniffing back her tears, and pressed her face into the fabric of his shirt.

“What about you? That weapon of Adam’s, what did it do to you?”

“Nothing I won’t recover from, I promise.” His voice was back to his normal radio persona and she felt his shields sliding into place, hiding away his vulnerable state, even from her.

She sat back and frowned at him.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” she said, repeating his own words from the night before.

Mina didn’t like the look in his eyes. There was still so much fear there, and desperation, and a deep seeded rage that she knew she could only see the surface of. She had never seen him in such a state; not when he had his panic attack over her leaving him, not when Kassandra had nearly ruined her, and not even when he and Vox’s friendship fell apart.

“Oh, but I can assure you,” he said, his red eyes flashing brighter at her. “My every move from here on out will be figuring out a backdoor to my deal. It’ll set us both free of my mistakes. And after that, I will be the one pulling all the strings. You’ll see.”

His shadow stretched up along the wall, its face eager and claws stretched out long in anticipation. Mina looked at it and then back at Alastor and was reminded of the unease she had felt around him when they had first met. It wasn’t quite fear, but there was a level of apprehension growing in her chest as she pondered for the first time since his return, what his intentions going forward really were.

“Alastor, I just want you safe. As long as you’re here with me, I don’t care about the rest.”

He frowned at her, almost looking disgusted and moved to stand so she removed herself from his lap and let him walk away from her.

“You still don’t understand, but that’s okay, you will. You’ll see.” He was pacing now, agitated and still clearly in pain. His hand kept coming up to rub at the stitches and Mina realized she still needed to put bandages on it, but that thought was quickly pushed aside as she became more and more concerned about Alastor’s mental state.

“I want to. I’m trying to, love. Please don’t push me away right now.”

He turned and looked at her, still scowling but his smile stretched even wider when his eyes landed on hers.

Mina felt a coolness wrap around her shoulders and turned her head to see his shadow’s face next to hers, its long fingers caressing her skin as it smiled at her.

“Push you away?” he questioned and then laughed a dry, sardonic laugh that chilled her. “My darling wife, you and I are closer than we’ve ever been. And that’s good. We can use that to our benefit.”

His eyes narrowed and he tilted his head, studying her expression and clearly not liking what he saw there.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” she asked, her voice small.

“Like you’re afraid of me! Don’t . . . do not do that. Not now. Please, Mina- ”

His voice cracked and suddenly he was back in front of her, holding her again and she couldn’t bring herself to pull away. She wasn’t scared of him, was she? How could she be scared of him when her instincts still told her to embrace him, to run her fingers through his hair like she was doing, to let him pull her in for a passionate, needful kiss like he was. She couldn’t fear what she still so desperately loved. Could she?

“I need you,” he said as he finally pulled away, allowing her a chance to catch her breath after such an intense kiss. “I love you.” His fingers tenderly traced the side of her head beneath her ears, where there was still a painful knot of swelling. His eyes followed the path of his fingers, shining brightly with a storm of emotions she couldn’t quite decipher.

“I love you, too. Of course I do. I love you more than anything. Come on, let’s finish getting you bandaged up, okay? We can talk about this later.” She was rubbing his arms, trying to soothe him, but he still looked like he was on the verge of panic.

“The hotel . . .” he tried to speak but instead all that came out with the tuning sound of a radio, the sound Mina had grown accustomed to hearing from him rather than answers or explanations. Whatever he was trying to tell her just now, he wasn’t allowed to. He sighed hard enough to raise his shoulders and then flinched from the pain the movement caused him. “Whatever I do next, it’ll be worth it. I swear. Charlie- ”

He was silenced by static again and she felt him tense beneath her hands.

“Ssshhh,” she said, her heart beating hard in her chest even as she continued to try and sooth him.

“Whatever comes next, whatever you find out, whatever I have to do- ”

“Alastor, please stop- ”

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“I’m not. Sweetheart, I love you. Please sit down.”

“I will never hurt you. Please don’t be afraid of me.”

Mina paused, her mind sticking on the way he had emphasized his word choice.

He would never hurt her.

An idea came to her then and she wondered if she suddenly understood the source of his anxiety.

There were other people wrapped up in this that she cared about. Charlie, Angel Dust, Vaggie, Sir Pentious, and even Cheri Bomb. She actually liked them, respected them, and cared about them. They had become a part of her found family, as much as her friends from The Pit were. And she had suspected that Alastor was starting to feel the same. She knew he cared most for Niffty and far more for Husk than he would ever let on, but she had hoped he felt the same about the others. But what if he didn’t?

What if he thought they were worth disposing of, making collateral damage of, if it meant getting what he wanted?

What if, as much as she loved Alastor, The Radio Demon became the enemy of the people she cared about?

Could she stand by and let it happen?

What if it wasn’t fear for herself that she was feeling, but fear for others?

Alastor was right. He could tell she was afraid, even before she did.

She swallowed, telling herself she was jumping to conclusions, and made herself come back to the present moment.

Mina smiled weakly up at him and took his hand.

“I know you would never hurt me. Please, just calm down. Let me bandage you up, okay?”

He didn’t look completely convinced but he did finally do as she asked and sat back down in his chair and let her fret over his physical state for both their sakes.

As much as she tried to focus on what she was doing, Mina’s mind kept running away from her.

She knew this man. He was a killer, a powerful demon with a temper, yes, but she had also never seen him truly harm anyone that either of them cared about. Only people that they were convinced deserved it and she had reveled in being in proximity to that kind of power for so long she had forgotten what it was like to be on the wrong side of it.

Not to mention that for 70 years she had been kept blind to the fact that he had sold his soul.

And she had seen him use people as a means to his own ends before.

This new reality she was facing with Alastor was different from anything she could have prepared herself for. He was still her husband, still the same man that could make the rest of the world melt away with his embrace. And she believed him when he said he would never do anything to hurt her. Every part of him cherished her. Only her. And that might finally become a problem.

Because The Radio Demon?

The most powerful Overlord in Hell, now chained and gagged, having danced with death and barely made it out alive?

Mina couldn’t imagine a more unpredictable and dangerous beast.

Author’s Note: And that’s a wrap! Thank you to everyone who has followed along with this series. I know OC’s aren’t very popular fanfic reads but every single person who supported this story, both on AO3 and Tumblr, meant the world to me. Thank you for every kudo, like, reblog, and comment you all left me. I know season 2 feels like forever from now but I promise I will be back with the next installment after it comes out. I already have tons of ideas and a feeling for where I want to take Mina and Alastor’s story next, and I’m not afraid to break canon to do it, but I also want to see where Season 2 takes us before I solidify any plans. In the meantime, please enjoy a couple of bonus chapters I have coming out soon and check out my other Alastor x Reader stories. They were all pretty much inspired by ideas for this fic that I couldn’t quite fit into the narrative, but if you enjoy Mina x Alastor, you will like those stories as well.

@saccharine-nectarine @whoknowswhoiamtoday @redvexillum @visara-valentina @reath-solia

[littlelovelyspiderling]

Hello lovely ☺️ how scandelous would it be to ask for perhaps a sneak peak of the next chapter?

👉👈 perhaps a lil snippet? A crumb? 🥹🥺🫣🙌

*clutches pearls* oh my…oh dear…i’ve never been asked this before 😳 this is a first for me.

am i allowed to do this?? why does it feel illegal lmao 🫨

i mean you did ask very nicely & i am dying to show the next chapter to yall & i am indeed a strong independent woman who can do whatever the hell she wants so…here you go?? i guess??

disclaimer: it took me a very hot minute to decide which part to do & i haven’t edited / beta read anything yet so it might change a bit once i post the full chapter…also hopefully this scene makes some kind of sense to you out of context. double also this will be the ONLY part i share bc i don’t wanna spoil the whole thing 😤 but i hope you like 🤭🩵

—————————————

“So…” Spider-Man said, voice low but playful. “Come here often, hot stuff?”

Despite his best efforts, Johnny busted into a laugh, shaking his head from side to side. “Shut up, you loser,” he giggled.

“Wait, wait, I can do better than that. Somebody call the fire department, ‘cuz this guy is smokin’.”

“Is this you attempting to flirt with me? Corny pickup lines and cheesy one-liners? You really think that’s the key to my refined and sophisticated heart?”

“Well? Is it working?” Spidey asked in whisper, the words curling upwards just like the goofy smile Johnny knew he had on behind his mask. The Human Torch rolled his eyes.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” he mumbled fondly. The two of them kept their faces and bodies angled forward as they spoke, daring not to show any physical displays of affection with so many eyes on them.

“Pretty lousy atmosphere for a first date, if you ask me,” Spidey continued, quiet and coltish. “Some orchids or candles would’ve been nice.”

“You want to count this as our first date?” Johnny whispered back. “I was planning to take you somewhere with much better ambiance and way fewer older sisters around. Maybe rent a gondola and a string quartet or something. But if you’d like, we can always save that for date number two.”

Spider-Man shrugged. “Either way. Your idea does sound a lot more romantic than the humiliation ritual we’re about to be subjected to...”

Johnny ventured a look at the rows of heroes sitting in the arena’s viewing room and grimaced. “Especially with my teammates watching,” he said gravely. His gaze swiveled to his feet, and he swallowed. “I am so not good at this ‘keeping secrets’ thing, Webs. I really like you, and am obviously terrible at hiding it.” His hands knotted into fists at his sides. “So if you’re set on keeping this thing on the down low, we’ve really gotta sell the whole ‘platonic super bros’ shtick. We can’t do anything that even suggests that we like each other like that. Not with them watching us like fish in a bowl.”

Spidey faced him then, head drooping a bit. “I’m sorry I’m making you lie to your teammates,” he murmured. “I know firsthand how complicated it can get.”

“It’s all right. I lie to them about all kinds of stuff all the time.” Johnny smiled apologetically. “I just wish I was better at it.”

Spider-Man scratched the back of his neck. “Lucky for us, we’ll probably be too busy getting blasted by drones or pummeled by robotic thugs to do anything remotely romantic-y looking while we’re in here.”

Johnny elbowed him in the side. “Well, double lucky for us: we’ve done this exact drill in real life already, and won. I can’t imagine fake thugs or drones being any harder to beat than those insane kidnappers we fought.” Mischief tugged at the corners of his lips as he tucked his hands politely behind his back, raising his chin and tracing his gaze along the outline of Spidey’s throat. “And after we win this,” Johnny added, “I’m gonna drag you somewhere no one will bother us and spend the rest of the afternoon sucking on your neck until it’s all one big hickey. Sound good?”

A noise sputtered out of the masked hero that sounded like a cross between a cough and a squeak. Johnny clapped him triumphantly on the back as he strolled forward, whispering in his ear as he close as he dared as he passed by. “Best leave the flirting to the professionals, bug boy.”

——————————

TA-DA!! this feels so wrong but i hope it gives you a fun little taste of what’s to come heeheeHEEEE

[tommygettingwrittenoff]

i need them to put eddie in a coma so he can have his own little coma dream realization

[thereareeyesinsidethetrees]

okay so that was fun but heres something completely unrelated to consider:

fic where stan happens upon ford exploding his face with fire and, seeing as it was clearly intentional on ford's part, decides to try to do something about it

[whatever-dude]

Cale praise. My crops are watered and I am flourishing

[vicsuragi]

okay i finally watched an episode from the correct season of ordinary lies and i am so fucking confused that was such a 90 degree turn they took in the last 10 minutes.

[suddenrundown]

glee is not meant to be watched all at once. its definitely made to be a once a week thing. i binged all of season 1 this week and i think im a worse person for it.