#It leaves you empty because it’s just all kind of built on the fumes of a bad mood tbh

[solarwonux]

Illicit Affairs || Jeonghan 

lawyer!single father!jeonghan x laywer!f!reader x mentions of seungcheol x f!reader

w.c 9k (I WASN’T EXPECTING IT TO BE THIS LONG)

warnings: single father jeonghan, cheating, angst, cursing, smut, phone sex (kind off), Seungcheol is literally an asshole I’m sorry, fingering, slight oral sex (female receiving), unprotected sex. (also I edited this in rush so I’m sorry for any mistakes)

note: Happy New Year, I decided to start this year off with a bang. Please enjoy I’m actually pretty proud of this one so let me know your thoughts. Also this is kind off a continuation of my other fic: In Another Life, so if you wish to know a little more about the relationship between Jeonghan and the reader be sure to check it out. If not enjoy :)

masterlist 

“Are you sure you don’t need a ride home?” 

Jeonghan came up beside you, rolling the small suitcase you had taken on your week long business trip beside you putting a gentle hand on top of your shoulder making you jump. “No it’s fine Seungcheol said he would pick me up.” You nodded grabbing the strap of your falling purse and placing it onto your shoulder again. “Bomi is waiting for you, so you should go home.” You smiled fishing your phone from your purse hoping to see the on my way text from your fiancé. Instead it sat empty with the picture of you and Seungcheol the day he proposed staring back at you.

“She’s staying at my mom’s. I won’t pick her up until morning.” Jeonghan quirked an eyebrow watching as you stared at your phone screen hopelessly. Your grip getting tighter and tighter each second that passes. “I can take you home, it's really no big deal.” He reassured and moved his hand away from your shoulder before stuffing it in the pocket of his long black coat. 

You ignored his offer unlocking your phone and clicking on the message app, revealing the thread of texts between you and Seungcheol. The last one he had sent before he ghosted you for the remainder of the week was that he loved you and that he would see you at the airport when you got back. That was on Wednesday, it was now Friday and he was nowhere to be found. With a deep sigh to keep yourself from growing frustrated you sent him a quick text asking him if he was on his way before locking up your phone again and throwing it into your purse. 

“I’m sure he’s stuck in traffic. I'll be fine, you should go home, you haven’t gotten any sleep because of the time differences.” You waved a hand dismissing all his offers before grabbing your suitcase handle and rolling it closer to your body. 

There was no doubt in your mind that something was wrong. That something had been seriously wrong for the past three months as Seungcheol started distancing himself from you more and more each passing day. You figured it was the stress of his new very taxing job as well as the wedding planning and the bi-monthly trips to the New York firm that Joshua had you and Jeonghan going too. You could only hope that it was just a small bump in the road. That’s everything would go back to normal now that you wouldn’t have to go on another one of these trips until February. 

“Last chance, take it or leave it I’ll even throw in a burger from that fast food place that you like.” Jeonghan winked, bumping your shoulder against his. “I know you’re hungry, you didn’t eat any of the airplane food.” His voice lowered with concern and your grip on your suitcase handle only got tighter.

He was right you were starving but you were looking forward to going to the 24-Hour diner by your and Seungcheol’s loft just like you had for the past three years whenever either one of you got back from a business trip. It had become some sort of tradition in your relationship, but now as you searched the crowd for your missing raven haired fiancé you weren’t sure if you even wanted the M&M pancakes the two of you always shared. Or the burger Jeonghan was offering because something was wrong and your gut was sending the warning flare signal all throughout your body. 

“Temping, but I’ll pass. Now go home before I call Joshua and beg him to let me switch partners again.” 

“You’ve been trying for five years darling, and look at where it’s gotten us.” He smirked, taking his hands out of his coat pocket and placing them on top of his suitcase handle. “But since its two in the morning and Joshua would murder us if you called him for such a trivial thing. I will leave, but I’ll stay close by just in case Seungcheol doesn’t show up.” 

You rolled your eyes before playfully shoving his shoulder causing him to stagger back dramatically, a scoff leaving his lips. “Yoon Jeonghan go home, I’m serious.” You crossed your arms in front of you as he raised his hands up in surrender. 

“Fine, but text me when you get home okay. I don’t like leaving you alone at this time at night.” 

“I’ll be fine, he’s just stuck in traffic.” You said. Jeonghan shook his head before turning around and waving you goodbye. His face full of concern as he started walking away, carefully dodging the small crowds of people that had gathered in reunion. You raised your hand and waved back until he disappeared out of the airport.

It was two in the morning, there couldn’t possibly be any traffic but it was the excuse you decided to go with because it was better than admitting the truth. Something was wrong and it terrified you knowing that you had an ideas as to what it was.

The second your apartment building came into view your stomach dropped. 

You had waited outside of the airport for thirty minutes. Texting Seungcheol repeatedly asking where he was. The last message he had sent to you on Wednesday haunted you as you read the words he had written over and over again whenever you sent him a new message.

I love you. 

The doubt slowly crept in as you shoveled the fallen snow around the concrete pavement with the toe of your boots. Did he still love you? 

For months, Seungcheol had been acting strange. His smile didn’t reach either side of his face, he didn’t laugh at your obscure little habits or antics. He didn’t look at you like you were the delicate flower amongst the sea of dead weeds. He was there with you, sharing the same roof but he wasn’t present in any sense of the word. Every time he came home he ignored you and went straight to shower or bed. He had started to pick fights with you more often. Before you left he had blown up on you in the middle of the night because you had left the bedroom window open. He had never once minded before because he knew you did it on purpose, so that when the two of you slept he would hold you closer than usual to keep you warm. 

Though instead of holding you close that night he had yelled at you and went to sleep on the couch. Leaving you alone with tears pooling in your eyes and in the cold. You had felt that exact way as you waited for your uber to arrive and now that you were standing in front of your apartment building, gripping your suitcase handle as you pathetically competed in a staring contest with the entrance. The gnawing in your stomach growing to the point where you felt nauseous.

You contemplated calling another uber and just have the driver keep you company as you settled your overflowing thoughts. Over thinking never got you anywhere you wanted. And right now your head was a pool of doubt consumed by all the scenarios you didn’t want. For your sake and his you hoped he had fallen asleep waiting for your plane to land because if any of the scenarios that were currently playing in your head ad you made your way into the building and towards the elevator; you knew you would never be able to recover it.

With a shaky finger you pressed the number four in the keypad, watching as the elevator doors closed, shutting you out from the outside world. In seconds when the same doors opened again, revealing the narrow hallway that led to your studio apartment, you’d finally know the truth. One you had been ignoring for months on end because you knew, no you hoped Seungcheol still loved you.

Maybe he still did. Maybe you were overreacting but you had this horrible habit at never trusting your gut when it was always right and something deep inside you was telling you that you were. That what you had perceived was happening was the truth and that now all you needed to do was rip it apart like a bandaid. Dwell in the pain for a while and then move on like it never happened. 

After all he had started to act like you didn’t exist anymore.

The elevator doors opened at an agonizing pace, the scene playing out almost too perfectly that it was nauseating. You didn’t even have to step out and walk a couple of steps to the right for you to see what was happening right in front of you. Seungcheol’s eyes bulged out of their sockets. His mouth falling agape before the doors could finish doing what they were meant to do and the anger inside of you built to the point you were sure fire was coming out of your ears.

You were right. 

In front of you stood Seungcheol with bags under his eyes, his hand encased with someone’s that wasn’t yours. She was pretty, prettier than you could ever be, but that wasn’t what had you fuming. It was the fact that she was here in your building, in your hallway. You wondered how many times she had been here before reliving this same scenario. You wondered how many times she sat on your couch pressed to his side? How many times had she laid in your bed underneath him? How many times she had used your bathroom along with your things after nights of utmost pleasure? Seungcheol was a good lover, you'd give him that much but he had always been a shitty liar so he had to have known that whatever fantasy world he was living in, would come to an unpleasant end.

“Excuse me.” You said gripping your suitcase handle until your knuckles turned white and walked past the lovely couple. You could feel the panic radiating out of Seungcheol’s pores and you tried to keep yourself from laughing the bitter laugh that was bubbling up in the back of your throat. The warning Jeonghan had given you three years ago when Soonyoung had first introduced you to Seungcheol hummed softly in the back of your mind as you approached your wretched apartment. 

“Be careful, he’s not someone that’s capable of love.” 

Your body had gone into autopilot the minute you stepped out of the elevator and entered the place you once called home. You didn’t notice the spent sheets lazily thrown in the overflowing laundry basket nor the messily knocked over wine bottles on the coffee table. Your main priority in your fevered state was to get as much as you could before Seungcheol came back with the excuses he came up with during the five minutes it took for the old elevator to reach the fourth floor. 

When the sound of the door shutting rang through the heavy air surrounding your old apartment you knew you had failed. You stopped dead in your tracks dropping the pile of clothes you had chaotically fished out of one of your dresser drawers and met Seungcheol’s unreadable expression. For some reason, even though you had a hole in your chest. You didn’t feel any sadness, just anger. Seungcheol’s indifference smugly painted across his face only made you boil inside. 

“What are you doing?” Seungcheol’s voice sounded richotteing of the plain walls and into your chest making the hole inside of you grow deeper. The two of you stood in the middle of the messy hallway. Clothes that didn’t belong you where all over the room in what seemed to be a hasty frenzy. It was like he had started to replace you already with someone who in his eyes was obviously better than in you every syllable of the word.

“That’s a stupid question Seungcheol.” You scoffed and leaned down to pick up the pile of clothes you had dropped. “I’m obviously not wanted here anymore so I’m leaving.” You rolled your eyes and walked past him bumping your shoulder against his, making him stagger back slightly. You reached the dining room table where you had sprawled open your suitcase and stuffed in the clothes in your arms before turning to face him. 

Your mind must have been playing tricks on you because you saw a small flash of fear dance around his irises before it was replaced with the same indifference you were met with before. “Don’t go, I can explain.” He closed the gap between the two of you. He raised his arms hesitating before putting his warm palms against your shoulders. The air in your lungs caught itself in the back of your throat when you felt the heaviness of his touch seep through the cotton of your winter coat. Now that it had been corrupted by the touch you had once burned brightly underneath, you wanted nothing more than to to peel it off as if it were your second skin. 

“Don’t touch me Seungcheol, I don’t want your excuses.” You spat out slapping his hands and walking past him. 

“She doesn’t mean anything to me please let’s just sit down and we can talk about it.” He voiced, the broken lint cracking through his poker face. He begged following you into the room. He cringed at his clothes hanging out from closed drawers, the unmade bed and the overpowering smell of roses that didn’t belong to you. 

You ignored him opening up another drawer grabbing everything that belonged to you and leaving behind everything that didn’t. “There’s nothing to talk about you cheated on me and probably have been for months now. The damage is done. End of story Seungcheol.”  You slammed the drawer shut and moved past him, he caught your arm forcing you to turn around at lightning speed. Water was now spilling down the corner of his eyes as he finally realized that the fantasy he had been living under was simply just a fantasy. That his reality was staring back at him with dull and broken eyes. 

It broke him.

You had hurt him in the same ways he had been hurting you. At least that’s what he told himself three months ago when you had left with Jeonghan to New York for work again. When he walked into the bar and met her three beers in. When he brought her home that night and all the other nights you were away. You were cheating too so why should he be the only to suffer if he could make you suffer the same he was. 

“Does it matter, you’ve been cheating on me longer than I have been on you.” He spat letting your arm go making you stagger. Your back hit the closet door as you stared at him in disbelief. You blinked rapidly making sure you had heard him right, a nervous laugh bubbling in the back of your throat. 

“I-I’m not and I have never cheated on you what the hell Seungcheol.” You clutched the few t-shirts you were holding against your chest, “Where is this coming from?” 

“Jeonghan, you’ve been seeing Jeonghan behind my back for months now.” He yelled making you flinch. He raised his arms before bringing them down and running his hands desperately through his jet black hair. “I’m not an idiot, I saw the texts where he told you that you couldn’t tell anyone your secret.” He sat down at the edge of the bed, head in his hands as he tugged at his roots. The weight of his illicit affair finally weighed heavy on his shoulders. 

You threw the shirts you were holding in his direction, missing him completely, “You are anidiot Seungcheol, I’ve never once kissed or slept with Jeonghan before. He just got divorced, his wife left him with a four year old. It’s none of your business but the big secret we kept was him taking his daughter to work when Joshua was out of town because she was sick.” You yelled, the anger you had felt for him earlier spilling out of your ears. “God, why didn’t you just come and talk to me about it, why did you have to go and ruin everything?” 

Revenge was never sweet and he was getting a taste of his own medicine. 

Seungcheol had fucked up he knew it the second his lips met the women he had met at the bar. Yet, he had somehow convinced himself that he was right all along. Now as he heard the sincerity spill out of your perfect lips he realized how wrong he had been for three months on end. He had ruined a future so sweet it gave him toothache whenever he thought about it and nothing he could say or do would fix the damage he had done. 

“I never want to see you again.” You whispered, bringing your hand up to your chest as you slowly removed the diamond ring from your ring finger, the last thing keeping you connected to him. He had made you a promise one you never saw him fullfilling.

Almost as if on instinct, Seunghceol raised his tear stained face. The panic ran through his once soft features as you placed the ring he had given you on top of the wooden dresser. It was over, he had known it the morning after he had sinned.

He’d have to endure the consequences of his actions by himself because you were two feet out the door with almost all of your belongings including his heart.

“I think the coffee machine is broken, again.” Jeonghan spoke as he walked into your shared office with two styrofoam cups, “I got us hot chocolate instead.” He boasted proudly as he set the steaming cup on top of your desk.

The moon had been larger than usual tonight, so, as Jeonghan honorably offered himself to go get the two of you some coffee from the machine in the employees lounge. You had taken it upon yourself to give your brain a well deserved break after hours of looking over the cases Joshua had given you and Jeonghan before he left earlier. 

Joshua was quite possibly the best boss you could ever ask for. He gave out paid vacations to all his favorite employees, which was all of them. And gave some of the best advice known to men. But he was also sneaky and did possibly everything in his power to keep you and Joenghan at the office after hours and alone. You weren’t sure what kind of game he was playing nor had you cared at first but after Jeonghan’s nasty divorce. His game became even more obvious. You had called him out on it one afternoon when it was just the two of you in the employee lounge. With a knowing smirk he had refuted your claim. Though when he walked out with a jump in his step and whistling an unfamiliar tune you knew you had been right and that he wasn’t going to stop his scheming any time soon.

His wingman tendencies became more heightened when he had noticed your missing engagement ring three days ago. Joshua had cornered you in his office before closing that night causing you to embarrassingly break down in one of his lounge chairs in front of his desk. Since then he had given you and Jeonghan an unbearable amount of work and it made you feel terrible.

Jeonghan had a four year old that needed all his undivided attention. Everyday Jeonghan would rush to pick her up from school, sometimes leaving work unfinished when he realized he was running a few minutes late. Most of the time he brought her back to the office when his mother or sister were too busy with their own lives to look after her for a few hours. She would end her days falling asleep in her uncomfortable school uniform on the couch of yours and Jeonghan’s office. He then would carefully move her to the couch in Soonyoung’s office so your baseless bickering wouldn’t disturb her peaceful slumber. When you brought up your concern to your lovely boss he had simply brushed it off because apparently Jeonghan didn’t mind. Though the miniscule stress lines breaking through Jeonghan’s face and the light bags under his eyes indicated otherwise. 

“You’re thinking again, is it Seungcheol. I know something happened because you haven’t been wearing your ring lately...and you haven’t complained once about working overtime...” Jeonghan’s voice sounded causing you to plant your feet back onto Earth’s surface. “you can tell me if anything’s wrong. Joshua’s usually the one with top tier advice but I can try my hand at it. So go on what stupid fight did the two of you get into this time?” He finished leaning back in his desk chair, arms crossed in front of him as he eyed you closely. 

“You should go home, I can finish up here. Bomi needs her bed...you need your bed.” You sighed swirling the steam from your hot chocolate over your index finger. Jeonghan was the only one who didn’t know about Seungcheol’s affair. It wasn’t like many people knew just your parents, Joshua and Soonyoung since you were staying over at his place for the time being. But Jeonghan didn’t know and you didn’t want him to know. He wasn’t the biggest fan of your ex fiance and he had warned you numerous times, but you didn’t listen.

After everything you had gone through an I told you so from your best friend would be the unpleasant cherry on top.

“Stop changing the subject. He’s been calling you non stop for hours and you’ve ignored him. I don’t really care about what happened because I’m sure it’s nothing, but your ringtone is driving me crazy.” He joked dramatically, picking up his own cup of vending machine hot chocolate and brought it up to his lips. 

You placed your palm on top of your cup, trapping in the steam. The heat danced around your cold palm warming you up before you officially turned to face your nosey partner in the crime. “I left him.” You breathed out. Jeonghan’s eyes grew wide as saucers as he uncrossed his arms and slowly rolled himself and his chair around his desk and towards yours. “He had been seeing someone else for months and I caught them the day we came back from New York.” 

“I knew I should’ve taken you home that night.” He grumbled placing both his hands on either side of your chair turning you to face him. Your panicked expression met his angry eyea causing chills to run up your spine. “He had been acting like an asshole lately and I knew something was wrong. I just told myself not to get involved because I knew it would piss you off, but now I wish I did.” He took your hands in his and placed them on top of your lap. You could feel him shaking and it reminded you of the day Bomi’s mother had left the two of them. The anger he was feeling now you had felt it then too. 

“Jeonghan it’s okay, it’s my fault I should’ve listened to you when you said he wasn’t a good person then and I should’ve said something the minute I suspected something was wrong. I was just too delusional living in my own world and planning my wedding that I was afraid of being right.” 

He gripped your hands tightly nd shook his head. “Don’t ever say that, it’s not your fault, he hurt you. He choose to fuck someone else not once but for months right?” You nodded biting your bottom lip hard enough to almost draw blood as an attempt to keep yourself from spilling tears. You had cried enough nights over Seungcheol. He didn’t deserve your tears nor your heartbreak. 

“He thought I was cheating on him with you.” 

Jeonghan chuckled, shaking his head before letting out a deep disappointing sigh. “Where are you staying, not with him right?” He laced your fingers with his and placed your hands on his lap. 

“With Soonyoung he lives the closest to my old place so I just ran to him.” 

“Soonyoung knew before me?” 

“And Joshua and my parents.” 

Jeonghan looked up towards the ceiling taking a deep breath. “How are your parents?”

“Dad wants to kill him, mom has been trying to calm him down the last few days before I move in with them for the time being.” 

“I knew I liked your dad for a reason. Might have to call him tomorrow so we can plan our crime.” Jeonghan smirked, trapping you and your chair between his legs. The last time the two of you had been this close was when he had cried in your arms on yours and Seungcheol’s couch, after he came home to find Bomi alone in her room with divorce papers on her dresser and all of his ex wife’s belongings gone. It had made your heart race then but you had blamed it on your anger. Now as you stared into his warm eyes with your heart against the base of your throat you thought that maybe you had been wrong then.

“And mom and I will hold the two of you back, if not we won’t be visiting you guys in jail.” 

“I won’t go to jail. I’m a hot shot lawyer, haven’t lost a case yet I think I can represent myself and your dad and win.” He winked. He had started to lean in closer. The sensation of thumbs running soothingly across the palm of your hands didn’t help your beating heart. 

“Maybe this is the case that will finally bring you back down to Earth.” You shoved him lightly as an effort to make space between the two of you. Your efforts were deemed as unsuccessful as he didn’t budge. 

You and Jeonghan silently stared at each other and you hoped he couldn’t hear the hitches in your breathing. Slowly, he leaned in and before you could process what was happening his lips were on yours catching you by surprise. He moved them slowly, warming you up until you finally caved in and kissed him back. He smiled letting go of your hands and placed them on top of your knees, trailing them up your thighs until they found purchase against your hips and brought you close. He stopped kissing you for a second, giving you the choice to stop but when you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him close, kissing him feverishly, he responded with the same amount of heat you were giving him. 

Year’s ago at an old musty bar in New York, Jeonghan had confessed that he had once harbored deep feelings for you. It was also the day you found out he was engaged to Bomi’s mom and the day you choose to push your feelings for him aside and move on. Tonight, those dormant feelings returned, along with the fire that accompanied them. You were desperate and needy to act up on them and now that you could, you didn’t want to stop. The feeling of his long crooked fingers traveling up thighs and pushing the fabric of your cream colored sweater dress up with them, made you want him more.

“W-Why...did you wear tights today?” He groaned and whispered against your lips making you giggle. He rested his hands against your butt, giving it an experimental squeeze before guiding you onto his lap. 

“It’s winter, I don’t want to die of frostbite.”  You smiled down at him before pecking his lips repeatedly. Your body had gone untouched for months but it felt like it was burning brightly underneath the light of the moonlight.

“I can just keep you warm.” He winked one of his hands traveling to the front of your body. His finger teasingly playing with the hem of your black sheer tights, itching to make you feel loved and beautiful just like you deserved. 

You shook your head at his innuendo before leaning down to kiss him again. Just when your lips were about to connect with his, Seungcheol’s ringtone started ringing. Jeonghan groaned in annoyance. “I told you your ringtone was annoying me.” The arm balacinging you on his lap pulled you closer. He attached his lips on to your neck again, biting down on your earlobe, a tiny almost inaudible moan escaped your lips. He let go of the hem of your leggings, the band slightly ricochetting of your skin making you suck in a breath. He retreated his lips and smirked before leaning over your body and grabbing your ringing phone, Seungcheol’s contact name blinking on the screen of your home page.

“Answer him angel.” He said handing you your phone before pecking your lips lightly. 

“W-What.” You took your phone in your hands and stared down at Seungcheol’s smiling face. 

“You said he thought we were seeing each other behind his back. Why don’t we prove his theory sweetheart.” Jeonghan took your phone and pressed the answer button an evil glint glimmering behind his eyes, “this way I don’t have to commit murder.” 

“B-Baby I’m sorry for what I did and for what I said this morning p-please come home.” Seungcheol’s desperate voice came in through the speaker of your phone. Jeonghan sat back smugly holding on to you tightly as he urged you to speak. 

You swallowed thickly before opening your mouth, his mouth coming into contact with your cheek while he slowly raised your dress. “I-I’m not coming back Seungcheol, you fucked up.” Your arm around his neck loosened up. He brought your dress over head and threw it off to the side.

“I-I know, I-I know but I love you so much. I promise it won’t happen again just please come h-home.” Seungcheol’s voice breaks at the end making Jeonghan roll his eyes. There was not a doubt in your mind that Seungcheol was being as honest as he could be but he had broken your trust. He had chosen to sleep with someone in your shared home on your shared bed instead of sharing his falsely created suspicions with you.

“Cheol, I’m sorry,” Jeonghan’s hand trailed up your bare back and unhooked your bra. A small inaudible gasp left your mouth at the feeling of your freed your breasts, his mouth watering as his need to please grew. “I-I don’t trust you anymore.” He wrapped his lips around your nipple, swirling his tongue around it slowly. Your phone fell from your hand and onto your laps. You arched your back, pulling his head closer, your fingers hastily finding the top button of his dress shirt. Seungcheol was long forgotten as you quickly unbuttoned Jeonghan’s shirt and pushed it off his shoulders. The smoothness of his heated skin, underneath your palms made you desperate to feel more of him against you. 

“I’ll do anything I just need you to come back, you’re my everything.” Seungcheol all but begged as Jeonghan released your nipple and grabbed your phone from where it had fallen. He placed it on our desk before standing up and sitting you on top of it. He leaned down running his tongue over the shell of your ear, giving your temple a slight kiss, “keep talking to him angel, let him know I’m here that he lost the best thing he could ever have.” He whispered before leaving kisses down your body and pushing your legs open. 

Seungcheol was rambling but you were so focused and in tune with how soft Jeonghan’s lips and hands felt against your body that you had forgotten about him.

Jeonghan kneeled down in front of you, sending you a wink before grabbing the crotch of your tights and ripping it apart, “Jeonghan what the fuck?” You yelled and lightly flicked his forehead making him laugh.

Seungcheol stopped his incoherent rambling “Jeonghan is there?” The venom laced in his voice was prominent which only made Jeonghan laugh making his presence obvious and known. They were friends once, had gone to school and law school together. Had even talked about opening up their own law firm together after graduation. But Seungcheol had betrayed Jeonghan in ways you didn’t know as neither of them liked to talk about it. They had only tolerated each other because of back when Seungcheol was still your fiance and Jeonghan was only your coworker. Obviously that line had been crossed tonight the second you opened your mouth and Jeonghan’s hands found yours. 

“Umm, I mean Joshua left us a lot of paperwork so we--” 

“I’m going to make love to her and treat her the way she deserves to be treated.” Jeonghan spoke, cutting you off. He stood up, his hands planted in between your legs. He sent you a knowing look before moving your panties to the side. His index finger moved up your slit, a sound of approval left his mouth when he felt how wet you were. “She’s so wet, I bet if I wanted I could just slip right in and she’d be so tight around me.” 

“Jeonghan, mmh...stop.” You parted your legs further, going against your own words. There was just something about having Seungcheol on the other side of the line as someone else had their hands all over your body that turned you on even more. Maybe it was some sick form of revenge, but you were ready to succumb to Jeonghan completely if he continued to touch in the way you had been craving for months now. The vibrator he had jokingly gotten for you as your secret santa gift three years ago, had not been enough. You needed more. 

“I don’t think you want me to angel,” he inserted his finger inside of you. A choked moan left your parted lips as you arched your back. “It’s a shame you fucked up Seungcheol, I bet she looks so pretty when she cums.” 

“I was right. I knew you were cheating on me with Jeonghan. You’re a fucking li-” 

“Actually this is the first time we’ve ever stepped over our boundaries. She was telling you the truth...you’re just an idiot.” Jeonghan moved his finger inside of you slowly. He felt around your velvet walls teasingly before inserting a second finger, stretching you out a little further. Opening you up for him. “Isn’t that right angel?” He raised an eyebrow before picking up the pace of his fingers. You gripped his arms, digging your nails into his skin as you felt the slight pleasurable pain course throughout your body. 

“Y-Yes, mmh...fuck Jeonghan, yes.” You bucked your hips against the palm of his hand. Your clit lightly brushes up against ot making your body jolt, as his pace and your pleasure increased.

“I-Is this why you r-refuse to fight for us, because you want to be a slut and fuck Jeonghan without feeling guilty.” Seungcheol scoffed and Jeonghan rolled his eyes. The coil in the pit of your stomach tightened up and you found yourself getting lost in the delicious pleasure Jeonghan was giving you rather than Seungcheol’s words. The moment you walked out on him he stopped mattering and you couldn’t be happier. Especially if the outcome was with Jeonghan and Bomi. 

“Are you close baby? Are you going to cum for me so Seungcheol hears how good I make you feel? Jeonghan rolled his palm against your hardened nipple, his thumb circle around your clit adding to the pleasure his fingers were giving you.

“Fuck, y-yes...I’m going to come for you Jeonghan.” Your fingers threatened to break the surface of his skin and with one final thrust of his fingers you gonat came around then moaning out his name. He helped you ride out your orgasm mumbling praises against the crown of your head. Before taking out his glistening fingers making you whine. He raised fhem up to his lips and wrapped his tongue around them sensually, sucking them clean. 

You were panting, your chest heaving against his as you tried to catch your breath again. “Choi Seungcheol are you still there?” Jeonghan asked, making you roll your eyes, you buried your head in his chest, running your down the smoothness of your back. “She looks like a fucked out work of art right now and I’m not even done with her yet.”

“Whatever, I hope you enjoy my sloppy seconds, she’s incapable of being loved anyway.” Seungcheol’s words tugged at your heartstrings and you could feel the anger radiating from Jeonghan's heated body. 

“Fuck you Seungcheol.” 

Jeonghan carefully laid you down on the couch of your shared office, peppering kisses down your body. After Seungcheol hung up, an overwhelming and heavy silence surrounded the two of you.

“Do you regret it?” He buried his head into your neck. His hands that had devilishly devoured your body five minutes ago, hoovered over your lower back. His voice small, trapped in the back of his throat as he melted in your arms. 

“Leaving him?” You questioned and moved your fingers down the smoothness of his back. “I don’t, I don’t regret leaving him.”  

“No that,” He raised his head. His gaze burning intensely in yours, “me touching you do you...do you regret it?” Jeonghan finally touched you again, his cold touch sent shivers up your spine. He smiled tugging a strand of hair behind your ear, his thumb running over your earlobe gently before resting them against your cheek.

“No, I don’t regret it whatsoever.” 

“Good because I don’t want to stop touching you.” He closed the tiny gap between the two of you and kissed you gently. He ran his hands down the side of your body before hooking his thumbs underneath your torn tights. You giggled against his lips remembering how he had impatiently torn them. He leaned back against heels and helped you remove them before tossing them elsewhere. You leaned up against your elbows, watching as he lustfully moved his hands up your legs slowly. 

“I meant what I said, I’m going to treat you like the angel you are.” He whispered and took off your black laced panties throwing them behind him. He held your legs open before kneeling in between them “You’re beautiful.” He whispered leaving kisses up your thighs, stopping in front of your pussy. “I’m going to devour you.” He mumbled before running his tongue up your slit. You moaned arching your back, your nipples getting harder against the cool air of your office. 

“Jeonghan, w-wait.” You mumbled getting lost in the way his tongue moved against you, “no one’s ever done this before.” You confessed, threading your fingers with his dark locks pulling him closer. 

He looked up at you, wrapping his arms around your thigh and brought you closer to his mouth. He moaned, wrapping his lips around your clit, sucking harshly. His gaze found yours, the way you were looking at him, overcome by pleasure, made his heart sore.

He sucked, humming when your hips started bucking against his mouth indicating that your orgasm was nearing. If he could he would’ve stayed in between your legs for hours, especially after finding out that no one had ever given in to you the way he currently was, but his cock was straining against his slacks begging to be inside of you, so, he pulled away. A frustrated sigh running past your lips. 

“Why’d you stop?” You questioned sitting up on your elbows before teasingly running your palm down his chest. Your eyes caught sight of his bulge making your pussy clench over nothing. “Do you want to stop?” You sat up and played with his belt buckle, slowly unlooping it as you waited for his answer.

“I’d be crazy if I did.” He watched as you popped open the button of his slacks. Without a warning your hand found its way inside his boxers and wrapped around his length. Jeonghan’s body grew frigid as your hand slowly moved against him, his breath caught itself at the back of his throat, his body growing hot with pleasure. “Angel, I want to...fuck, I want to play a little longer but I need to be inside of you.” 

“Do you have a condom?” You kissed his neck, sucking hard enough to leave your mark, smirking against his skin knowing how the office will react tomorrow morning. The many questions he would be bombarded with.

“Fuck, I don’t angel. We can stop here, it's okay,” he threw his head back as your lips moved down his chest and your warm hand moved against him. 

“No. I trust you. I don’t want to stop.” You wrapped your lips around his nipple causing him to moan.Your hand stopped moving against him and tugged on his pants, signaling for him to take them off. 

“Are you sure?” He stood up, kicking his dress shoes off before pushing his slacks and boxers down, leaving him naked in all his glory in front of you. He looked beautiful, the milky white light of the moon filtering through your giant window made him look like had been sculpted by the heaven’s. His cock sat against his stomach, the precum slowly leaking out and your mouth watered, but just like him you needed to finally feel him stretch you out. So you pushed the thought to the side and laid down opening your legs further, inviting him. 

“Jeonghan, make love to me please. Make me scream out your name and forget about any other asshole that has used me in the past. I want to be yours only.” You said moved your hands up your body slowly before they found your breasts. You pinched your nipples gently moaning out his name in the process. 

Jeonghan had never seen or heard anything as beautiful as to what he was witnessing right now. He hoped that this wouldn’t be a one time thing, that he could finally love you the way he had been itching to do so. Otherwise working alongside you would be a lot more awkward now that the two of you had crossed into dangerous territory. So, he kneeled in front of you again, leaning his naked body against yours, feeling your hard nipples rub against his naked chest as he leaned down and kissed you slowly. The passion spewing out of your connected lips. This was better than what he had ever imagined. 

“You’re beautiful, I’m going to make you mine tonight and forever.” He mumbled before pulling away and snaking a hand down your connected bodies. He wrapped his fingers around his cock, spreading the precum around his angry head before looking at you. Slowly, he ran his head up your slit and stopped searching your face.

“God, you take forever. Just fuck me, Jeonghan please.” You smiled nodding your head pushing his hair away from his forehead. 

“I’m just trying to take everything in, I’ve pictured this moment many times over the years and I need to make sure it's real.” He winked and slowly pushed himself in. Your mouth fell agape, his moans sounded beautiful as he kept pushing inside of you before bottoming out. “T-Tell me when I can move.” He leaned down capturing your lips in another slow and sensual kiss. His kisses were otherworldly and addicting.

“F-Fuck Jeonghan move please.” Your hands fell down his back as you pushed him closer. The pain of him stretching you out hadn’t subsided entirely but you were desperate with need. 

“As you wish my angel.” He pecked your lips one last time before kissing your check and burying his face in the crock of your neck. His body was overwhelmed as he slowly started moving his hips against yours. The way he had fit so snuggly inside of you was driving him crazy and he hoped he would last a lot longer than what his body was telling him. Though with the way you had started to deliciously clench around him, he was positive you were riding the same boat as him. There would be other opportunities where he could shower you with ten times more love and take it as slow as he wanted. But right now was not the time, years of pent up sexual frustration between the two of you was oozing out of your pores and threatening to spill. 

“I-I don’t want to cum yet but I don’t think I can hold off anymore.” You whispered, moving your hand down his back and further pushing his hips into yours. His thrusts had started out slow, but the more he lost himself in your body the sloppier they got. Your pants and moans bounced off the four walls of your shared office, thankfully no one was around to hear how desperate the two of you were for each other. 

“Me too.” He grunted and raised his body. He gripped your waist tightly and started thrusting even harder into you. “W-Where do you want me to cum?” He threw his head back getting lost in sensation of your pussy clenching around him. Your second orgasm threatened to spill over the harder he fucked you into the leather sofa. 

“I-Inside me. I want you to fill be up...mmmh, f-fuck please.” You arched your back digging your nails into his hips as your orgasm broke. Your body convulsed, hips cantaning up as he continued to piston his cock into you. Your name breathly spilling out of his lips as his own orgasm overtook his body. His warm milky seed covering your walls, making you moan out his name like an incantation. 

The two of you rode out your orgasms. The fear of being separated seeping into your pores as he finally let his body go slump over yours. His face contorting in pleasure while your pussy continued to milk out of everything he provided you. Your chests raised slowly against each other, while reality finally seeped in. You had just fucked the man of your dreams in your office and silently you wondered why you had wasted your time hating him for years. While he silently loved you from afar, until you were too late.

“So much for finishing our paperwork.” Jeonghan broke the silence making you laugh. His head was against your sweaty chest, his thumb painting invisible pictures against your hips. 

“You’ve just given me the best orgasm, possibly ever, and all you can think about is paperwork.” You joked, wrapping your leg around his waist. His cock twitching inside of you. 

“I’m thinking about other things. I just wanted to state the obvious before I have you screaming my name again.” 

“Mhm, I see.” You kissed his forehead and ran your index finger over his tired face. You knew he hadn’t been sleeping for days and as much as you wanted him to stay buried inside of you until morning. Another reality check crushed your fantasies. He needed to take him and his daughter, who was soundly sleeping in the office down the hall, home. “I’d love to Jeonghan, bu-”

“Do you regret it, p-please tell me you don’t” His pleading eyes found yours and you could’ve sworn your heart had flipped over how cute he looked right now. 

“Let me finish talking first before you start jumping in to conclusions.” You kissed his forehead lightly, your index finger stopped moving against his face and you wrapped your arm around his neck pulling him closer then what he had already been. “I don’t regret anything but you need to take Bomi home and you need to sleep.” 

“Then come home with me. I promise all we will do is sleep, but I want to wake up next to you and I want to make for lost time. Plus Bomi would be so excited when she wakes up and finds out you’re taking her to school with me.” He beamed and you felt the tears start to well up in the corner of your eyes. Jeonghan’s daughter was quite possibly the sweetest little thing in the entire world and each time you remembered what her mother had done to her and the man who was basking in the afterglow of your desperate love making. You would be hit with an overwhelming sense of anger. 

“Jeonghan I want too, but we can’t be moving too fast. I want to be with you but I also need time to recover from what Seungcheol did to me, especially if Bomi is involved. I want to be there for you and her, but I can’t, knowing I’m not strong enough yet.” You sighed, blinking rapidly to keep the tears at baby. When they had started to fall Jeonghan leaned in and kissed every single one of them away. 

“Okay, the ball is in your court angel, I’ll go at your pace.” He grinned, you could tell he was slightly disappointed but the fact that he had given you the upper hand made your heart swell up with love. 

“Thank you Jeonghan.” 

“It’s no problem, Seungcheol was wrong, you’re more than capable of being loved and I will spend every waking moment from here on out proving to you how wrong he had been and if I have to wait for you to get over what that asshole did to you. Then I will. Even if it means waiting another lifetime for you angel. I would wait for that one and the next one until you’re ready to let me love you the way you should be loved.”

[queenoftheworldisdead]

Need me

Chapter 1

Note: didn’t tag because i hate this. just needed it out of my brain. might be a prequel to Six Feet. Be warned this is LONG AF and suck so.....  Summary: Stripper just wants to work to support herself, but her bad life choices come back to bite her in the ass. Warning: choking, non-consensual sex/ dubious consent, self loathing

Chapter 2

Dark Mafia Bucky x Reader, Mafia AU ( mentions of past relations with Tony Stark)

It was always easier when liquor flowed through you. When the buzz hit your system that stiffness you got whenever you danced melted away.

Staring blankly into the spotlight so that the light blurred your vision. Spinning around the pole, little light spots float over the faces on the floor. Grabbing the pole behind your head, you slide down onto your hunches. With your thighs spread wide your free hand moved to untie the bow between your breasts allowing them to bounce out freely.

A high pitched whistle rung out from the end of the stage, the cat call signaling that someone was impressed with the view. A flutter of bills rained down on the right end of the stage so there you crawled, on hands and knees as seductively as you could for it.

Making sure to keep your stomach sucked in, back arched just right so that your ass stays high. The closer you got to the pile the more to sprinkled down on you. Rising on your knees you giggled and played it up for the generous spender.

"Meow" you were a little drunk and bored so why not pretend to be a cat tonight. You giggled again when his eyes go wide at your antics.

"Hello Kitten" the voice belonged to the most gorgeous face you've seen in a while. In the soft neon hues you could make out his sharp jawline, dark hair styled short, his light eyes mesmerized by you.

Laying on your back you wiggle atop of the scattered bills, swatting at the falling money like the cat for him. You purred and meowed at him as he neared the stage, sprinkling more and more bills on you.

It was so odd to get so much money and attention. You weren't a top girl, they were beautiful, some mostly artificially built, but others were natural beauties. You were out of shape, a sloppy dancer let the owner, Nick, tell it.

Yet this stranger rained down the dollars.

The club had opened an hour ago, it was still considered too early for high rollers and even then they preferred to spend money in the champagne rooms not the main stage.

Shit if this is how the night is going to be then maybe  acting like a cat might need to be revisited.

Taking the cash he held in his hand he fanned it above your head, so you pretend to swat at it like any good little kitty would do.

A tall broad shouldered blonde approached his side, holding a tumbler of what you presumed to be whisky. He leaned in the ear of the brunette then smirked down at you and laughed at the sight.

"Well...who do we have here Bucky?"

The blonde gave a name to your mark. Unlike the playful vibe you had gotten from Bucky this one was different and it made Bucky feel different too. From the look in his buddies hungry eyes you could tell he wanted to do more than touch you.

"Back off punk this one's mine."

Suddenly it felt like this song was on for just too long. Your buzz was wearing off and the longer they watched the more you felt awkward. Their eyes were too intense making it hard to focus on the dance and music.  

Turning to face away, you twerked a little, sliding down on your hands stretching out your back, leaving your ass in the air. You hear them hiss at the sight so you wiggled and danced for them.

They carried on in conversation, but with the change in position it was hard to make out what they were talking about. In the corner of your eye you saw the signal that time was up.  

"Thanks for being so generous" looking over your shoulder at them, putting an end to the playful kitty act. "My time is up" you pouted then scooped up your take.

You glance over again to see Bucky's smirk turns to a tight line upon your announcement.

Bucky’s arm slung over his friends shoulder, leaning in he whispered something to him then they retreated from stage.  

Despite Bucky's generosity they were starting to give you a weird vibe you couldn't shake. Standing with your arms full of money you head to the back.

 When you walked past the curtain your best friend, Bubbles, stood at the bottom stare waiting. She lit up at the sight of your big haul.

"Whoa! There are some high rollers out there this early Sweetie?" She asked calling by your stage name.

"I guess so. I've only seen this kind of money on music videos" you giggled walking down with the stage steps. Bubbles was up next so before she crossed the curtain you wished her luck.

"Excuse me Miss" a timid voice called from the door of the locker room before you could proceed onward to your locker causing bills to fell from your grasp.

"Shit!"

"Oh sorry! So sorry" the flustered girl dropped down, picking up your fallen money for you.

"What do you need kid?" You say as you kept an eye on her while she handled your money. Gingerly she placed the fallen money atop your misshapen stack.

“Are you..Miss Cat?” she asked nervously.

“No, I’m Sweetie.” you turn and walk off, but she moves to walk next to you.

"Can you help me find a Miss..um...Cat? Please?" She asked so softly you could barely hear her in the loud dressing room.  You recognized one of the waitresses, by face not by name. She looked like she was better suited for a proper cafe not this place. Still new to the world not yet hardened by its cruelty.

"Oh yeah. Sure.” you smile at her sweetly.

“Hey Cat!" You shouted over the lockers.  Turning from her you marched onward to your locker while she followed close behind. You saw Cat earlier walking to the back when you were on stage, so you were sure she was still getting ready.

"Yeah?" A voice answered from beyond the metal wall.

Looking over your shoulder you urged the girl to speak. "Um..Um Miss Cat there is a request in room two for you!" She half shouted, Cat replied with a surprised 'O'.

"Damn girl! You just got here right? Must be nice to be that popular." You teased.

"Tell him she will be there in a minute, she needs to finish getting ready." The waitress mouthed a thank you before she scurried away out the door.

When you waved her goodbye your money scattered on the floor. It didn't matter too much as you were now at you destination. Flopping down on your bench you fixed your top first, setting your breasts straight and then got started.

After the cash was counted and stashed you needed to make your rounds on the floor. 

Going table to table practically begging men was something you weren't looking forward to. There was nothing worse than being rejected by a guy that on any normal day you wouldn't bat an eyelash at.

Here they knew they had the power. The pros could sniff out a good mark, but that superpower was never bestowed upon you.

The door to the locker room burst open just as your locker slammed shut.

"All right ladies listen up!" Nick yelled over the everyone.

Heads turned and bodies moved around to focus on Nick. He was a common occurrence backstage so the barely dressed girls didn't shy away when he barged in.

Behind him Rumlow, the bouncer, dragged in a few girls that you had seen on the floor when you were on stage. That was new. Rumlow never entered the locker room. His presence quickly starting grumbles of chatter amongst everyone and when Bubbles came back from behind the curtain cursing at Nick it only helped fuel the confusion.

"As of today we are now under no management!" Nick shouted, quieting the the confused gaggle of girls. His one good eye roaming over everyone, unconcern by the effect his announcement made within the locker room.

"I want everybody on Stage now!"

No one moved.

"I said Now!"

One by one each of the girls climbed up the stairs and on to the stage. Clamoring together after you all passed through the curtain.

The club now empty, a bizarre sight as it was not the case when you were on. It's as if the club had never opened. Abandoned drinks on various tables, the DJ had stopped playing music, but the spot light stayed trained on the stage.

Nick walked below you all from the main floor and barked more orders. He wanted everyone to line up along the plank and put toes on the edge of the stage. It was such a strange request, yet everyone complied, but not without a few gripes.

As bodies moved into place, you finally noticed a large group of men in the far back corner of the club. With the spot light on the stage it was hard to make out who they were or how many.

"Who are they?" You whisper to Bubbles as you position yourself next to her.

"No clue."

You were all standing shoulder to shoulder, wrapping around the stage like soldiers at attention waiting for the next command from their general. Half of the girls were either in street clothes or their dance attire.

"Backs straight ladies show them what they bought." Nick shouted.

"What?" A few dancers called out all at once.

The men started to move from the back, coming more into view as they got closer to the stage. When they spread out, flanking the stage surrounding you all from the floor you became unnerved. Each one in a well dressed, everything looked designer in some variation of black, all with a hungry look in their eyes.

"You out...that one on the far end bye" a strange man's voice started commanding, pointing at varies girls from down the line. The dismissed girls heels shuffled behind you as they headed to the back.

"Did he just fire them? What the fuck?" Bubbles whispered to you. She was already starting to fume, especially after getting her stage time cut short.

"Shut the fuck up over there!" 

Your eyes shoot straight ahead and shoulders stiffened when he barked at Bubbles. You could her hear cursing under her breath, through gritted teeth you tried to get her to calm down. Her temper got her in trouble on a good day.

Her good lucks made a top earn during the golden hours, but because of her constant fighting with dancers and customers Nick bumped her to the opening shit.

"Fuck you!" Bubbles spat out, leaning to look at the man calling the shots.

Fuck!

This was the exact opposite of what you wanted. Your hot headed friend had caught the attention of the prick firing girls willy-nilly.

"Bubbles!" You scold her. She didn't care, she was not intimidated by these men, but you sure as shit were.

"I see a few of these Maidens have some fire!" A man with a heavy accent boomed from behind you. There was a sinister delight to his tone that you didn't like.

The face to the voice casually walked in front of you two. Your eyes widened when you recognized his face. It was Bucky, his cold blue eyes greeting you with a smirk once again.

"Ladies is there a problem here?"

"First off don’t fucking don’t tell me to shut up! Second..What the fuck man? You can't just fire girls like that! Some of them got kids to support and shit!" Bubbles fumed with her hands on her hip, her confidence gaining cheers of encouragement all around.

"Well Doll I wish I could tell you I give a shit..." Before she could move you stopped her. You grabbed her by the arm preventing her from taking the man on.

"Bubbles! Girl he is twice your size calm down."

Bucky chuckled as you tried to calm your friend down.

"Listen up this club has now fallen into Howling Commando territory. So that means this club now belongs to us. You belong to us." The men gave a chores of cheers for their achievement.

The Commandos were a well known syndicate, mostly known for gun running. The infamous group taking ownership of the club didn't bode well you and the other dancers.

"Congratulations you have all made it through round one. Now boys lets test drive our new merchandise." His eyes stayed on you during the announcement.

All the dancers heads bobbed and swiveled in search of Nick, but he had vanished from the floor. You watched in silent horror as men crept the stage while Bucky stood back and watched.  

From behind and around you could hear the clicking of heels shuffle. Girls bumped into each as they retreated from the edge of the stage.

His blonde companion appeared by his side just as he did earlier. Resting an arm on Bucky's shoulder, his eyes fixated on Bubbles. Your hand found for hers, holding each other tight when he moved past Bucky to join the other men by the stage. shoving a comrade to the side that seemed to by eyeing Bubbles too.

The blonde stretched out his arm, reaching a hand to tugged a string on Bubble's outfit.

"All right boys take your pick, let me know if they make it to round two." Bucky ordered.

Each man took their pick. Some of the dancers fought, argue fruitlessly, while others crumbled and sobbed before being carted off to some corner of the club. The stage was cleared fast leaving you and Bubbles the only two left standing.

"Hello Kitten, remember me?" Bucky asked as he approached the edge of the stage, patting the floor of the stage signaling you to near, instead you stayed frozen in place. Bubble's yelped drawing your attention back to her, his blonde friend had her by the wrist. Another pat caught your attention making you lock eyes with him again.

"Kitten I don't like to repeat myself."

Nervously you approached him. Your plastic heels wobbled a bit as you crouched down you and came face to face with the man.

"You played a really dirty trick on me and Steve."

He threw a his thumb toward Steve. Giving a name to the monster, who pulled Bubbles off the stage. You watched Bubbles fight his grip as he walked her away, until he stopped. Steve lifted her with ease and tossed her over his shoulder. Her tough demeanor turned suddenly soft, scared as she looked back at you helplessly with tears in her eyes. When Steve passed through the doors of the private room section your stomach sank.

"Your such a naughty Kitty....Sending someone else to play in your place."

Your brows furrowed with confusion.

Shit Cat.

You hadn't noticed her in the group in the locker room or on stage. Your heart raced when he took hold of your chin, forcing you to focus on him and you fought the urge to pull away.

"Worried about your friend huh... don't be"  Bucky taunted.

Primal noises grew in volume and fill the club. The seedy strip club was turning into a brothel right before your eyes.

Bucky lead you with a hand clasped around the back of your neck to Nick's office. You shook like a leaf in his grasp. The whole way tripping over your plastic heels as you tried to keep his pace.

Once inside he tossed you on the leather couch that sat across from Nicks desk. Your knees hit the side of the chair making you tumbled face first into the leather cushions.

He was going to do what he wanted with you. You started to blubber at the thought of Bubbles, Cat and the other girls. Their fate would soon be yours.

Bucky walked in front of the sofa, he towered over you, completely unbothered by your distress. You pushed up and sat with your legs tucked under. Your eyes stared up at him, watching as he pulled a box of smokes from his jacket. Casually he took a cigarette out, sparked it up and took a few puffs.

He examined you through the smoke, the toxic haze invaded your nose when you sniffled. You went stiff when he lifted a hand to play with a string on your shoulder. 

"So your Tony's whore."

You met Tony at the club. The charismatic older man had quickly become your regular. Always requesting a private dance after you came off stage.

He was such a blessing whenever he came in, showering you with money. Nick eased up off your ass whenever Tony swung by. It didn't take too long to find out why.

During one of your steamier sessions he dropped his badge. When you saw it you were freaked, jumping off his lap before things got too out of hand. Tony Stark, a detective, he explained as you redressed. Coaxing you to stay and finish where you left off. Nick was a retired cop so that explained Nick's leniency.

After that you two to fucked up royally. Tony got you pregnant. When you told Tony he surprisingly didn't care. Almost like a Prince Charming whisking you away from the club life, setting you up in a nice apartment. Playing house with you, filling you with delusions of a happy family.

You hadn't even known how full of shit he actually was until his wife popped up at the apartment you shared with your future baby's father.

Tony was of course away at work when you stood face to face with his spouse. Her eyes soaked with tears cursing you to all hell for ruining her life. You were in such shock at the revelation that you couldn't find the words to say. Seven months into your pregnancy the world he built for you came crumbling down.

Tony didn't come back that day or any day after. You couldn’t count the times you called him and left messages, begging, crying pleading for him come back. If he weren’t a detective you would’ve shown up to his job.

He had gone back to her and it hurt you tremendously and it still hurt. Tony was kind enough to keep paying rent and the bills though. You presumed it was to make up for the fact that he would not be their for the birth of his daughter.

It didn't take long after Daisy's birth for Pepper to lead the charge for full custody. The whole ordeal leaving you with a feeling of worthlessness as their lawyers painted you as an unfit mother and gold digging opportunist.

Without your little one you felt numb so you drank more and more to cope with the loneliness, the heart ache. To add insult to injury once they took her the money stopped so it was back to the poles.

Tears streamed down your face as you sobbed uncontrollably. This man was going to kill you all because you had the dumb luck of fucking a cop.

Bucky's jaw tightened his demeanor no longer jovial. All your thoughts fell to your daughter and how you wanted to see her again.

"L-listen me and T-tony.."

"There's an informant working for Tony."  He cut you off.

"What?" Brushing away a few tears you try and comprehend what he was saying.  

"I want their name." He said plainly as smoke blew out, stubbing out the cig on the arm of the chair. 

"I don't know what you want from me? He barely lets me see my kid." Your face was still wet with tears.

"Did you know Pepper can't have kids?" He said stepping closer to you.

Your eyes fell away from him, his question dominating your thoughts.

When he moved a hand to pull at your bow you were too late to stop him. You leaned into the back of the couch and wrapped your arms around to cover yourself.

"They supposedly considered adoption, but Pepper insisted on Tony having a blood heir." Bucky lean towards you so you huddled into the corner of the sofa. One arm helped box you into the side of the couch.

Bucky didn't bother with removing your hands from your chest, instead forcing his hand down your g-string and deep between your legs.  Your legs started to ache as you sat perched on them and with the added hand you started to squirm.You squeezed your thighs tight but it was useless.

The tears continued to flow down as you begged him to stop. Bucky felt like an immovable wall when you tried to push him off. He hissed when his meaty digits rubbed against your clit.

His callus palm sent vibrations all around you. Biting the inside of your cheek you try to ignore the blooming heat.

Beating on his chest you feel him vibrate with laughter. When a finger slipped through, parting your lips you yelp. The nervous energy started to be overpower by a sense of betrayal.

Casually Bucky started pumping into you. Your eyes burned from all the tears you cried. Your hand cocked back and slapped against his face with all your might, but it did nothing. He just stared at you intently. Watching your pathetic attempts with a sadistic joy. When he dipped further in, your hands that had pushed him away were now dug into the fabric of his shirt.  

"I-if you know soooo much. oh shit.. hah-how come you cant find this informant?"  You frantically pant out as you try to control yourself.

He didn't answer. You squirmed wen he added another finger. You tried to hold back a moan at the curl of his digits, the back of his palm rubbing roughly against your clit.

“Mmm shit!”

“That’s it Kitten.”

The walls of your heat ached, there was nothing you could do to stop your cunt from clamping down around his digits.

"Making a mess of my fingers" he tsk'd. When he pulled out of your soaking slit you exhale loudly. Bucky moved to stand tall before you again as you slummed back.

"He used you, because your nothing, but a stupid whore." The jiggle of his pants caught your attention.

"He loved me.. he didn't...H-he just couldn't leave her." As the words fell out you didn't know if you were trying to convenience yourself or Bucky. That was what Tony told you all those time at family court.

"Believe me or don't" He slipped out of his blazer, you watch unable to move as he undressed.

"....I don't care" His icy eyes stared into your soul all the while as you wish you could melt into the leathery fabric.

"Get me the name or you will be a faded memory to Daisy. And that's if Pepper doesn't erase you first." Each word hit you like a brick to the face.

Your hand cupped your mouth to stop the returning sob. "Face down ass up Kitten I want to see how loud you purr."

There was nothing you could do. If you didn't move on your own you were sure he would move you himself so you just got into place. Holding your breath to stop the hiccups as you bend over, clutching the opposite edge of the cushion with each hand.

Bucky’s added weight dipped the couch making it grown. He nestled himself in-between your thighs, the closeness of him shooting your anxiety through the roof. When he moved your g-string down your legs your heart beat so hard  in your chest. The pace so fast you tried to concentrate on calming it down, rather than your impending doom. 

Had Tony used you? Was Bucky right? You felt sick. The leather of the couch cushion pressing into your ear as Bucky got into position behind you.

When Bucky tapped the hard shaft of his cock on your ass you blubbered out loud, unable to contain the mix of emotions inside you.

Bucky's hands hooked under your waist, shifting you about so that he could guide himself hands free to your opening.

The head of his cock pressed in hard and firm, separating your folds, yanking your hips straight when they start to falter.

Methodically Bucky pushed into you, forcing you to feel every inch of him as he stretched you. Your toes curled at the feel of his girth overwhelming you.

His husky growl married with his fingers digging into your side. His weight pushing you hard into the cushion.

Shooting pains resonated throughout your body, mewls escaped you as your body tried desperately to adjust. Bucky's sunk deep into you as your nails tore through the leather of the cushion. When he finally pulled back your body trembled.

This man was nothing but control and power in human flesh. Your emotions were becoming overwhelmed. Your need was taking over.

"Please Bucky...." You croaked out while his tip remained inside you. 

"You take my cock so good Kitten." Bucky's voice was husky and full of lust. The sound of his timber sent rippled through your core. Your mound a flame from his touch and length. You wanted him to fuck you hard, you needed to forget about Tony and the world.

"Fuck when was the last time he touched you?" Broken moan are your only reply.

He sunk into you again with a lethargic stroke. You had to grit your teeth to take the length of him. Your cunt already massaging his cock, aching for more despite the pain.

"You're so fucking tight."

This was no quick hit it and quit it scenario. This was torture.

"Kitten...." He groaned out at you. Bucky's slow torture was breaking down, his rhythm increasing ever so slightly.

You hated yourself for wanting him. For needing him to fuck you hard, to use you.

You wanted to hear him call out your name as he railed you into the couch and you despised yourself for it.

"Tell me what you want Kitten."

You could hear your sex. The wetness enveloping his cock thoroughly.

When Bucky pushed himself to his hilt again you crumbled."Fuck me." It was weak, broken, but it was your voice.

"You want to cum for me?" He sounded like a lover. Full of care, so beautiful, but deep down you knew it was a lie.

"Bucky please fuck me!"

Your ass slapped against his thighs sending a sound of applause around the room. Bucky had set you a blaze. You needed to be used by him, to be needed.

"I can feel you, Kitten..Fuck." 

You bit your lip and moan reveling in his pleasure.

"That's it purr for me Kitten...Such a good Kitten just for me." Buck’s words of praise helped to further send you over the edge. "This pussy fits me fucking good." He growled down, slapping your ass making you moan louder.

"Who do you belong to Kitten?" Bucky tore through your cunt. The pain blanked over your thoughts, fading away unwanted feelings.

"Fuck! Bucky! Fuck...I'm your whore!" Your voice strained as you shouted out the words. Bucky’s dominating hold giving you the feeling of being owned. You wanted him to own you and break in pieces.

"Show me I own you. Come on my cock baby." He hissed and you exploded, your cunt convulsing all over his cock. Bucky fucked you through your climax, his own rhythm breaking down as you come.

With a final hard thrust came. Bucky’s warmth overflowing as he breathed heavy. Your body milking and pushing out his cum as it over flowed.

Bucky's cum seeped out of you, drying along your thighs as you laid half sleep on the couch. His blazer draped over your body keeping you warm.

He sat on the couch next to you, stroking along your leg soothingly. The smell of another cig filled the air as he got up and walked over to Nick's desk. 

Or was it his desk now, you weren't sure. Your arm dropped to the floor when you moved it. When you lifted it your finger tips graze something underneath. Curious you clutched it and brought it into view. An empty bottle champagne.

You look at the back of Bucky. Thoughts of your daughter poured into you. Thoughts of her being bullied for having a stripper mom. Thoughts of her hating you for being this worthless loser. How Pepper would be their for her, consoling her.

There was no way you could get what he wanted. And even if you could it would just be a matter of time before your daughter grew to hate you. Your were dealt a losers hand.

Slipping your arms through the sleeves of his jacket you try not to make to much noise. Standing up with bottle in hand you crept up on Bucky. He was looking at his phone, his back still toward you when you smashed the bottle over his head. He dropped to the ground like a sack of potatoes.

Quickly you dropped down, digging through his pockets while he was out. Keys, wallet and phone were what you took off him. You got up from the floor you back away.

Holding your breath you watched to see if Bucky would move. when his chest went up and down you were slightly relieved that you hadn’t killed him.

Your hand rest on the door knob when your cracked it open. You watched and waited, listening intently for anything, but nothing came. Your heart raced again when you start to walk out of the office. Down the hall of Nick's office was the employee parking lot and you hoped to gawd that the mobsters parked there too.

Bang Bang

"Gawd Damn it Tony!" you bashed on the door of your baby's father home. You felt frantic constantly looking over your shoulder as you waited for him. When the door finally opened it was no surprised that his wife  was the first to greet you.

When you got far enough away from the club you searched his car for a change of clothes. The mobster only had a pair of old trainers that you added to your already unfashionable look.

Dressed in Bucky's blazer and gym shoes. You had tried your best to remove your make up on the drive, but you were sure that probably made things look worse.

"Hi Pep" you spat. "Where is Daisy?" Crossing your arms over your chest to control your shaking. You were anxious, a mess and you knew she was judging every aspect of your appearance.

"It's not your day to see her and you know it" her hate filled eyes bore through you as she spoke. Pepper's slender frame blocked the door as you tried and choke down your rising anger. The hate between you two was mutual.

"Look if you had a daughter of your own you might understand the Maternal need to see ones own flesh and blood." You took a step closer to her, she was taller than you, but you always assumed if things got dirty you would win that fight.

"Whoa whoa whoa lets retract those claws ladies." Tony appeared from behind her with Daisy, the cheerful little thing, lighting up when she laid eyes on you. Her cute calls for her ‘Mommy’ breaking the tension between you two. Pepper's sneer did not go unnoticed by you as she turned and stormed off. Smirking to yourself, relishing the reaction you pulled from her.

"Now I know you know better than to just pop up like this. You cant keep doing this" he was stern, but you rolled your eyes in response.

"Well maybe if you would've left your wife and not taken full custody of Daisy I wouldn't feel the need to make a surprise visit." You made sure to be loud, hoping for Pepper to come back in and start something with you, but she didn't. Tony on the other hand was unamused.

"Hi baby" you kissed her on her chubby cheeks, smelled her hair, bouncing with her on your hip as you walked across the threshold. "Listen Tony I need to leave town for a few days, my mom is sick." You didn't look at him. You could feel the pending judgment on his face before he sighed.

"You begged, pleaded even to get unsupervised custody, and now that you get it you disappear on us...On her" he corrected himself, but you couldn't deny your heart skipped a beat when he said us.

Placing Daisy on the floor you let her run of to play with some toys. She lift up toys, showing the off for you.

"I know" you sighed heavily biting your bottom lip as you looked back him. "She is sick. It's only for a few days and I will be back in town." You lied.

This was a goodbye. It didn't matter if Bucky was telling the truth or not. Daisy's life was better without you. Pepper was better than you. Would be a better mother than you. Bucky was right Daisy was so young enough to forget you.

Your eyes started to water as you watched your daughter. This house this life was better than anything you could give her.

Tony sighed. "Alright don't make this a habit." He chided.

Tony was closer to you than you realized. Wrapping an arm around your lower waist, leaning in your earn the move making your heart race.

"I miss you so much." His words burned your ears and you had to pull away. It felt like a dream.

You turned to look at him. Searching for that Prince Charming that promised you this life, your heart ached when you found nothing there. Stepping back you move to sit next to Daisy. Laughing when she talked in gibberish as she shows you another dolly.

"Tony can you come here a sec?" Pepper called out. He leaves you alone with Daisy to attend to his wife.

Your mind was made up. You needed to disappear.

Chapter 2>>>

[timextoxhajima]

Love Me A Little Less: Chapter 1 - Frankenstein

LOVE ME A LITTLE LESS CHAPTER MASTERLIST

Member: (3rd person pov) arranged marriage au with Lee Juyeon

Genre: angsty wangsty

Taglist: @hyunvelies​

“We buried you.”

The feast before Kim Jang Won is absolutely stunning. Lemon meringue tarts, strawberry smoothies (with actual strawberry bits in them), pancakes and freshly buttered croissants, a gorgeous transparent glass pot with the golden shade of chamomile tea and a beautiful tray of puffs and eclairs.

It would be even more stunning if it wasn’t her view every morning though.

“Hey, um, don’t we have like alternating menus or something for breakfast? I feel like I’m eating the same thing every morning now, it’s kinda getting tacky.”

“Miss Kim, I hope you know you’re the one who decides what the menu is. You chose this set like a week ago and you told us not to change it for the next two weeks.”

Jang Won sneers at her butler, arguably the only person on the property to has the guts to talk to her in a way that could get her fired.

“You’re lucky I can trust you.”

Ro Il Jung purses his lips into a thin white line, scratching his cheek with one of those knuckly, wrinkly-skin-covered fingers of his. “You seem to forget that I wanted to retire last year, Miss Kim.”

Jang Won huffs childishly, sticking her tongue out, now a gentle, thick shade of smoothie on her tongue. “I’ll let you retire when I find someone else I can trust, Mr Ro. It’s just too bad I don’t have anybody in mind right now.”

Mr Ro shakes his head like a parent disapproving of his child, but a house guard pulling the heavy doors of the entrance over accompanied by some urgent yelling tears his attention away from the owner of the mansion. 

Jang Won looks up from her butter and croissant, at Mr Ro, who excuses himself before heading for the entrance hall. 

“Sir,” He begins before he can even note the visitor. “If you could--”

“Mr Ro!”

Jang Won hears her butler’s words fade to a complete silent, only listening to their visitor talk. But it’s strange, because it’s a familiar voice...

Mr Ro cannot believe the sight before his eyes.

“I can’t believe you’re still working here. It’s so great to see you again!” Then the visitor pulls Mr Ro into a hug, harshly patting the space between his shoulder blades. 

The lady of the house cannot take it anymore, not when she can’t eavesdrop on the conversation occurring in her own halls. So she gets up from the table, heels clacking against the marble floor as she heads into the entrance hall.

“Alright now, who’s got the guts to stop me in the middle of my French breakfast this morning?”

Mr Ro turns in silent shock, eyes wide and glaring while Jang Won processes the face of the visitor. 

The man hadn’t looked like he aged a day since he was--

“I’m sorry,” Jang Won scoffs, waving her beautifully done manicured fingernails in the air. “If this is some impractical joke, please do tell because my brain is just about to explode from the sight right now. Y’know,” She gestures to her head and mimics the sound of a bomb. 

“Jang Won...” The visitor strides towards her, arms wide. But she raises a palm and shifts backwards, a cautious half-smile mixed with a frown plastered to her flawless skin. 

“Not another step, nuh-uh,” Waving a finger before his nose, she shakes her head. “There is no way in Hell you can be standing here.”

“Oh, but I am, love,” Once a warm voice that sang her to sleep, Jang Won cannot decide if the tears in her eyes are welling from relief or fear. “I’m home.”

“No... no!” She slaps away his outstretched hands. “We... we buried you...”

“And I can only imagine what you’re feeling right now, my child, but... we have more important things to worry about.”

Mr Ro’s face is contorted with a mess of confusion and anxiety and he watches the first tears fall down Jang Won’s cheeks. 

“What...? ‘More important’-- No, how is anything more important than you... standing here?” The last word comes out like a final breath, at a volume just enough for him to hear. 

“I came bearing news, Jang Won. I-- Well...” He rubs the back of his head, eyes tilted down to his feet. “Because I’ve return to the board of administration now... part of the company now comes back to... me--”

What?

“And... you cannot inherit any part of the company unless you are married to someone from a family from the same administration board.”

Jang Won’s tears solidify into fumes of anger as the thought runs through her neurons. The middle aged man begins to panic when he can read the rage in her eyes, her fists now clenched and the markings of her rings probably embedded into the flesh of her palm. Her knuckles begin to turn white as does his face, ever so slightly.

“Now, now, love. I know what you’re thinking and we can sit down and have a chat about this--”

“‘Sit down and have a chat’?” Jang Won scoffs miserably, lower jaw hanging agape. “Why don’t we sit down and let me ask you whiCH SCIENTIST MADE YOU FRANKENSTEIN?!”

The hallways of the mansion echo the shouts, the sound waves bouncing back and forth between the marble walls mostly adorn with gorgeous, one-in-a-million paintings. 

“That’s not important now, hun. I just need you to understand that without this marriage, you will lose the house and everything you own from HERA & ARTEMIS.”

“I built HERA & ARTEMIS after you were fucking bURIED! Who are you to tell me that you will inherit it ownership and I can’t just because I’m not married?!”

“These were instructions from The Board, Jang Won. I had absolutely no say over this--”

“BULLSHIT! If you have the power to take ownership of HERA & ARTEMIS just because you climbed out of your own grave, why don’t you have the power to help m-- Oh, oh...” Jang Won frowns in disdain, disgust welling her lungs and her gut. 

“What?” His eyes widen and shoulders shrug.

“You came back just to tell me this... because you want HERA & ARTEMIS for yourself.”

“What-- No--”

"You... low-life... scumbag!" The sharp shatter of the glass cabinet behind him echoes through the entrance hall of the mansion. One of the palm-sized statues sitting on the table in the middle of the circular hall lands amongst the billion pieces of glass on the marble floor.

"You give me my freedom and now you tell me I have to get married?!" The final word is literally pushed through her teeth when she cannot clench her jaws even harder. The tremors vibrating up her fist and into her arm and then her entire body makes her look like a volcano ready to erupt, so if these people haven't gotten enough, they have yet to see what's in store.

"Just who the HELL do you think you are?!" Grabbing another one of those tiny statues, Jang Won throws it into the other glass door of the cabinet.

"Jang Won, will you calm down?!"

"Don't you DARE tell me to calm down! You waltz back into this house after GOD knows how long- Hell, we BURIED you!"

"There was a mistake of the body identification and frankly, I expected a warmer welcome from you!"

"HA! A ‘warmer welcome’?! What do you want me to do? Set the entire house on fire? Do you want me to? Because I will!" The man has his brows furrowed back, palms out stretched to her. The mansion staff have all gathered a safe distance around the two of them, Mr Ro and some of those closer to Jang Won trying their best to get to her and calm her nerves but there is just absolutely no way she isn’t going to hurl a brick at her father.

"I can't BELIEVE you're standing there as if you own this place," The muscles around Jang Won’s nose twitches as the frown sinks deeper into her forehead. "I want you to hear this mighty well and crystal clear. You may have been the one who gave me life, but you will never EVER be my dad.”

The huffs that are billowing out Jang Won’s nostrils are starting to hurt.

"There is not a single cent you're stepping on - or touching, for that matter - that belongs to you. The only reason why I haven't fucking put a bullet through your right eye is because I'd go to jail and every thing I've worked for would be thrown out the window.”

“Now, now, love, we can sit down and be civilized about this—”

“Fuck you,” The anger surges through her, and she picks up one more palm-sized statue from the blue resin table. The heavy bronze weight leaves her fingers, and before it can hit the slightly aged man, someone reaches out and catches it instead.

“What the HELL are you doing?!” The scream echoes through the hall of the mansion. Younghoon sighs heavily, hand retreating back to his side as he hands the statue to one of the house staff.

“You have no right to get involved in this—”

“Jang Won, let’s go,” Younghoon strides across the space and grabs her arm, back-facing his father and trying to pull her in the opposite direction. “We can talk about this in your office.”

“How are you thinking straight?! We BURIED him! We watched his coffin get lowered into—”

“I know! I was there!” His eyes flutter shut in frustration, shoulders raising as he sucks in a deep breath, flaring his nostrils. “There’s no point destroying your own property over this. We can carry out some investigations, figure out what really happened, then we’ll work from there.”

The grip on her arm tightens when her instincts try to writhe away from him, but obviously, he doesn’t relent.

“Don’t do it. It’s not worth your time, or mine.”

He stares down at Jang Won, but it doesn’t scare her, not when she has a ghost standing right in the middle of some shattered mess. Not one cut on him.

Younghoon grimly shuts the door as Jang Won stomps over to her office desk and rests her palms flat against the Agar Wood surface. With a sharp, swift feat, she swipes nearly all the documents off the furniture. But when she misses the empty glass (that would usually be filled with some kind of alcohol or soda), she doesn't hesitate to pick it off the desk and propel it into the marble by the television mounted to the wall.

The shatter startles Younghoon as he whips around, eyes darting frantically between her and the mess she’s made.

"Jang Won!"

"Should I be concerned you don't seem one bit bothered that a dead man is standing in our living room - MY living room?"

"That dead man is our father."

"No, that dead man WAS our father before he ditched us! How are you not- UGH!"

Frustrated, furious and absolutely exasperate, she plops down into one of the two sofas sitting in the middle of the office, feet almost tempted to kick the frosted glass table in the middle but she holds herself back. Younghoon manages to get a few house staff into the room, who hurriedly help clear the glass and return the documents to the table. Fingers pressed into her temples, Jang Won could only imagine the gratification she could receive have if she had the chance to ram her first into someone's face.

Younghoon waits for the staff to leave, then stands by the sofa opposite her, one hand on his hip and the other running through his hair. The late morning sun reflects off his soft, dark brown locks when he absent-mindedly rubs the back of his head and he proceeds to unbutton his blazer to allow him a seat. The leather squeaks under his weight before he leans his elbows on his knees, knuckles resting under his lips and chin.

"Please tell me you're actually thinking and not just trying to look pretty. You're in my house now, not some studio photoshoot."

"I'm thinking about where to put a whole person for you."

"Don't bother, he's moved half his things into the first guestroom. He's probably holding a conductor's wand right now and asking the staff to help him with the second half."

"Have you called the funeral services?"

"And say what? 'Hey sir, have you... perhaps mis-screwed a coffin about 2 years back and now we might have a problem of a zombie'?"

"I'm just saying someone might've paid someone to replace the bodies!" Younghoon frowns, eyes stuck to the rug under his feet. "We don't know how it happened but someone MUST know, right?"

"I think your best bet is the asshole living down the hall now."

"He's not gonna budge, we both know that."

"Well, Sherlock Holmes, thanks for pointing out the obvious."

"I'm just trying to help. You need to stop your nonsensical whining and use your brain like how you used it to get all this money."

Jang Won picks up a pillow and hurls it into Younghoon. “You’re lucky you still stick around, else I’d have the both of you screwed over.”

Younghoon catches the pillow, holding it to his side. “The day I stop looking out for you is the day I die, alright? So you can be rest assured I’ll--”

“Miss Kim!” Mr Ro’s voice calls out from outside the office. 

“What is it, Mr Ro?” Younghoon turns and returns the call, head tilted towards the door. It croaks open, and Mr Ro’s eyes are tired, wary as he sticks his head in.

“Your father just left and... and I think you should see the news.” Mr Ro pushes past the heavy door and reaches for the remote sitting on the frosted glass. The television screen mounted above the fire place flickers on, and there it was, her father’s face.

“The Board has just confirmed the ownership of HERA & ARTEMIS will thus forth be returned to Kim Jo-Pil, father of Kim Jang Won, the current owner. Investigations as to Kim Jo-Pil’s supposed death two years ago are still ongoing.”

“I’m gonna kill him.”

“You can’t.”

“Watch me.”

“We’ll be-- Wha-- The Board’s just come in with some new information! Kim JO-Pil has announced a marriage between Kim Jang Won, current owner of HERA & ARTEMIS and Lee Juyeon, the next-in-line to becoming the next Director of Apple, South Korea.”

Younghoon’s eyeballs are about to bludgeon out of his eye sockets. “Jang Won... I know what you’re thinking... But don’t--”

“I’M GONNA FUCKING KILL HIM!”

[justoneofthoseghosts]

Break me + brettsey

A/N: To the anons who requested for this, I tried my best 🥲 Also, you know I love fluff so wow, this was really emotional to write but I do love a challenge so er, grab some tissues maybe.

Warnings: character death

Throughout the years, Sylvie has learned that life isn’t always fair.

No matter how hard she studied for the 2nd grade spelling bee, someone studied harder and got that big, shiny trophy. She had her first kiss at seventeen with a boy she thought she’d love forever but he ended up being a manipulative jerk, just the first of many who turned out to be frogs instead of princes. Her birth mom sought her out and just as they found their footing, she died at child birth.

But this one, it really takes the cake, Sylvie thinks.

She pleaded with Matt to get his cough checked out weeks ago, asking him politely when she noticed it getting more and more frequent. It crept in especially late at night in bed when they were supposed to be sleeping, instead, she would hear him try to stifle it so as not to wake her. He shrugged it off and told her not to worry, which is classic Matt. She should have known. Even after all these years, her husband is still so stubborn.

One night, when the coughing won’t stop, she manages to get through to him and he agrees to go to the ED. Sylvie grabs the car keys and leads him out the door.

They greet the new charge nurse, who brings them into a treatment room. Sylvie doesn’t think much of it as Ethan comes in and they make small talk and catch up with the ED chief, who at 70 seems to show no signs of retiring. He orders a few standard tests. They wheel Matt off to get an x ray while Sylvie goes to grab a snack from the vending machine.

When Ethan finds her forty minutes later, his face is grim. Her heart drops to the pit of her stomach and she knows it’s not just an ordinary cough.

Stage 4 lung cancer.

Matt Casey, retired CFD battalion chief has stage 4 lung cancer.

It’s like a cruel joke. Matt’s never smoked a single cigarette in his life but his career as a firefighter has finally caught up with him - all the fumes, the smoke, the dust have made their way into his lungs. Sylvie doesn’t cry while the oncologist takes them through their options. She’d gladly sit through a hundred rounds of chemo with Matt if needed.

Except he doesn’t want that.

They argue about it for several weeks. Matt says he wants to spend the rest of his days at home, maybe they can rent a cabin in the woods in Michigan where the air is fresh, the sky is blue and they can just be, waiting for the inevitable.

“Matt,” she starts to say, an edge in her tone. They've been going around in circles and Sylvie is ready to put her foot down.

Matt shakes his head, taking her hand and gently telling her what he's been repeating since that day they found out, “I’ve lived a full life. We have these great kids and grandkids. I can’t ask for anything more.”

Sylvie yanks her hand out of his grasp. She's had enough.

“What would you do if it were the other way around?” She yells, her voice trembling slightly. She doesn’t think she’s every screamed at him this loudly in all their years together but she doesn’t want to give up. She needs him to understand.

Matt sighs, running a hand through his now grey hair. After a beat, he looks her in the eye. She knows he can't lie and say he'll take it lying down if she were to tell him what he's been parroting.

“I’d be begging you to get the treatment because I couldn’t bear to live a day without you,” he admits quietly.

They hold each other’s gazes, neither willing to concede.

“Please, Matt,” Sylvie whispers as she feels the tears threatening to fall. She grabs hold of his arm, squeezing it. She needs him to fight, if not for himself then for her because she doesn't think she can handle life without him, not quite yet.

He finally relents, “okay, okay, we’ll get the chemo.”

He wraps his arms around her and pulls her close. Sylvie burrows deeper into his embrace, sobbing. She cries for the first time since they found out about the cancer and Matt rubs his hand over her back, comforting her.

Sylvie drives Matt to the hospital for his rounds of chemo while he jokes about shaving off his hair. One night, she wakes up to find his side of the bed empty and the light in the bathroom on. She peers in and sees him kneeling in front of the toilet, vomiting. She takes a seat beside him and quietly helps him, remembering their wedding vows.

In sickness and in health.

On the side, she starts to volunteer for the CFD’s firefighters cancer network, trying to raise more awareness on the dangers of such a noble job. She cheers with Matt one Spring morning when Gallo, Violet and Ritter decide to run the half marathon in full firefighter gear, in support of the cause. She’s glad that even if they’ve both retired, 51 still remains to be a part of their family.

Six months in, the doctor tells them that the chemo isn’t working as well as he hoped and the prognosis isn’t good. Sylvie still wants to continue but Matt sits her down one night after dinner.

“I think it’s time we just wait this out, Syl.” He tells her gently, interlacing his fingers in hers.

Sylvie wants to say no because this can’t be how it ends for him, someone spent his life saving people is about to succumb to a deadly, incurable disease. It really, truly is unfair.

But at the same time, she understands his request. He doesn’t want to put their family through another roller coaster ride of emotions, of uncertainty, waiting for the other shoe to drop. He’s saying he wants to take the reins and do it his way.

It reminds Sylvie of that quote from Harry Potter she read when she was younger.

To the well organized mind, death is but the next great adventure.

She didn't understand it at all at thirteen but she does now, glancing over at Matt and seeing the steely resolve in his eyes.

They’ve been together for over 30 years. They’ve built a home filled with love and kindness, full of laughter and running blonde children who all grew up to be exceptional adults with thriving careers. They have two wonderful, adorable grandchildren. She remembers what Matt told her, how he’s lived a full life.

She feels a tear slide down her cheek and Matt’s other hand brushes it away. She knows the next word coming out of her mouth will break her heart but she says it anyway because it's what's right.

“Okay.”

There’s something in the air, Sylvie thinks and her soul begins to fill with dread. Today, it seems, is the day. Matt’s been in bed for the last three days, not really able to move or eat much. Without the chemo, the doctor told them he had about three months to live and with each day that passed after that, Sylvie started to feel hope that maybe he had more to give.

It’s been a little over a year since the diagnosis. Sylvie’s trying to read a book while Matt is taking a nap. She’s distracted by her thoughts but hears him whisper.

“I think it’s time.”

She nods, her lower lip quivering. She approaches him and kisses the top of his head before making her way out of the room to make a few phone calls.

The house starts to fill with family and friends arriving to say their last good byes. Their kids are here, surrounding their dad and telling stories about how Matt always put them first no matter what. The remaining members of their second shift at 51 start to trickle in one by one. Sylvie told them it was going to be a celebration of Matt’s life, how she didn’t want them to mope around because it isn’t what he would want so they laugh and jest until late in the evening.

Matt kisses his grandkids one last time before they leave and Sylvie climbs into bed with him. He rests his head on her shoulder as she holds his hand and watches his eyes flutter close and his breathing gradually stop.

Sylvie recollects their many years together - growing from friends to something deeper, the first time Matt swung like Tarzan from the aerial after they got together and Sylvie telling him never to do it again and of course he did many more time and she never really stopped worrying, buying a house, their wedding day, the birth of their children, sending off each kid to preschool up until watching them graduate from college, meeting their grandchildren for the first time, celebrating personal and professional milestones together, cheering each other on.

She looks at her husband’s still form thinking yes, it has been a full life.

[durmstrange]

To You - Remus Lupin

Hello and welcome to another Remus fic!  This is a Remus x Hufflepuff!Reader.  Hope you enjoy!

Word count: 1,998

There had been slight suspicions in the back of your mind for well over a year now that Remus was keeping a secret from you, one you were dying to know.  You would never pressure him to tell you, regardless of how bad you wanted to know, but you couldn’t help but to want to ask him outright what his deal was and why he thought he could hide it from you of all people.

Remus had become a quick friend of yours early on in your schooling.  You shared an interest in what was right, in education, and more specifically, in charms lessons.  Over the first few years, he introduced you to his friends in Gryffindor, and you introduced your own, who continually questioned how someone as shy as you were able to get in with the infamously popular group.  Regardless, Remus had become your closest friend and grown with you by his side.  In time, you shamefully began developing feelings for your closest friend, and as you struggled to show it, or hint at it, even, it became more and more difficult to ignore it when he was avoiding you.

One particular Saturday during your fifth year, you packed up your belongings in your common room, hoping to catch Remus before you had to run out for your Astronomy lessons.  You ran up the stairs towards the Great Hall, your too-long black and yellow cloak constantly catching around your ankles as you rushed along.  The moment you made it into the Great Hall, your heart sunk when you spotted James, Peter, and Sirius sitting together without Remus.  With the ghost of a frown on your lips, you turned from the Great Hall and began walking slowly towards the Astronomy Tower with your head down.

For the last week or so, Remus had been avoiding you at all costs, to the point of even leaving the room when you enter.  Since the start of term in September, after coming back from summer holiday, Remus felt distant to you, something foreign to you and you hated it more than anything.  

“(Y/N)!”  You heard a voice call as you made it up the first few flights of stairs.  You turned, a solemn look on your face as Sirius raced up the stairs.  “I assume you were looking for Moony, yeah?”  He asked as he caught up, putting his hands into his pockets with a smirk on his lips.  The nickname loomed in your mind, one you never used for Remus, but his friends did.

Your cheeks reddened and you ducked your head slightly.  “Yeah, I was.  I haven’t caught up to him in a couple days, so I was hoping to see him,” you explained airily to the haughty boy who became an odd friend of yours.

Sirius hummed as he leaned against the wall of the corridor, looking effortlessly cool.  “Well, I happen to know where he is, if you’d like to know?” 

For a moment, you considered asking him.  However, doubt filled your mind and your eyes stung as tears developed in your eyes.  “No, that’s fine.  If he wants to avoid me, I’ll let him.  I’ll stop trying to track him down, seeing at there is nothing I can do,” you answered quietly as you looked away from Sirius and began up the stairs once more, leaving him in his spot.

Sirius frowned at you as you walked away, watching your head hand and your shoulders sag forward in disappointment.  He crossed his own arms over his chest as he made his way back down the stairs, towards the Hospital Wing. 

Sirius flung the door open, making Madam Pomfrey look up from her desk in the back of the room, an annoyed look on her face.  “Hello, Poppy, darling,” Sirius announced once he saw the room was empty.  

Madam Pomfrey rolled her eyes at the student.  “For the last time, Mr. Black, you will refer to me as ‘Madam Pomfrey’.”

With an absentminded hum, Sirius made his way towards the room adjacent to her desk.  “Is he in there?” 

“Yes, he is.  He should be resting, Mr. Black,” Madam Pomfrey scolded, but made no effort to stop Sirius as he opened the door and strolled right into the small room with a cot against the wall.  

Remus’ eyes fluttered open at the light coming into the roof, and squinted as Sirius used his wand to light a lamp in the center of the room.  “Rise and shine, Moony,” Sirius announced as he opened the curtains around the room, allowing the setting sun to come in. 

Remus sat up on one elbow, his hair disheveled and a tired look on his face.  There was a fresh cut down the side of his face, near his hairline.  “Sirius, what do you want?”  He questioned in a biting tone. 

Sirius pulled up the only chair in the room next to the cot and crossed one leg over the other.  “Well, you see, you are about to make irrevocable damage to your relationship with (Y/N), and knowing how much you absolutely fancy her, I simply cannot let that happen.  Man up, now, tell her your dirty little secret, and kiss her already,” Sirius explained as he twirled his wand around his fingers, a bored look on his face. 

Remus fell back on the cot and groaned as he took the pillow, using it to cover his face.  “You know I can’t,” Remus muttered into the pillow before moving it behind his head once more.  “(Y/N) will never want to speak to me again, and that is if she doesn’t tell the entire school of my condition.”  Remus stared up at the high ceiling with an annoyed look on his face. 

With another hum, Sirius took the pillow from beneath Remus’ head and tossed it across the room as Remus’ head fell back, making him grunt.  “Would it change your mind to know that she was in tears when talking to me earlier because of the fact you’re avoiding her?” 

“No.”

Sirius scoffed.  “Selfish git,” he muttered and put both feet on the floor once more and leaned over Remus.  “For the record, I think you’re hurting her more by avoiding her than it will to just tell her the truth.  I think nothing could change your opinion of you.”  Sirius stood, walking towards the door once more. 

Remus watched his friend, a stubborn look on his face and narrowed eyes.  As Sirius was stepping through the door, Remus spoke again.  “Was she really crying?”  Remus asked sadly, sitting up and wincing as he covered his side with his hand. 

“She’s gutted,” Sirius confirmed over his shoulder.  “Shows what kind of friend you are, treating her like this.  Perhaps I’ll ask her on a date then, to get her spirits up and all,” Sirius pondered as he faced away from Remus, a smirk on his lips. 

“You wouldn’t,” Remus muttered and swung his legs over the side of the bed, standing his full height and revealing the bruising down his side.  “Where is she?”  Remus asked as he carefully pulled a long sleeved shirt over his head. 

Sirius smirked, leaning on the door pane.  “Was heading up to Astronomy lessons only a moment ago.  I suppose she will be done in an hour or two.  Better hope you get to her before I do,” he said haughtily before kicking off the door and through the Hospital Wing.  “Au revoir, Poppy,” Sirius called as Remus listened to the heavy doors close. 

~.~

Exactly two hours later, Remus leaned against the corridor wall across from the ladder that lead to the Astronomy Tower.  His side still ached, but Madam Pomfrey was able to heal the scarring down his face quite well, to the point where it was only a thin, white line.  His eyes remained low as he waited patiently for you to descend from class.

After a few moments, Remus heard the latch of the trap door open and quickly, one by one, students climbed down the ladder quickly, waiting in the bottom for their friends. He watched as you climbed down carefully, your eyes remaining on your feet until you got to the bottom.  You turned without even spotting Remus and began your walk back to the basements, to your common room.

“(Y/N),” he called then, causing you to turn in surprise.  Upon seeing Remus, your faint smile faltered and you looked down to the floor, trying to avoid eye contact with him.  He stepped forward, his hands in his pockets as he muffled the flinch he felt coming from the pain in his side.  “Can we talk?”  His question came out more awkward than he intended and he ducked his head as well. 

You shifted gently, checking you watch.  “I’ve got to be getting back before curfew,” you answered gently, but Remus could see right through you.

With a gentle roll of his eyes, he held his hand out to you.  “You know I’m a prefect,” he reminded you with a laugh and smiled faintly.  “Come on, just a moment.” 

Hesitantly, you placed your hand in his and allowed him to lead you away from the rest of the students, towards the Gryffindor Tower.  “I shouldn’t have been avoiding you,” Remus finally admitted as he slowed to a stop in an empty corridor and leaned against one of the stone columns against the wall. 

As you stood in front of him, holding your book in one arm and running your fingers along the pages, you shrugged.  “That’s your choice,” you murmured sadly in response and glanced down. 

Remus pressed his lips together.  “(Y/N), please know that I was only doing so to protect you,” Remus explained in an exasperated voice.  “I don’t want to lose you.” 

Frustration built in your mind and you shook your head at Remus.  “I don’t understand that you could possibly think you are protecting me from, when you’re only hurting me more by avoiding me.  How could you be so daft to think some silly secret of yours would push me away from you?  Have you not noticed how much you mean to me?” you snapped at him as you crossed your arms over your book.

For a moment, both you and Remus remained quite as you fumed at him and his face remained blank.  Remus finally sighed heavily and looked away, glancing up and down the corridor they were in.  “(Y/N), I was bitten by a lycanthrope when I was a child,” he finally admitted quietly and in a sad voice as he searched your face for any sort of reaction. 

“So, you’re a werewolf?  That’s what you’ve been hiding from me?”  Remus nodded then, waiting your face an awaiting your reaction.  “And you thought that was enough for me to hate you?  Bloody hell, Remus, the reason I hate you at the moment is for thinking so little of me!”  Remus’ face fell for a moment, taking in her words, before a small smile formed on his face.  He opened his mouth to speak, but you held your hand up, stopping him.  “Perhaps you’ve yet to notice how much I fancy you, Remus.  Literally anything you can tell me is so little compared to how much I fancy you.” 

Remus held a smile on his lips that was blissful and kind and he ducked his head gently, shaking it a bit.  “You’re unbelievable, you know?”  He reached his hand to you, hoping you’d take it.

A slight pout remained on your face as you hesitated a moment, but put your hand in his and allowed Remus to pull you forward, into his arms.  Remus held you in silence, pressing his lips to the top of your head every so often.  “I promise I’ll never be so foolish again,” Remus murmured into your hair, a faint smirk playing on his lips. 

You hummed, leaning up to look at him.  “We’ll see about that, Remus.”

-

durmstrange’s Taglist:  @starlightweasley​ @theweasleysredhair​ @whiz-bangs78​ @hufflepuffgirly​ @tonksichu​ @toomanybandstocare​​ @mentally-in-northern-italy​​ @alwaysasadaesthetic​​ @through-the-little-door​ @clandestinecherry​

[ignitedbynatsu]

Violence Is Not The Answer... Or Is It?

A/N: I really let myself go with this one 🤭 @whatismatildethinkingabout I hope you like it! I’m sorry if you don’t want it as a prequel to your previous request I just had this idea and wanted to write it out 😅 thank you for requesting and the support! Don’t hesitate to stop by again! ❤️

Warnings: bullying, swearing, violence

Genre: angst with some comfort

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There was a new confidence brewing inside of Noah. The kids from Fairy Tail being the main reason for it. The way they showed that they were willing to learn sign language for him, someone they had never talked to before, melted his heart. It showed him that it was okay to be different. That he shouldn't be ashamed of his hearing loss. In fact, he slowly but surely started to accept it.

To prove that he was getting more independent, he wanted to show his parents that he was capable of going to town with just his friends. To say that Laxus and you were hesitant about this idea at first was an understatement, but when you saw the determination in his eyes, you couldn't refuse. He'll have to learn sooner or later, eventually. 

"Be back by sunset!" Lucy called after her daughter who was basically jumping at the entrance of the guild, ready to go.

You chuckled softly at their antics before turning to your son. "Be careful, okay? You do not need to feel ashamed if it gets scary or overwhelming and you wanna come back. Stay close to Nalu, okay?" You moved your hands accordingly to represent every word you spoke.

'I promise, I love you mommy' he promised before giving you a big hug.

Anxiousness filled your whole body as you watched your boy leave the guild with his new friends.

"They'll be fine, the kids will look out for him" Levy reassured you as she noticed your lingering stare.

"Nalu promised me she'll keep an extra eye on him. She feels responsible, saying it's her duty because she's the oldest" Lucy offered you a kind smile.

"Thank you. I'm so proud of him, and yet I'm terrified. After all, it's only been a couple of weeks since he opened up to the others" You confessed as you broke your gaze away from the big wooden doors to look at your friends.

"That's normal. I felt the same when the twins first went out" Juvia also joined the small group of mothers. "You just gotta trust him and the others. I'm sure everything will be fine"

However, after not even an hour in Magnolia, Noah had already lost the group in the sea of people. Sunday's were the busiest days for the town due to the market.

Looking for his small body in the crowd was near too impossible and calling out to him was also not an option, however, the Fairy Tail children did not intend to give up on their new friend. Partially because they were scared to face their parent's wrath, but mostly because they couldn't fathom how scared he must be.

Noah's eyes darted around him in a desperate attempt to catch even a glimpse of the others, but it was hopeless. They were nowhere in sight.

While scanning his surroundings, the smaller mage wasn't really paying attention to where he was going, resulting in him bumping into someone.

"Watch where you're going, loser" the older boy snapped at Noah who didn't understand a word he was saying. "What? You're not even going to apologize?"

The child moved his hands to spell out that he was sorry and couldn't understand him, but this only made the elder boy laugh "guys, take a look at this, we got ourselves a deaf kid"

His friends soon surrounded Noah, making him cower in fear at so many unknown faces and no way to communicate. "Let's go for a walk, shall we?"

A hand firmly pushed Noah forward, signalling him to follow what he presumed was their 'leader' to a more abandoned street.

Fear washed over him as he took in his unknown surroundings. What were they gonna do to him? That question was quickly answered as soon as he got pushed down to the ground.

"I heard some money rattling" a girl from the group piped up as they stood a bit more to the side, shielding the event that was happening before them from prying eyes.

Sure enough, Laxus and you had given him some money to buy something he'd fancied at the market, but that got quickly snatched away the moment the remark left the girls mouth.

In a desperate attempt to take back the money, he let electricity crackle around his fingers ready to shoot it at the boy in front of him, but it was futile. The boy noticed the spark and stepped on his hand in an attempt to make him stop, this earned him a cry from Noah. From that moment, he decided it was best to not agitate them further and to just obey them to the best of his abilities. 

The elder boy removed his foot from Noah's hand and crouched in front of him, tilting his head slightly to the side as he observed the scared child in front of him "you really are pathetic aren't ya? No hearing, not being able to stand up for yourself, and apparently your magic isn't even that good. People like you don't belong here. You're a hindrance. A weight that drags people down. No wonder why mommy and daddy left you to wander the streets alone"

Even though Noah couldn't hear a thing, the way the leaders' friends laughed when he was done talking, was enough proof that he had said something to mock him.

"Oi! What the fuck do you think you're doing" Nalu voice ringed through the nearly empty street. 

"Shit, it's the Fairy Tail kids" one of the members mumbled as they took notice of the said children.

Their leader glanced at Noah one last time before motioning his group to follow him "let's just go"

Tobi and Mei were quickly by Noah's side, examining his wounds, while Nalu's eyes trailed the retrieving group, her orbs were swimming with hatred. How could anyone do such a thing? Let alone to such an innocent kid like Noah.

The shaken up child finally let out the sobs he was holding in for so long, clinging on to Mei in the process who was softly stroking his hair. Her eyes shot to the others in an attempt to ask for help. "Let's go somewhere else"

Tobi carefully helped Noah up as they followed Nalu to a more secluded place in the park, giving them the privacy they needed. "Noah, what happened?" Mei carefully matched her hand movements with what she was saying as they all waited patiently for his response.

After his explanation, he made the other children promise to not tell their parents what happened. He didn't want to feel like he was an even bigger burden than he already was. Even though he was still very young, he knew his parents had to go out of their way so many times just so they could satisfy his needs. He felt selfish and stupid. Why wasn't he just normal? All the confidence that he had built up over the past weeks had crumbled down in just this one moment.

Once Noah had calmed down, they decided it was best if they headed back to the guild. Defeated and unsure what to do with the situation, they each went their separate ways when they set foot in Fairy Tail.

At first, the parents didn't think anything strange from it, but when Noah broke all contact with the others and went back to his insecure and timid self, they knew something was up.

You had tried talking to him, trying to break down his walls that were seemingly higher than before, but he always shut you down, burying his head deeper in your side in an attempt to avoid confrontation. In a final attempt to understand what was going on, you voiced your concerns with the other mothers, who in their turn questioned their kids.

It was only when the youngest, Kai, Levy and Gajeel's kid, broke down, that they realised that this wasn't just an ordinary fight or dispute.

"Nalu, enough with this so-called 'everything is fine act'. You tell us what's going on right now. I won't ask again" she knew that when her father got involved and serious, the situation was way graver than what she had originally anticipated.

"Noah got separated from us at one point when we were walking around the market. We did everything we could to find him, but when we did, we saw that he was getting bullied by some older kids" she confessed with her eyes cast to the ground, she was ashamed that she couldn't fulfil her promise to look out for Noah. Nalu didn't care that she broke her promise to Noah. She didn't like that he was distancing himself from them again. If getting the adults involved meant getting their friend back, so was willing to take the risk.

Noah was placed on your hip, hands clutching your shirt as if his life depended on it. He knew they were talking about him, about what had happened. He couldn't be mad at Nalu for breaking their promise 'cause he knew the truth had to come out sooner or later. He just wished it would've been later.

"I'm going to murder that punk" Laxus seethed as he thought about how scared Noah must've felt at that moment. How could anyone do such a thing and think it's okay?

"That's not an option, and you know it. I'm just as upset as you are, but violence is not the answer." You stated calmly as you rocked your body softly along with Noah's.

"How can you say such a thing when they hurt our son!? How can you be so calm about this?" Laxus fumed, unable to understand how you weren't as livid as him. Truth be told, you were nowhere near calm, in fact, you were just as livid as him, but you had to keep your cool. If you'd let your emotions take the upper hand, you'd just upset Noah more, and that was the last thing you wanted to do.

"Stop it. Both of you." Lucy hissed "Fighting amongst yourselves isn't going to help this situation, nor is it going to help Noah"

"You're right" you agreed "We're going home. I don't need you to upset him even more. Come back when you've cooled down" With that, you left the guild with Noah still on your hip, your arms wrapped around him a little tighter than normal. 

"Unbelievable" Laxus sighed in frustration at your attitude.

"Look, I know where you're coming from, but (Y/N) is right, violence isn't the answer" Gajeel stated, earning a sharp glare from the blonde before continuing "but, no harm is done when we go pay them a visit and I don't know... Maybe threaten them a bit, am I right?"

The sinister glint that sparked in the iron dragon slayer was enough to get Laxus to agree along with the other fathers. Those kids had chosen the wrong child to mess with.

You can only imagine the shock Noah and you experienced when those bullies stopped by the guild the next day to apologize for what they had done. They even had learned how to say sorry in sign language.

"Laxus" you narrowed your eyes at your husband "what did you do"

"I didn't use violence if that's what you're asking" he smirked as he slung an arm around your shoulder "you didn't say anything about threatening, though"

You were about to scold him, telling him how even though you did absolutely not condone those bullies their actions, especially since it was against your child, they were still just kids, but you quickly shut up when Nalu stepped in and swung her right arm forward, her right fist colliding with the nose of the group's leader.

Nalu, Tobi and Kai stood in front of them while Mei stood next to Noah, explaining everything that was being said with her hands "They may only be able to threaten you 'cause they're adults and you're still just children, but that doesn't count for us" Nalu's eyes held the same rage when she first laid eyes on them when they stood over Noah's defenceless body.

"If you ever dare to lay a hand on our friend again, we won't hesitate to break more than just your nose, are we clear?" Tobi finished their threat.

"Yes," his eyes were wide, like a deer that got caught in headlights. His friends all cowered behind him. 

"Now scram!" Kai yelled at which they hurriedly made their way out of the guild.

As on cue, all the kids their names were called out by their mothers, each and every one of them earning a scolding, while their fathers were stood on the side, stifling their laughter and a look of pride plastered upon their face.

Noah looked at his friends with newfound wonder. They stood up for him. They thought that he was deserving enough to get in trouble for. They called him their friend.

As tears were forming in the brim of his eyes, he ran forward to his friends, not caring if they were in the middle of getting scolded and tackled them all in a hug.

A sob passed Noah's lips, letting out all the stress and emotions that he had cropped up since the incident. This resulted in an even tighter group hug from the others.

Noah was the first to break apart 'thank you all for what you did to me' his hand moved ever so smoothly as he told them how grateful he was even though words, or even hand gestures, couldn't describe how he truly felt.

"That's what friends are for" another hug followed as soon as Mei's hands stopped moving.

"I guess violence was the option" Laxus mumbled in your ear as he hugged you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder in the progress.

"Don't ruin the moment" you flicked his head softly, earning a chuckle from him.

Fairy Tail had proven once again that they weren't just a guild filled with friends, no, they were a family. A family you do not want to mess with.

[the-voltage-diaries]

Το Βόρειο Αστέρι μου - Lucifer x Diavolo

AO3 Link

Το Βόρειο Αστέρι μου: Greek for ‘My Polar Star’

Word Count: 1859

A/N: I don’t know what this is. All I know is that @simpingw0lfi3​​​​​​​ refused to do it, so I did. Of course, please don’t expect this to be perfect because... it really isn’t. 

Vote of thanks: @akaiiro-yume​​​​​ for checking and correcting all the grammatical fuck ups I did, making sure I didn’t stop writing this halfway and going through any mental breakdown I might have had instead for me. And, of course, @some-ikemen-snob​​​​​ for making sure this SCREAMED Lucifer energy this way and that. only for now, but ily both.

Devildom 14th February, 20XX Saturday, 7:57 PM

Dear Diary,

      I suppose I've never written a journal entry such as this in the past, for I haven't found either the desire or the will to task myself with writing my thoughts down in a manner wherein I speak to an inanimate object. That said, I have been told writing is, in a manner of speaking, therapeutic, and I believe I could do with some of that right now. It would be false to assume I don’t still harbour any inhibitions towards using my time in this manner, especially when I'd much rather be by Diavolo’s side. The very same Diavolo who, as a matter of fact, happens to be the subject of this writing session today. Strangely enough, and if I recall correctly, he was also the one who introduced - which is putting it rather mildly - me to the “art” of journal entries. I admit, I haven’t given this activity the kind of gravity which was probably expected out of me, but then again, today is a little different from the rest. I'm not entirely certain as to where to begin, but I do believe I have been told in situations like these, one should do whatever... feels right.

      Diavolo is... well, where do I even begin? He is the future of Devildom, as a few might call it - myself included. While he does appear to be quite the cheerful and at times careless lord, it’d be a lie to deny that he is just as wise and compassionate underneath that wave of buoyancy radiating off of him. Honest to a fault, but with his moral compass always pointing towards the best interest of those around him. I’ll admit, sometimes it proves to be rather difficult to believe that he indeed is a demon. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to compare him to the Polaris considering he does quite radiate the charisma from himself, shining admirably amidst a dark sea of onlookers. While in name he rules over all the demons in the land of Devildom, the right set of eyes won’t take too long to deduce the eloquence with which his fingers reach out to the soul of every single resident of the land, holding them together better than gravity ever bound humans to the earth. 

      Saying that is all there is to him would be a lie whiter than the wet snow, making its way to the tips of my fingers and sliding off gently onto this page. That, of course, doesn’t mean describing how I feel towards him is no herculean task. There are some cases when a language -  no matter the plethora of vocabulary it offers - just isn’t sufficient enough, and this certainly is one of those cases. For the time being, let’s just owe my lack of articulacy to the bond of mutual respect and trust Diavolo and I share, built over centuries upon centuries, braving the ravages of time, and even perhaps the less than pleasing antics my brothers tend to pull. But while the impression the ruler of all demons and I tend to emit may seem to be distanced by a careful degree of professionalism, I don’t believe anybody knows that that might not be the case. Even Diavolo himself. Doesn’t come as a surprise, really, for they simply can’t know.

      Why do I believe that to not be the case, then? Well, I would wonder why I felt so strongly about it had I not known the reason myself. The very same reason which is now a secret so surreptitious that I can’t help but consider burning this piece of paper once I finish writing to ensure it is never revealed to another set of eyes. Such dastardly is the nature of this emotion, tricking one into its delusive warmth, encompassing them with the belief that nothing truly is impossible, that what they feel might just be true and meaningful enough to be returned by the other they feel for, only to cackle with glee and turn away when the reality doesn’t match the fantasy it was believed to turn out to be. The very same emotion which in layman’s terms is apparently called... love.

      I’m not entirely certain I understand the extent of its exquisite existence myself, to be truthful. All I know is no matter how intensely I try to shut the door on its escaping fumes, it turns futile the second I lay my eyes on the man in question. While the rest of the known universe sees an omnipotent leader binding everyone together, making them sing the same tune in harmony, I see what I can only consider an anchor, grounding me, making it so that I can’t ever fall into the abyss of the darkness that breathes inside of me and float away. He is the quintessence of the best of what the world has to offer, with his golden eyes sparkling like stardust, weaving their ever-lasting magic into the hearts of whoever they come across - be it human, or demon, or angel - wrapping them in their never-ending warmth, letting them sink into the depths of benevolence they promise. His hair are the cerise of a raging inferno, sheltering beneath their canopy a quick, sensible, erudite mind. His smile is but a warm culmination of everything optimistic and positive, like a flame inviting moths to it, reaching out to give their innermost yearnings a hand to grab on to and never let go. Simply divine. And this is where the paths diverge, I suppose.

      They see a to-be Demon King, I see Diavolo.

      But alas, love is a fickle mistress. Getting too lost in the charm of her alluring arms will only result in a doom of them wrapping around your neck, enticing, until you realise their hold is tightening. Not to hold on, but to suffocate. I might have gotten so lost in that fiery gaze that I didn’t notice it start to crawl along my skin, leaving a charred, burnt path in its wake. The very anchor which I believed to be the one to ground me and hold me close etched itself deeper into the oceanic floor of delirium, drowning me. The threads of his stardust wrapped themselves around me and clutched hard enough to strangle. Before I knew it, the symphony of something meaningful became the cacophony of a nightmare.

      This red thread strung through itself earlier today the series of events I’d rather forget. I’ve known how I feel towards Diavolo for a while now, and I had been searching for an opportunity to come clean and let him know about it for the last few days. Not to say I hadn’t gotten said opportunities at all, but one could owe it to me being too prideful to admit I was finally opening up to the idea of accepting feelings and... emotions. Around that time was when Solomon let slip a few details about the significance of Valentine’s day in the human world as an annual occurrence to celebrate romantic love, friendship, and admiration, and with enough persistence, Asmodeus managed to convince Diavolo to declare the day as an official holiday. Just a few hours ago I walked along the empty hallways to Diavolo’s office, knowing him, Barbatos and I to be the only ones in the building, still choosing work over any form of inactivity. By then, I had talked myself into finally telling the most powerful of all demons about the feelings I harboured towards him. I am a little embarrassed to admit that I was indeed a tad hopeful, wishing for the feelings to be returned. Once I reached the door to his private office, my hand settled above the smooth hardwood to give it a knock. And that’s when I noticed that the door was already slightly ajar. I heard a voice inside, other than Diavolo’s, and I took the liberty to glance inside, only for my hopes to come crashing down when the realisation struck me: I shouldn’t have done that.

      Inside his office, Diavolo sat in his seat with his mouth pressed against another, a hand trailing across the small face with dark green locks framing it with elegance while the other held on to the person’s waist, pulling him closer. My eyes widened when the smaller man of the two let out a muffled whimper, perched on Diavolo’s lap. Barbatos. I felt my heart squeeze out a pained croak at the sight, and even though every single nerve in my body begged me to move away and forget I ever saw anything, my legs didn’t move. They stayed glued to their spot on the floor even as I felt it crumble beneath my feet, just the way my eyes stayed on Diavolo. My lip trembled with a longing I never thought I’d experience when Barbatos intertwined his fingers with Diavolo’s, smiling into the kiss they shared, like the perfect harmony which was always meant to be. It was when Diavolo broke the kiss, eyes meeting the other’s and whispers of love and confessions floating across the room until they settled on my ears, that I finally felt the mask crack. The facade I had worked on for centuries to lay the foundation of crumbled as my fists clenched, letting myself have a moment of weakness when a lone tear of frustration, delay, anger, and self loathing dripped down my cheek. I looked up at the ceiling, a voiceless laugh tumbling across my lips at the cognisance that the Polaris I was reaching out for, shining proud in the middle of a dark, cloudless sky, was beyond my reach, and... never supposed to be mine. How far I could stretch, how willing were my fingers to make one last attempt to touch it’s light and bask in it - all of that didn’t matter anymore.

      I exhaled a shaky breath, blinking once as I tucked away whatever it is I was going to tell Diavolo in some corner of my mind, crushing the key with a hard snap of my fingers. My eyes found Barbatos again, glazing over with a heartfelt wish for him to find his happiness, at least. It was with one last aching smile towards Diavolo and a euphoric laugh spilling from Barbatos’ lips that I turned on my heel, shaking my head at the fate I was handed. Needless to say, I hold no malice towards either of them - they’re both precious to me, as much as I dislike admitting it.

      I believe I have shared more than what was required, and I shall burn this piece of paper lest anyone finds it. One might call it wishful thinking on my part, but I do pray that watching the last signs of anything I harbour towards the one who wasn’t meant to be mine from the start burn as the embers of the fire consume it whole makes me put a lid on my feelings once and for all, for they were never supposed matter. They weren’t supposed to exist to begin with.

      After all, only a prince deserves a fairy-tale with a happy ending, and I am no prince.

Lucifer.

[tweetracer]

Hello, I love your work and writing style. I was wondering, since none of the Lost boys is what you could call a boyfriend material - how would they deal with being in a long-term relationship? What would be the biggest challenge for each of them? And maybe for you as their partner? I would love to hear your thoughts.

LOST BOYS + RELATIONSHIP STRUGGLES

DAVID

As an immortal, David lives his life fast-paced and reckless. The people he brings into his world (save for his boys of course) are there for kicks until he grows tired. It’s not the best model for a relationship of course but he never had to worry about anything being truly long-term.

That was until he met you, of course.

The moment he realized he wanted you to be in his life forever he panicked. He’d never wanted anything to be in his life forever- at least nothing he didn’t already have.

But you? You were special- and he wanted you to be with him.

You knew what he was- it was one of the things he loved about you. You knew and you still loved him, you still cared for him even though he was... a monster.

The second he realized he loved you he asked to turn you. He wanted you in his life forever and since he wanted it obviously you did too.

When you turned him down he was crushed. Why? Was it him?

Well.... no... but also yes...?

He was rough and tumble- and while you definitely dug the ‘bad boy’ aesthetic- you also wanted someone who wasn’t scared to be soft with you. David struggled to show his gentleness even when the two of you were alone and...

....while that was fine for a fling....

You expected the moping- hell, you expected him to dump you on the spot.... but he didn’t. He fucked off to the cave for a few days, sitting in his chair- unmoving and so deep in thought you’d think he was a statue.

When you finally spotted him at the boardwalk again, he made a bee-line towards you. Confused, you watched him stomp right up to you, grab your wrist, and pull you into a telenovela-style dip and kissed you right then and there.

He....He could be a bad boy and still love on his kitten..

While PDA and emotional communication still weren’t exactly.. his strong suit he was working harder to be more open about his feelings.

DWAYNE

At first glance Dwayne is everything you could want out of a long-term relationship.

He’s kind, courteous, considerate. He’s like a (sort of) living security blanket. His constant calmness is enough to calm even the worst of your moods..

The only issue is he’s always calm.

You have literally never seen this guy get angry- he always handles you like you’re made of glass. You know comparably you are considerably more fragile but god.

He keeps his feelings and opinions under such tight wraps you might as well be dating a fucking bedside table.

You kept most of your frustrations to yourself, not wanting to really shake the boat but all of these small annoyances built up slowly till it felt like you were going to explode.

The straw that broke the camel’s back was so small in hindsight it was surprising that it was the catalyst. You asked him what he wanted for dinner.

“Whatever you want to eat”

“Dwayne, what do you want for dinner”

His responding shrug and assurance that he’ll like whatever you pick made you fucking explode.

He stood there, wide-eyed as you chewed him out. ‘For god’s sake can’t you ever have an opinion on something?’ ‘You’re being a doormat- you’re a literal vampire have some fucking spine’

When you stormed off he still stood there, blinking and shocked as he tried to really process what you said.

You didn’t see him for the rest of the night and when you went home the cave was empty. Content to fume for a while longer you didn’t see him again until you were out on the boardwalk the next night.

The two of you discussed the previous night’s events, speaking in hushed tones in a quiet corner booth of Stoker’s Diner. You explained that him always agreeing with you put a lot of pressure on you to make all the decisions and how it wasn’t healthy for him to not voice how he was feeling.

He needed to know that you wanted to listen to him too. Both voices are important in a relationship- especially when you hope to be as.... long term as the two of you.

While he’s still more reserved than most people- Dwayne begun to actively communicate a bit more, giving you his opinion a bit more freely and always ready to preen anytime you comment on it.

PAUL

You loved Paul.

You really did.

But where Dwayne was a doormat- Paul was a bulldozer.

His brain moved at a million miles a minutes, constantly pulling him in different directions and making social cues hard for him to notice.

You knew this but good god it was frustrating- sometimes holding a conversation with him was like trying to talk to a moving train. Occasionally you’d have to actually grab him to get him to look at you and get an answer to the question you’ve been asking him for the past five minutes.

Finally, you’d had enough- you had already told him twice that you wanted to go home. That you were tired and your feet hurt and he hadn’t seemed to notice. Every time the two of you would start heading back to the bike he’d get distracted.

You yanked your wrist away from where he had been dragging you towards another carnival game- storming off in the direction of the bikes.

He followed after you like a lost puppy- “Doll? Doll what’s wrong?”

You said nothing until you were at his motorcycle, arms crossed and scowling.

You’d been asking for an hour to go home and he’d ignored you- and as you told him his eyes went wide.

The two of you managed a (rough but productive) discussion, eventually settling on some code phrases to communicate when you felt like you were being ignored or not listened to.

While there are still rough patches, Paul actively attempted to listen better- blue eyes focusing hard as he clung to your words. You could tell sometimes he was trying to fit a square peg in a triangle hole- attempting to force his brain to understand what you were saying.

During those moments you’d calmly repeat the question again, smiling and giving his hand an encouraging squeeze while the words took purchase in his brain.

Every once and a while he’d miss an ‘I want to go home’ but you knew he was trying and, more often than not, all it took was a flirty pick-up line and a far too chaste kiss to have him dragging you back to the cave anyways.

MARKO

Marko’s Napoleon complex was pretty obvious when you first met him. He paraded around with a puffed out chest and a willingness to beat the shit out of anyone who looked at him wrong.

While his edges were a little rough he was always gentle towards you- a little overly cautious, sure, but you knew he just meant well. After all, you didn’t really know how long he’d been a vamp and for all you knew life as a human might have only felt like a dream at this point.

It was sweet how carefully he tended to you.

At first.

After the fifteenth time in one night of being fawned and coddled you felt frustration begin to bud in your chest. You were a human not a baby bird, tripping isn’t going to kill you and you’re ninety percent sure you don’t need to be wearing sunscreen at night.

You tried to discuss it with him gently, you knew he only did this because he cared for you but you explained that it was getting a bit excessive. You were fully capable of doing things on your own and his constant hovering was getting overbearing.

What was supposed to be a civilized conversation ended in a knock down drag out screaming match, the two of you yelling at the top of your lungs and scaring off anyone in a thirty foot radius.

He was trying to protect you! Humans aren’t like vamps! They can get hurt, they can fall and break bones- they can die. And he doesn’t... he doesn’t even want to think about-

....... never mind... he doesn’t even want to go there...

Marko puffed up, furious, and got on his bike; leaving you on the boardwalk alone with a sore throat and red face from yelling.

The two of you fumed for almost a week before his resolve cracked. He poked his head in to the window of your apartment, waiting with a soft-browed scowl before you let him inside.

Your conversation was tense as you tried to explain your individual perspectives, eventually conceding to meet in the middle.

He would cut back on his helicopter-esque hovering anytime you weren’t doing anything but sitting and you would try your best not to get hurt..

...But you still weren’t allowed to ride the bikes with anyone but him. He just doesn’t trust the other vamps with such precious cargo.

[twohearts-hs]

‘A Small Phone Call ( VI {final} )’ - Harry Styles Divorce Series

Words: 2.3k

Pairing: Harry Styles & (Y/N) (Y/L/N)

Warnings: swearing, divorce & I make Harry seem like a asshole even though he isn’t :(

Summary: They’ve been together since fifteen; her going through every moment with him, and likewise. It has always been (Y/N) and Harry, since the beginning of time. But, they started noticing the red flags that the saying is true, all high school love doesn’t stick. Therefore it is time to sign the papers, but what will happen when she is afraid of a simple two pink lined stick? What will happen to them? What if she keeps it hidden from him?

|| Masterlist in bio ||

-

Y/N walked back into the flat, letting out a deep breath as she placed her handbag on the counter. 

“Did you fixed it?” she heard a voice behind her. She turned around and came face to face with Mylene.

Y/N waved her phone in her hand, “Just got off the phone with the lawyer. It is getting fixed right now,” she mumbled, walking around to grab a snack - cheese and crackers, not too bad for a pregnant woman.

“Good,” she heard, as Mylene walked off to her bedroom. 

Did she regret it? Of course, it was an action done in anger at the time and now she needed to handle this situation maturely. Y/N has decided, Harry and her were having a baby, however, they can’t have this child together as a couple. 

In the past, the two were two peas in a pod, yet now they were both poisonous for each other; what a shame that time ruined them. Does Y/N still believe that she and Harry were soulmates? That is the million-dollar question. 

However, that isn’t the question she should answer now. Life has just gone upside down and she is about to become a mother. When she first got pregnant with Tate, she was ready, the nursery was done and excitement flooded her veins. Now, it was the opposite, she was scared shitless. At 24, working a job that barely pays the bills and now a baby on the way, it was scary. Her option could be to ask for a ridiculous amount of money for child support from Harry or just struggle. She is choosing the latter. 

Y/N sat at the barstool in her kitchen, craving a large drink, however, she could never do that to her baby. Thoughts upon thoughts were replaying in her brain of what is gonna happen or what will happen; it was scary. 

A message appeared on her phone, lighting the darkroom, as she took a bite from her cracker. 

From Harry:

I am glad we are ok. H 

She smiled, typing her response, but chose not to respond. They were ok. She was going to be ok. This baby is going to be ok. There was nothing to panic about.

-

He was hovering. She was done. Y/N had enough. 

The next while was ok, Harry joined appointments, texted name ideas and was supportive, but the minute she hit 8 months - 33 weeks to be exact - he was annoying, controlling and was just plain trapping her. 

Every little moment, he was on her heels. Don’t eat this, don’t carry that, you are putting the child in danger with that, how are you doing, can I help, etc. She was done. Y/N knew he was trying his best to be helpful and to give her a break, but it didn’t come across that way. She felt no freedom once again, just like the marriage they use to be in.

Harry was in her flat, at the kitchen to be exact. He was cooking, she was sitting on the couch with a headache and about to explode in anger. Hormones perhaps? Or was it the fact that Harry has been sleeping on the couch every night and driving her insane? Nevertheless, she was done. 

Y/N got up, walking to the kitchen and opening the fridge. She grabbed some food in a container and headed to the microwave. Harry turned around from cutting up vegetables.

“I am making you dinner. You shouldn’t eat Mylene’s trash food. It’s not -”

“Get the fuck out, please and thank you,” she mumbled, pinching her thumb and finger between the bridge of her nose. The pregnant woman knew it sounded harsh, but she was tired and angry because of him. 

Harry was taken aback from her attitude. Yes, he has gotten used to the hormonal mood swings, but she was never aggressive or snappy. He glared at her softy, eyebrows scrunching as he examined his ex-wife.

“Excuse me?” he asked, crossing his arms across his chest. She could smell it, a fight heading their way.

“Harry, please, you heard me. Can you please leave?” she mumbled, hearing the microwave beeping and getting her food. Picking up a fork and walking past him. His arm went out, hand grabbing the container and taking the food from her.

“You can’t eat that. It isn’t good for the baby. I am making you a healthy-”

“Harry,” she said sternly, looking him straight in the eyes, “give me the goddamn mac and cheese right now, or I swear to god,” he laughed, taking the container and emptying it in the trash can. 

She was done. 

“Get. The. Fuck. Out. Of. My. House,” she said, spitting every word with viciousness. “I don’t want you here,” snappiness flooding from her mouth.

Harry shook his head, leaning against the counter and raising an eyebrow. 

“You’re being ridiculous, Y/N,” he said, rolling his eyes. 

“No, no, no. You do not get the right to say that,” she walked up at him, pointing a finger at his chest. “The last few weeks, you have been absolutely horrible, controlling and just annoying. Yes, I am carrying our child, but we are not married. You can not boss me around and I have had enough. We got divorced for a reason and now you are all up in my face trying to play house. I don’t want you in my life anymore, however, I am being a kind human being and allowing you to have a part in my child’s life. So no, don’t you call me ridiculous. You should be thankful that I am being a humble person. With that, get the fuck out of my house and I will call you when my child is popping out of my vagina.” Y/N turned around, walking to the door and opening it. 

Harry stared at her, blinking and trying to take in every word. “No,” he mumbled, turning around and going back to cutting the vegetables. 

She was fuming and in shock. He said no, he uprightly said no and went back to what he was doing. What the fuck was he doing?

“Oh, we are gonna play that game,” she responded, stomping past him and heading to her bedroom. Harry watched her and thought nothing of it and went back to what he was doing. 

A little while later, she came back with a duffle bag and her handbag. 

“Make sure you lock the door behind you,” she said, glaring at him and walking straight for the door. 

“Where the fuck are you going?” he yelled, hitting the counter loudly and hot on her tracks grabbing the strap of her bag and pulling her to him. Y/N’s eight-month belly touching his chest. 

“Let go of me,” she sternly said. Harry let go.

“Where are you going?”

“Somewhere where you are not. I will call you when I am in labour, but please stop breathing down my neck. I understand you want to be helpful, but I feel trapped. I can’t work, because you said so. I am too much on my feet, which is bad for the baby as you said. I am at home, where you are here and I can’t do that. I can’t be living with my ex-husband. I want a life-”

“You’re being selfish.”

Wet, hot tears were flowing down her face. She backed up against the wall, sliding down. “Just leave.”

And he left reluctantly.

-

Y/N wanted this baby. She was getting excited. The nursery was built, her baby bag was ready to go and a perfect name was picked. She was ready.

36 weeks hit, no word from Harry since that night. This was a power play, he was trying to make her feel guilty and this was another reason why the marriage had failed. 

So, being the higher person she texted him.

To Harry:

Hi. Why haven’t I heard from you? Where have you been?

Two seconds later, he responded. 

From Harry:

Are you in labour?

To Harry:

No.

From Harry:

Then that doesn’t concern you.

He was being absolutely ridiculous. Childish even. This is not the way he should be acting. But, she did say that he needed to leave her alone and that she would contact him when she was in labour. She didn’t think he would literally do it. He was being childish. 

To Harry:

You are being childish. Text me when you are ready to grow up.

He didn’t respond and she saw on social media that he was in L.A. partying with supermodels. Very mature of you, Styles.

-

A few days later, the pain hit. No note back from Harry and she was in labour. He could still be in L.A., partying his twenties away, however she didn’t care. She was in labour and was about to become a mother; a single mother, yet she didn’t care. Y/N mentally prepared for this part, knowing she was going to be by herself. Her mother was in another country and Mylene had to move back to Canada. It was going to be ok. 

Y/N pressed the name that she didn’t want to talk to, however she needed to be the higher person. 

Voicemail. She was hit with a voicemail. Wow.

Hi, its Harry. Couldn’t get to the phone, leave a voicemail and I will get back to you as soon as I can. 

The line cut off.

She took a deep breath.

“Hi Harry, its Y/N. Call me back when you can. I am heading to the hospital, as I am in labour.”

Nothing. Nothing came back. She came to the realisation that he was going to miss the birth of his child, just like how he missed Y/N losing Tate.

She was on the hospital bed, taking deep breaths as pain raked her body. Fuck, this was horrible. Words can not explain the pain she was in right now. Yet, she needed to be strong. 

The heavy huffs and loud groans were interrupted by her phone going off. Harry Styles - Y/N groaned again and not from the labour. 

“Where the fuck are you?” she spat over the line.

“L.A.” She couldn’t believe it, she actually couldn’t believe it. This man was in America still, while she was growing this child inside her.

“Good on you. Are you flying back anytime soon, as I am in labour,” she spat again. He cleared his voice, hearing her heavy breaths and wheezes over the line.

“Umm, yeah, I will be there. my flight is leaving in three hours. I will be there in like, ten hours so please just don’t give birth yet,” he told her.

Y/N was gobsmacked. He really thought that she could put her whole birth on pause, just for him. 

“I am crowning. I am pushing this child out whether or not you are here. I am not putting this on pause. Get your ass here,” she said firmly and pressing the end button.

-

Did she want him there holding her hand as she pushed a child out of her? A little piece of her did, but the majority of her was done with him. She had the forms next to her, filling out what custody was like and she was ready to move on. Was she selfish? She has no idea. However, the wellbeing of this child comes first.

Her legs were in the air, she pulled herself close to the bar as the doctor asked her to push. One push in and the door flew open. He was there.

“Fuck, you look rough,” he mumbled, looking at the scene in front of him. God, she prayed the child didn’t get his idiotism. He can’t be fucking serious.

“Hold my goddamn hand and tell me it is going to be ok because I am in a lot of pain,” she said, taking her one hand out and grabbing his. Harry pushed a chair beside her and held her. His bones were definitely getting broken due to her crushing them. 

Arlo Rowan Styles was born. After fourteen hours in labour, he came and both parents were filled with joy.

She witnessed him cry, as he held him for the first time. He loved him so much, maybe more than how much Y/N loved him as well. Both parents forgot all the tension and worry when his cries filled the room and his body was laid on her chest.

He was absolutely beautiful with her eyes and his nose. Arlo’s little finger wrapped around his and he cried. He was perfect.

Harry may be an asshole to her, but the first few minutes of watching him interact with their child changed her perspective. They weren’t good together, but they needed to set their differences aside in order to be a parent to him.

“I may have overreacted,” she mumbled, as she watched him sleep. To Harry, she was still beautiful, dressed in her hospital gown, hair frizzy and in a mess and sweat dried on her face. “We need to set our issues aside. I am mad at you still for a lot of things. However, we need to be mature because of our baby. You can stay with us for a while until I kick you out or can come and go as you please. We aren’t getting back together, H. I am sorry, we aren’t good together. I have the custody agreement set up. He will need me for a while, but when he doesn’t as much, we can put something in place. Just don’t hover, be kind, don’t control me and please be the best goddamn dad. Ok?” he nodded, thumbing the baby’s cheek. 

“I know that I have haven’t really been too good to you, but still love you, you know that right?”

“I know.”

-

Taglist - comment, DM or inbox to be removed/added :)

@alinashawn @mendesnecessary @i-am-bisexual-and-a-girl @un-limit-edd @ashwarren32 @harrysahottie @afterpartyviews @claredolphinbear24 @purple-cream-cheese @particularlymendes @lilya-petrichor @laggyphone @winchesterwife27 @neverlandqueen15 @kissme-hs @mutuallynotmutual  @am-an-i @starryjiani @bandsandanimefreak @all-my-love-for-harry @jadert15

[iamdunn]

Miraculous Flash Forward part 4: Emelie Agreste

A Miraculous Fan-fic

Written by 

AJ Dunn

Adrien made his way through the hospital to the private wing. He hadn’t slept as he rushed out of his apartment with nothing but an overnight bag. Which, he was now carrying because he couldn’t be bothered to stop at the Graham De Vanily manor before seeing his mother. How long had she been in a coma? He was still wearing his Loashi uniform, his yi-fu. 

“Adrien,” Amelie called from the hall. “She’s been slipping in and out. The doctors want to try an experimental procedure but you have to be the one to agree to it.” She rushed her words as Adrien took a minute to process them. 

“They think they can flush her bloodstream with your blood.” Felix stepped in. he maintained his calm demeanor as Amelie babbled on frantically. “They say there is some sort of… pollutant in her system and they might be able to but we needed you here being her biological son and all.” Adrien gulped.

“Is she awake now.” he peeked through the crack in the partially opened door. He could hear the beeping of the heart monitor and the pumping of the tubes pumping air into her lungs. 

“No, she came alert only a few times since I called you.” Felix stiffened as the doctor stepped up behind Adrien. 

“Let me take your bags, honey.” Amelie snatched his bag and went to sit down in the room. 

“Mr. Agreste?” the doctor asked 

“Adrien,” He corrected “I don’t care my father’s name.” he hoped his mother couldn’t hear him. She had no idea what has been going on since she went into a coma. The things her husband did. A stone of emotions hardened in his heart. 

We would like to take a blood sample to make sure you are a match.” The doctor said looking confused as his eyes switched between him and Felix. “And you two are twins right?” Adrien let out a small chuckle in his throat.

“Cousins,” Felix said flatly

“Let’s get a sample from each of you, it’s possible because your mothers are identical twins, that you two could have reverse DNA.” Felix lifted an eyebrow. “This is very complicated but the simple explanation is, your mothers each share 100% of your grandparents’ DNA. Amelie doesn’t have the same blood type as Emelie, but they both carry the same genes, meaning you could have either or. Emelie has B, Amelia has A.” 

“So you’re saying, that even though she is my mother, I might now be a match but Felix might.” Adrien fumed.

“Or you both might be.” He looked, “You two look more alike than Amalie and Emelie.” he seemed amused at the striking resemblance between the cousins. “Come with me, I’ll take you to the lab. Adrien hated needles but at least he didn’t nearly have to strip for the phlebotomist to have access to his veins as did the sharp-dressed three-piece suit Felix. He chuckled to himself as he watches his cousin buttoning up the shirt and restoring the tie to its proper fit. It would have been so much easier if his shirt would have been a bit looser he could have lifted one sleeve up over his elbow, but no, Felix demanded his shirts to fit nearly skin tight. 

“You might as well be wearing a Cat Noir suit with how tight your suit is.” Adrien laughed

“Shut up.” Felix fastened the sleeve buttons. “I left that at home.” He lifted a smirk to his cousin who, he knew hadn’t gotten one yet as they weren’t yet on the market. Adrien’s face fell.

“How.” He demanded.

“Apparently Luka and I have the same measurements, I have the model one.” He smirked walking past Adrien. Wait that means him and Luka as well. Adrien was a bit more muscular now than his cousin, so he might not be the same size anymore. 

They walked back to the room in silence. Just outside the door, he grabbed Felix by the arm.

“What do I say to her?” he asked his cousin. Felix wasn’t run on his emotions as Adrien was. He had a more practical mind and Adrien needed that right now. Felix put his hands on Adrien’s shoulders.

“If she wakes up, you say nothing about Gabriel,” he demanded. “He was on another business trip and we were unable to reach him.” that sounded just like him too. They walked into the room. The hum of the machines and the dimly lit room felt ominous to Adrien. His heart stalled in his chest as he watched hers rise and fall. Her frail frame lay under a thin blanket with her hands crossed peacefully over her waist. With an IV in her right arm. 

He walked closer to her sitting in the chair to her left he rested his head on the edge of the mattress. It seemed like forever as they sat there in silence before a noise came from Amalie. 

“Well, you look…” Amelie smiled as Adrien looked up at her. “Nice in that what is it called?”

“Yi-fu.” he told her. “I have been made a Laoshi, a teacher.” he rested his head back down.

“What do you teach?” She continued. Amelie never was one to sit in silence for long. It made her nervous.

“Kung Fu.” Adrien sat upright in his chair knowing more questions would come.

“Ah, I see.” She looked up at him then shifted her eyes away. “You look like you have filled out in the shoulders, you must have built up some muscles.” Indeed he had. “I bet your teacher is very proud of you.” She smiled. Adrien hadn’t even told Felix yet.

“He died. Yesterday, as I sat by his bedside.” he looked down at his mother laying so cold beside him. He missed his mother, though he didn’t remember much about her except her kindness and care for him. Amelie got up and left the room after another long stretch of silence. 

“It’s been hard on her,” Felix said. “After years of believing her sister dead, only to find out…” he stopped himself knowing the direction this conversation would lead.

“Do you think she can hear?” Adrien asked. “Do you think she knows what he did to her?”

“If she can hear us now, then she could hear him then,” he said coldly. “So no Adrien, I don’t think she knows. Otherwise, she would have died of heartbreak years ago.” Hours passed in silence before the doctor returned.

“May I speak with you two privately?” they both followed him to a small empty waiting room. “There’s no easy way to say this. But you have the right to know. You are twins.” the words came out but they felt foreign as Adrien and Felix exchanged confused and shocked glances. “Your DNA is identical and you are identical twins, and I compared your DNA to Amelie and Emelie and…” 

“What are you saying, Doctor?” Felix demanded. “Amelie is your mother, both…”

“I can explain.” A shattered voice came from behind them as Amelie stepped into the room. “I…” tears began to fall down her face. “I never wanted you to find out like this.” 

“I’ll excuse you for a moment.” the doctor turned to leave before Adrien grabbed his wrist.

“My mother.” He said sharply. “Emelie, are we a match?” the doctor nodded. “Then get everything ready.” The doctor left the room. Amelie took a seat on the couch as both boys took seats in front of her. Felix weaved his fingers together as he sat upright and stiff. Adrien slouched forward his face dropping to his hands before looking up at her again. 

“You see Adrien, my husband was never home.” Her voice trembled in her throat. “Emelie wanted a child and so did I.”  Tears began to well up in her as she dabbed a hanky to her eyes. “I didn’t want to do it but because Emelie was the face of the Agreste brand he would never allow her to carry a child.” Adrien nodded as he recalled how his father controlled everything about Adrien’s life ensuring he was the picture of perfection. “So she came up with a plan because we were so good at switching places.” Adrien felt his jaw tighten. He sensed the unease in Felix as well.

“Enough mother, we don’t need the details.” Felix snapped. He sounded more and more like Gabriel and now they both knew why. “You are telling me that my father is that man who terrorized the world for his own selfish maniacal means?” Felix’s words slapped like a cold wet hand on his face. His eyes shot up to his cousin. Felix bore a look of utter horror as he realized what he had said. Adrien pursed his lips and nodded, they both shared the emotion. 

“We agreed that if it was twins, we would each take one. Or try again for another one. But we were sure, we would have twins.” right the Graham De Vanily twin curse. Every generation bore twins. Adrien hung his head. Felix froze in disbelief. 

“Why did you wait until now to tell us mother!” Felix snapped. “Were you ever planning on telling us?”

“Yes, until…”

“Until father was arrested?” Adrien snapped up. His words stolen from Felix’s own mouth. They both huffed. 

“You two have always been so much alike even now, I see so much of myself and Gabriel in you… 

“ENOUGH!” Felix stood up. “I don’t want to hear another word about that monster.” He stormed to the door. He caught himself at the doorway and cast a look back to Adrien, who looked up at him. “I’m sorry, you knew him better than I did, I am sure this hurts you just as much as it does me.” then he left.

“Adrien,” she reached a hand out placing it on his knee. He pulled away from her. “I never wanted you two to find out like this.” 

“As soon as they perform the procedure, I will return to Shanhai.” Adrien said coldly. “Don’t concern yourself with me anymore.” He stood and left the room hoping to catch up with the doctor to rush this plan of his. 

The good news was, since both the boys were a match for Emelie, the doctor could take equal amounts from each boy rather than draggin the process out over time. Taking more than a quart of blood from one patient wasn’t done. Plus, he could return and Felix could offer more in a month or so. 

“I’ll be returning to Paris in the morning.” Felix said after he once again had to remove his shirt. They sat side by side in the lab as two technicians worked on them. 

“I’ll be heading back to Shanghai tonight.” 

“So soon?” Felix sounded surprised. “I figured we could use a night out.” weird it wasn’t like Felix to consider a night out. 

“A night out?” Adrien asked curious about his thought process.

“We’ve never gotten drinks together and well.” Adrien could hear him inhale air sharply as the needle penetrated his arm. “Frankly after today, I feel like getting messed up.” 

“So you’ll need someone to carry you home.” Adrien teased. 

“That’s just it, I don’t want to go home.” Adrien couldn’t blame him, he didn’t want to go there either. “It wouldn’t be wise to get a flight while drunk Adrien, so join me.” Adrien smiled at him and nodded. 

They found a small pub and slipped inside. It wasn’t a high ranking spot, but it had beer on tap and annoying music playing off key. Adrien noticed why immediately, it was a karaoke bar. A group of girls were on stage singing an old Spice Girls song. The 5 girls sung and danced to a song about lovers and friends. Something about it reminded him of Marinette and their mutual friends from class. 

They took a table where they could see the singers and the bar, but was in the darkest corner they could find. A barmaid came around and took their orders. They had never gone into a bar like this before and had no idea what to order, so they asked for the most popular drink the house sold. 

“And some fish and chips.” Adrien called after. He felt a sudden jab in his side as he stood up. He was still wearing his Yi-fu. He went into the bathroom and locked the door. 

“You can’t drink.” Plagg said, “If you don’ you won’t be able to transform”

“I wasn’t planning on it.” Adrien said.

“Drink? Or Transform?” Plagg floated in the air near him with his hands on his hips.

“Either.” He said. “Come on, we can’t leave him out there by himself in his condition.” they were brought a pitcher of beer and two drinks. Great. Felix finished off his first drink as Adrien pretended to sip on his. He waited for his cousin to not be looking then switched cups with him and poured more in. 

The waitress caught him one time while Felix was in the bathroom.

“Should I be concerned for your brother?” she said wryly. 

“He needs to drink, I don’t, but he doesn’t want to drink alone.” Adrien smiled. “I’ll cut him off before I have to carry him.” 

“What’s with the outfit.” 

“It’s a long story.” He smiled again as Felix returned to his seat. The waitress took the pictures and left to refill it. By the time the bartender made the last call of the night, it was two in the morning. Felix had drunk, danced and even attempted to sing an Elton John song. Adrien had to get up and help him with it lest he fall off the stage. He even turned Felix’s mic off so no one would hear him burping. To his surprised he must have sung circle of life rather nicely as the whole bar cheered when they were done. It was a weird choice of song but Felix was in a weird mood. 

Adrien nearly carried his brother up the stairs of the hotel to the room he rented for them. He tried to keep as low of a profile as possible. Imagine the scandal of carrying an incapacited CEO into a shady motel. He dropped him onto one bed then set his carry bag on the other bed. He pulled out a pair of shorts and went into the bedroom to change. 

The next morning Felix was already awake when Adrien scrambled out of bed. 

“What did you do?” Felix scowled before Adrien could even through back the blankets. He looked up at him confused. “We are in a shady motel. I hope to tell no one saw us come in here.” Felix was livid, but Adrien laughed. 

“I was careful, remember I don’t want to be seen in public either.” 

“That’s right, Adrien Agreste doesn’t exist, so he can’t be seen dragging a man into a motel. Never mind the scandal.” 

“Would you ratherr I had taken you home?” Adrien asked standing up. Felix’s eyes froze on him. 

“Damn put a shirt on. What are you trying to do give me a complex?” Felix darted his eyes way suddening aware of the toned ab muscles Adrien had mastered in his time with Chao Sifu. 

“Come to Shanghai, I’ll whip you into shape in no time.” He laughed. 

“I have far to much to do,” Felix snapped. “Remember who does all the work in this family?” 

“I work too.” Adrien pouted. 

“Occasionally participating in fashion competitions doesn’t count.” 

“Hey you still need to get Marinette to make me a costume.” 

“She’d need your measurements.” Felix’s mouth contorted into a hethanous smile. “And an address where to send it.” This gave Adrien an idea. He picked up his phone and dialed up Cheng Sifu. 

“Mr. Graham,” Cheng only called him that when Marinette was nearby. 

“Can you ask Marinette for a favor,” he stalled a minute, “Say a secret admirer of her work wants to commission something for her.” He filled Cheng in on the details. He agreed to ask her and let him know. 

“Really are you going to start sending her flowers too.” 

“Not a bad idea cousin.” He smirked. 

“Funny I thought we were brothers.” Felix tossed the cold hard truth at him. It was the first time either one had acknowledged it. Adrien’s eyebrows narrowed as he thought.

“We’re still cousins too.” He snorted. 

“Considering we shared the same womb, I think that trumps cousin any day.” 

“You do have a point. Brother.” Adrien dropped a hand on his brothers shoulder, “Should we schedule a press conference?” Felix stiffened with anxiety at the idea of yet another Agreste based scandal. “That’s what I thought. Let’s stick to cousin unless these thin walls have ears.” he left Felix to dress in the bathroom. He put on a plain pair of blue jeans and black t-shirt with a Red short sleeve button down that he left open in the front. It was one of his favorite shirts as he had Chao order it for him from Marinette’s online store. 

He couldnt’ use Chao Sifu anymore, so Cheng was his only other friend in China. He brushed his teeth as he heard the front door open and close. Fine, it was best they not be seen leaving the hotel just incase people get the wrong idea. He checked his phone for the return flight time. He had missed the earlier flight but he could get on the next one. He quickly booked and grabbed his bags. 

“Forgetting something?” Plagg groaned. It must have been a long night for him. Despite Adien smuggling fries for him off the table. It still wasn’t cheese. 

“We’ll check the market at the airport for snacks.” Adrien hurried out the door leaving the hotel key on the table and secured the door behind him. The housekeepers were already making their rounds as he rushed down the stairs to the street to catch a cab. 

“Hey, isn’t that Adrien Agreste.” Someone called down the street. He quickly pulled the hoodie from the short sleeve button down over his face in case they were inclined to snap a picture. He slid into the cab closing the door just in time for the fan girls to catch up demanding a photo and answers. 

“Where have you been.” 

“Why are you here.” 

“What happened with your father.” 

“The air port please.” He said but the cab didn’t move. The driver got out of the car and Adrien tried to look without lifting his head as he locked his door. 

“Get off my car, I don’t know who you think is in my car, but get off.” The cabby was yelling at fan girls who, in an attempt to keep him from leaving had actually climbed on the hood trying to get a view of his face. 

“It’s Adrien Agreste.” 

“No, it’s not, I gave Adrien Agreste a ride earlier and he was no where near this dump.” the man yelled. He got back in and put the car into drive. 

“Thank you.” Adrien whispered.

“Your brother asked me to come get you, told me to lie if anyone saw you.” the man offered back. “He also told me you’d be going to the air port and prepaid your fair.” 

“Thanks again.” 

“If’ it’s not too bold, can I ask why you two lied about Adrien Agreste being nothing but an alias for Felix Graham De Vanily?”

“You heard about that?” 

“Of course, Paris’ Sunshine boy disappears after his fathers arrest.  Only for some identical slick haired pretty boy to take his place.” He scoffed. “My teenagers were mad with rage when they watched the press release.” Adrien felt a little bad for his fans who couldn’t understand. 

“I had to do it.” Adrien sulked

“I know, it must have been hard for you in those earlier days after the incident.” If only he knew. They pulled up to the air port and Adrien got out, giving the man a smile and bid him farewell. 

The flight back to Shanghai felt like going home. It wasn’t his permanent home, but it felt right, for now.

[ragingbookdragon]

The Christmas Cookie War

A Connor Kenway x Reader One-Shot

Word Count: 1,720 Warnings: None

Author’s Note: Aye! Day 14 of the Christmas fics! Bake some cookies this season! -Thorne

          Connor was sneaky. Which was good when it came to his career as an Assassin. On the rare times that she’d actually seen him in action, she was utterly blown away at how such a heavily built person could move with such stillness. She’d watched him take down every soldier in the fort within minutes, and not a single alarm bell had been rung, nor did any soldier see or hear him coming—he was a master hunter, and she was proud that he used his skills for the better. That being said, Connor had a streak of using his skills for the worse.

***

           She glared at him for what seemed like the millionth time and pointed to the doorway.

           “Out with you,” she commanded. “You’re not allowed to put one foot in this kitchen until I tell you to.”

           Connor shifted his weight between his feet, standing just outside the entrance to the kitchen. “But (Y/N),” he whined. “The cookies.” His eyes shifted to the tray she was about to put on the rack at the fireplace.

           Shaking her head, she denounced, “But nothing, Ratonhnhaké:ton. If everyone else has to wait for the cookies to be made, baked, and cooled, then so do you.”

           She narrowed her gaze and shoved the wooden spoon in his face. “If I catch you in here again, I will welt your hands black and blue.”

           He met her stare head-on and she could see him internally mulling the pros and cons over before his amber eyes flashed with indignation, and she knew he was taking it as a personal challenge.

           Connor conceded and tipped his head down. “As you wish, (Y/N).” He stood back up and asked, “Is there anything I can do for you in the meantime?”

           Huffing, she remarked “I know what you’re doing Ratonhnhaké:ton.” She spun on her heel and marched over to the table. “Please take this in the nicest way possible, my beloved,” (Y/N) met his gaze and hissed, “Get lost.”

           A growl sounded from his throat, but he turned and stalked off, the door slamming, signaling his exit. With satisfaction, she turned back to the bowl of flour on the first side table, watching as he walked past the window outside, glaring at her; she stuck her tongue out at him. Let the games begin.

***

           The entire house smelled like one giant, mouthwatering concoction of every dessert ever made, and on more than one occasion, Achilles had drifted in to see what she was making for the Christmas party. Happy knowing that it all smelled wonderful, she’d showed him the trays of cookies and pies, managing to ease his dislike of the giant mess along the table with a promise of cleaning later. He complimented her on the outcomes of each dessert, especially the chocolate chip snickerdoodles she’d made—which also happened to be the cookies that Connor was hellbent on snatching from her.

           Achilles wiped his mouth on the handkerchief he carried and nodded his head. “Those are excellent, (Y/N). Sweet, but not overpoweringly so.”

           A warmth grew on her cheeks at the praise, because she knew that the old man wasn’t one to give it unless truly deserved—and even then, it was hard to get it out of him.

           “Thank you, Achilles.” She murmured, turning her gaze to the crackling fireplace, a tray of apple pies baking to perfection.

           “Has Connor come in yet?” he asked, humor in his tone.

           (Y/N) tossed a glare over her shoulder. “Oh, he definitely has. Twice.” She scanned the kitchen, craning her neck to see into the dining room—he wasn’t in there. “I’m waiting for him to try again.”

           The old man leaned on his cane, umber eyes regarding her with an amusing look. “You think he will?”

           She scoffed and flattened the dough with a rolling pin. “I’d bet my last pound he will. The only thing bigger than his heart is his sweet tooth.” She paused and pointed the pin at him. “Mark my words, he’ll die by sugar coma if he doesn’t keel over of old age first.”

           Achilles simply snorted and the rapping of his cane against the hardwood floor left her alone in the kitchen.

           (Y/N) grabbed one of the cookie cutters and began cutting out the shapes of little men. With a smile, she placed them on the tray and switched them out for the pies that were done. Setting the pies aside, she swiftly turned and looked around, eyes narrowing with suspicion.

           She grabbed the wooden spoon and walked to the entrance of the kitchen, sticking her head into the entryway. It was clear, and a quick glance to the hallway showed a spotless center as well—still, it didn’t ease the wariness and she moved back into the kitchen.

           “I know you’re in here, Ratonhnhaké:ton.” (Y/N) walked to the dining room. “Let me catch you with a cookie,” she warned. “I’ll break a finger.”

           Grabbing the handles of the dining room doors, she swung them shut and with a click, she locked the doors. Only one way in and out. She thought with a smug smile.

           Though something felt off, she set the feeling aside and focused on the rest of the desserts, knowing that she had only a couple more hours until the Christmas party—she had to finish early.

           As she passed by the clothed table, she paused and scanned the surface, satisfied that nothing had been touched. (Y/N) yanked the cookbook over to her and leaned over, reading over the recipe.

           “Now let’s see…what were those treats that Father Timothy wanted?” she ran a finger down the page. “Sugar plums! That was it.” Her eyes drifted around the kitchen. “Do we even have any plums?”

           Frowning, she checked the baskets in the corner of the kitchen, standing on her tippytoes as she looked in. She rummaged around a bit, then smiled as she found a bag of them.

           “Here we go—” a thump sounded behind her and she whirled around, surveying the kitchen. She ran to the table and examined each tray until she came across the chocolate chip snickerdoodles—one of them was gone.

           A growl escaped her, and she ran to the entryway, glancing in both directions. “Where are you!” she yelled. “I know you were in here!” (Y/N) ran through the hall to Achilles’s study, glowering inside.

           The old man cocked a salt and pepper brow at her, but said nothing and she turned, sprinting up the stairs to check the bedrooms and galleries. Still, they were empty, and by the time she returned to the kitchen, she was about to tear her hair out. (Y/N) made thirty of those cookies—eight were missing.

           “Ratonhnhaké:ton!” she screeched. “When I get my hands on you, I’m gonna—I’m gonna—I’m—ARGH!” Snarling, she slammed her heel into the ground. “I am going to make you a sorry man.”

           (Y/N) sat down at the table and put her head in her hands, silently simmering with unbridled rage. Impulsively, she kicked out her legs and upon feeling her foot brush something she went still, suddenly calm.

           She placed her hands flat on the table and seethed, “Are you underneath this table?”

           A moment of silence passed, then she heard a quiet, “I love you, (Y/N).”

           She leaned down and raised the tablecloth, staring into Connor’s wide eyes. The smile she gave him sent shivers up his spine and warning bells in his brain.

           “I love you too, Ratonhnhaké:ton,” she said sweetly.

           He swallowed thickly. “You—you do?” he questioned warily.

           (Y/N) nodded. “I do.” Her face contorted from the kindness he loved to a wrath he’d never seen before nor wanted to see again. “But you have five seconds to run or I’m—”

           She didn’t even get to finish her threat and he was scrambling madly from beneath the table, her clambering off the bench after him. She’d never heard Connor scream before, but the howl of terror that left him as he sprinted from the kitchen to the stairs told her he was in a state of pure fear.

           “COME BACK HERE!” she fumed.

           Connor gave a cry as he stood behind the stair railings, her glowering at him from the top step. “FORGIVE ME (Y/N)!”

           If she’d been a cat, she would’ve hissed at him. “I’m gonna forgive you when I kick your butt!” As she set foot on the second floor, he turned on his heel and leaped over the railing to the back door.

           (Y/N)’s eyes went wide, and she ran to the railing, staring down at him. “Don’t you dare,” she growled, and he smirked at her before disappearing into the kitchen, returning moments later with the tray of cookies.

           “Put. Those. Back.” She demanded and he raised one to his mouth and took a bite.

           “You have outdone yourself Otsi’tsa. They taste fantastic.” He replied before shoving the rest of the cookie into his mouth and fumbling behind him for the doorknob.

           She glared at him as he pulled the door open and started backwards outside. “You’re a dead man when you come back tonight.”

           Connor shrugged. “I have lived off the land all my life.” He met her gaze and retorted, “Who says I cannot do it tonight?”

           (Y/N) placed her hands on the railings and leaned over. “Oh beloved, you’re gonna be doing it for a week after this little stunt.”

           “We shall see,” he winked.

           Sensing that her threats were falling on deaf ears, she stood straight and glared down her nose at him. “Come back tonight then. I dare you.” Connor chuckled and disappeared outside, leaving her to fume.

           A silence entered the manor, then she heard from the stairwell, “That was your fault for not checking under the table.” Her face pinched at Achilles’s quip, then a devious idea came across her.

           “Achilles, do we have any beet roots?” she asked.

           “Probably in the baskets.” He went quiet. “Why?”

           His question was hesitant and (Y/N) grinned evilly. “Rule number one of starting a war, Achilles. Don’t leave your gear where the enemy can find it.”

           She walked down the stairs and smiled at him. “I think Ratonhnhaké:ton will look absolutely wonderful in pink robes, don’t you agree?” He simply sighed in return.

[thedreammweaver]

Far From Over (Burton-schumacherverse riddlebird)

(A/N: @esperata helped me out with this fic which has been sitting for months because of my trouble writing one scene. I’m putting the part she wrote in purple since I want to give credit where it’s very much due💜💚.)

Warnings: insecurities, insecurities about weight, embarrassment, health issues, medical fat phobia

Ed knocked on the doorway to Oswald’s study before coming in, Oswald knew he was coming for a visit but it didn’t hurt to be polite.

“Come in.” He heard Oswald say.

As Ed neared the desk he spotted a half empty box of eclairs and donuts, of both the standard and jelly filled variety. “What’s the occasion?” Ed asked, flicking the cardboard lid so it would bounce. “Trying to spite my doctor.” Oswald answered, his mouth half full of one of the pastries.

“Oh?”

Oswald nodded as he reached for one of the donuts “I thought that black shit that comes out of my mouth would stop after I moved out of the sewer, but it’s been a year and it hasn’t so Selina said I should see a doctor about it,” he stuffed the donut into his mouth before continuing “and he said that it would probably clear up with exercise.” The passive aggressive fury was apparent in Oswald’s voice even with his mouth full “The cure for everything, apparently. The son of a bitch won’t even see me properly until I try losing weight.”

“What exactly did he suggest you do?”

“Get more exercise...stop eating so much in single sittings..” Oswald swallowed what was in his mouth and looked at the box of pastries thoughtfully “Do you think I could fit two of these in my mouth at once?”

“I wouldn’t dare venture a guess.” Ed cleared his throat “Well, if you did want to try the whole exercising thing...I do teach jazzercise on the side in case you’re interested..”

“What?”

“You know, jazzercise, I host a thing-“

“No, I get all that! Why are you telling me? I would never do something like that.”

Ed frowned “I figured I’d give you the opportunity but nevermind.” He huffed as he got up “Bye, Ozzie..” he sounded disappointed as he left.

Never in a million years did Oswald think Ed’s pouting was powerful enough to get him to agree to something like this. Certainly not wrapped in skin tight lycra. Yet here he was. He averted his gaze self consciously from the other slimmer attendees and twiddled his flippers in front of his stomach. He was just thinking about leaving when Ed bounced to the front of the class.

"Right everyone." Ed grinned right at Oz. "Let's go!"

Oswald wouldn't have stood a chance of keeping up even if he had been focused on it. As it was he kept being distracted by Eddie's long limbs. He'd always liked Ed and admired his physique but usually he had better control of his ogling.

It was both too soon and far too long before the class ended.

"Great job everyone!"

Oswald was very aware he had not done well at all. He felt his shortcomings very keenly having seen all the other lithe students. He was sure Ed too must have been horrified. As Edward approached him he therefore prepared to make his excuses and flee.

"I'm so glad you came Ozzie!"

Oswald stared at his bright smile and flushed cheeks and forgot everything else. "I'm glad I came too. Same time next week?"

Oswald was fuming as he sunk down into the bath, trying to nurse sore muscles. The heat of the water felt nice but was agitating his body enough to make the black green bile start running from his mouth a bit more than it usually did. He huffed, usually he was quick to clean himself up but in the bath he supposed it didn’t matter.

The next class came and went, suddenly Oswald was on his third. He had been told exercising was supposed to get easier but his muscles were still screaming and he felt like his lungs were on fire. Things weren’t so great on the outside either, some of the participants had left because of his presence and others were making fun of him behind his back. Usually he felt quite powerful but here among these youthful thin bodies he felt like nothing. Once the class was over Oswald went up to Ed who was packing up his stuff.

“Eddie?”

“Yeah?”

“Is there any chance we could do...this but just the two of us?” Oswald asked.

“Ed paused, wondering why Oswald would ask to do such a thing.” Ed joked, putting on an overdramatized narrator voice.

Oswald rolled his eyes before continuing “I....feel like I’m bothering people.”

Ed wished he could say that wasn’t true but he’d gotten a number of complaints since Oswald joined. He nodded “I can do that..I’d have time tomorrow if you’re up for it.”

Oswald wanted to collapse at the thought of doing this two days in a row “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

Oswald wanted to be alone with Ed but this didn’t seem worth it. Without the loud music and other people Oswald’s wheezing was loud and clear. Ed gave him some concerned looks but Oswald assured him he was alright..until he wasn’t. Before Oswald could process what was happening the room started spinning and he felt himself falling over.

“Ozzie??”

Oswald groaned as he woke up to Ed’s voice.

“Are you okay???”

Oswald went to get up but Ed stopped him, putting a hand on his chest. His eyes widened “Jesus Christ..” there was a worrying amount of heat coming off of Oswald’s body.

“Oswald-“

“That’s normal, ignore it.” Oswald slurred a bit as he was still waking up.

“That is not normal!”

“It is for me! I don’t really sweat so it just gets trapped inside I guess.”

Ed backed away and stood up “And you didn’t think to tell me that?!”

“What’s the big deal?”

“What’s- Oswald! You’re essentially giving yourself heat stroke, I never would’ve asked you to come if I knew about this!”

Oswald, with some effort, got to his feet. His head was still swirling.

“I mean why would you even come if you knew you’re not built for this kind of thing??”

The implication that Oswald was too weak for something made him angry “I wanted to impress you!” Oswald snapped. He deflated as he realized what he’d said. “Goodbye, Edward..” Oswald said curtly before stomping out.

Sneaking into Oswald’s house was harder than Ed expected but he’d managed it. As he followed the penguins he found Oswald in the kitchen poutily eating a chocolate cake having demolished a good bit of it already. “What do you want?” Oswald growled.

“I wanted to make sure you’re okay.. About what you said.. did you really put yourself through all of that for me?”

“..no.”

“But you said-“

“Will you just fuck off so I can eat my weight in sugar and wallow?”

Ed went over and grabbed Oswald’s arm to pull him up and star leading him to the front door. “What the hell do you think you’re doing??” Oswald didn’t struggle as much as he could, letting himself remain in Ed’s grasp.

“What’s your doctor’s name?” Ed asked.

After a lot of threatening Oswald’s doctor agreed to run some tests which took a few hours. Ed stayed with Oswald the entire time. When the doctor came back with the results Oswald was feeling more than impatient to hear. The doctor sighed “There’s things in your body our machines don’t even recognize. Besides asthma and hypohidrotic ectodermal dysplasia I don’t know exactly what is wrong with you.”

Oswald thought for a moment, processing the new information, he turned to the doctor snidely “That wasn’t so hard was it?” He got closer to him which caused the other man the back into a wall.

“So..do you want to start treatment or-“

“I’ll be seeing someone else for that.” Oswald said coldly, grabbing Ed’s hand and walking out with him.

Oswald and Ed sat in comfortable silence in the backseat as Oswald’s driver took them back to his house. Oswald felt better than he had in a few weeks. “Thanks for doing that, Ed..” Oswald said, turning to the other man. Ed looked at Oswald for a moment before suddenly kissing him. He looked surprised at himself as he pulled away “I’m sorry, I-“

Oswald pulled Ed close by his tie and started making out with him, unbuckling himself to get closer. Things were certainly starting to look up in Oswald’s life.

[greytoiletpaper]

Out on Allen Street, it’s 7 in the Morning

Set in the same-ish Street Siblings universe as First Contact by @cryptids-and-muses and @a-sketchy-character @streetsiblings (they’re awesome), I present my own built-on concept. It’s a bit angstier but sue me I’m an angst ball

AO3 | Deluge

Chapter 1: Drizzle

Jason Todd loved the rain. He remembered it pattering on the roof as he dozed off into the night, curled up with Sparky. Times spent splashing in puddles. Drawing a rare smile from Catherine as bright as the morning sun. Days without Willis, his head stuck in a worn copy of Huckleberry Finn and the ambience set only by the rain as it tracked ran down the window he leant on.

It was raining when Jason woke to his mother’s lax corpse, ears drowning out every sound except the rain’s as it plinked in time with the droplets that dripped down her arm.

--

In front of her, Faizul’s corpse is still. So still that Cassandra Cain can almost block out how the man’s body only radiated pain and fear and agony so strong-and-she-did-that-with-her-hands-her-hands-so-red-and-.

But she can’t, her head is still drowning in the memory, and all she can think about is the fear emptiness that settles in her body. Her gift to understand movement as if it were a language, she learns, is nothing more than a curse when Death comes by her hand. She wrings her red fist, as tainted as her soul because of what she had done. She looks away.

Father David has his arms outstretched, a smile so sharp and so bright that if he were any other man, she would have thought he was proud. He is, but underneath, Cassandra can see nothing but sick and profound glee at what she can do. The decision is easy.

As Cassandra springs out the window, its hinges blew wide open, her father David keeled over, the sky crackles and runs with the long red rivulets off her arms.

--

Now, five months later, Jason ducks his head under the fire escape in an empty alley, the rain in a duet with the nightlife of Gotham. He allows himself some respite as it steadily washes the grime off his surroundings, a pleasant ratatatata above the ambient din that is the dark of Gotham. He is so tired, but he’ll have to move soon if he wants to stay out of sight of kidnappers and killers and whatever else haunts the shadows of Gotham.

A howl slices through the Gotham night as some mug gets his face slammed into a wall. Jason knows this because he can see it right now as the same mook gets decked by a – a girl. Anyone on the streets knows that girls can hold their own but seeing some thirty-something-year-old man get his ass handed to him by a pixie of a girl – he thinks she’s his age, somehow – is something else. Seriously, the guy looks terrified out of his mind as he runs with his tail between his legs after a particularly nasty hit to his crotch.

As if sensing his gaze, the girl snaps her head to him, locking him in place.

“Uh… Hi?” Jason raises his hand in an awkward wave which the girl mimics, albeit a bit stilted, her head on a tilt. The silence between the two of them stretches until the girl seems to see something in him and nods. Out of ideas, Jason digs around his bag and produces a fresh enough apple.

“I’m Jason.” He points to himself.

A beat, and then the girl repeats the gesture.

“Cuh, cuh, cuh,” She struggles with the words, her forehead pinched. “Cuh, ah, ssss.”

“Cass?” The girl nods again, this time rigorously. Unsure of himself, Jason raises the apple to her. “Well, nice to meet you, Cass. You hungry?”

Cass grins, her eyes twinkling as she bites into the apple. Around them, the rain lessens. Just a little.

--

She watches two of her most precious children draw closer, children who will laugh and cry and burn for her love. Gotham watches them come, raises her arms, and weeps with her joy.

“Jason and Cassandra against the world,” Is what Gotham would have said if she had a voice. For years, the city is content to watch her children. She observes Jason and Cassandra as they starve, as they fight, as they grow. On one night, the weather nothing but pluvial, she witnesses them come across the strange car in the alleyway owned by her first child. On that night, she watches as the Dark Knight comes across her most perfect pair of children.

--

“Cassandra,” She looks up at the man they had been living under for the past two months, Bruce. She makes no answer, only staring blankly at him–they were betting on seeing how long it took for the man to get uncomfortable when she does that–who stares back. He continues as if they had not been staring for a full minute, which is not to Cass’ benefit. “Do you know where Jason is?”

Cass, willing to keep trying, keeps her gaze unrepentant. Under her scrutiny, the Dark Knight’s demeanour finally cracks a little. Internally, Cass is ecstatic, but she still really wants to milk it as she keeps up the act.

“Someone call for me?” Jay comes down the stairs. Finally, Cass can break her façade.

“Good morning, slob.” The slob, honest to god, freezes.

“No,” He grinds out of his teeth.

“Yes,” Cass gives him a crooked smile. “slob.”

“Am I missing something here?” Bruce is frowning. Oh right, he was ignorant to their scheme.

“Slob,” Cass repeats with feeling and delights at Jay’s fuming. “S-L-O-B. It means Stupid-Loser-Of-Bets,” She looks Jay dead in the eye again and calls him by the name.

Bruce frowned even further (his body projects such honest confusion that Cass almost laughs). “I was not aware you two had made a bet.”

“A bet I lost because of you, old man!” Jay pipes up, suddenly fuming at Bruce. “You’re Batman, and you can’t even keep from cracking when some girl stares at you for longer than a minute?”

Cass does not hold in her laughter anymore, something she broadcasts to all gathered. Bruce sighs, but at least he waits for her to calm down before he gets to his point.

“Regardless… I need you two to come with me to my office,” As the man leaves, the two share a glance.

“You gonna go after him?”

“You first, slob,” Jay grumbles the entire way to the office, where Bruce waves them in.

For a few seconds, the man awkwardly shifts before he pulls a sheaf of papers from behind his desk.

“I… I quite enjoy having the two of you here. With me,” Bruce admits, looking both of them in the eyes. He takes a deep breath. “I do not want to force this on either of you, but I would love to have you here with me for longer.”

“Permanently, even.”

Bruce lays out the papers on the desk, ‘Adoption Applications’ printed at the top. The letters draw a sharp breath from Jay, and Cass is confident enough with reading to understand what it means.

“Yes,” They both say immediately, and Bruce’s face goes softer than either have ever seen it.

When he asks for their surnames, Cass thinks about saying Cain. Instead, she says Todd.

Shyly, her russet orbs meet his azure ones expecting anger, but everything about Jason only projects love and acceptance. Her grin, something she had not got right yet, is almost identical to the one her brother wears.

“Always wanted a sister. Can’t do much better than you, eh, Cass?”

“Yes Jay,” she pauses. “slob.”

Outside, the sky is open in a light drizzle.

--

If there is anyone in the Waynes that Jason thinks is his favourite, it would be Alfred. An opinion he thinks Cass would be hard-pressed to disagree with. Of course, Cass is still in awe about the fact that Bruce Wayne is Batman (and isn’t that just fucking crazy), so it’s understandable. Conversely, Jason still remembers his first memory of the butler, a kind smile and welcoming arms that promised care for both of them.

“Master Jason,” The boy had looked up to see a crinkle in Alfred’s eyes that he had only ever seen from Catherine. The butler continued, somehow even softer than his usual. “Would you like me to fix that for you?”

Alfred gestured to Jason’s battered copy of Huckleberry Finn that he had cradled self-consciously to his chest. He refused, unsure why the butler seemed to be delighted to see Jason in the way only Cass and his Mom did. But there is something so trustworthy about the man that part of Jason is sure Alfred would do things like that no matter what he asked. So, automatic favourite.

--

Their older brother, Dick (“Aptly nicknamed,” Jay mutters under his breath.), yells whenever he comes to the manor. Most of his visits tend to cycle between him screaming at Bruce or yelling about them. He does make an effort to be a little quieter when he’s talking about the latter. Although, he still looks at Jay with an indecipherable mixture of emotions in his eyes. A pool caught between anger and something unknown to them. It’s not something that upsets Cass, but it puts both of them off, nonetheless.

On the other hand, Barbara is a little more forward in her dislike of the new kids. More often than not, her ire seems aimed at Cass specifically. Privately, Cass thinks Barbara was still angry about Bruce taking her role as Batgirl and giving it to Cass. But, she can see how every time the older girl gets less hostile, another part of her body was long past the role anyway. So, she doesn’t hold it against Oracle.

--

“C’mon Cass, repeat after me,” Jason waves the pages in Cass’ face, which elicits a giggle from his sister. Her giggling unbalances the both of them, so they have to waste another couple of minutes to make themselves comfortable again.

“What’s the use you learning to do right when it’s troublesome to do right and ain’t no trouble to do wrong, and the wages is just the same?”

Cass repeats the words, but she struggles at ‘troublesome’, so Jason repeats it for her. Silence, and then.

“What mean?” He thinks she isn’t asking about the word.

“Well, Mom used to say that it was just that. It might be harder to do the right thing, but it’d be better since you at least did it properly,” Satisfied, his sister merely nods and tries the words again. This time, she only takes three tries until she gets ‘troublesome’ right.

“I think she would have liked you,” He murmurs between phrases and instantly regrets it when Cass’ head turns to him so sharply she jostles him. He is about to brush it off when she nods her head shyly, snuggling closer to Jason.

He thinks, as they keep reading, that things are going to turn out alright. He has Robin now, and Robin gives him magic. Not only that but he’s also got Cass as Batgirl. Sure, she has that weird stitch mask covering her face, but it’s so fitting that he cannot imagine Cass with any other kind of costume. He knows her, and she knows him. For years she has been the sister he never knew he needed.

Together, Jason muses, they’re going to shake the whole damn world.

--

Whether they're from the Justice League or otherwise, everyone is always ready with a snide comment directed towards them. Or, more specifically, Jason. They use words and insults that don’t make sense to her, but she can see them affect her brother. When she asks, all he does is brush her off with lies and platitudes that they both know are fake. It isn’t until Troia huffs and says something that has waves of hurt rolling off Jason’s body that Cass decides she’s had enough.

“Honestly, I can’t believe you’d think you’d ever be like – ow!” Troia, poise flooded with nothing but condescension (she’s too angry to be elated at remembering a word Jason taught her) that Cass quickly corrects with a sharp jab. Like a deer in headlights, she turns and somehow has the gall to look indignant (another word). “Who did – Batgirl?”

“What, are you doing?” Troia fucking blinks. “Why are you treating my brother like this?”

She doesn’t even look guilty.

“Oh, don’t worry about all that. I don’t think it’s anything you’d understand anyway,”

She bends down towards her, apparently not noticing how still she is. Anyone who knows anything about Cassandra Todd knows her stillness means Death. Evidently, Troia is an exception. She's the only one in the room that's relaxed.

“Some people are simply born for this role. No street rat can ever hope to achieve that.”

Cassandra moves before anyone even blinks, her arms a flurry of jabs and punches and vicious kicks as she catches Troia off guard. Even when she finally regains her footing, the Amazon doesn't stand a sliver of a chance as Cassandra lays into her.

A block from Troia awards a savage stomp on her shin. A punch ducked under and followed through into a sequence of blows to the Amazon’s chest. When Troia grips her lasso and tries to restrain Cassandra, the girl only slinks her way past and wrestles it from her hands. Quickly and efficiently, she wraps it around the Amazon’s waist and pulls. For someone so small, Cassandra manages to lift Troia with the lasso with enough strength that when she releases it, the Amazon goes flying into a pillar in the Watchtower with a sharp crack.

Cass picks up her brother and shields him from the Leaguers, indifferent to their shocked and judgemental eyes.

The message is clear.

Even though they’re lost in a veritable sea of people, it still ends up being just the two of them, and Cass is more than okay with that.

Next chapter

[mimiplaysgames]

Terra Week Day 5 (Time/Hobbies)

Summary: The day sucks when you fight with your best friend. It's true and it's a lie when they say time heals everything, but at least Terra ends the day knowing it's worth the effort. | Word Count: 5,814

Read on AO3

A/N: For Terra Week 2021! You can find that account on Twitter!

~*~*~*~*~

The Tenets of a Master, Ch. 5

Let not your fears unrope, Time does not wait for hope

A sliver of light leaks out through the cracked-open doorway; the lanterns in this hall are being replaced, making that one room into a halo. Naminé confirms they’re inside, but before Terra gets close, she grabs his elbow, a tiny hand barely able to wrap halfway. 

“You’re going to tell them the truth?” she whispers.

“Only them,” Terra says, putting on the sweetest, most encouraging octave he has in his arsenal. “I can’t lie.” 

She takes a moment, and nods to herself. “That’s okay.”

Smiling, Terra pets her, careful not to mess with her hair. “Thank you. Thank you a thousand times and more.”

But she frowns for what is probably the thousandth time in her short life, amidst more to come. “If it gets difficult for you, please let me know. Please don’t wait.”

Approaching the door, Terra hears voices pitter and scoff:

“What else do you want me to do?” asks Aqua, just a mile short of fed up. 

“I don’t like this,” Ven says, lacking confidence. “Any of it. This is weird.”

“I don’t like it either,” Aqua says, now several inches, “but we need these clues.”

“Would you listen to yourself?”

“I’m not being unreasonable.”

Terra opens the door, his unspoken announcement a hush over what looks like an office. Aqua has layers of journals stacked on the desk, one of them open with Ven’s hand splayed across both pages, like he’s trying to shield her eyes from the content. That wasn’t what Terra had in mind when he asked Ven to stall, but whatever. 

They shift as if they’ve been caught doing something they shouldn’t. Terra sees why standing tall behind them: a huge painting of himself (except not), with waxy, white, shoulder length hair (ugh), and a grim expression that couldn’t have come from him (because it doesn’t) but it’s his face anyway (but is it?). A mannequin captured in time via portrait, serious and bored and looking away, looking towards a manufactured future, looking towards anything else except the one person carefully and admirably crafting the brush strokes. 

At the very least, it’s less unsettling than seeing Xemnas speak and move. 

“That’s creepy,” Terra says, trying to melt the ice but it makes them jump. Aqua in particular looks miserable, giving the painting a cold shoulder.

“This whole castle is creepy,” Ven says, letting go of the book. “I can’t wait to go home.”

“If you let me read,” Aqua snaps, crossing her arms, “we can leave sooner.”

Ven eyes a conversation with Terra. She’s crazy, what do expect me to do?

“We don’t have to do anything,” Terra says gently, closing the journal with delicacy so it doesn’t set her off. 

“You, too?”

“I know where Rainfell is.”

Ven runs a hand through his hair, and Aqua stares. 

“You—?”

“Yeah.”

“How?”

She’s hopeful, which is a good start but Terra is suddenly nauseous again, one step away from tumbling down a cliffside. Ven whimpers, taking a chair nearby.

“I…” There isn’t an artful way to say it, so he’s going to rip the bandage right out. He starts by pulling it out slowly, and all the hair underneath. “I was with Naminé. Just now.”

Her eyes widen.

He swallows. “And she helped me see.”

Aqua’s lips tremble. She walks to the door, shoes tapping loudly on the carpet, the only sound in this room, and closes the door to give them privacy—though she’s never been the type to yell. She comes close to Terra as if to whisper to him, pinching two fingers together to fish out exactly what words she wants to use. Ven holds his breath. 

“Who asked you to do that?” she says, icy. 

Terra keeps it low and soft with her. “I just wanted to protect you.”

Again, she crosses her arms. “I need protection?”

Terra scoffs, wincing. “Not like that. I know that. You know me.”

“And you know me.” She exhales, inching closer, getting quieter. “I didn’t walk through darkness for all those years just to lose you again.” 

“But I’m here.” He purses his lips.

With a clawed hand, she taps his chest. “Something could have happened to you.”

“Aqua, come on,” Ven whines, “he was trying to help. He’d never intend to hurt himself.”

She steps back as if reeling from a slap to the face. Aqua’s not the kind who likes to cry, either, holding her chin so high she’s looking at the ceiling, like balancing a bowl of water so that tears don’t spill.

“That’s not fair to say to her,” Terra says, but she tenses up. 

“And why couldn’t I be there?” she asks, both to Terra and Ven. “Is it because you were afraid of what I would say?”

Terra chooses not to answer that. “I really didn’t want you to worry.”

“Is it because you need to prove yourself?” She simmers down. “You don’t have to with me.”

“I know.”

“Then why?”

“I needed to do something,” Terra says, gently. “After everything, I… I couldn’t stand to see you do”—he gestures towards the journals—“this. I couldn’t stand the thought of you carrying those images, or thinking about whatever he wrote in there.”

She holds her breath, collecting everything she’s laxed back. “Tell me the truth. Are you punishing yourself?”

“No...” 

“I trust you, Terra. I hope you know that.”

Terra closes his eyes, muscles gripping on his neck. He nods. A flash of hurt pierces her eyes and he wants to stop that. It’s not her fault for worrying. She’d tell him it’s not his fault for running away either, despite the blame he deserves.

“What kept me going all those years was us.” With a finger, she connects a line between him, her, and Ven. “It’s supposed to be the three of us, as one. We could have been there with you. You could have trusted me.”

“I agree with her on that one,” Ven says, picking his cuticles. 

Now, Terra is the only one dancing in the room, Aqua tired of the rhythm and Ven stuck in an unwilling game. Xemnas was accurate in mocking him for it. Stars. 

“I’m sorry,” Terra says, flexing his shoulders. “You’re right, I should have said something.”

Ven makes a noise that says he’s rolling his eyes.

“And Ven was right in sending Riku after me,” Terra continues, ruffling fingers through Ven’s hair and frizzing out the spikes. “Thanks.”

Ven swats his hand away, frantically brushing through his hair. “I’ll forgive you for ruining it this one time.” 

Aqua sighs. “Was it dangerous?”

Terra considers the question and draws a long smile. “I’ll tell you all about it if you promise not to stop me before I finish.”

And she considers him in return. For all the years they’ve grown together, they know when it’s time to take their words to heart. He knows her and she knows him. “As long as you’re okay, then I guess I’m fine.”

Terra chuckles. “To be honest, I would have felt more guilty if I didn’t go through with it.” 

She shakes her head, a worried grimace pulling at her lips. “Please don’t do this again.”

“I won’t.” Terra traces an X over his chest. “Cross my heart.”

She snorts. “That’s so morbid.”

“It’s to the point.” He grins. The painting, on the other hand, is apathetic to the home they make together in this room. So ugly. “How could you stand to be in here with that?”

“They treat it like a treasure,” Ven says, sticking his tongue out.

A knock on the door interrupts them, jolting Aqua. “He’s here,” she says. Terra asks her a muted question with a raise of his shoulder, but she commands proper behavior with a wave of her hand (she’s so much like the Master sometimes). 

A tall, older man with a beard greets her from the other side of the door. She responds with a joy to her hello, like they’re old friends. 

Ven leans forward with his neck to see. Terra nearly chokes.

Ansem the Wise. Terra doesn’t know this man, he doesn’t know this man, so there shouldn’t be a reason why being near him is like inhaling fumes. 

“As promised,” Ansem says, his voice so deep it melts rock, “tea.” He has with him a steaming pot and four mugs on a wheeled cart.

Aqua holds her hand to her chest. “That’s right, I told you.”

“Raspberry tea if you were to ever see the light of day again.” He steps inside. “With a touch of vanilla and a generous serving of honey. I made sure to keep it all proportionate.”

Bile builds up in Terra’s throat.

“I know your face,” Ansem says to Terra. 

It’s acidic when he swallows back down. Terra crosses his arms and locks them there. He can barely bring himself to look at this man in the eyes. 

“Welcome to my castle,” Ansem says, filling all four cups. Aqua takes hers and Ven stands up for his share. 

“Thank you,” Terra says to the rug. 

“This is your first time here.”

“Not in the city.”

“Ah.”

Footsteps circle around Terra. Ansem takes the largest chair behind the desk while Ven moves the other two across, one of which Aqua accepts. He leaves the other empty for Terra, as though sitting down is the closest thing to a peace offering he can give.

But why a peace offering? It shouldn’t be necessary. Terra doesn’t know this man. 

“I’m sorry,” Terra chokes, taking his seat. “I’m being rude.”

“There isn’t a need for apologies,” Ansem says. His intense eyes are slow to warm up, and his smile is a squeaky wheel needing some maintenance. He’s like the Master in that way, very professional. But the Master’s smile came more often and more naturally—it just hid behind the mustache, confusing anyone who didn’t know him into thinking he was more intimidating than he was. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Master Terra.” 

“I’m not a Master.” 

Aqua grips the cup on her lap tighter. Ven stands by her, one hand on the backrest and the other balled into a fist. 

“Oh, I apologize.” 

“No need to.”

Ansem clears his throat, sipping his tea with more noise than necessary. This man raised others. He had built a loyal team and forgave them for their betrayal, playing no role in what Xehanort did. Now he’s working on improving the lives of others.

But he committed harm. Terra doesn’t know what or why. 

Aqua doesn’t seem to hold that opinion as she compliments the flavor. Two people from two different worlds who crossed paths in their torture and punishment. Terra has to be grateful she wasn’t alone for some of that. 

“I want to extend my gratitude,” Ansem says, and Terra shifts in his chair. Too often it feels like his mind is being read. “For coming. It brings me joy to see you here.”

Terra still has arms woven together, and he hugs himself tighter. It’s like a distant father welcoming a child he hasn’t seen grow up. But Terra already had his own Master, his own father figure. Silver linings, I guess. My face brings somebody joy today. 

“I do hope,” Ansem continues when Terra doesn’t say anything, “the painting does not offend?” 

“It does,” Terra says and regrets it. He shakes his head. “You can keep it, though.”

“Terra,” Ven warns, little and quiet but Terra is sure Ansem has heard.

Another knock on the door prevents Terra from saying more, but thank the stars there’s someone there to distract them. 

“That would be Even,” Ansem quips, groaning as he stands. 

Terra hears a small snicker—Aqua is hiding a smirk behind her hair. “He’s a character,” she whispers, wrinkling her nose to shake out the contortions of her amusement and present herself as respectful. 

Even. No, there’s not a face to that one either, but Terra doesn’t have to wait to see. 

A character he is, a skeptical perma-scowl as though he’s spent years giving a mountain of complaints and his face froze that way. Clean, oily hair and a chin that would be difficult to shave. He talks animatedly when Ansem opens the door, sputtering about science experiments with words Terra’s never heard before. One of his eyes bulges out every time he has a shock.

“I must insist,” Even says to whatever they’re mumbling about, his voice a natural shrill. He approaches the desk with broad strides as his lab coat floats behind him. Tucked under his arm is a thick clipboard and a thicker binder of paper, his posture as straight as a pin.

Opening his binder, Even flips through the top of the stack, calculating which ones to pull out and dropping them at the surface of the desk. They’re streaked with highlighted areas where signatures are needed. No quips about Terra’s face or stares. If anything, he treats Terra and the others like strangers. 

Terra appreciates that.

“It’s good to see you again,” Aqua says after clearing her throat.

It takes a beat for Even to register. “A pleasant surprise in return,” he says, his tone well-mannered but the words are slow as if he’s unpracticed with them—a far cry from the expert who walked in.

“This is Ven and”—she nods over—“Terra.”

Even takes several moments to nod at Ven before looking at Terra for several seconds longer. Terra expects him to say something about the likeness of the painting behind them, but all Even says is, “Pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

Ven blocks a snort. It turns into a constricted cough that he tries to hide behind his hand. 

And with that, the conversation seemingly stops as Ansem sits back down and Even starts a lecture about subjects and the physiology of an older woman in a neighboring district, the adjustment of carbon and whether data can be downloaded via oxygen transfer. 

“I promise we will cover these topics,” Ansem says with a palm up that stops Even before he can really get into the nitty-gritty. “But first, I insist we speak about my request.”

Even inhales (for a long time) before crossing his hands over his binder. He shifts his posture as though to address Terra, but he says nothing.

“May I ask for a small favor?” Ansem asks Terra.

Taken aback, Terra blinks. A muscle deep in his chest wants to yank away and strike back, sharp and poisonous. “Sure.”

Ansem pulls one of Xehanort’s journals and flips through, reverently stopping at a page and letting it float on top of the other. “I had never once suspected anything amiss.” With your body is what he isn’t pointing out. “If I had known...” Ansem nods to himself. Who knows what he could have done if he did. “I ask for peace of mind.” 

With that, Even smiles to himself. Surprisingly, it’s soft. 

“Okay?”

“If you please.” Ansem turns the journal to Terra. This page is mostly equations and diagrams, with one sentence written on the top. “May I ask you to transcribe this?” He also hands Terra a pen. 

The sentence in question reads: 

The soul is but breath, the face its language, the heart its warmth. 

The handwriting is carefully crafted, the loops in the E’s and A’s artfully asymmetrical with equal amounts of ink spared for every letter. This will be easy to prove it isn’t Terra’s. 

“Yeah,” Terra says, smiling. At least the content isn’t horrible. If anything, it sounds like something he would have learned in class years ago. 

He takes the pen and writes right under it, noticing the date at the top right-hand corner—this was written eleven years and eight months ago, four months after Terra lost his body. But supposedly, this was done with Terra’s clumsy hand and thick fingers anyway. Time is not friendly.

Terra scratches the surface of the paper as he strikes the page, his A’s never fully formed and looking like U’s, and his E’s all different sizes, coming together in a sentence as choppy as waves with ink jabbed in some punctuation. 

When he hands the journal back, Ansem studies it with fingers to his lips before looking up at Even for reassurance.

“This proves what I have suspected,” Even says softly, the subject clearly sensitive to Ansem the Wise. “You positively could not have noticed. The calligraphy is entirely disparate.” He points to make comparisons. 

“You study calligraphy?” Terra asks, and there’s a tick in Even’s shoulders as if he’s already forgotten they were in the same room.

Even inhales. That must be his coping mechanism, but when he starts, there’s a subtle travel to the distance he builds. He’s excited to talk about it. “The study of penmanship as a device for human psychology makes remarkable and accurate descriptions of different personalities. It’s fascinating.” 

“That’s interesting.”

“And what hobbies do you enjoy in your spare time?” Ansem asks, placing the journal down, more at ease.

Put on the spot, Terra’s mind goes blank. It takes Ven nudging him the shoulder to respond. “Whittling wood, I guess.”

One of Even’s eyes bulges out and Ansem chuckles. Terra gets it. It’s not something any of them can imagine Xehanort doing. Instead, he’d (play chess). Just like the Master. Terra sees an image of (Vexen) in a long, black cloak, cross-legged on a white lounge chair, resting his chin on his hand and staring hard at pieces before him. Not that Terra knows a Vexen, but it comes to him as brim as a memory, as though they’ve only played together last year. As pleasant as it seems, it makes Terra nauseous just to know. Maybe tea would have helped, but his cup sits on the wheeled cart, having lost its steam.

“On to why you are here,” Ansem says, closing the journal and pressing against the cover, shutting the door to one life. “I assume you would need assistance in finding Master Aqua’s lost Keyblade. I can surely confirm one was with Xehanort when we found him.”

Aqua, who’s been swirling her mug of tea, sits up at the sound of her name. 

“I don’t need much help, actually,” Terra says. “I know where it is.”

Even leans forward, bending over the desk to study Terra’s eyes. All he would really need is a magnifying glass. “Peculiar. You carry with you a record of those memories?”

Terra won’t mention Naminé’s involvement. That girl deserves time to herself. “Yep.”

Ansem leans back onto his chair, his brows furrowing. “Where did he keep it?”

Terra doesn’t know. But he does. “Downstairs.”

Aqua and Ven glance over at him. Even straightens himself. Ansem huffs. Downstairs. It’s such a weighted word.

“Even is the only one willing to venture down there,” Ansem says. 

“I may be of assistance,” Even says, bringing his binder to his chest. “Master Ansem—”

“I know what this means.” Ansem grunts when he stands up, folding his hands behind him and turning his back on whatever will come next. He takes Even’s papers with his abrupt leave. “I thank you again for the visit,” he says to Terra and Aqua. 

Something about his shame unnerves Terra, reminding him of his own many years ago when he started a whole, brutal journey for himself and his friends (if only he stayed behind and congratulated her on her Mark of Mastery). In his desire to make everyone comfortable, he sees something else: by a window to a sunset and a flower garden down below, another chessboard competes with an open book and a hot mug of tea for space on the table. Terra stands up. 

“Thanks for having me,” he says, and it sounds as stupid as the waver in his voice. All that needs to be said will remain unspoken, he realizes, the glacier in this room needing months to melt. “We can play a round the next time I come? Chess? My Master taught to be good at it.” It may be invasive to ask, but when he sees Ansem relax, he can take comfort in the small solace of whatever good they shared twelve years ago.  

Aqua smiles up at Terra, her tea finished.

“I would like that very much,” Ansem says, nodding off to Ventus. “This one minds his manners.” He shuts the door behind him.

“As opposed to who?” Ven asks the room, but no one replies. 

“It will be this way,” Even says. He takes the painting down as if it’s weightless, as if it doesn’t have any relevance to anybody here. Aqua stands up like rubber plucked, her hands folded into each other. The anticipation kills Terra, too. Finally, they’ll be done with this exhausting day.

He doesn’t see what Even’s doing to the wall, but it vanishes, opening up to a hallway. Where it begins. They follow him to a personal computer room, which sits in an alcove overlooking an enormous factory stacked with huge glass pods, like vials but big enough to fit an adult.

Neither of them ask what those are about, not even nosy Ven, who’s been too quiet lately. Terra can almost feel why, like whispers of ghosts. It’s for the best they don’t speak about this factory. Spoken words confirming what lived in those prisons would be the straw to give them all nightmares. 

“How old is this castle?” Ven asks Even.

“Radiant Garden is the flagbearer of light,” Even says, operating keys on a giant computer as big as the wall itself. This they already know. It has been for decades, a golden chalice that all Keybearers of the past have visited. “The castle was built millennia ago, reformed by remnants several years after the Collapse of Fairytales.”

Ven should know this already, but he winces as though he’s been lied to. “Are you sure?”

“Ven,” Aqua hisses. “This is his home, and that is rude.”

But Ven isn’t convinced. “It just feels weird around here,” he mumbles. “And the basement?”

Even doesn’t answer the specific question, but says, “We’ve made arrangements to seal it off completely.” He pulls out a disc from his binder. The sight of it—it’s so familiar and so ugly. Slipping it into the computer, Even types a password (ANOTHER), which prompts him to enter several more, all hidden behind what look like stars.

Names of apprentices, starting with Xehanort. There’s Even, Dilan, Ienzo, Aeleus, and… Braig.

Braig. Terra knows that face for sure. Word has gotten out he disappeared after the Keyblade War, quite possibly done for. Good riddance. 

There’s a whir and a bang somewhere close by but far away, the twist of a lock unlatching.

“Shall I accompany you downstairs?” Even asks. He says ‘downstairs’ like it’s a typical basement. It must take strength to face your crimes head on. He’s got guts.

“No, thank you,” Terra says at Ven’s expense, who’s fidgeting more with every second. “I think I can lead the rest of the way.”

Even eyes his binder resting on the terminal, removing the disc as it’s spit out. “I suppose that is practical. You won’t necessitate my presence if the doors open for you… in actuality, one of those doors is meant only for Xemnas. If it opens, please inform me.” He picks up after himself, pausing twice before continuing. “If that is the case… I would ask that you allow me to study your body afterward. We can schedule appointments—”

“What does that mean?” Aqua asks, stepping by Terra as if bracing to shield him. “What kind of studies? Will they cause him harm?”

Even gasps before chuckling. The whole scary-scientist mask is a facade; he just doesn’t bother with painted smiles or with attempts at making other people comfortable. A take-him-as-he-is kind of person. “Not at all. Merely some blood tests. Perhaps a scan of his heart at the most invasive. If the doors open, then that would suggest some unusual attributes which would be helpful in our restorative work.”

Aqua opens her mouth to say something, but she stops when she notices Terra smiling gently at her. They pass a silent conversation, one where she knows to let him go despite her worries, and one when he hears her and lets her know it’s okay. She nods and steps away to give Ven comfort. 

“It’s part of her charm,” Terra says to Even when she’s far enough. “But sure, I’m game.”

“Perhaps we can play a round, as well,” Even says. 

“Of chess? That will be fun.”

“Most indubitably.”

Even gives them limited instructions in accessing the basement—the rest, he says, is intuitive and simple. It starts at the base of the empty factory, where a trap door reveals a winding spiral ramp down that disappears into a black pit. It’s going to take a while.

��This looks like a tacky scene from a crime novel I’ve read,” Aqua says, her arms crossed for comfort with her head held high and a sharp sniff through her nose.

“This is weird,” Ven mumbles, sounding more sick than usual. Terra checks his temperature with a palm to the forehead, but Ven seems fine and unaware of what Terra is doing, totally transfixed with how dark it is down there. 

It’s a long descent, some passed in quiet, and if not, with small talk about the architecture, the humidity getting thicker the more they take steps. Light travels far down here, but it’s unnatural, an artificial lamp used to show the trespasser the way and keep them from tripping and breaking necks, like an undetectable odor.

The more they descend, the heavier Terra feels, like tar soaking his hair too much and the weight of it pulling on his scalp. Like cement filling his stomach and it takes more strength to drag his feet. Like lead shackled to his ankles and he just wants to hoist himself over the railing and fall all the way down. Let’s get this over with. 

Then the memories hurt. 

He doesn’t get a say in which one comes to him: one of a man he does not recognize sitting on a red couch, fingers crossed and fumbling, lips mumbling, eyes trembling, confessions of a secret he carries deep in his heart and Terra doesn’t know what the secret is but he knows it’s  guilty. Will you help me get rid of it? this man asks. And Terra replies with, Yes.

Another of Braig (of all people), setting up machinery and needles.

Another of Ansem the Wise (again and again), erasing sentences on a chalkboard, sipping tea late in the night. Work and work, chemical smells and bubbling tonics and hearts placed in jars. 

It’s not fair. After all he went through, he deserves one of the Master. He wills himself to think about Eraqus. What comes is the feeling of sand in his mouth and there’s a beach far away that looks like Destiny Islands but Eraqus isn’t there. Eraqus isn’t in any of these. Time is a picture, a flash of light and then an image printed on love and worry, cycling in one direction. It’s like death in that way. It’s not kind. Even in the desire to replay memories over and over, time is apathy. It’s never re-lived. Never reversed. 

“Are you doing okay?”

Aqua has stopped, Ven far in the lead like he’s magnetized. They may be halfway down, but it’s hard to tell. 

“Sure,” Terra says, unable to say more. His muscles are stiffening as if he’s cold, his knees tightening as if he’s aging. He doesn’t know, he knows. He doesn’t see but he feels. Down there is a realm of darkness handcrafted by scientists. A modern kind of darkness, expelled and sanctified and sterilized. 

Aqua rests her hand on his shoulder blades. “I want to say you don’t have to do this—”

“But I have to.” 

She doesn’t soften. “We’re almost there,” she says, like when Ven got sick and they had to hunt for a specific herb in the forest, the Master staying behind to brew the right potion. Like when they were taught in class that duty comes first and Terra had asked Aqua if she’d ever fight him in the name of it. When Terra looks down, like she’s a real light guiding his way, he sees a door at the bottom when it once was nothing. They’re almost there. A set of double doors in a single circular room and nothing else, a secret tucked deep in what felt like a canyon to hike down. 

Ven runs ahead. Instinctively, Terra wants to cry out, watching that head of blond hair rushing up to the door, a miner’s canary at the mouth of the cave just before it stops breathing.

“I can’t open it,” Ven says when he tries to pry them open with his fingers. 

“You can’t because you’re not supposed to be here,” Terra says, sluggishly walking forward. Aqua keeps a firm hand on him, as if to catch him if he falls. The door seems designed to sense him—when he comes near, it opens. Just like Even suspected. A wave of heat passes over him, giving him a long, white hallway with a military of doors and chains on both sides. 

Ven lurches backward as if inhaling in a horrid stench, his eyes seeing something that isn’t there. “No.”

“What’s wrong?” Aqua asks. 

“You don’t feel that?” Ven is waving his arms as if shooing something away. “It’s awful. This whole castle is awful and… old. So old.” 

That doesn’t make any sense. There’s an odd feeling to the hall, yes—a toxic atmosphere from too many chemical experiments, too much darkness dampening the ceiling and sweating down the walls. “This level was only built a decade ago, Ven.” 

“That’s not what I’m talking about,” he whines. “What are they not telling us? What else is this castle hiding? What happened here?”

Aqua leads Ven away, shushing his pleads (Please, don’t go in there). It’s like he’s hallucinating, forgetting where he is or what time has settled this fate on them. She bends to her knees to calm him down, Terra stupefied.

“You still okay?” she asks Terra after sitting Ven down at the bottommost step. 

No, he isn’t. “It kind of smells bad here. You?”

“It’s cold.” 

To him, it’s hot. 

“We’re going in, Ven,” she says, who has his arms wrapped around his knees. 

“It’s just at the end of this corridor,” Terra says softly, not out of fear but out of exhaustion, his heart about to give in at any second with the swell of information christening his brain like a thick cement. He should have taken Naminé’s advice. 

The doors in this hallway are barred, just to give the tiniest of merciful crumbs to the prisoners inside by giving them each other. What did they talk about? Nothing comes to Terra’s mind when he wonders. White on white, like the Castle Oblivion Aqua described, pristine and clean and filthy. The rooms are dark inside, but Terra doesn’t dare to look, and Aqua won’t either. 

Terra smells acid—formaldehyde maybe, a faint trace of it that gives him a sense of déja vu, despite that he’s never smelled it before and he doesn’t even know what formaldehyde even is. 

A scream bounces through the walls. Terra holds his head. 

You, but not you.

A soft sob from the room to his left, and he’s nauseous, bile coming up so quick that he holds his mouth. 

You, but not you.

A face, a little girl with long black hair, and Terra leans onto his knees to keep himself upright. 

You, but not you.

He feels a hand on his shoulder. That is real.

“You okay?”

If he answers, he’ll vomit. He shakes his head. 

“Should I go ahead?” Aqua asks softly.

He shakes his head again and moans. It’s just a few more steps. He’ll not think about the memories, not think about the someone asking for water or the hearts stuffed in jars or the recliners with wrist straps. Not think about the monitors and the faces, so many faces, so many little girls in particular and grandmothers who left children behind and the scratching of pen on paper. 

There’s a whisper and Terra shuts his eyes so he doesn’t hear what it has to say. 

“What’s going on?” Ven calls out. He’s at the edge where the doorway meets the staircase, peeking his head inside, never placing a foot. 

“We’re fine,” Terra answers. 

Aqua wraps his arm around her shoulders, hoisting him up. Nothing truly stops her. 

“Talk to me about anything,” Terra says. 

“I don’t know what to say,” she says, surprisingly calm, gazing around the room for the familiar and unfriendly. “It doesn’t feel the same as the Dark Realm, which… I guess you could say commands respect. It’s as old as life. It feels so much like yourself sometimes.”

“We all have Darkness in our hearts,” Terra mumbles, head foggy.

“Yes.” She holds him closer when he sways. “Sadness or anger, Darkness is your mirror. But this place…” Her tone is flaccid and exhausted, as if this place has drained her happiness with a syringe. “This place is sick.”

“I’m sick,” he grumbles. “You can say you told me so.”

“I never said anything.”

“That’s the thing, you never have to say anything, Aqua. You always know the right thing to do.”

Aqua stares holes into the floor, waiting for him to step before she does. “It wasn’t right to push you away.”

And he waits for her to catch up before stepping another. “I wasn’t right at all.”

She squeezes the wrist over her shoulder, a silent acknowledgement without correcting or denying him. “Thank you for doing this for me,” she whispers. 

At the end, there stands that door. This one probably answers only to (his) behest, to the touch of (his) palm on the monitor. Yes, that’s right, no one else can enter. 

“You would have needed me here anyway,” he says to Aqua, his mouth dry. 

It opens to a small round room. Chains link the doorway and the ceiling and around, connecting to a single throne in the middle.

“Why does it look like—?” Aqua hisses. “I don’t understand. What was this room used for?”

“Sitting,” he mutters.

Terra looks up when she stirs, trembling under his arm. Waiting alongside the throne is a color of blue, dull and dusty. Her cracked armor and the quiet patience of Rainfell sitting together, as if Darkness held one star in its hands that needed a little shine, waiting for the right sunrise to give it life.

When Aqua cries, a triumphant peace settles in Terra’s bones. It’s worth it. This is the very best he could ever give.

[fairytaleendingss]

With Or Without You (Dallas Winston x Reader)

Warnings: Cursing, angst, toxic relationship, borderline abuse?.

Summary: 

(a/n: The fic is inspired by the song With Or Without You by U2. I absolutely love this song and I think it’s perfect to describe Dally in a relationship. However, this story is for artistic purposes only, I do not condone or encourage toxic relationships. If any of you are in a situation like this, please remove yourself and if anyone needs to talk, my DMs are always open. Enjoy! xx)

---

You sat alone at the bar at Buck’s. You could see him standing across the room, chatting up some blonde broad who was practically begging for him to have his way with her. Everyone loves a bad-boy. That’s one thing you knew for sure but you always refused to believe Dallas was bad. You had always believed that under the layers of hurt and pain and damage, Dallas was capable of love. You could see now that you were wrong. 

You ordered another drink, taking a long gulp before getting up and trying to leave. However, in your drunken state, you managed to crash into a coffee-table, knocking over and shattering several empty beer bottles. 

Before you knew it, Dallas was at your side, taking you by the arm and pulling you outside to get some air. 

You stared into his cold, hard eyes. You could practically feel the rage radiating off him like heat from a forest fire. This wasn’t new. He was always angry, whether it be at you or the socs or just the world in general.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” he growled at you, running a hand through his shaggy, brown hair. “I told you not to get drunk”.

You felt anger bubble to the surface at his words. “You can’t tell me what to do”. 

You turned, intending to walk down the front stairs but stumbled as you did and Dally reached out an arm to steady you. He let out a deep sigh as he looked at you flushed face. You glanced deeply into his eyes for a moment. What was this man doing to you?

Coming to your senses, you yanked your arm away from him. His eyes hardened once again and stared stared daggers at you as you made your way down the stairs.

“What is your problem?!” 

Your head snapped around suddenly and you sent him a cold glare. Your blood boiled and you clenched your fists by your side. 

“What’s my problem? What’s your problem Dallas Winston?” you yelled at the man who stood before you. “Need I remind you that you have a girlfriend! I do everything for you. I care for you when you get into fights, I bail you out when you get put in jail! I’m loyal and devoted and you repay me by feeling up some random floozy at a party that you dragged me to”.

You stared each other for a moment, faces hardened into a look of resentment before Dallas huffed and rolled his eyes. 

“That’s what this about?” he was practically fuming. “I’m sorry that you’re so uptight but I’m just trying to have some fun”. 

You opened your mouth to say something but Dallas continued before you got the chance to. 

“God! You’re so clingy! You know, I never asked for you to do any of that stuff, man. I can take care of myself! I was fine before you came along and I’d sure as hell be fine without you. I. Don’t. Need.You.”

You felt tears bubble to the surface of your eyes and you let one fall down your cheek. His words echoed in your mind. He doesn’t need you. He doesn’t need you.

You turned away, not wanting Dally to see you cry over him. You couldn’t give him the satisfaction.

“Well, maybe we shouldn’t be together then”. Your words came out so softly that Dally almost missed them, however, they pierced straight through his heart like a bullet from a shotgun. 

“What?” Unbeknownst to you, a look of pain had made it’s way onto Dally’s hardened features. “No! You can’t leave”. 

He took a step towards you, reaching out a hand but retracting it quickly. Dally wasn’t good with emotions. He didn’t deal with his own, let alone anyone else’s. He’d been hurt before and now his walls were built so high that he didn’t think he’d be able to let anyone in again. However, the way he saw your shoulders shake as you sobbed into your hands, made him feel a kind of pain worse than any injury he’d sustained in any rumble or fist fight. 

He quickly grabbed your shoulders turning him towards you and pulling you into his chest. You said nothing but sobbed silently into the front of his shirt.In that moment, you hated him. You hated him for not needing you. You hated him for hurting you. But most of all you hated Dallas Winston because he couldn’t love you in the way that you loved him. The truth was that you did love him, more passionately than you thought was humanly possible. But Dallas Winston was incapable of loving. He would use you and hurt you and push you until you broke but, somehow, you couldn’t bring yourself to give up on him. 

“What are we doing Dallas?” Your tears had run dry and you had collapsed into him, defeated. 

He said nothing, just held you. You didn’t know how long you stood there, in the middle of the street, holding on to each other as if it was the last time you ever would. And the truth is, maybe it was.  

After a while, you pulled away. You’re eyes met Dally’s and you let out a pained sigh. 

“We can’t go on like this. It’s torture for both of us”. 

Dallas’s face remained cold but for a brief moment you thought you saw a flicker of remorse flash through his eyes. 

You took his hands in yours. “I feel like my hands are tied” you felt a stray tear make your way down your cheek but you didn’t bother to wipe it away. “I have nothing to win and nothing left to lose”.

Dallas bit his lip, not meeting your eyes. “I don’t know what you want me to say”.

Taking a deep breath you reached a hand up and caressed his cheek. “There is nothing to say. I can’t live with you but I can’t live without you either.”

Dallas laid one of his calloused hands over yours. A single tear ran down his cheek but he quickly brushed it away before anyone was able to see. 

You closed your eyes for a moment and swallowed thickly. Dallas didn’t love you. He couldn’t love you. But you were able to see in this moment that as much as he denied it, he did need you and that would have to be enough. 

You didn’t notice you were shivering until you felt Dally rested a warm hand on your back and guided you back inside Buck’s. The party was still raging inside, however, all you focused on was the feeling of Dallas’s had wrapped tightly around yours, leading you through the crowd and up to his room. 

He closed the door gently and turned to where you were sitting on the bed, staring down at your hands. Dal slowly took of his shirt and shoes and climbed into bed, pulling you down beside him. 

You laid there together, relishing in the feeling of his arm around you and your head resting on his chest. The two of you, laid there deep into the night and you stayed awake long after you heard Dally’s soft snores. You didn’t know what to do. You loved him, you really did but you couldn’t keep going on the way you were and Dal would never change.

Eventually the thoughts stopped coming, your mind slowing enough to allow you to drift into a peaceful sleep. For the first time in a while, you felt truly safe, comforted even. You weren’t sure if there was a future for you and Dally but you would worry about that in the morning. In that moment, you enjoyed the feeling of peace that washed over you as you laid in Dally’s arms. In that moment he was yours and you were his, even if only for the night. 

[nextgensquad]

molly weasley having more grandchildren than anyone every thought possible, and not always through ordinary means, and loving every last one of them unconditionally no matter what.

it starts with teddy: she goes over to andromeda’s house to help with food and diaper-changing and entertaining him so andromeda can get a few hours of peace. harry and ginny, once they get their own place, have him over often enough that whenever molly comes by, he treats her just like he does his own grandmother—cheery, excited, always demanding her attention. when he gets older, he takes to popping by the burrow just to steal some of her cookies and kiss her on the cheek and ask her about her day.

(andromeda tells her once, over afternoon tea, that she doesn’t know if she would have survived it, without molly and her family to help. looking at teddy, raising teddy, with his mother’s heart-shaped face and his father’s guilt and andromeda’s own grey eyes—it’s a kind of pain molly knows well. knows it every time she looks at george.)

and then bill and fleur start having kids, and victoire is the brightest bundle of joy in the weasley family for years. born premature, born on the anniversary of the worst day of molly’s life, named for the victory-that-didn’t-feel-like-a-victory—

it’s not so easy, to love the children who remind you of the one you lost. but molly does, anyway. she holds victoire close and promises she won’t ever let her go, and she does the same with louis, and with dominique, knowing that even with every hand she adds on the clock it won’t bring back the one hand that’s stopped moving.

but you keep going, that’s how it is. you keep building and growing and teaching and learning. charlie comes to her when he’s twenty-eight and tells her, very quietly, “mum, i’m gay, and i want you to meet my boyfriend,” and he doesn’t seem like he knows what to expect until molly tackles him in a hug.

children are children, and all of them are different: this is something molly knows very well. so even though charlie never has kids, she cries up a storm at his wedding, and cries harder when he introduces her to the three baby dragons that have just hatched on the reserve and tells her that they’ve named one of them ‘molly’ after her.

“there’s nobody fiercer than you, mum,” he says, laughing as she clutches the red-scaled baby dragon in her hands. “these are your newest grandchildren.”

percy takes his idea and gives her name to his daughter, when she is born as one-of-a-set, her and her sister lucy, both of them tiny and red and screaming at the world. this is the hardest molly has ever cried at a grandchild’s birth, watching her namesake cradled in percy’s arms, watching lucy cry out for her sister, thinking of two different sets of twins with red hair and freckles and the uncanny ability to always know when their other half was missing.

little molly is seven and licking cookie dough out of a bowl in the burrow’s kitchen when she stops and looks very seriously at her grandmother and asks her, “grandmum, why did you have so many kids?”

molly looks at her tiny granddaughter, with her red hair in a long ponytail and her blue eyes (like percy, like arthur) so full of dreams and questions and puzzles, and smiles before she can help herself.

“well, i had two little brothers,” she explains, a serious answer for a serious little girl. “and i loved taking care of them so much that i wanted a lot of my own children so i could take care of them, too.”

“oh.” little molly nods, her ponytail bouncing. “i get it. i don’t want lots, though. i just want me and lucy and that’s it.”

molly laughs and wipes cookie dough from little molly’s face and sends her scurrying off to find her sister soon after, thinking about molly and lucy and fabian and gideon and george and fred who could never have kids, who would have loved them, too. she thinks maybe that’s why she got to live—so she could learn to love them that much more even with a broken heart.

george and angelina aren’t married when they announce that they’re expecting a kid, and they still aren’t married when fred comes out with his beautiful dark hair and brown eyes he got straight from his father (from molly), and they still aren’t married when roxanne comes along with her long curls and the same brown eyes and sense of humor stolen straight from her uncle, so at some point molly gives up nudging them towards marriage—fred and roxanne are so much more important than a ceremony and a pretty dress, anyway.

molly still cries the day angelina moves out, because maybe some part of her had thought that getting married and having kids would help to heal the brokenness in george’s gaze and the empty spaces in his heart where fred had lived, but he sits her down and tells her softly, “it’s okay, mum, it’s okay, we love each other so much, just not the same way we once did, and she’ll still be around, we love the kids, she loves you.”

he’s right about that, because when angelina falls in love again, after she goes to her father, she brings cho chang to the burrow, almost hesitantly as if worried that molly might reject her almost-daughter-in-law and her new relationship. but molly only draws them both into a hug so tight she never wants to let them go, not angelina with her fierceness and her laughter and her unwillingness to let anybody feel lost, not cho with her silver laugh and her warm hands and her reaching for someone to hold onto after her last marriage failed.

molly weasley doesn’t turn away broken kids. she tells angelina, “i always wanted daughters, and now i have more. i could never be unhappy about that.”

cho brings her daughter over, a girl named emika with quiet eyes and a rare smile used to a house without laughter or love, used to a father who didn’t stay, and not at all used to people who will stay for anyone, regardless of where they come from or who they are. molly bakes her a fresh batch of cookies and george shows her how his latest invention works and when the upstairs bathroom explodes and louis comes storming down with neon green hair and zebra stripes, emika finally starts laughing.

the thing about the burrow is that no matter who you are, you’ll find a corner of it to call your home. and even though they’ve expanded and built rooms and sheds and treehouses, arthur’s never fixed that rackety old door and molly doesn’t even ask him to, anymore. the burrow is for everyone, no matter how lost or lonely or searching.

it’s where ron comes to tell her that hermione’s pregnant, with his hands shaking around a cup of hot chocolate, his blue eyes terrified and desperate and so full of love that it’s impossible to remember a time when he wasn’t in love with hermione. molly and arthur sit with him and promise him that he’ll be a good father and she eases his worries away with a blanket to cover him and a kiss on his forehead to send him to sleep, just like she did all those years ago before the war stole him away.

“you’ll be the best father any kid could ask for,” arthur tells him, hand on his knee, just like when ron was little. “because you’re the best son any parent could ask for.”

and later, watching ron hold little baby rose in his arms for the first time, his eyes shining with wonder and awe, molly knows that they’re right. knows that they raised their kids to do the best they can, just the way they had from the moment the first war began. that this is what they were fighting for all alone—for their son to hold his newborn daughter in his arms for the first time and fall in love all over again.

rose is an easy baby, compared to the potters. molly can’t ever forget the time ginny showed up through the fireplace, james clinging to her leg and albus screaming in her arms, lily yet unborn and kicking in her stomach, and all but collapsed in her mother’s arms, begging to know how she did it, so many times, for so many years.

“a lot of patience,” molly says with a smile, prying james from his mother’s legs so al can have her full attention. “a lot of tears. and a lot of knowing that the best is yet to come.”

ginny sighs deeply, rocking al in her arms until he starts to calm down. “what if we fuck them all up, mum? what if i can’t handle it?”

“ginny,” says molly, “you survived voldemort. you can survive motherhood. and it’s not like you’re alone.”

to prove it, she calls arthur and he shows up with hermione and angelina and audrey and they take ginny away for a day of coffee and shopping and relaxation while she and arthur deal with their two precious dark-haired grandsons until both of them are calm and fed and sleepy on the couch by the time harry comes back to pick them up.

it never really gets easier, in molly’s experience—children are children and your children will always be your children, no matter how old they get. things turn out complicated in new and different ways than they did when it was her and arthur and two boys and percy on the way and a war burning up around them.

so when percy’s marriage fractures under the pressures of his first term as minister of magic, she shows up to his suddenly-empty house and fills in the spaces where audrey had lived with lights and laughter and fresh cooking. he never figures out how to thank her—but then, percy’s never been big on that sort of thing anyway, but she knows he appreciates it because his daughter comes home for christmas holidays and hugs molly tight and whispers, “thank you for looking out for him,” and, well, little molly’s always been the best parts of percy and audrey, anyway.

and when audrey brings home a new daughter from her new marriage and lucy shows up fuming on the burrow’s doorstep, her motorcycle parked haphazardly in the front yard, molly doesn’t tell her that she’ll learn to love her new sister, or that she shouldn’t be mad at her mother for leaving and starting a new family, or that she should be more patient with her father, because that’s not what lucy came to hear. so instead she makes lucy’s favorite spicy noodles and they sit in the living room and lucy vents about how annoying her new sister is until arthur comes home and laughs and they set up ginny’s old bedroom for lucy to sleep in.

all children are different, and this above all else is what molly knows better than anything. so when lucy takes the divorce and the remarriage and her new french step-sister and turns it all into reckless energy that she burns across the skies by stealing arthur’s old ford anglia, she tells percy not to punish her, not to tear her down when she just wants to fly. she lets lucy stay that summer at the burrow, where she never has to run into audrey and her new family if she doesn’t want to, even though her sister molly is taking the brunt of the drama and the tabloid gossip with as much grace as she can manage, and she doesn’t make lucy answer the door when audrey turns up at the burrow’s doorstep and asks to see her daughter.

“i know she doesn’t want to see me,” says audrey with a bone-deep sigh, too used to her daughter acting out and shutting people out and burning until everyone around her is on fire. “will you at least meet clea? i know she’s not really part of the family—”

molly knows lucy is listening from the stairs, but she says it anyway: “audrey, you will always be part of our family. and all your daughters are my granddaughters.”

audrey, who comes from a cold, glittering pureblood family that’s still never learned to treat its daughters as anything but coat hangers for pretty dresses and wedding rings, smiles the small, unsure smile of a woman still learning how love works, even after two marriages and three daughters.

molly doesn’t have to do much to persuade lucy, after that; the two of them go with audrey, lucy sullen and quiet, to meet her step-daughter clea in a coffee shop in diagon alley, and even though clea is french and snotty and tries her hardest to look down her nose at her new step-sister, she still laughs in surprise when lucy tells the story of how she stole her grandfather’s car and flew all the way to ireland before anyone caught up with her, and audrey doesn’t even say anything disapproving, so molly thinks it’s been a success.

clea shows up to the burrow for family get-togethers and potlucks more often than not; she and emika and teddy three different versions of outsiders. teddy barrels his way into the heart of the family, positive and delighted in his place in it; emika speaks quietly with fred, ever-unsure what to do with her step-siblings but slowly getting better at it; and clea picks up a conversation in french between victoire and fleur and carves out a place there even with lucy still avoiding her as much as possible.

of all three of her almost-grandchildren, she doesn’t expect teddy to be the one to disappear from their weekend brunches.

something happens—and she wishes she knew what it was, but it seems that nobody does, not even bill and fleur or harry and ginny—and in the middle of planning their wedding, teddy and victoire break up. it shouldn’t be the end of the world, even though molly had always thought they would end up together, even though they had been dating so long, and she knows that nobody would ever exile teddy just for a break-up, not even dominique or louis, but he seems to take the decision out of their hands when he stops showing up.

“she hasn’t told you why?” she asks fleur over their weekly tea together, watching her daughter-in-law’s face draw down as she thinks about the break-up that split their family. “you don’t think he was cheating, do you?”

fleur scoffs. “not teddy. ‘e would never—i asked victoire and she said eet wasn’t anything like that. she said eet wasn’t anything any of us could understand. i told her, we have all had relationships that did not work out but…”

“every child always thinks their pain is completely unique,” molly says with a sad smile. “maybe it is.”

“if she would tell me, we could help,” says fleur, frustrated. “she eez not seeing the bigger picture—the family—”

“do you remember,” says molly suddenly, “how i didn’t want you and bill to get married at all?”

fleur blinks at her. “of course.”

“maybe you wanting her and teddy to get married is… sort of the same thing.”

fleur sighs. “but he eez good for her—and good to her. we all know this. you can’t fall out of love in a month.”

“love mattered a great deal to us, when everything in our world was about war and death and hate,” molly says thoughtfully. “maybe it just looks different without all that above their heads.”

maybe, she thinks but doesn’t say, victoire still hasn’t found what she’s looking for, and maybe it’s harder to find it with the sun of a victorious world always beating down on your shoulders. maybe it’s hard to know what you want when your parents are legends, war heroes and curse-breakers and good and strong and kind. molly is so proud of the children she’s raised, of the people they’ve married, but she can’t imagine how it must feel on the other side of the family, growing up looking into the sun so long it blinds you.

she sends victoire a care package, and then sends teddy one, too. children are children, and they all need love and support, whether they’re willing to admit it or not.

things keep changing—they always do, whether you want them to or not, this she has learned—and even as she gets older and her grandchildren grow, she finds very little can prepare her for watching these children become who they are, shining in the sunrise of a world without the dark lord, but still with enough shadows of their own. she gives advice as she can, to the ones who bother to come to the burrow—little molly and lucy, now out of hogwarts, stop by the most often, and there’s albus, who comes by to talk to his grandfather about muggle electronics, and sometimes even lily, who will only allow her grandparents to see her without that burnished glory she projects like wildfire to everyone else.

it’s james who rarely visits. james, growing up as the eldest son of harry potter and ginny weasley, james with the endless gryffindor fire that burns everyone around him and then burns him out with it, james who spends most of his days out in a club or on the streets and rarely comes home even when the papers publish photographs of him with a black eye or swollen lip after every dangerous weekend. molly reads all the papers and keeps salves and ointments and practices all the healing charms she knows by heart, just in case he ends up on her doorstep the way he did when he was little and had skinned his knee in the backyard.

he does, though—just once the entire year he is twenty-one, and not with any injuries from once. his face is bleak, his gaze terrified, but he doesn’t smell of alcohol or drugs or anything.

“i’m sorry,” he says when she invites him in to sit on the couch, his hands shaking in his leather jacket. “i wanted to tell you before it got out—abby’s pregnant.”

for a second, molly has to think on who he’s talking about, so distracted by the miserable way her grandson looks, by the way he seems to be expecting her and arthur to start yelling at him. abigail longbottom is another one of the regular invitees to the weasley family gathering, her and her brother jake growing up enmeshed in their family, playing with the potters and their cousins until the skies grew dark in the days of their childhood. molly’s always liked her.

“you’re having a baby?” arthur asks, always clarifying before jumping to conclusions, even as his hand reaches over the couch to take hers and clutch it. they have wanted grandchildren, and great-grandchildren, just as much as anyone else, but james looks so young, so lonely, so wrecked sitting there on their couch, too young to have a child.

“i am. i mean, she is. she’s keeping it. i don’t know if… if she’ll let me be a part of this.” james swallows, his gaze faraway and aching. “but… i’m sure she’ll want you to be a part of it—the baby’s life. i just…”

he drops his head down into his hands and molly moves in a flash to take him into her arms and hold him as he cries. she hasn’t seen james cry in a long time, not since he was twelve and broke his arm in a family quidditch match, and suddenly, all these years later, he is twelve again, sniffling and clinging to her arms as if she can heal everything with a hug.

she wishes she could. arthur goes quietly into the kitchen to make james a cup of hot chocolate and pulls out all the candy that he would have loved when he was twelve, and then they all sit in the kitchen, eating chocolates, and james tells them all about how it happened, why it happened, and how much he desperately wants the kid even though he knows it’s not a good idea at all.

“i mean, shit—sorry—” he hiccups on his second mug of hot chocolate, still unused to swearing in front of his grandparents. “she’s nineteen and i feel terrible. and i’m barely older and it still feels like… i don’t know. it just sucks because if it was vic and teddy having a kid then everything would be fine, but it’s me.”

“james,” says arthur gently, “no matter what kind of a father you are, that child will never have anything less than complete and utter love in their life. that’s not something you need to worry about. it doesn’t matter that it’s you and abby instead of victoire and teddy.”

james doesn’t really look like he believes him, but he nods anyway. “you know, you guys are a lot nicer about this than mum and dad were.”

molly shares a smile with arthur. “well, we have some experience with having kids a little young that your parents don’t.”

james frowns at her. “really?”

“we were twenty-two when your uncle bill was born,” arthur agrees. “it was terrifying then, no matter how much we loved him, and i’m sure it would be terrifying now. you’re never really prepared for children, even when you think you are.”

“everyone feels like they’re the worst parent in the world,” molly says, “and truthfully, nobody can be the best. all that matters is trying.”

she sees it in james’ face the first time he holds his newborn daughter—the same look his father had, that arthur had, that they all have when they see their child for the first time—that he does finally believe them about being a parent. it’s always harder than it seems, harder than it looks, and harder than anybody would believe without becoming one themselves.

“but it’s worth it, right?” ginny had asked her, the first night she had found out she was pregnant with james, her voice very small and her arms cradling around her still-flat stomach, as if terrified something might burst out of there before she was ready.

molly had smiled and tucked her daughter’s hair behind her ear and said, “it’s always, always worth it.”