#My body used to tremble so fast i used to cry of stress/anger but this year i didn't got afraid i felt nothing

[celibibratty]

Don't you have afraid of the healing, get healead to a point where you will you stop caring, this is what you always wanted and prayed for, but if this is leading you to the End?

[earlgreydream]

angry.

| theo nott x reader | smut | fluff |

anon requested. Theo’s had a long stressful day and is rougher and maybe aftercare & the morning after he was rough with her and she’s trying to reassure him that she’s all good and maybe lead to some soft smut

cw: spanking, d/s, rough sex

“Don’t be angry.”

“Fuck you, Malfoy,” Theo spat at his best friend.

You looked up, shocked to hear the hateful words from your typically sweet boyfriend.

“I’ve had the worst fucking day and you keep being a prat and irritating me!”

“Makers, Nott, take a breath,” Zabini scoffed, earning a wicked glare.

“You got me in trouble in astronomy, you ass. Best shut your mouth, Zabini.”

Theo slammed his textbook shut and rose from the table, his chair clattering backwards with a loud noise.

His cloak brushed the wooden steps as he went to his dorm, too frustrated to deal with his friends’ badgering.

You sighed, stacking his books with yours, feeling bad for him. He’d had a terrible day, after a bad week, and his temper was understandable.

“What’s up his ass?”

“Leave him alone. He’s just had a bad day. Be kind to Teddy, please,” you answered Draco, who immediately looked guilty at your sweetness.

You carried your things up to Theo’s bedroom, planning to console him. You knocked softly on the door before entering, setting everything down on the desk. Theo was draped over his green velvet chair, looking stormy and volatile.

“My love, what can I do?” You asked softly, shedding your cloak and walking up to him.

“Nothing, sweetheart. I’m not upset with you. I never want you to think that,” he said, wrapping his arms around your hips and burying his face in your abdomen.

You could feel the waves of anger and frustration pouring off of him, and you would do anything to console him. A deep sigh escaped your boyfriend, and you felt bad for him. Your fingers stroked through his curls, trying to soothe him.

“What can I do, Teddy?”

“Nothing. I’m fine.”

“You’re not. Would it help to get some of the frustration out?” You peeled away from him, letting your dress drop to the floor. 

“Sweetheart, I can’t be gentle right now,” Theo warned.

“That’s okay. I can take it rough. You can hurt me, Teddy,” you breathed, sinking down onto his lap, wearing just your little cotton panties.

“You’re certain?”

You nodded. Theo hesitated, but he trusted you, knowing you’d never let him use you or take it too far.

“What’s your safeword, sweetheart?”

His strong hands squeezed your thighs, and he gazed up at you, kissing your sternum. 

“Black.”

He stood up, his height towering over yours. You peered up at him, shrinking under his stern gaze. Your wrists were taken in one of his large hands, trapped together and leaving you unable to move.

“Need you to be still while I fuck this tight little cunt,” Theo said, his voice several octaves deeper than before.

You didn’t answer, knowing it was unnecessary at this point. His hand came down hard on your ass, leaving a stinging handprint that had you blinking back moisture.

Your back was on the bed, and your knees bent up to your shoulders, leaving you entirely exposed to him. A squeal left your lips when he smacked your cunt, a force behind the blow that almost had your knees closing.

He tapped the head of his cock against your clit, rubbing through your folds and teasing your entrance. Tears were welled in your eyes now, out of need and arousal.

“Fuck!” You cried, dropping your head on the mattress as he slammed into you all at once. Your body struggled to adapt to the stretch, pain shooting through your abdomen as his hips began snapping at a ruthless pace.

“Keep those dirty words out of your pretty mouth,” Theo hissed, pushing two fingers past your lips to keep you from speaking.

He pressed down on your tongue, causing you to gag around him, making your muscles contract around him. Tears were now staining your cheeks, and you tried to ground yourself by sucking on his fingers, the only part of your body you remained in control of.

A low growl erupted from his chest at the action, and he gripped your thigh hard enough to bruise, slamming into your cunt fast and hard. All the angst and irritation came pouring out of him, channeled into fucking you.

Theo swore, dropping his head forward and emptying himself inside of you. You whined around his fingers still in your mouth, and he tugged them out, dropping his hand to rub your clit.

“Theo,” you cried, the stimulation harsh and rough even as he just meant to get you off. Your body convulsed, coming around him as he rutted his hips into yours. 

You ached, unused to being handled so roughly. Theo slid out of you carefully, breathing hard, but visibly less upset than before. It stung as he pulled out, causing a whimper to escape your lips. 

“Sweetheart,” Theo breathed, brushing the tears off of your cheeks. Worry immediately knit in his brow, and you shook your head, leaning up on shaky arms to kiss him. 

“It’s okay, I’m okay,” you promised, even though you ached.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized, kissing the space between your eyes.

“Don’t be.” 

“Let me clean you up,” Theo was standing before you could protest, stepping into the ensuite out of your view. 

You laid back against the pillows, trying to catch your breath. Theo breathed another apology when you winced as he tried to clean you up. 

“I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have been so rough,” Theo was distraught, horrified by his own roughness he exhibited with you. 

“Theo, my love, I promise that I am alright,” you insisted, and you meant it. 

He slipped soft cotton up your legs, kissing the soft skin on your belly, making you laugh. Theo made sure to be extremely gentle as he helped you into one of his shirts, a touristy tee from one of the American cities he had traveled to. 

“I love you,” Theo whispered, kissing your cheek and putting a glass of water in your hands as he settled behind you. 

“I love you more,” you giggled, snuggling back against his chest and drinking the water while he read aloud from a book. His fingertips gently trailed over your torso under the soft fabric, tracing shapes on your skin as he soothed you to sleep with his low voice. 

.

Theo rolled over in bed, watching you stand on trembling legs. 

“Don’t leave me,” Theo’s beg was soft and pathetic, fearing you were running after he’d been too aggressive. 

“Oh, no, love. I’m just using the loo,” you kissed his forehead before disappearing, leaving him to relax in the bed. 

.

“I feel terrible.”

“You shouldn’t. I’m all good, just a bit sore,” you tried to assure Theo as you crawled back into the warmth of his bed. 

You settled on your side, smiling as he draped your thigh over his. Theo’s hand went to the back of your neck, gently pulling you into a lazy kiss. It quickly turned into a sleepy makeout session, your hands smoothing over the muscles on his abdomen, and his hands under your shirt and the fabric of your underwear, squeezing and palming your bum. 

“I need you,” you breathed against his lips, growing wet and aroused. 

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I’ll be fine as long as you’re gentle. Please just fuck me.” 

Theo couldn’t deny you when you begged, and he quickly was tugging his boxers down while you stripped beside him. His hand held under your thigh, pulling it up so he could angle himself to fuck you. 

Your forehead rested on his chest as he gently rolled into you, easing the ache between your hips. You exhaled softly, melting into him as he gently thrusted into you at a steady, lazy pace. 

You lowered your hand to gently rub your clit as he fucked you, your other fingers tangled in his hair as his mouth swallowed your tiny, pathetic moans. 

“I want to feel you come around me, sweetheart,” he whispered, kissing your cheek and pushing all the way inside of you until your hips connected. 

“Squeeze that pretty pussy. I just want to feel you let go,” he murmured before lightly teasing your nipples, making the pressure dissolve as you orgasmed. 

“Teddy,” you whined, a silent cry catching in your throat as you felt him come all over your inner thighs, making an absolute mess of you. 

You dropped your head down onto his shoulder, murmuring a thanks as he cleaned the two of you up with a simple spell. You resigned yourself to lazing the day away in bed, sleeping and making out, spending time with your soft lover.

[fragileflorals]

“His Solaced Embrace” | Hawks x Reader Comfort Fic

Summary: The busy week takes a toll on you, bringing you to an anxiety overload until Keigo comes home to comfort you. Warnings: anxiety/panic attack, family issues, work stress Notes: hi! this is my first post here! i hope you all enjoy this! if you do, please don’t hesitate to message me with requests for more hawks comfort fics! i want to practice more with my writing, and i’ve also been a huge hawks simp so combining the two would be awesome!

also on ao3

Walking through the front door of your apartment was the best feeling you had all day. After dealing with the final, brutal work shift of the week, your time off had finally begun. Even so, the relief didn’t seem to be enough to decrease the lingering stress from the workplace.

With a heavy sigh, you dropped your bag and keys on the table before making your way to the couch. Flopping down on the cushions, you pulled out your phone from your pocket to see a text from Keigo that you had received earlier.

Will be home in about an hour. Sorry kid, important meeting that was last minute. Will make it up to you.  ♥

You whined silently to yourself as you texted back a thumbs up. After placing your phone on the coffee table, you laid down on your back and covered your eyes with your arm. You were used to your boyfriend’s work making him late, but tonight, you couldn’t help but feel irritated. You were so stressed out, and it seemed like the only thing that could make it better was him wrapping his arms and wings around you. God, you were so reliant on him sometimes.  

The memory of today’s incidents replayed in your mind without command. A ping of anxiety hit your chest as you thought of how your boss gave you an attitude over something not getting done. Little did he know that the task that was left unfinished wasn’t even your responsibility. But he wouldn’t listen as he was too busy barking at you.

It wasn’t just your boss’ poor attitude that was weighing you down. It was everything in between. The rude customers, the lazy coworkers, and if you had to be honest with yourself, you just weren’t enjoying the job. You wished things were different. You wanted to be a pro hero, just like Keigo. You wanted to work by his side saving others so badly. However, because of your poor grades in high school, you couldn’t find any scholarships to cover your tuition at the University of U.A. You had to take out student loans just to barely make your way into the school. Now you were suffering for it as you worked day after day to pay it all back.

On top of your financial situation, it was the constant banter from your parents for doubting your decisions. They never supported your dream of becoming a pro hero. You figured it was out of jealousy, since they were unable to get accepted into any hero high schools, which made it even harder for them to get accepted into any hero colleges after that. They were probably projecting that jealousy onto you while also pointing out your flaws that held you back from receiving any kind of financial aid. There were so many times you just wanted to cut ties with your parents altogether, but your heart said otherwise. They were your family. You knew they loved you, in some sort of way.

Thinking about all of this was like a boiling pot of water overflowing in your brain. Your heart pounded, your breathing grew faster, and your limbs began to shake. You whimpered as you attempted to sit up, rubbing your temples with shaky hands as you shut your eyes tight. All of the stress, anger, and pressure from the week had finally gotten to you at that moment. You were aware of what was happening, but it didn’t change the fact that you were suffering. You began to cry as the anxiety attack took over your entire body. As you sat there, trembling, you breathed in and out at a fast pace.

It wasn’t until you heard the front doorknob jingling that you held your breath. You didn’t even bother to look up as you heard the door open. Instead, you focused on trying to calm down as quickly as possible. If you weren’t so weak in that moment, you would’ve gotten up and hid in the bathroom. However, your body felt weighed down.

You sat there in silence, the inside of your body feeling like it was going to erupt as you could hear Keigo making his way into the living room.

“Y/N, I’m home,” you heard Keigo say as you heard footsteps coming closer to you from behind the couch. You swallowed a heavy lump in your throat as you felt his hand pet the top of your head a couple of times. Suddenly, he stopped, laying his hand still on top of your scalp.

“Hey… what’s wrong?”

That was all it took for you to gasp for air as you allowed the inner attack to take over your outer being. Before you realized he had moved, Keigo was now sitting next to you on the couch, wrapping one of his arms around your shoulders. You leaned in, feeling like a domino as you fell in his lap.

“Hey, hey, shhhhh, it’s ok, I’m here now,” he sweetly spoke as he rubbed your shoulder. You sobbed into his thighs, choking for air.

“I need you to breathe slower for me, please. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Can you do that for me?”

You nodded and focused on your breathing just as he said. You inhaled slowly through your nose, held it for two seconds, and then let out a shaky exhale through your mouth. You repeated this several times. Keigo continued to rub your shoulder. He pulled in one of his wings closer to your body, bringing you comfort as you felt the attack fading away.

You laid there, sniffling and covering your face. The two of you were silent for a moment before Keigo spoke.

“You did so good, baby bird,” he praised. “Did anything trigger you in particular? We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, but I’m here if you need to talk about it.”

You slowly sat up, Keigo tucking his wing behind him away from your body. You wiped your soaked face with the back of your arm and sighed deeply. For a moment, you hesitated in telling him anything. You predicted he probably had a rough day himself, so you didn’t want to add to his stress. However, you knew deep in your heart that Keigo would never lie to you.

So, you poured your heart out to him. You told him about your work situation, leading into your stress about how you felt stuck in that situation to pay off your loans. Then you told him about your family’s doubt. While you said all this, he leaned back into the couch and looked at you with empathy. He nodded every now and then at your words. When you were finished, you felt so much better. You couldn’t help but smile softly at him afterwards.

“Thank you, Keigo,” you sighed. “I feel a lot better now. I’m… I’m so sorry--”

“Hey now, don’t you apologize, kid,” he reassured. “I get it.”

“I… ok,” you looked down at your lap, your hands folded over one another. “I don’t really need any advice, honestly. Just having someone to listen to my problems is enough. Especially if it’s you.”

“Well, I’m still gonna give my two cents, if that’s alright.”

You nodded as you felt one of his hands caress your face. You looked up at him, his golden eyes gazing into yours, making you feel at ease.

“I don’t want you to ever hide your true feelings from me. I know things are hard for you, so I want to be your wingman. I will do whatever it takes to see you happy, so you can smile more. You have the most beautiful smile in the world, you know that? I love seeing it. You have a smile that can light the whole city,” he leaned in for a slow kiss on your forehead. “So please… please know I’m here. I don’t want to see you suffering alone. And if there is any moment I’m not there, just remember my words, alright? Remember you’re so strong.”

He kept his hand on your cheek as you felt your eyes stinging from more tears making their way out. Not from sadness this time, but from bliss. You grabbed his hand that was on your face and kissed the back of it before looking up at him with a smile.

“There’s that smile,” Keigo chuckled. “So beautiful.”

He kissed you before getting up from the couch and stretching his arms.

“Now then, I did say I would make it up to you for being so late,” he said, turning around to look at you. “Why don’t we go for an afternoon flight and watch the sunset? Maybe go get dinner, on me?”

“That sounds wonderful,” you responded. “Let me just get out of this work uniform, ok?”

You got up and started to make your way to the bedroom. Keigo stopped you in your tracks, grabbing your arm and pulling you into his embrace. He wrapped his arms around your waist and kissed you passionately. He broke the kiss and chuckled.

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly. “I couldn’t help myself. Go get ready, sweetheart.”

[1kook]

dreamy

—pjm x (f) reader

summary; You try to not let it get to you, but Jimin is so cool and you want him to be your boyfriend so bad. warnings; ANGST lol, fwb, reader is very :(( rating; mature (18+) bc tiny smut lol  misc; small smut scene, a happy ending <3 wc; 2.5k

notes; i have to post on #JIMIN’s bday or else i cannot live with myself anyway here’s me trying to fit an entire novella plot line in less than 5k words clap for me except maybe don't bc its not proofread anyway hbd jimin <3

Jimin is a nice guy, but you doubt he’d make a nice boyfriend. He fucks you hard and fast, just as you like, but hardly goes out of his way to sprinkle in any other requests. He’s got a one track mind, doesn’t dwell too long on what you say or how you’re feeling. Doesn’t matter because he’s just supposed to be a fuck buddy, the hot guy you met at a party, so you don’t let it phase you. But, well. Jimin is dreamy.

Sometimes he holds your hand while he eats you out and it sends your thoughts into a frenzy, makes your heart pound a little too fast to brush it off as just arousal. He’s got this gorgeous smile, plush lips framing pearly teeth, and when he flashes it your way, it makes your knees weak. Tells you you’re pretty when he picks you up from class, always holds your hand on the way to his place for your routine fuck. Cute and nice like an angel, but just like an angel, he hardly gives a shit about anyone’s feelings but his own.

He laughs when you ask him to hang out that weekend.

“What, like a date?” he snorts, bare chest glistening from his post-fuck exertion. You're pressed against his side now, circling his pretty brown nipple with your finger. “That’s corny.”

You try to not let it get to you, but Jimin is so cool and you want him to be your boyfriend so bad. “Yeah, silly right,” you murmur, ear pressed to his heart. It’s calming and soothing, a slow thrum that contrasts with your own racing heart.

He’s not one for dates or for romantic things like that. But neither is he some player, a cheater, a two-timer. You can count the number of times he’s slept with someone who wasn’t you in your weird fuck buddy relationship, and all four of those had been when you first started sleeping together and only when you had been out of town. You’re no saint either, so you try to understand. He was just horny, liked getting his dick wet, and sometimes he couldn’t wait for you. Understandable, you tell yourself, but your heart hurts a little bit when he begins snoring without really answering your question.

See the thing is, you really like Jimin. It’s been a little over a year now since you’ve met, so you’ve had plenty of time to learn all about him. He doesn’t like pancakes for breakfast, prefers them for lunch actually, and laughs when you tell him that’s weird. He’s got this really dorky laugh, something between a bell and a whistle— it depends on the situation. Sometimes, Jimin likes when you play with his hair, and other times he doesn’t. He’s a sweet boy, you know he is, so why won’t he settle down?

You hate to attribute it to some past trauma, some “my girlfriend broke my heart when I was seventeen” mess, but the more time that passes you begin to believe it’s true. Jimin was a tough nut to crack, and the longer this drags on, the longer he ignores your feelings, you begin to doubt you will ever see them fulfilled.

Maybe you should end this now before it’s too late.

You don’t stay for breakfast the next morning, simply kiss him goodbye at the door like always. He’s older than you, about two years, so he doesn’t go to school anymore, just chills at home all weekend. “I’ll see you soon?” he grins, low-lidded eyes tracking the movement of your mouth as you bid him adieu. You never give him a solid response, figure a guy like Jimin will forget about you soon enough.

Then, suddenly, it’s been two weeks and he doesn’t reach out. Yeah it hurts, but it’s better than having confessed to him and losing him all at once. You’d rather this ending than the one where he terribly rejects you, breaks your heart into a million pieces, and throws you away. Still, it hurts.

Jimin was so cool. He was smart and confident, had a snappy sort of attitude that he liked to use now and then. He could be mean in bed, lick your cunt until you cried and call you a stupid girl when he wanted to. But that same tongue had snapped at a guy who was trying to pressure you into bed with him at a party. That first night you met, where you had sillily followed him home after his dashing intervention, you had thought it would be nothing more. Just a fling, just a fuck.

But then he was in your bed and in your head, twinkling eyes and cocky grin trailing after you everyday. He was so pretty and so suave, made you feel good even when he was being mean. But you suppose most cocky men like Jimin are like that. They know they don’t disappoint, even when they’re not really trying.

Jimin doesn’t call or text. You don’t see his car pull up outside your campus anymore. He’s gone and that’s that. You cry a little (see: a lot) and pretend you’re over him. You definitely don’t think about his soft laughter or his hands on your chest. Nope.

So that ends.

Or so you think.

Your friends say you’re mopey and sad, too down for someone who wasn’t even your boyfriend. It’s true, which sucks, but they honor your admittance by taking you out to a bar that night. It’s supposed to be chill and relaxing, just some drinks with the girls to soothe your aching heart. But the name of the bar reminds you of something, of someone you can’t reach anymore, and you don’t even know why. You’ve never been here before, never even knew this place existed. But everything about it brings you back to Jimin, like you’re in his space now, and you’re unsure why.

It reminds you of his laugh, his smile, to the point you swear you can hear it, right beside you, down the bar, to your left—

He waves.

There’s this look he used to give you every time he picked you up from your last class, this mix between adoration and lust that made your skin tingle with excitement. It’s not there now, in fact, it’s replaced with the complete opposite. It’s, like, the meanest look he can muster, something akin to a scowl. He smiles, but it’s so plastic-y and fake, it makes your head hurt. He’s so obviously unimpressed with you, probably because you ghosted him before he could ghost you. Maybe his pride is hurt and looking at you grosses him out. Maybe he just hates you.

Either way, eleven pm rolls around and you’re crying in the bathroom. Your friends are out on the floor having fun and singing karaoke. They think you’ve gone inside because you got your period, because that’s what you’ve told them. You don’t know how to explain that your ex who isn’t really your ex is out there looking at you like you’re a piece of gum stuck under his shoe. They’ve never even met Jimin. Why? Because he wasn’t your boyfriend. Who meets their friend’s fuck buddy? No one.

You sniffle, press a balled up tissue against your eyes in a feeble attempt to save your makeup. The bar isn’t that small, but neither is it huge. There’s only a few bathrooms in the back, and you’ve been hogging one of them for some time now. Someone knocks on the door, and you don’t even get the chance to ward them off before the crappy knob jingles and the door bursts open.

“Come on,” he grumbles, “you’re not the only one who’s gotta piss—“

He pauses, meets your eye through the mirror in surprise. “I’m sorry,” you blubber, hurriedly washing your hands in an effort to avoid his gaze. Jimin lingers at the door, which has long since fallen shut, and watches you with the eyes of a hawk. Your hands tremble and shake, fumble over the towel dispenser three times before you’re hastily making your escape. “Sorry,” you mutter again, head downcast as you move around him for the door.

Just as it cracks open, the music from outside filtering in, he slams it shut with a flat palm. You flinch, close in on yourself as he steps behind you. “What’re you doing here, doll?” he murmurs, deep yet careful. Tentative. “You don’t like bars.”

You know you don’t like bars. You didn’t know he knew that. “I’m with some friends,” you explain, jump when a hand touches your shoulder. “I— I’ll leave soon.”

A second attempt for the door is thwarted by Jimin. “Don’t,” he startles, breath heavy against your ear. “Don’t leave again…” he sighs, forehead against your shoulder. And then, quietly, “why did you leave me?”

Your heart syncs up with the music outside, thunders in your ears as you purse your lips. You don’t want to talk about it now, don’t want to confess to these emotions that drown you. Especially not when he’ll never understand nor will he ever care. It’s best to leave it as is, you convince yourself, slowly shrugging him off.

“We don’t want the same things,” you reply, eyes burning with the need to cry like a baby. But it’ll weaken your argument, make you look like the sentimental girl you know he won’t like. “It wouldn’t work anyway.”

The hand on your shoulder jerks you around, makes a gasp catch in your throat when he crowds you against the door. He’s got that same glare on from before, the one he had sent you across the bar earlier, and it makes your lower lip tremble when it’s this close. “You never asked me what I wanted,” he hisses.

It is then that you realize it isn't anger or disgust, but frustration that paints his features. It’s pure, unadulterated confusion and distress on his pretty face, furrowed brows and narrowed eyes pointed your way. You don’t know what it means, don’t know what he wants. “I,” you choke, weakly covering your face with your hand before he can see you crumble. “I just wanted you.”

Jimin deflates, steps closer until his body is pressed against yours, hands on your shoulders. “And you have me, doll,” he murmurs, bumps his nose against yours. “Always have.”

You shake your head, choke on a sob that bubbles up your throat. “No, not like that,” you stress, losing yourself in the emotions you spent so much time bottling up. “I wanted more.”

Jimin shushes you, guides your head into the crook of his neck where you paint his skin in dark mascara tears. “Is this about the date?” he sighs, patting your head gently.

“It’s more than just the date,” you cry, fists curling into the material of his shirt until it rumples beyond repair. He doesn’t understand.

Jimin nods, let’s you cry and sob until you’re feeling better and someone else is pounding at the door, yelling at you two to get a proper room. You don’t want a room, you only want his heart. 

He takes you home again, helps you out of your shoes at the door because you’re still sensitive and quiver like a leaf when you walk. His bedroom is familiar, smells like him and his detergent. You miss it so much, want to savor it once more. Something in your gut says this is the last time, this is just Jimin getting one last fuck out of you before he really abandons you.

So you cry when he sits down on the edge of the bed. He hasn’t even said anything, hasn’t even taken his socks off yet, but you’re already a mess.

And of course he’s there to catch you, tugs you between his legs to look up at you as if you’ve hung the stars in the sky. “Don’t cry,” he whispers, reaching up to brush away your tears. But it’s not your fault that he looks like that right before he’s going to break your heart.

He’s so cool, even when you’re falling apart in his hands. “You don’t want me,” you sniffle, let him guide you onto his lap. “You just want to fuck and that’s it.”

Jimin leans his forehead against yours, warm breath washing over your skin. “I never said that,” he murmurs. “We’ve been over this.”

You huff. “Well you never said you did either,” you snap, rubbing at your eyes.

You cry and cry some more, until your sobs subside and you’re left with the hiccups afterwards. Jimin maneuvers you beside him, lets your hair spill across the sheets as he lays you down. They smell just like him, make your head spin when he kisses your cheek softly. “I want you,” he confesses. “I want this.”

You shake your head vehemently. “No, you don’t,” you sniff, but you’re not so sure. It’s what you’ve been telling yourself for the longest. Hearing him say otherwise sounds weird, even if he’s saying what you want to hear. “You don’t.”

Jimin catches your hand in his, pins it to the mattress. “I want you to be mine,” he adds, swallows your cries of denial with his lips. He kisses softly, and for the first time, it feels like he’s paying attention to you. Not your body or your lust, but your heart. “Had me feeling like shit when you didn’t come back. Like I lost something big.”

You still cry when he kisses down your neck, over your chest. His hands pull your clothes off, carefully like you’re a present for him to unwrap. Those plush lips you love so much drown you in kisses, over your tummy and your mound, until they’re buried between your cunt. “You’re mine,” he husks out, hand entwined with yours.

His eyes are dark from down there, long lashes blinking up at you as he dips his tongue in the places you crave him most. It brings you to a shuddering end, has you whimpering his name into the empty air until your toes are curling and you’re coming against his mouth. Jimin has never shied away from you, and doesn’t know, sits up with a hazy look in his eyes as he wipes his face with the back of his hand.

Jimin wastes no time undressing, pushes off that sexy jacket until his lithe body is coming into view, thick thighs and lean abdomen. He slides right into you, holds your knees to your chest as he fucks you like never before. It’s slow and sensual, makes you shiver when he says your name in that low register of his. “Don’t leave again,” he whimpers, cock throbbing between your walls. He’s desperate today, ruts like you’ll slip right between his fingertips. It’s funny because you're the same way, clinging onto his shoulders until you’re practically glued together.

You come and so does Jimin. He pants against your ear, feels so warm and heavy on top of you. He doesn’t say much more that night, just plays with your hair. But he asks you on a date, mentions something about a carnival. “Yes,” you respond right away, because, well.

Jimin was dreamy. Maybe he’d be a good boyfriend.

Copyright © 2020, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[shini--chan]

I have an idea! What would Allies do after finding out that their s/o have (another) stalker? It can be another yandere, a creep, ex, jealous coworker with bad intentions or even a serial killer.

And a good idea it is, my dear anon.

Yandere Allies – Feindling America

You were already fast asleep, snoozing away under the covers in your shared bedroom. He, on the other hand, was still wide awake and had decided to settle down in the living room to do some light reading. His insomnia was due to the usual reasons – too much caffeine, too much stress, too much curiosity to just let the day finish.

And because he was worried, intently, about you. There was somebody else trying to stick their grubby fingers in your shared life, and pry you apart. That was something he was absolutely sure off. After living so long, and becoming paranoid due to his position on the global stage, he knew very well when he was being watched.

There was something after you in particular, he didn’t like it.

Out of his peripheral vision, he caught sight of somebody moving in the bushes. A spike of adrenaline shot through his body, and for a moment he was tempted to storm about side and give that creep a hook. Yet a better idea came to mind – first to fire a warning shot.

He net his book aside and sauntered to one of the glass door to the balcony and gave the pane a few sharp knocks. It was enough to catch their attention. It was almost comical how the figure froze, and the hood swivelled in his direction. Alfred couldn’t identify them in any capacity – they wore non-script jeans and a grey hoodie along with a pair of gloves. But this was about digging up the war axe.

Grinning, he flipped the bird at them, and then proceeded to draw a thin line across his throat in an unmistakable message.

Alfred would see this as a chance to play hero. He would finally be able to prove to you how capable he is at protecting you, how attentive he would be when it would water down to your safety. Of course, he would make sure there would be a lot he wouldn’t catch wind off – it would be the instances where he would come off as an evil master mind or as a control freak that he would skilfully hide from you.

He might or might not elect to torture the fool that would be stalking you. For him, waterboarding that creep would be a method of stress relief. It would also drive home the point that nobody should dare try to get between him and his sweetie.

Canada

Besides you, your phone beeped for what must have been the twelfth time in the span of one minute. You sobbed harder and buried your face in his chest. Matthew calmly stroked your back, making quiet soothing noises as he held you close.

“(Ex) will have to leave you be someday. This can’t go on forever. One day that jerk will have to accept that you’re gone for good”, he told quietly, while cautiously shifting his position to a more comfortable one.

You were both on the backseat of his car, having sought sanctuary there after you started panicking upon seeing the messages. All the memories had started to overwhelm you, and you had gripped his arm as if it was the only thing that was preventing you from drowning.

“No, that won’t be the case. Before I met you, I tried to leave so often only to be lured back into it. It was only because I met you that I haven’t gone back”, you cried, gazing up at him with a tear-stricken face.

“Shh, I will think of something. There shall be hell to pay.”

Matthew would be concerned about your wellbeing first and foremost. He would cater to you, cuddle with you, sooth you. But don’t think that would mean he would go easy on you should you step out of line and try to flee from him. When he would say he would never let your ex take you back, he would be indirectly saying he would never allow you to leave him.

Naturally, he would be careful and avoid any explicit rhetoric stating that your place in the world is at his side, but the message would be there, hidden between the lines.

With the legal sway he would hold, he would easily have your ex punished in some capacity. This could range from a fine to a restrain order to spending some time in jail.

China

A scream pierced the silence of the night, followed by a yell as the attacker was swept off his feet. Yao didn’t hesitate to continue beating the culprit up, even though he was on the ground.

After all, this was a man that had just been a few milliseconds away from dragging you away and murdering you, after doing unspeakable things to you, things that couldn’t be lightly talked about in any context.

“So, you’re the vermin that has been butchering people left and right for the past four months. You’re just as disgusting as I expected”, Yao commented as he brought his foot down on his back in a harsh stamp.

You had taken seat on a tree stump that was standing by. The near death experience and the fight going on in front of you had utterly rattled you. You were numbly staring at the scene playing out, heads in your hands, whole body trembling and eyes wide blown.

He kicked the killer in the side and was rewarded was a grunt and a hiss: “And I’ll fucking kill you too.”

“Sure you will”, Yao drawled sarcastically and pressed the criminals head into the dirt. “Get used to the taste of it.”

Contrary to expectations, Yao would approach the situation of serial killer being after you calmy. Not because he wouldn’t care about you, but rather because he would be far to old to be surprised by such a – in his eyes – trivial thing. And because he would know that letting himself drown in anger or panic would just result in him making grave mistakes – ie. losing you.

Nevertheless, he would never be far off, lurking behind corners, just out of sight of you and the murderer. He would also scoure your online activity, searching for any suspicious doings from other users. Furthermore he would use the opportunity to learn more about you and your strengths and weaknesses.

England

“Ah, ah, ah. Keep your dirty paws off that”, Arthur chided Jane and firmly grabbed Jane by the ear, harshly tugging there. It wasn’t the most humane treatment of a mortal, that England knew very well. However, he was in a sour mood, your infuriating co-worker being one of the contributing factors to it. Besides, he hadn’t made it one of his life maximas to be nice.

“You dare”, she hissed. When he gave another sharp tug, she yelped and dropped your phone, showing one of your social media profiles. Jane Smithers was persistent, he would have to give her that. Yet that would just be her downfall because she had decided to use that trait to try to ruin your life.

“Oh yes I dare. I dare to not tolerate your disgusting behaviour. Between you and me, we’re going to have a very long talk about your morals.”

She snorted and grabbed his hand.

“I could sue you for sexual harassment. We’ll see if you’ll still be laughing then.”

Oh, he had expected such a threat to come from such a vile person as her. He chuckled lowly – did she really think she could best him when it came to anything.

“And then spend some time in the nick for lying to judge and jury. Don’t think you’d be able to weasel your way out of this. I’m the one here that can have your framed and believe me, I could get you a bloody life sentence.”

She stared at him, uncomprehending, before realisation dawned and she let out a harsh laugh.

“So that is how (l/n) did it. Slept the way to the top.”

“No. (Y/n) has talent, impeccable talent. So unlike you, my dearest never had to resort to the methods you were so kind to mentioned.”

Arthur would see it as his duty to protect you – your physical & mental wellbeing as well as your reputation. So of course he would go after any jealous co-worker that would try to ruin you to any extent. And as mentioned in the snippet above, he wouldn’t be exactly nice about it. Any means would do for him, as long as the risk of his machinations backfiring on him and you would be relatively low.

During the whole process, he would letting you know about everything. It would be his point of proving that the world is a horrible place and that you can only find solace in his company and attention.

France

Francis was in the kitchen when you came stumbling in, frazzled and panting as If you had just run a marathon. By the way your extremities were trembling and sweat dotted your forehead, he wouldn’t be surprised. The only question was why.

Aside from that, fear danced in your eyes, and that was the only further information he needed to know that something was wrong. Rushing forward, he scooped you in his arms, ignoring the coffee that he had been preparing, and asked you:

“What happened, ma cherie?”

Instead of answering, you leaned your head against his shoulder and wrapped your arms around his torso, taking heavy, laboured breaths, as if you were crying. That was when he realised that you were. It worried him.

Was this something that he had done? What had caused you to become so distressed? Was it something he could fix.

“You don’t have to talk about it now if you don’t want to”, he offered shakily, unsure about what he should do to cheer you up. How could he, when he didn’t know why you were in such a state?

Thankfully, you supplied him with an explanation, one that caused his concern to freeze to ice cold anger: “There is some creep following me. He grabbed my butt when I got off the bus.”

Whoever that devil was, he was going to have hell to pay,

Francis would be enraged that somebody would be so disrespectful of your boundaries and of the fact that you’re already taken. In the brief moments of his more intense bouts of fury, he might do something as rash as to track the creep down and bludgeon him with something, probably a newspaper.

However, his preferred method would be character assassination (this would work especially well if the culprit in question would have a high social status) and verbal abuse. In this case, his revenge could be long-winded and very elaborate.

Russia

The temperature of the corridor had dropped since the last time he had visited – a testimony to the bad insulation and the approaching winter. Ivan thought it did her justice. After all, she did deserve this after nearly kidnapping you.

Speaking of her, she was sitting near the bars when he approached and when she glimpsed him, she quickly scooted away. Clever; she had learned from what had occurred the last time.

“Come to taunt me again?”, she seethed, curling into a tight, haggard ball of fury. Understandable in her case, however he wouldn’t shed any tears or have any sleepless nights.

“As is customary. I have to elevate your boredom somehow”, he confirmed, grabbing a chair and seating himself opposite her.

She stared at the door at the end of the passage, hungerly tracing it and searching the shadows for any sign of you. Ivan derived pleasure from mocking her: “How foolish are to think I would have brought my lover with me? I didn’t the last few times so why should it any different now?”

“You’re so very attached to (y/n), so I had my hopes.”

“Then I’ll have to forever dash them. That I owe you.”

She snarled at this; face twisted to a nasty frown.

“You know, you and I aren’t so different. So it is even more hypocritical of you to claim the moral high ground. Does (y/n) know even half of the things you’ve done in the name of your love?”

“I detest the comparison. I walk free while you rot in solitude, unloved and unwanted. While you have done everything wrong, I have done what was right where it counted most. You go very far by suggesting anything else.”

Russia would be the one to act the most intense of all the allies. He would have had people that were dear to him ripped away from him in the past, so he invest a lot of energy in insuring that wouldn’t happen to you and him.

That would mean he would go up to 11 in this case. As in, he would either kill this person and dissolve their body in acid or feed it to the pigs. Or he would leave this other yandere to rot somewhere after having dragged them before court for a very showy trail to break their spirit.

[dummysmile]

Leaving - Hwang Hyunjin

MASTER LIST

Summary - You’re in a toxic relationship with Hyunjin and he wants to leave you.  

SMUT! (16+) 

Word count: 1.4k 

Trigger warning - Edited: 8/21 Toxic ASF, Dom! Hyunjin, Domestic violence, and Breath play. Also Hyunjin is not an Idol.  

Stress, it was all you ever felt lately. 

Your assistant, who also happened to be your boyfriend, was the source. He stayed home due to a “stomach bug”. This left you to have to manage things by yourself. You hate taking responsibility.  This all happened because things may have gotten out of hand when the deadline for marketing strategies were too close. One minute you were writing and the next thing you knew, your fist was gliding across his sweet and already puffy cheek leaving a nasty bruise. 

You were just arriving home when you saw Hyunjin quickly close the door. You basically power walked to the door. Thinking about how suspicious it was that he closed the door just as you pulled up. “Hyunjin?” You called out entering the house. You saw him cowering in a corner behind the front door. In his head, he was hoping and praying you didn't see the suitcase. “Hyunjin, what's the matter?” You asked, stalking up to him. it was similar to lion stalking a gazelle in a long field of grass. The blonde avoided your gaze. Nevertheless, he still felt the burning sensation clash against his milk skin. “Nothing, I was going to...clean out the closet.” He stammered, looking around. You watched his body tremble as he walked over to the black case. He began violently kicking the wheel. “The wheel is broken, You see, I was taking it to the trash” He gulped, stepping back to the corner.”See the broken wheel? You see it, right? Tell me you see it!” Hyunjin pleaded, as you made agonizingly slow gazes to him and the suit cases. “Please don't.” He whimpered, softly throwing his head into the corner. You stared at him. “The wheel sure is broken, but I’m curious.” You chuckled, “As to why the fuck the shirt I bought you last week in there?” You stated more than asked, walking towards him. 

“Y-y/n, I don't know.” He whispered, holding your hands in his. “I probably thought it was a different shirt, you know how I can be-.” He started, but he was cut short with a slap that echoed through the room. “Don't lie to me!” You roared, bringing your hand down on his cheek again. Hyunjins hand instantly went to cradle the stinging on his face. “I’m sorry.” He cried, sinking to the ground latching on to his knees. He stared at the ground wondering how he let you take over his life. He expected you to have some angry outburst, but you instead crouched down on the floor with a deep sigh. 

“Hyunjin, you know I love you?” You asked, pulling him into you. “Why are you so closed off, don't you love me?” You went on. You felt the hot tears melting into your skin. It made you feel bad knowing you made him cry. You held on to him, pulling him on the ground to lay with you. You laid in silence. You both thought about memories of the past, the sweet romance that started as an office love. “I want to leave.” He whispered. It was so quiet, his said words missed your ears. “What?” You asked, as he sat up. “I want to leave you.” He said slightly louder. His hand swirled in your hair, looking away from you. The tears still falling down his face. “I know.” You sighed, making him look at you. 

“I just love you too much.” He stated, kissing your lips. 

You didn't hesitate to kiss back since it wasn’t often that you two would ever kiss. His soft lips didn't go with any of his movements as his hands traveled down the curves of your body. He kissed your cheeks before biting them awfully hard and then traveling back to your lips. “I really missed this Y/n.” He sighed. “You...cowering at my touch.” He purred, unbuttoning your dress shirt. “This skirt is staying on, you look too good in it.” Hyunjin said. As embarrassing as it was, you could cum at the feeling of his hands running up your thighs. He held himself up to be face level with you before giving you a smile. His hands traveled over your belly button before he reached under your skirt yanking away your panties. “Damn, these were my favorites.” He lowly chuckled, tossing them at the suitcase. 

His long fingers created shapes along you clit causing you to release sharp moans. His middle finger glided across the pool of wetness. Hyunjin watched you with pure wickedness, bringing his fingers up to his mouth. He watched you get embarrassed over his vulgar action. Smirking, he brought his hand back down to your throbbing hole. He went at a strong and fast pace making you scream out. Your back nearly snapped from the arching you were dong.  “Say ahh for me.” Hyunjin mumbled in ecstasy. Since his pleasure came from your pleasure, you could see the wet spot growing faintly. You opened up your mouth as he instructed. He jammed his fingers against your throat making gag deeply. He bent down wrapping his tongue around yours tasting you. replacing his tongue with his finger. You immediate reaction was to suck on his digits. “Are you ready to take this dick?” He asked in your ear. Hurriedly, you shook your head up and down. “Yes, please, I want you so bad.” You pleaded over his long digits. Your saliva dripping from the corner of your mouth. “Look at you, begging like the cock slut you used to be.” He teased, pulling off his clothes. His movements were slow and seductive, winking at you as begged with your eyes for him to hurry. “Stop moving so slow.” You whined. He sucked on his teeth nodding. 

He took his position with your hands interlocked with his. Hyunjin slowly pushed into your pussy. You both gasped at the sensation. It turned you both on even more. “Gosh, you fit me like a glove.” He moaned. He kept a steady pace as your walls reacted to everything and every once in a while twitched. You stared at him in awe, wondering why it was hard for you to find something to say. So deep in the pleasure you didn't notice that he began to cry. 

His palm struck against your face. “Ow, Hyunjin, what the hell is your problem.” You barked. “You don't scare me.” He chuckled, as his thrusts got faster. He lifted your right leg over his shoulder. Bringing another slap to you. You felt the stinging in your face. Letting out a pained groan. His painful slaps left you regretfully wondering if it felt like that when you were the slapper. “Take it.” He demanded slamming into you repeatedly. “You. Better. Take. It. Bitch.” He boomed with every slap and thrust. “Hyunjin, slow down.” You moaned, afraid you’d make a giant mess. “Fuck you Y/n.” He moaned slowing down. “You hurt me.” He moaned, throwing his head back. “I know, I’m sorry.” You moaned out gripping his hands. “You're never sorry.” He snarled, placing his giant hand over your mouth and nose. “I could kill you right now. I’m so fucking powerful.” He moaned. With Hyunjin holding your mouth and nose you could feel the pure euphoria. “That’s how I feel about this relationship.” He said letting go of your mouth and nose.

“Strangled, but happy.” He smiled

For the next few moments there was nothing but skin slapping, moaning, other lewd sounds. “Hyunjin I-I feel it.” You moaned. “I feel it too.” He groaned kissing you on the lip. His hips buckled as he rolled his dick inside you. You felt the orgasm wash over you and all the stress you’d been feeling wiped away. Not too long after Hyunjin came on your skirt. You didn't even care that he did. 

“You can leave if you really want to.” You pout rolling towards the wall. “This is pathetic. You’re on the floor trying to get me to stay with your manipulative ass.” He gasped, standing up to put his clothes on. “I’ll go to anger management and we can do something.” You suggested sadly. You were still staring at the wall. “You’re gonna keep going?” Hyunjin asked in shock. “Please stay with me.” You begged looking at him. “Please, let me go.” He whispered  laying on the floor to hold you. “I can’t.” You cried, “I love you.” You shouted making eye contact.

“I want to leave.” He said boldly. “I know, baby.” You whimpered. 

“I know.” You bawled, holding him. 

[plsimsuchasimp]

Haikyuu Angst

ft: Toru Oikawa x gender neutral reader

warnings: angst, fighting, cursing

genre: angst to fluff

word count: 1700+

not proofread LOL

- Oikawa had a bad day. Everything was piling up on him and he was super stressed- stressed enough to avoid you all day, and when he did see you, be short and tense with you.

- This, naturally, caused you to be a little concerned, but you didn’t think much of it because sometimes he had these moods. You still tried to hang out with him, though, and you got a little dejected when he refused. 

Coming over to him, you tried to hug him, but he stiffened as soon as you got close. You ran your fingers down his arm, and he moved away, not even making an effort to hide it. Slightly hurt, you tried one more time to reach for his hand, but he pushed you away yet again, causing you to furrow your brow.

“Are you okay?” You asked, looking concernedly at him.

“Just fucking leave me alone! God, you’re so clingy all the time! What the fuck is wrong with you?” he yelled, eyes narrowing at you as he ran his hand through his hair. “Fuck, y/n, why did I start dating you in the first place? Everything I do, you’re so overbearing! I wish I never said yes when you asked me out.”

Your eyes stung as badly as your heart, his words slicing into you like daggers. Pain flashed through your eyes and they darkened, hardening into a cool stare that just barely concealed the tears threatening to spill onto your cheeks.

“Okay, Oikawa,” you whispered, hating the way your voice trembled and cracked, “I’ll leave.” 

The silence permeating the room was deadly and threatening to choke you both as he stared down at the table and you turned away. Your heartbeat seemed to be the only sound you could hear anymore, racing and seeming to rip at your chest in pain. Oikawa listened to your measured footsteps ringing out as you headed to the door, your hand miraculously finding the doorknob and turning it. Seconds later, the door slammed shut and he was left alone in the apartment. 

You started walking- to where, you didn’t know. Soon, you were crossing the bridge over a little creek, remembering how Oikawa’s eyes sparkled as he splashed you with water there. One foot at a time, you forced yourself to keep going. Walking across the street to the park where Oikawa took you on your first date, you stared down at your feet and finally let the tears pour out of your eyes, shoulders shaking. Not realizing it, you sank to the ground, knees collapsing underneath you as your body was wracked with sobs. Until then, you hadn’t let yourself feel, hadn’t processed what just happened. It felt like guilt and pain were tearing you apart from the inside, constricting your throat so you couldn’t breathe anymore. You slumped against a tree, not caring who saw a person crying in the shade. Once the worst of the sobs had escaped your body, they turned into small hiccups, tears spilling out of your eyes as you let yourself be carried away into numbness. You couldn’t handle your emotions right now, rocking back and forth slightly as you tried to stop the pain. 

Meanwhile, Oikawa was stunned at what he’d just done. Did I really just say those things? Oh god, what did I do? He got up from his position at the table, starting to pace across the floor. I didn’t mean it- any of it. He hadn’t looked when you left, hadn’t seen the tears brimming in your eyes, hadn’t seen how you hesitated before grasping the knob. When he was yelling, he’d seen your face turn from surprise to anger to sadness to pain. He’d hit your deepest insecurities, the ones you’d told him late at night when it was just you two in the darkness, and he knew it. He felt nauseous- he’d promised not to do that, promised that he wouldn’t hurt you, and now he had, and there was no going back. 

He needed to find you. Where would you be? His first guess was somewhere that was special to both of you, and if not, a friend’s house. He walked to the door, turning it and jogging down to the bridge. He’d already let this sit for too long. Looking as he ran, he couldn’t find you until he spotted a figure huddled under a tree in the park in which you two had your first date in. He froze, breath stopping in his throat. Quietly, he approached, expecting you to lash out, but to his surprise you were fast asleep under the tree. As he got closer, he noticed you were trembling and making soft cries in your sleep, making his heart twist even more than it already was. Crouching, he studied the slight fluttering of your eyelids as your eyes moved, locked in a dream. For the first time, he noticed the dark circles under your puffy eyes and chided himself for not noticing earlier. When was the last time he really looked at you? You looked so small, curled against the tree trunk, and Oikawa’s breathing became shakier as he watched the one person who he loved most in the world in pain. 

Gently reaching under you, he lifted your body and started walking, careful not to disturb you. In your sleep, you clung to him tightly, and his breathing hitched for a second as he knew he was probably the source of this nightmare. As the rhythm of his steps lulled you, you stopped shaking and a small sigh of relief escaped your sleeping mouth. Letting himself in, he carried you to your bedroom and placed you down on the bed, pulling the covers over you and retreating to the kitchen to think and make tea. 

When you woke up, you were in bed, cradled by the sheets and blankets that you couldn’t sleep without. Swinging your feet onto the floor, you noticed for the first time that you were barefoot. He must have taken your shoes off. Quietly, you padded to the kitchen, standing in the doorway and watching Oikawa make your favorite tea. The water boiled and he turned the stove off, head bent as he performed the methodical movements that he was so used to. Seeming to sense you, he turned around and you locked eyes. 

For a minute, neither of you moved. He looked so helpless standing there, shoulders slumped and an endless pool of regret in his eyes. He wanted to move towards you so badly, to hug you and kiss you and tell you that everything was going to be okay, that he was so, so sorry. 

“Y/n.” He was the first to speak, voice coarse. “I-I’m so sorry.” As his voice cracked, he dropped your gaze, staring at the floor so you wouldn’t see the tears in his eyes. You didn’t say anything, just walked towards him until you were just out of arm’s reach. His shoulders began to shake, silent tears dripping off his face onto the floor. 

“Oikawa,” you mumbled, voice breaking before you could get all the way through, “I...Why did you say it?” The pain in your eyes is clear to him, and it kills him to know that he’s the one responsible for it. Now he’s the one beginning to shake, willing you to hug him, touch him, anything to show that you still cared even a bit. He was so, so afraid of losing you- it haunted his thoughts as he trained, his dreams as he slept, nagging at the back of his brain when you held him and told him you’d never leave. 

“I- I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean any of it. I-I was so stressed and I-I felt guilty about not being a good boyfriend to you and I just- just snapped...” He fell silent, his words falling short of the gap they need to cross to reach you. Oikawa swallowed, shivering, as his fears started to become realities. “Please don’t leave me. I-I can’t do this without you. I need you. Please. I love you so much, you-you’re the only thing that matters to me.” His breaths were getting faster, grasping at thin air as he begged you for forgiveness. Tears were filling both of your eyes now, falling fast and hard. He sank to his knees on the floor, his lanky frame seeming impossibly small as he stared at the floor, his shame and guilt and pain overcoming him. Waiting for any sign that you still loved him.

“You love me?” Your voice was barely above a whisper, and that’s when Oikawa remembered that he hadn’t said that to you. He’d been too afraid to say it, been too afraid that you wouldn’t feel the same. His eyes widened.

“Y-yes. I love you more than anything else in the world,” he whispered, baring his soul raw for you to see. He waited, holding his breath, for your reply.

Dropping to your knees beside him, you took his face in your hands and gently lifted his chin to look at you, his eyes pleading you. “Toru Oikawa, I’ve loved you since the day we met.” 

He crashed into you, bringing you with him to the floor and burying his head in your chest. Slowly, your arms encircled him, coming up to the nape of his neck and entangling your hands in his hair as he sobbed into your body. Relief flowed through him and he held you so tight that you struggled to breathe until you tugged on him to loosen up. He refused to let go of you, clinging to you like you were the last person on earth. You kissed his head, reassuring him that you weren’t going to break up with him, that he was good enough, and as his sobs gradually subsided, he held you close and kissed you, craving your touch and attention. you stayed there for a good hour, entangled on the kitchen floor, the cold tea resting on the counter top above.

You finally smiled just a little bit, face buried in his chest. “This doesn’t mean I forgive you, you know.”

“No, no, no, of course not, that’s totally understandable,” he rambled, “I promise I’ll make it up to you.” You let him hug you close, drinking in his scent, until you had to get up because the kitchen floor was uncomfortable, causing Oikawa to mightily protest. For days afterwards, he had to be touching you or near you at all times, looking at you anxiously whenever he set for his team to make sure you saw. Of course you did- you couldn’t tear your eyes away.

a/n: this is my first time writing fanfic, much less angst! i hope you enjoyed!

[lachimolala0713]

And I Still Love You | Chapter I

Summary | He hurt you and yet you still love him. He treat you like nothing yet you still want to stay with him. He loathe you very much and yet you want to please him. What happens when the time comes he might kill you?

Genre | Angst, Drama, Smut

Main Characters | Jungkook x Reader ft. Donghae & Taehyung

Supporting Characters | Eunhyuk & Hoseok

Author's Note | I want to thank my co-ARMY Pied Piper and the future readers of this story!

Your mouth is bleeding from Jungkook's hard slap on your face, your right eye turned purple already because of his punch and your arms had red and purple marks from his strong grip on you.

"I'm sorry!" you plead, "Why are you so stupid?! You stepped on my shoe and now it's dirty!" your husband yelled. "I have an important meeting with a big client today!" he continued and you keep on crying and asking him to forgive you. He smirk and click his tongue and left your house, leaving you in pain.

You and Jungkook are married - arranged marriage. You were together for 3 years. Both your families are wealthy and Jungkook's father wanted his only son to get married as soon as possible for a stronger relationship and future of their business. When Jungkook first saw you he find you very beautiful and suitable to be the future mother of your children someday. Jungkook's dream is to have a family and he saw that with you. He learned to love you and you felt the same way, you get along with each other and when both of you were ready, you made love.

A miracle happened that you never knew. You felt the difference and changes in your body but you ignored it. You thought you were just eating too much that you felt bloated, you were just emotionally stressed due to work and you are used to your period being delayed for months since your menstruation cycle is irregular. Until one day, you went snow skiing by yourself while Jungkook is in business trip. You were enjoying that day because you always love pushing your boundaries.

Until it went too far.

You were going down rapidly, you panicked, you lost your balance and you tripped over rock. You were rolling along the slope very fast and suddenly your abdomen landed on another rock and it caused a massive impact and gave you a tremendous pain which made you scream your lungs out.

You were unconscious when you were rushed to the ER near the location, the nurse got your details and contacted Jungkook. Jungkook cut his business trip and quickly booked a VIP flight to see you. He was worried and anxious. His heart is wrenching from pain by thinking how you were.

Jungkook arrived at the hospital you were in and the attending approached him, "How's my wife, doctor?" Jungkook asked, he's trembling, waiting for the doctor's response. "Your wife is safe, Mr. Jeon." the doctor said, "Oh thank god!" He breathed in relief, until he noticed something’s wrong, the doctor sighed heavily and looked at Jungkook in the eye, "What is it?" Jungkook wondered, "We couldn't save the baby, Mr. Jeon." the doctor finally said. Jungkook was shocked, tears fell from his eyes and he took a moment to absorb the news. "Wait, she's pregnant?" He asked, the doctor nodded, "She's 8 weeks pregnant." The doctor confirmed, "Oh my god!" Jungkook breathed, covering his face with his hands and looking down to hide his pain after hearing the news, "The impact made a severe damage which caused a lot of bleeding. With the severe damage in the tissues and nerves on her abdomen..." The doctor paused, Jungkook looked at the doctor while he's breathing heavily, "I'm afraid she won't be able to have a baby anymore." The doctor said, making Jungkook cry even more.

He can't handle the thought of not having a child with you. A family he's been dreaming to have with you, is now gone.

Jungkook went to the recovery room where you were checked in. You were sleeping soundly, he looked at you, stared at you, his sadness turned into anger. He's frustrated at the situation and at the same time, he's angry at you. He never got the chance to witness your first pregnancy test, your first checkup, your first ultrasound image of the baby. And he will never experience any of those because of your recklessness. He loves you but he can't feel it anymore. All he feels about you now is anger and rage.

The next day, you finally woke up in the hospital bed and you saw Jungkook staring at you intensely. "Jungkook..." You said, you squirmed from the pain because of your sudden movement, and Jungkook is just staring at you, not comforting or helping you from getting up. "What are you-", "You were pregnant." Jungkook cut you off and you were shocked by his cold tone and from what you've just heard. "I-I-I didn't-" you stuttered, "You didn't know?!" Jungkook raised his voice, and you flinched, "How stupid are you?! You didn't felt it?!" He shouted and you were breathing heavily by his reaction, you shook your head giving him a 'No' answer, "You'll never get pregnant because of the accident." And on that moment, tears fell from Jungkook's eyes again. His eyes showed pain, sorrow, sadness and disappointment. "You're a disappointment, Y/N." He said and he left the room.

That's where it all started. Jungkook became cold to you, he always shouts at you, he gets angry at you in small things and for the first time he started to hit you. His anger and rage towards you took over the love he felt for you. You became nothing to him. A nuisance. As much as he wanted to divorce you, he can't. His parents won't let him and same goes for you, for the sake of their businesses your marriage must stand even if it fell apart.

You lost the urge to go to work today but you have to. You get up and fix yourself. You massage your eye with ice to lessen the purple color around it and then you cover it with lots of foundation and concealer. You were about to leave, you received a text message from your sweet older brother, Donghae.

NEMO: How's my sweet sister? Can I visit you at your office today?

Your eyes are getting watery after reading his message. Donghae loves you so much that he's the only one in your family you lean onto. You send him a reply.

Y/N: Of course you can! I can't wait to see you! :)

Donghae arrive at your office, "Hey, there she is!" He greeted happily, "Hey!" You greet him back and he give you a big hug. He let go to take a look at you and he didn’t expect to see those marks on your face, "What happened to you?" He worried, "Nothing." You lied, "Y/N, I know you. You love Jungkook but I can see he doesn't feel the same way to you anymore." Your brother said, he began searching for more bruises on your body, he check your arms, legs, hands and neck. "You could just leave his place and stay married to him if that’s what’s bothering you." Donghae said, "I know." You said, and you can't contain the tears falling from your eyes. "I don't want to leave him, Donghae. I just can't." You break down on your knees on the floor in front of your brother and all he could do is hold you tight. "I'm always here for you." He said, and his voice is so gentle and soothing that it gave you comfort and you hold onto that comfort as your anchor from the pain you're feeling right now.

Your sobs slowly quiet down but Donghae notice you're not moving, he try to wake you but you're not waking up. He lift your face to check up on you, you were pale, your lips are dehydrated and your body temperature is cold.

"Oh my god, Y/N!" Your brother panicked. "Call an ambulance!" He shouted and your executive assistant rush to your office and find you lifeless in your brother's arm, "Hurry!" He said to your executive assistant, and she quickly get a phone call.

The ambulance arrive and they put you on the gurney and they quickly take you to the vehicle. Donghae is by your side inside the vehicle and he hold your hand. "Please hurry." He beg to the medical team and he didn't realize he was crying already just by looking at your current state.

There’s a knock on the door in Jungkook’s office, “Come in.” he’s executive assistant enters his office, “What is it, Hoseok?” Jungkook asked, “It’s your wife, Mr. Jeon.” Hoseok said, Jungkook continue reading the documents he needs to finish and sign for work, he sigh heavily, long silence irritates him. He put down the documents on his desk and look at Hoseok, “What does she want? Can’t you see I’m -” “She’s rushed to the hospital.” Hoseok cut him off, Jungkook wasn’t expecting this kind of news especially he is focusing at work, he swallow thickly, trying to absorb what he just heard, “What did you say?” Jungkook asking Hoseok for clarification. “I received a call from the hospital, that your wife was rushed to the hospital.” Hoseok clarified. Jungkook’s hands are trembling as he took the documents to distract him, “Okay. Thank you. You can go now.” he said and Hoseok leaves his office.

You were sleeping peacefully in the recovery room, Donghae is by your side, watching over you. The doctor comes in, Donghae stands up to talk to the doctor, “Hello, I’m Doctor Lee Hyuk-jae.” the doctor greeted, “Hello, I’m her brother, Donghae. How is she?” your brother asked, “She’s okay now don’t worry.” the doctor reassured, “She experienced hematoma from her bruises. She’s dehydrated and I can tell she’s going in a lot of stress. She’s underweight and from the looks of it, she’s not eating properly.” the doctor explained. Donghae look at you and he’s beginning to worry of your situation at your home with Jungkook. “Doctor, can I talk to you outside?” he gently asked, “Sure.”

Donghae and the doctor are in the hall outside your room, “She has a husband.” Donghae mentioned and he continue, “He beats her like a toy.”, Donghae brush his hair with his hands and sighed heavily, “If this happens again, what will happen to her?” the doctor clear his throat, “With her current state, not just mentally but physically, she might not handle it if the beating gets out of hand.” the doctor said and Donghae nodded. “Thank you, Doctor.”

All your brother can think of is to get a lawyer to get a restraining order against your husband, so he can take you home and take care of you. Give you the proper care you need and do his obligation as your brother.

It’s almost evening, Jungkook arrive at the hospital you’re checked in. “I’m looking for patient Jeon Y/N.” the nurse check what room you are in, “May I know your relationship to her?” the nurse asked, “I’m her husband.” Jungkook said, “She’s in room 715.”

Jungkook open the door to your room and he sees you sleeping. He comes to your bedside and sees how peacefully you are resting. The door opens and the nurse enters the room, “Good evening.” the nurse greeted and walks towards you to check your vital signs and breathing, “Um...how is she?” Jungkook asked the nurse, “Right now she’s stable. She just needs a proper rest.” 

“Is her doctor here?” Jungkook asked, “Doctor Lee Hyuk-jae is currently in surgery but I can page him for you. May I know your relationship to his patient so I can address you to him properly?” the nurse asked, “I’m her husband.” Jungkook said. 

Moments after, Doctor Hyuk-jae enters your room. “Good evening, doctor.” your husband greeted, “Good evening.” Doctor Hyuk-jae greeted back, “May I know your concern regarding your wife’s condition?” he asked, “What happened to her?” Jungkook asked while looking at you sleeping, Doctor Hyuk-jae explained to your husband your condition when you arrived at the ER this morning and how your health is affected by stress and depression. 

Jungkook just listened while looking at you and when Doctor Hyuk-jae is finish explaining of what happened to you, tears falls from your husband’s eyes.

That’s it for ‘And I Still Love You’ Chapter One. Thank you for reading and I hope you like it! 

[nillegible]

[More from the ghost!LWJ verse, still dealing with the aftermath of LWJ’s death. See the rest of the posts here.] “There were toys and spare robes,” says Jin Guangyao. “I’ll bring them here, perhaps it will be suitable as a relic, if there’s no luck seeking Wen Yuan’s body. A well-loved toy may have enough energy left over to establish a connection with his spirit.

“There were children’s things at the burial mound?” asks Lan Xichen, looking up at Jin Guangyao. “Why didn’t you tell me? You knew there was a child there!”

“Er-ge…”

“You knew. You could have stopped them.”

This expression is not one that Jin Guangyao ever expected Lan Xichen to turn towards him. It shows betrayal.

I never betrayed you.

(Liar.)

Don’t look at me like that.

(What would he do if he knew it was your fault his brother died?)

No! I didn’t mean for Lan Wangji to interfere! That’s not my fault!

(You betrayed him. He trusted you.)

Jin Guangyao cannot stand the accusation in Lan Xichen’s eyes, not from the only person who’s had unwavering faith in him still. For the first time, he raises his voice at Lan Xichen, cries “Of course, I knew! I knew all of them, not just Wen Yuan! I worked with them for four years, Er-ge! The Wen clan is big, but not that big. I knew all of them.”

Lan Xichen’s expression only sharpens. “And yet you didn’t even try to stop them, A-Yao,” he says.

Them? shouldn’t he be saying us?

“For what? Everyone already thought that my loyalty was suspect! Who would have listened to me? You think my Father would have listened, when he blamed WWX and the Wen for the death of his son and nephew? Was I supposed to tell him, that the Wen did nothing wrong? To tell Da-ge that? If I had defended the Wen remnants, I’d just be ONE MORE BODY left on the burial mounds when you all came for everyone there!” He stresses the you, even knowing how much it would hurt Lan Xichen, even though it twists deep inside Jin Guangyao’s own throat to do it. “If you think there was anything I could have done-”

“MENG YAO, ENOUGH!” says Nie Mingjue’s voice, and Jin Guangyao whirls around to see him walk into the room looking incandescently furious. Jin Guangyao flinches back in terror.

What am I doing? What have I done?

Lan Xichen was the last person who cared at all what happened to him, to strike at that friendship, what was Jin Guangyao doing? (Why did it hurt so much, to see Lan Xichen look at him like that?)

Only, instead of punching him for the words he’d spewed in anger, or worse, drawing his saber, Nie Mingjue just sets his hand firmly on Jin Guangyao’s shoulder. “Calm yourself, Meng Yao,” says Nie Mingjue, and there is something almost like kindness in his voice. “It was not your responsibility to hold the sects accountable.”

What? Jin Guangyao stares at Nie Mingjue incredulously, but the man says, “Xichen is distraught, he did not mean his words.” He looks over Jin Guangyao’s shoulder, expression sharpening. “Apologize, Xichen. That was inappropriate.”

What?

“I’m sorry! A-Yao I’m sorry, you’re right. You couldn’t have done anything, I shouldn’t have implied–”

Jin Guangyao turns back around to see that Lan Xichen has gone white, he’s stepped closer, hand out like he wishes to reach out and hold him, but can’t decide if he’s allowed to step closer or not.

“–I know you always try your best, I didn’t…” and then. Lan Xichen just. Crumples.

Outstretched arm wrapping back around his stomach as he falls to knees with a broken cry.

“Er-ge!” “Xichen!”

“…not your fault. Was mine. I just…”

Jin Guangyao is the first to reach him, kneeling in front of him and supporting him, keeping him from falling further. “Er-ge, please, I’m sorry,”

“No,” says Lan Xichen vehemently. He’s trembling faintly, but there’s a thread of steel in his voice as he speaks, as he says, “Even if, if you’d said. Would I have listened? Wangji told me and yet I only told him to try, I didn’t believe… I don’t know if I would have listened to you, A-Yao.”

“Xichen, you’re not to blame either,” says Nie Mingjue, also kneeling beside them now. His voice is gentler than it had been when he was scolding Lan Xichen just moments before.

“Aren’t I, Da-ge? The deaths of Jin Zixuan and Jiang Yanli compromised the Jin and Jiang sects, we should have, I should have looked into it, but I just agreed, didn’t check. It’s my fault.”

Something’s wrong, something’s very very wrong, and it takes Jin Guangyao several moments to realize that Lan Xichen is breathing too fast; shallow, gasping breaths as he tries to hold himself together. “Er-ge, slow down, you’re going to hyperventilate!” he says, placing a palm on Lan Xichen’s chest.

“I - I. I stepped. As-side, and. and let. them k-kill, kill my b-b-broth-er. I ki-killed him, A-A-Yao, just for. For do-ing the right. right thing. I–”

“Er-ge please,” Jin Guangyao begs, “Don’t do this to yourself, it’s not your fault, you didn’t know! Please control your breathing, you’re frightening me.” Lan Xichen doesn’t though, although maybe he cannot; his eyes widen more as he seems to choke on his gasped breathing, short, sharp gasps that seem to catch in his throat, and Jin Guangyao has no idea what to do. He’s never seen Lan Xichen fall apart like this before.

“He-he’s go-ne. Not supp. supposed. to. I w-want. him. back. want. M-my fa-fault. Pun-ish me.”

Lan Xichen shows no signs of becoming less hysterical, and before Jin Guangyao can plead further, Nie Mingjue pulls him into his arms, tucking Lan Xichen into a hug, his head nestled beneath Nie Mingjue’s chin.

“Xichen,” he says, “Breathe. You can cry, but you have to breathe,” and somehow that gets through to him, he gasps and splutters some more but he tries, and when he finally starts sobbing into Nie Mingjue’s chest, broken and desperate, at least Jin Guangyao is no longer afraid he’s going to hurt himself.

Nie Mingjue holds Lan Xichen as he shakes apart and cries, and when Jin Guangyao meets his eyes over Lan Xichen’s head, he sees some kind of reflected grief there.

Nie Mingjue mouths, ‘Water.’ Nodding, Jin Guangyao gets up and fetches some, coming back and asking quietly, “Er-ge, would you like some water?” Three hands, from three different people help steady the glass as Lan Xichen sips slowly from it, every one of his hitched breaths still tugging at Jin Guangyao.

Why does it hurt so much?

You were never supposed to be hurt.

It takes some time, but eventually the glass is empty, and Lan Xichen is only crying silent tears into the collar of Nie Mingjue’s robes.

“It’s not your fault alone,” says Nie Mingjue, after the long silence. “I was hasty too. The blame belongs to all of us.”

“I disgust myself,” Lan Xichen whispers, after he lets go.

“It’s fine. They’ll have moved on, perhaps be reincarnated. Isn’t that why-”

“They wouldn’t have. Wen Qing’s ashes were scattered at the Nightless city, and the rest were thrown into a pool of resentful energy at the burial mounds. Their souls would not have escaped,” says Nie Mingjue.

Oh.

It’s at times like this that Jin Guangyao remembers just how cruel cultivators are.

“I’ll find them all, and put them to rest,” says Xichen. “Not just A-Yuan.”

“You’re a sect-leader, Xichen. You can’t just leave everything to do this. Assign it to your cultivators, not-”

“I won’t hurry. But I will give them all rest. I swear.”

“Xichen-”

“Maybe then Wangji’s soul will forgive me, and deign to speak to me,” says Lan Xichen, and Nie Mingjue stops protesting.

[victoria-daydreams]

Of Vices and Virtues

Chapter Fourteen: A Never-Ending Nightmare

AN: Nothing to say other then, thank you to everyone who’s followed this story and this is a long ass chapter.

Word Count: 6.8k

Trigger Warnings: colorism/mentions of colorism

Taglist: @azayamari​

Chapter Fifteen: A Love Supreme

Third POV

Charles' sleep had been fitful that night. His dreams were laced with images that he couldn't name, people he couldn't identify, and an overlapping terror that nearly drove him insane. Waking up with a start, he stared wildly around the room, searching for something that would anchor him to reality. Calming his breathing, he stared up at the ceiling, wondering what had caused such horrid nightmares. He almost felt his body commanding him to go back to bed until he heard it.

A scream erupted through the house, waking everyone from their sleep.

Charles sat upright, immediately projecting his mind to through the home to figure out who had screamed. He mentally checked off each of the members in the house, everyone was awake, most likely because of the ear splitting scream that reverberated throughout the mansion.

Puzzled, Charles reached out once more, only to remember that he hadn't checked on Claudia. However, the second he touched his mind to hers, he was met with such an overwhelming sense of horror and fear that he pulled out immediately, feeling slightly sick at his stomach. Rationalizing that he had probably unwittingly shared her dreams.

Charles slid his feet out from the warmth of his blankets, pulling a pair of loose gray sweatpants over his boxers, he made his way out of the room and hurried to Claudia's room, cursing slightly upon stubbing his toe at the door frame. His body convulsed as he searched Claudia's mind once more. Pain rushed through him before he stepped out of her mind. Charles slowed his jog down where he already found a small crowd of the mutants around Claudia's door.

"Go back to bed. Erik and I will handle it," Charles instructed sternly, but there was a gentle undertone to his command.

Though they looked upset, the young mutants shrunk away back to their rooms, each casting glances back. They had never seen Claudia like this, none of them had ever seen Claudia scared. And the sudden show of emotion being terror shocked the young mutants. A look passed between them all, one of both shock and concern.

Erik turned to Charles. "What is wrong with her?"

Another scream ruptured the air.

"I searched through her mind and it was filled with so much pain I had to leave," Charles explained. "Open the door!" he ordered, and Erik obliged quickly.

Claudia was twisting and turning in the bed, her body jerking and arching. Sweat was pouring from every point and her nails were scratching away at the fabric. Her eyes were moving frantically under her eye lids, vibrating almost.

She ran through the dark, she could not see where she was going but she knew that if she didn't run then she would be consumed by the evil that followed her. Running as fast as she could she continued through the pitch black. She could here the thunderous footfalls behind her as the evil drew closer.

Suddenly she ran straight into a wall of some kind. She could not see it but as she ran her hands over it to find an entrance of some kind, she could feel its rough texture. As she continued to find a way through she heard a bang behind her, turning around she could still see nothing through the dark but she felt its hot breath on her skin. Desperate now she turned round again back to the wall, however she saw two dark brown eyes, that were nearly black gleaming down at her. Screaming she tried to run left between the wall and the man behind her, but she was stopped in her tracks by another solid object. Turning around she tried to her left but again she was stopped.

She was trapped.

"You are mine Claudia!" A voice came from behind her. Turning around, she shot a bolt of energy straight at the sound but it did not collide with anything. Suddenly she felt hands come from behind her and grabbed her head. "Your powers are mine!"

Struggling with all her strength she tried to break free but the grip was to strong, and her strength was being drain from her.

"No, stop it. Leave me alone. Stop it. STOP IT!"

"Stop it. STOP IT!" Claudia screamed as she sprang awake.

Not even aware of the two men that were in front of her, she seemed to look right past them, as if they weren't there at all, Charles and Erik didn't need to wonder what kind of monsters she was facing. Pulling her knees up, she wrapped her arms around them before placing her forehead on top and began to shake. Charles slowly took a seat beside her and began rubbing his hand up and down her back.

"Everything's fine. We're all here with you. Nothing is going to happen," Charles soothed calmly, as he continued to rub her back.

Lifting her head slightly Claudia looked to her left to see Charles watching her with a concerned look on his face. Raising her head more, so that she could look around her room she saw that Erik was standing just behind him, an equally concerned look on his face. Erik could see that her tears had stopped for the moment, but her face still had the wet streaks to prove their existence.

"I-I-I-" Claudia stuttered, her lip trembling.

Turning back to Charles, Claudia launched herself into him arms, taking him by surprise, but he wrapped his arms around her nonetheless as she began crying into his shoulder. Her shaky hands clenched at his shirt and she whimpered into his chest. Charles squeezed tightly as sobs racked her body uncontrollably.

"You're safe Claudia," Charles assured, rubbing her back and planting a kiss on top of her head. "I promise," he added, looking up to share a glance with Erik.

Anger. That was all Erik could feel, anger for all the pain that Claudia has gone through. But there was also an undercurrent of ache in his heart for him not being the one to wrap his arms around her and comfort her.

Charles pressed his lips together, examining Claudia for several moments, wondering if he should tell her what he knew about her dreams, or if she would be frightened by the idea of him having read her thoughts—regardless of whether he had had control over it. It wasn't long before Claudia felt the overwhelming panic die down in her throat as the gentle beat of Charles' heart served as a soothing metronome. Claudia closed her eyes and buried herself deeper into Charles' embrace, hoping that his warmth would push away her nightmares.

After several moments, Charles decided to break the silence.

"I want to try something," he spoke up.

She looked up at him, "Okay..." Claudia responded wearily.

Charles places his finger against his temple once again and let out one word into Claudia's mind.

Sleep.

And Claudia took no time in shutting her eyes and falling into the deep world of dreams. For once, she had been able to forget the pain of her past, and fell into a peaceful sleep.

"What did you do?" Erik asked as he stared at the woman he considered a good friend.

"Though she's too stubborn to admit it. She hasn't been sleeping well, I noticed it when we first took her to the CIA facility. I just simply put her into a deep sleep. One that she would recover feeling refreshed instead of exhausted," Charles explained as he pulled Claudia's blanket up and secured it around her sleeping form.

"Goodnight, Claudia. Pleasant dreams," Charles murmured sweetly.

~~~x~~~

Claudia's POV

The blinding light managed to make it's way through the cracks of the satin blue curtains. It peeked it's way inside my eyes, and I let out a deep breath, as soon I gained back my senses. I closed my fingers into fists, then flexed them, getting use to the feeling. I could feel air flow in and out of my nose, and hear my surroundings. Finally, I felt alive and well. A light rapping came from my bedroom door, then it slowly opened, as Charles poked his head in, surveying me. He gave a small grin, and let himself into the room.

"Good, you're awake," he spoke softly.

"And well rested," I returned hoarsely, pushing myself up.

He gave a breathless chuckle and nodded. I noted his appearance. He looked tired; deep, dark bags underneath his weary, blue eyes, and his hair not as neatly parted as it usually is.

"May I come in?" Charles asked, leaning against the door.

"Of course," I answered smiling, vigorously motioning for him to come in and he stepped in the room, closing the door behind him. "What can I do for you this morning?" I asked, as Charles sat down on my bed.

"I wanted to come check on you. I saw your nightmare last night, Claudia," Charles started, and my smile slowly faded. "I'm sorry, Claudia, I truly am," he took ahold of my hands and I was struck with the sudden pity Charles felt for me.

"Don't be," I glanced back up at him. "I know you would never violate my trust purposefully,"

My voice was a whisper—if the room hadn't been so silent, he probably wouldn't have been able to hear me.

Charles nodded, not taking his eyes away from mine. I looked away, pressing my cheek against the top of my arm; he was silent for several moments, allowing me time to grieve as I clearly wished.

After a few minutes had lapsed, he spoke again, gently. "There's no training today," Charles informed, placing his hand on mine. "Take as much time as you need," he said, brushing his thumb over my hand.

I lifted my head back up, "Please don't stop training on my account Charles," I pressed.

"Nonsense," he disagreed. "We all deserve a day off. You deserve a day off," Charles stressed. "Breakfast is being served, would you like to join on us?" he asked, I nodded my head yes. Charles stood up from my bed before lifting me up from the comforts of my bed, helping me onto my feet.

The two of us left my room silently and descended the steps into the kitchen that was filled chatter of the occupants in the mansion, but once I entered with Charles silence fell over everyone. Hank was standing just behind Raven both of them sharing a concerned look on their faces. Sean sat at the kitchen table, with Alex leaning on it next to him. Moira stopped mid-motion of washing dishes, and finally Erik who stood near the window starring out of it turned his body to face me.

I wrung my hands together, "I'm sorry for disturbing your sleep last night. I..uh..promise to keep my mind at bay," I apologized sheepishly, embarrassed that they all knew how troubled I really was.

That the facade I had been putting was shattered.

~~~x~~~

I looked into the mirror and smiled contently at my reflection. My hair was down and done in a loose ponytail and my makeup was done naturally, I ran my hands over the blue plaid fabric of my jumper dress, smoothing out the wrinkles I saw. The mansion was uncharacteristically quiet, but that was only because everyone had mostly left the mansion. Charles was going on a supermarket run, Moira along with the rest of the younger mutants all volunteered to go as a way to get out of the mansion and an attempt of buying food of their preferred choice.

Charles suggested that I come with them, he said it might do me so good to get out of the house, but I declined. Erik, also declined to go, he said he wanted to keep me company after yesterday. I took one last glance at the mirror and then left my room, making my way down the stairs and to the kitchen.

I walked over to the cabinets and bent down to grab a kettle from the lower cabinet. Standing back up I grabbed a tea bag from the shelf above my head and placed the bag down on the counter while I put the kettle in the sink and turned on the water. The water poured down into the kettle and I rolled up the sleeves of my brown turtleneck to avoid them getting wet. Turning around, I moved over to the stove and turned it on. I began humming to myself as I went back to the sink, turning the faucet off and grabbing the kettle filled with water.

I placed the kettle onto the burner and lowly began to sing aloud, waiting for the water to boil.

"When skies are cloudy and gray. They're only gray for a day. So wrap your troubles in dreams. And dream your troubles away,"

I moved away from the stove and walked to the sink, grabbing a clean mug and plate from the dish tray, before I stepped away and made my way to the the food cabinet and got out a pack of biscuits, and while I was arranging them on a plate, the tea kettle began to whistle.

"Until that sunshine peeps through. There's only one thing to do. Just wrap your troubles in dreams. And dream your troubles away,"

Pausing in my biscuit arrangements I went over to the stove and took the kettle off the stove before turning it off and dropped a lemon tea bag into my mug, pouring the boiling liquid from the kettle into my mug. I went to the refrigerator giving the tea a few minutes to steep as I located the milk in the fridge and the sugar on the countertop.

"Your castles may tumble. That's fate after all. Life's really funny that way..." I paused, taking a long draw from my mug.

"You must be feeling a lot better," Erik stated, from behind me and nearly causing me to spill hot tea on my hand. "I can't recall the last time I heard you sing," he added, with a light chuckle.

I placed my mug down and spun around to face Erik, who was standing in the entrance of the kitchen. Erik's eyes widened slightly at the sight of me and I raised my eyebrow at his reaction.

"What?" I asked, tilting my head.

"Incredible," Erik murmured. "You look absolutely incredible," he continued in shock.

I smiled as I felt my cheeks heat up, "Thank you Erik," I laughed, temporarily looking down at the floor. "But does that mean I was a downright horror to look at this whole time?" I asked teasingly, staring back up at him.

"No. No, no, no. That's not what I meant I-" Erik spluttered.

"I knew what you meant Erik, I'm just pulling your leg," I interrupted, flashing a grin at him.

"Since all the time I've known you, I have never seen you look so...peaceful," he commented, shaking his head.

"Yes, well, it's amazing what a good night's rest can do for one's body," I smiled, before lifting my mug and taking another sip of my tea.

Erik moved closer to me and took my free hand in his, "Come on, I have surprise for you,"

I placed my mug down, "Erik, I just made tea and biscuits," I whined, a pout forming on my face.

"But this will be so much better than tea and biscuits," Erik countered, mimicking my tone.

"Do you promise?" I questioned.

"Promise,"

I allowed myself to be pulled away from my spot on the counter and out of the kitchen. Erik led me back up the stairs and walking us to my room.

"Why are we at my room?" I asked, arching a brow.

"I need to get something," Erik replied simply.

"In my room?"

"Be right back," he said as he ran into my room and came back with one of mine silk scarves.

He tied it around my eyes and grabbed my hand, leading me down the hall and to the stairs before we finally left the mansion.

"Where are you taking me Erik?" I laughed, hearing the crunch of gravel underneath our feet.

"It's a secret," Erik chuckled, still leading me around to wherever we were going.

The sound of birds chirping around us gave me indicator that we were in the woods near Charles' mansion. Erik pace began to slow down before we came to a complete stop. Erik let go of my hand and moved behind me, his chest pressed against my back.

"I'm going to count to three and remove your blindfold," Erik said, and I nodded feeling a smile creep on my face. "One...two...three," he counted, his mouth right next to my ear.

Erik carefully untied my blindfold and once I opened my eyes I was immersed in sunlight, blinking several times to adjust my eyes I finally noticed a picnic setting with the classic checkered blanket and wicker basket underneath a large tree in the blackberry patch that he scared me in a week ago.

"You shouldn't have!" I stated, spinning around and Erik just smiled.

"I wanted to," Erik reflecting my smile. "I figured you could use pick me up of sorts after yesterday," he explained, with a slight shrug of his shoulders.

"Oh Erik, thank you," I said, a genuine smile on my lips. "Thank you so much," I repeated, before walking to the laid out blanket with Erik following behind me.

I kicked my shoes as I lowered myself down on the soft blanket and Erik sat down beside me as the cool air was blew a light breeze,

"So Mr. Lehnsherr, what do you have prepared for us?" I asked, letting my toes rest in the soft grass.

"Well Miss Walker," Erik began with a smile as he started pulling our meal out of the basket. "We have sandwiches, pickles, rolls, chips, and cookies," he listed, individually taking out each item.

I clapped my hands together, "Very good!" I chirped, watching as Erik grabbed a pair of plates from the basket as well. "I feel quite special, that you're doing all this for me," I laughed, my hands falling back down into my lap.

Erik shook some potato chips onto the plate now in front of me before handing me a triangular cut sandwich. Our conversation flowed easily as we ate, just as it always did. We were laughing loudly, my arms waving as I shared a story from when I was in college and at a nightclub with a friend and how I used my powers to get some man to stop bothering us. Erik nearly choked on his Coke as he laughed, his hand slamming down on the blanket as he chuckled.

"Nausea?" Erik asked smiling.

"Yep," I grinned proudly. "Subtle, but effective," I answered.

I reached in the wicker basket looking for a napkin to give Erik, but instead I pulled out a brown paper bag. I drew my lips into a thin line, staring at the paper bag as it wordlessly taunted me.

"What did the poor brown paper bag do to you?" Erik asked, an amused expression on his face.

I looked back down at the bag, "During my freshman year of college I wanted to join this sorority called the AKA's or Alpha Kappa Alpha Sorority Incorporated," I began, lifting my gaze back to Erik. "In order to even be considered for the sorority I had to take this stupid, humiliating test. The Paper Bag Test," I remembered, with a slight scowl on my face.

"The Paper Bag Test?" Erik asked, letting out a snort.

"Yes, The Paper Bag Test," I repeated. "If your skin is darker than the paper bag then the sorority would not let you in," I explained, lifting the bag to my arm. "I failed as you can clearly see," I remarked, laying down on my back. "You know it's one thing to be discriminated against from someone of the opposite race, but it's another when you realize it's coming from your own," I stated sadly, shaking my head. "That same night after I was rejected, I thought about how much prettier I would be if I were of lighter skin," I added, placing the bag down onto the blanket.

I released a deep breath and stared down at my arms and watched as the illusion took ahold of me. I watched as my golden brown skin became lighter and into a pale brown, I looked up at Erik to see palpable fascination in his eyes.

"Now am I beautiful?" I asked, pushing myself up slightly on my arms.

"My dear Claudia you could never been so wrong," Erik began. "You've always been beautiful,"

I attempted and failed to prevent the full blown smile that appeared on my face when I heard what Erik said. Black strands of hair fell in front of my face, the wind blowing a gentle breeze around us. I looked down at my feet as my skin returned to it's original tone. Neither of us spoke for a while. After a few minutes I raised my head and saw that Erik was already looking at me with his piercing eyes.

"You're the first person I told about this," I admitted, not looking away.

"I rather like this side of you," Erik commented.

"Don't get used to it," I quipped. I pushed myself up and curled my legs to the side, propping myself up with my right hand. "Can I tell you a secret Erik?" I asked, the smile on my lips slowly diminishing.

"Of course," Erik answered, his playful demeanor changing once he saw my face.

"Do you remember Robert and David? The lab assistants," I reminded, and his eyes hardened at the mention of them.

"I do," he answered tightly.

"I-uh...I killed them," I confessed, watching Erik's reaction.

"How?"

I let out a humorless laugh, "It took some doing, but I managed to track them down," I explained, nodding my head. "I found David at a medical conference, he was one of the many people to speak that day. The conference was open to the public making it incredibly easy to execute my plan. David was on a panel that was supposed to speak at 3:00 p.m.," I recalled, going off in a daze. "So, I walked myself into that auditorium and plopped myself down in one of the front row seats and just stared at him," I remembered.

I paused momentarily to catch my breath.

"It took him awhile to notice me, but when he did see me, his whole body went rigid. His eyes, oh the look in his eyes as we stared at each other, it was nothing but pure fear. And I seized on that fear, amplified the terror he was feeling times ten. And then, boom..." I trailed off, merely shrugging. "David clutched his chest and fell out of chair onto the stage with a thud," I continued. "Plunged the whole room into chaos," I added, a snort escaping me.

"The many cries for someone to call 911, the other speakers on stage attempting to save David, but then there was me. Rising from my seat and leaving the auditorium with the calmest expression as David's life slowly and painfully slipped away from him. Guess what the nightly news reported his cause of death as?" I asked, raising both of my eyebrows.

"What?"

"Massive heart attack," I answered, pleased with myself.

"And what of Robert?" Erik questioned curiously.

"Two weeks had passed after I killed David, I found Robert in Maryland. I learned the route he took to work every morning by discreetly following him for two days. On the third day I finally confronted him, it was morning rush hour and the sidewalks were packed with people going to work. Robert was walking one way and I was walking the opposite way facing him. All it took was one glance by him to realize who I was as we moved pass each other, and just like David, Robert's eyes widened. But I only smirked at him as I conjured an overwhelming despair to take over Robert, it wasn't long before I knew my plan had worked," I recounted, playing with my ponytail.

"And how did you know your plan worked?" Erik asked again.

"The sound of tires screeching, a loud smack of a body hitting a car, and the screams of horror told me all I needed to know," I answered dryly.

Erik and I sat in silence for awhile, I wasn't sure if my sudden confession had stunned him into silence or if he was just thinking it over.

"I could have made the decision not to kill them," I stated, and Erik turned to look me. "Hell, I could've decided not kill those security guards either. I should have been satisfied with killing Professor Lewis...but it wasn't enough, not for me. I wanted all them to suffer just like how I did because each one of them played a role in it. God Erik, what kind of person does that make me?" I questioned. "A blood thirsty animal?" I wondered.

Erik placed a hand on my cheek, "No," he answered softly, shaking his head. "The kind of person who rightfully got their vengeance, Claudia, and don't you ever forget that,"

"Thank you," I briefly looked down at the blanket before bringing my gaze back up at Erik.

"Your welcome,"

Erik stroked my cheek tenderly, his fingertips grazing softly over my skin. He inched closer, tilting his head toward mine, Erik leaned in so close, our noses gently touched. I took in the crisp scent of his cologne. He smelled of cinnamon, woody, and of something else. As our faces were mere inches away from each other, he stared deeply into my eyes. Erik swallowed, looking down, eyes flicking haphazardly from my lips back to my eyes. I reached out, running my fingers up Erik's face and I tilted my head upward, slowly closing the distance between us.

My eyes fell shut and for a moment the world around us stood still, I couldn't hear the birds chirping nor the faint creaking of trees in the breeze. No, for now it was just the two of us. I pushed my head slightly forward, our lips almost meeting.

Then suddenly the blaring of a car horn quickly broke us apart, my eyes snapping open. Both of us were breathing heavily and I looked away from Erik, staring at the path back to the mansion.

Turning back to Erik I could feel my face heating up, "We uh...should help them with the groceries," I suggested, swallowing deeply. I pushed myself up from the ground and slipped my shoes back on. "Thanks for the picnic Erik...you're a true friend," I stated, my lips forming a smile.

"Anytime," Erik answered, returning my smile.

But as I walked away from Erik I felt a dull ache of pain in my chest and I placed my hand on my chest.

"Hurt?" I thought. "No, that's not mine,"

I wanted to look back, but dared not to. For the hurt that I felt came from none other than Erik.

~~~x~~~

"What was with the face?" I asked, remembering how Raven sat through dinner with a dark expression on her face.

"I don't know, maybe teenage angst," Charles joked.

Sunset had fallen upon Xavier Manor. It had been ten minutes since dinner ended leaving Charles and I the only people left in the kitchen. The two of us sat at the small, circular wooden table that was tucked in the corner of the kitchen, sharing a bowl of ice cream that he just bought from the grocery store. I grabbed the glass bottle of chocolate syrup next to me and poured way too much syrup on my side of the bowl, not caring that I made a goopy mess.

"Is everything alright between you and Raven?" Charles asked, before putting a spoonful of ice cream in his mouth.

"I would think so, I haven't noticed anything that would say otherwise," I answered, shrugging my shoulders before following Charles' action. I relished the sweet chocolate syrup mixed with the ice cream and decided I had never tasted anything so heavenly. "Why?" I asked, looking up at him.

"It just seemed tense at the table, that's all," Charles stated. "Are you and Erik-" he began.

"Jesus Charles, Erik and I getting along fine as well," I interjected, placing my spoon down. "We just had a picnic together a few hours ago," I explained, leaving out certain events. "What is with the interrogation?" I questioned, lifting a brow.

"He's been brooding ever since this afternoon,"

"It's Erik, when isn't he brooding?" I asked simply, rolling my eyes. I placed both my hands down onto the table and pushed myself up from my chair. "Look Charles, I'm sure Erik is fine," I assured, moving over to him and lowering myself down onto Charles' lap. "Okay?" I asked, looping my arm around his neck and he let out a sigh while nodding his head.

"I'm sure you're right," Charles said, wrapping an arm around my waist. "But as his friend, I'll check in on him," he stated.

"You're a good a man Charles," I remarked, playing with the loose tendrils of his hair. "Has anyone told you that?" I asked, before tapping his nose with my finger.

"Once or twice, but I'm always open to hearing it again especially from you," Charles murmured, tilting his head up slightly.

A soft laugh escaped me as I went to respond, but I got the feeling that we were being watched. I turned my head away from Charles and stared at the empty door frame of the kitchen.

"You can stop hiding behind the corner," I called out, feeling a quick flash of embarrassment. "Yes, I know you're there. Don't worry, we won't bite," I quipped.

Coming around the wall was a rather embarrassed looking Hank, pushing his glasses back up onto his nose.

"I-I just wanted to get a glass water," he stated sheepishly.

"Well don't let us stop you," I said, getting up from Charles' lap. "As a matter of fact, I was just leaving. I'm going to take a walk before it gets dark," I announced, sliding my hand off of Charles' shoulder.

"And I need to talk to Erik," Charles commented, standing up as well.

"See Hank," I began, spreading my hands out in front of me. "The kitchen is all yours," I joked, smiling at him.

I moved past the the two men and made my way down the deserted hallways towards the back door. There was a lake that sat behind Charles' mansion, it was the perfect path for me to stretch my legs and for me to get a little peace and quiet. Turning the handle, I opened the back door of the mansion, allowing a cool breeze to filter through the room, as I stepped through to go outside. I walked with my hands behind my back as I traveled to the lake, listening to the rhythmic crunching of my shoes on the gravel.

Arriving close to my destination I stood in the grass and admired the spirals that formed in the water from whatever fish were underneath. Glancing around, I realized I wasn't alone, there was a familiar brunette woman standing closer to the lake edge. Quietly, I walked closer to Moira until I was directly behind her.

"Want some company?" I asked with a smile.

Moira jumped from the sound of my voice and spun around to face me, her hand against her chest.

"Claudia, you scared me," Moira breathed, a smile appearing on her face.

"Sorry," I apologized, smiling and lifting my hands up.

"Yes, I would love some company," Moira said.

I walked over next to her and looked down at the lake. The shimmering water reflecting the sunlight off it in glittering splendor back at me. I unlinked my fingers from each other and lifted my hand up to my necklace, rubbing the smooth stone.

"So, you and Charles, huh?" Moira asked, and I snapped my head in her direction, Moira's eyebrow raised.

"Pardon?" I asked, dropping the stone charm.

"Claudia," Moira called, leaning her head forward and just sent me a knowing look.

Was it really that obvious Charles and I were attracted to each other?

I smiled and let out a sigh, "I guess there is something," I hinted, merely shrugging and biting my lip. "I'm not sure I'm good for him though," I suggested, shaking my head.

Moira looked at me narrowing her eyes as the wind gently blew through her hair, "Claudia," She called again. "I have seen the way Charles looks at you, the way his eyes light up at the mention of your name," Moira pointed out. "He makes you genuinely happy Claudia, it's all in your eyes, they seem to sparkle when you're truly happy," Moira continued, and I let out a chuckle of disbelief that she had been observing me this whole time. "Charles is the happiest when he's around you. So, the way I see it you are the best for each other," Moira finished, a grin on her face.

"Thanks," I replied with a small smile. "Although none of this will matter if we end up dying," I stated grimly, still appreciating Moira's words.

Moira looked at me shaking her head, "You won't die," Moira asserted. "Not if I have any say about it,"

~~~x~~~

"I know for certain, the one I love. I'm through with flirtin', it's just you I'm thinkin' of! Ain't misbehavin', I'm savin' my love for you!"

I swayed to the music, completely dismissing every thought of the future, just moving to the music and listening as Carmen McRae's silky voice melted into the piano notes.

"Like Jack Horner in the corner, don't go nowhere. What do I care?"

I spun around, dancing backwards to the shelf I needed to be at, when my back hit something hard. Not hard enough to be a bookcase though. Freezing, I felt someone grab my waist, beginning to turn me around. When I looked up, I found Charles looked down questioningly at me.

"What was that?"

"Uh," I suddenly became aware of exactly what was happening. The music returned to it's full volume in a matter of seconds, and every bit of the present flew into my head. The present, my own thoughts, and the feeling of Charles' grip on my waist. "Putting a book...a book back. If you don't mind?" I challenged, raising a brow.

"I don't,"

"Then let me go," I ordered. "Please," I added.

Instead of letting me go Charles leaned in, close enough for me to feel his breath on my cheek.

"Of course," He nearly whispered, before pulling away.

"Thank you very much," I said, sarcasm dripping from my voice. I went over to the shelf, placing the book in its proper spot. "There we go," I commented.

"Miss Walker?" I whipped around at the sound of my surname, which is exactly what he wanted. "Any particular reason you were dancing in the library?"

I cocked my eyebrow at him again, "You're about to laugh, Mr. Xavier, but I don't advise it. I was, you know, dancing because I wanted to. Simple as that. Besides, I love that song," I looked at my list, then sighed at the realization that my next book was out of my reach.

"You seem very at home in a library," Charles commented, sliding his hands into his pockets.

"I grew up in a book store for a while. My grandfather owned it," I explained, leaving it at that.

"Oh, so you must have read a lot then?"

"Yes, I did," I answered, a faint smile on my lip reminiscing on the memories. "I don't remember much about him since he passed away, but I do remember that he's the first person to introduce me to jazz music," I said, my lips curving into a smile as I folded my list and slid it into my dress pocket. "Speaking of jazz, you know you surprised me Charles. I would have never took you as a jazz lover," I stated, moving along the shelves that filled an entire wall. They were filled with vinyl records of Ella Fitzgerald, Louis Armstrong, Billie Holiday and more.

Charles followed along behind me, "Oh really? What music did you think I liked?" Charles asked, his fingers gliding along his shelf that were filled with books, like the works of Edgar Allen Poe, H.P. Love Craft and Mary Shelly's 'Frankenstein'.

"Classical music, like Mozart and Beethoven," I suggested, spinning around to face him once more.

"Well, allow me to surprise you even more," Charles smirked, moving over to his records shelf.

Charles pulled a record out of the shelf and walked over to the record player, picking the needle up from the vinyl I was playing before removing it from the turntable. He slid the Carmen McRae record I was listening to back into its holder and placed another record onto the turntable. He lowered the needle onto to the record, then the scratch as the needle looked for the opening groove.

I listened to the chords of the piano begin to play, feeling my body sway a little in time with the calming music.

"I love you..."

I instantly recognized the owner of the voice and the song he sang. It was I Love You For Sentimental Reasons by Nat King Cole. I walked towards Charles, my dress, slightly bounced as I glided forward.

"...for sentimental reasons..."

Charles gave me an appreciative smile, and stood holding his hand out to me and bowed, "Miss Walker, may I have the pleasure of this dance?" he asked, I smiled and nodded my head.

Softly, Charles pulled me towards him and wrapped his arm around my back. I placed my hand in his and we began to dance. I was a little surprised at how good Charles could dance as I allowed him to subduedly steer me around the library, he didn't seem like the type.

"Good choice, but why exactly did you chose this record?" I look up into those warm blue eyes and his brown locks that I had sudden urge to to run my hands through.

"I hope you do believe me..."

"Because it reminds me of us, of you," Charles whispered into my ear. I feel Charles' hand rest on the small of my back and I felt my cheeks up.

I briefly laid my head on his chest, "Stop, you're going to make me blush, even though I can't," I chuckled.

"I'll give you my heart..."

Despite the fact that it didn't seem particularly appropriate considering the pleasantly slow and melodious music Charles spun me away from him. I turned gracefully outward without a problem. Using the momentum produced by the turn I reeled myself back in towards my dance partner. He pulled me in tight and I savored the comforting warmth he sent through me as we continued to dance.

"I love you, and you alone were meant for me..."

My body swayed in time with the music I closed my eyes in the soft, dim lights and savoring the moment. My mind couldn't help but think about the man I was dancing with. Charles was too perfect to be real, it was like God had sculpted him into my vision of the perfect man. Everything he said, everything he did. I'd felt attraction to some men in my past, mainly teenage years and during my undergrad, as was to be expected. Some I'd dated, even kissed, and well...one man had me convinced to give myself to him.

Charles was different though.

"Please, give your loving heart to me..."

My eyes opened to see that Charles was staring down at me shamelessly, both of us lost in each other's eyes. Gradually, I realized that Charles was leaning closer to me in the blink of an eye, our lips were connected.

"And say we'll never part..."

It was a slow, but warm kiss, our lips moved in sync with each other. All of the built-up emotion and tension between us were being let out through this kiss. Charles stopped swaying and wrapped his arms around my body. I deepened the kiss and Charles let out a small pleasurable moan. Although we didn't want this kiss to end, slowly as one minded we slowed the rhythm. When we finally disconnected our lips from each other, the two of us catching our breaths. Our eyes slowly opening together and we shared a shy smile of happiness, no words spoken between us.

Charles' hands rested on my waist. Lifting my hand up and run it through his silky, soft hair before slinging my arms around his neck.

"I love you with all my heart Claudia," he hummed before our lips connected again.

Chapter Sixteen: Tensions Run High

[bakubitch-minusultra]

Not Alone: Chapter Eight

-> an apocalyptic series with bnha characters but without quirks because im the writer and i can do whatever the fuck i want -3- this one is a lil ;-; at the end and i apologize in advance i just like fucking with people c:<

-> Word Count: 2.8k

-> Warnings: pervy doods, blood(?), descriptions of sexual assault

-> Taglist:@5sosfckss @laudthingcat [if you wanna be added lmk <3]

A hand slipped over her mouth and Y/n instantly thought of the germs and squeezed her lips together.

“Don’t move, princess. They’ve come for you. Those fuckers sold you out to the breeders. Or it was that old bitch. You should know better than to trade with the first person who talks to you. You bush people are stupid.” Her bright white smile flashed in the darkness. “Don’t look so scared, I have a way out.”

Y/n nodded as the lady pulled her hand away from her face. The lady held her hand out and Y/n fished a ruby ring out of her sports bra and put it in the lady’s hand. She turned her back on Y/n and walked to a closet.

She opened the door and Y/n followed, holding her sack close to her chest. The lady pulled on the rod for hanging clothes in the closet, which made the wall pop out. She pushed it inside and walked into the wall. She entered the darkness and Y/n put her hands out. She heard voices coming to the room and she quickly closed the wall behind them.

She felt the lady’s hand grip hers suddenly. Y/n wanted to scream but she didn't. Her pulse was vibrating throughout her body.

Words were whispered into the darkness.

“Stairs.” Y/n put her feet down to the next level slowly. They could hear men’s voices above her.

“What the fuck is this?” The men sounded like they were right on top of her.

“She was here.”

Y/n heard the old woman’s voice. She felt cheated and betrayed. For trade she would sell Y/n out. Sell her out to the farms. Y/n knew humanity was a disgusting disappointment, but she still had a hard time imagining a woman turning in another woman to the farms.

“She was here, please. Let him just come home for a few days.”

Y/n continued down the stairs, feeling each step with the tips of her boots. It felt like an eternity had passed by the time they reached the bottom. The voices were gone and what replaced them was a dripping sound and damp cold air. The kind that could only be found underground.

“This was your house wasn’t it?” Y/n whispered.

“Yup. My husband had this installed when we built the house. He worked for the CIA.” Y/n felt her grip her hand again and pull her. “The ground is flat. We have to hurry.”

Y/n was stunned at the fact that no one knew about her underground bunker. But not as stunned as she was about her willingly helping Y/n escape.

“You could’ve sold me to them.” Y/n felt the lady’s fingers grip hers. Her voiced had changed.

“They have no right. No right to do what they’re doing.” The lady’s finger bit into Y/n’s shoulders as she shook her. “You gotta hurry. Don’t come back here. The girls get taken. The hunters are dressed up as traders but they’re not. Run. Feel your fingers along the wall until you see the light in the ceiling. Climb up there. It’s a latch. I have to get back now.”

Before Y/n could thank her the lady was gone. She was alone in the dark.

The fear was crippling her. She reached a trembling hand out into the darkness. Cold hard stone met her somewhere in the dark. She ran her fingers along it, running as best as she could. She was scared. She hated being scared. She decided that she needed a rule about being scared and doing things that made her scared.

She saw the ring of light up ahead. It had cast a dull beam in the shape of a circle on the floor. The morning sun was rising. She had slept later than she thought she would have. She should’ve been halfway home by the time the sun came up.

She felt like she was stepping into a magical light, like in the movies she had watched with her grandmother. The dark of the bunker was held at bay by the tiny ring of light. Dust particles sparkled inside of the ring. She reached her hands through it, watching as she made the dust dance in the light.

She looked up at the ring of light and then put her hand out at the small ladder she could see. She climbed until her head was at the wooden hatch. She listened to the silence. Nothing made a sound. She didn’t want to open the hatch. She wanted to hide in the dark of the bunker and never come out.

She heard a whisper in the wind. It was a sound she would know anywhere. It wasn’t close to her location, but it hurt her just the same. It could’ve been her.

She took a breath and put her hand on the bottom of the hatch. She tried to calm the shaking but she couldn’t. She pushed on the hatch and light flooded the small space even though the crack was tiny. The sun hadn’t completely risen, just as the moon hadn’t fully set. It was dawn.

She saw greenery everywhere around the hatch. Moss and brush surrounded her. She didn’t see anything but the sounds of the screams had filled the air. The animals made no noise, as the people had taken over the space with their screams again.

“Please! Please! Stop, please! I have money!” Her voice scared Y/n. The desperation frightened her. She had never been that desperate but she knew she had it in her. “Please sir, please! Don’t you have a sister or a wife you would want to keep safe?! Please! I’ll let you do whatever you want just don’t take me! Don’t take me back there! I’ll die in there!”

Y/n wanted to rock back and forth on the ground. She wished they would just kill her already so she would shut up. She was frozen. She didn’t leave the bunker but she didn’t close the lid either.

She knew she was in danger. She took a deep breath. She thought of Hades and Kirishima. She thought of poor Mina alone and taking care of Kirishima. She felt bravery, or stupidity, for the smallest of seconds and pulled herself out of the bunker and slid along the moss and brush. She made very little noise but every movement or rustle felt as loud as a gunshot. She crept along the ground on her hands and feet like Hades did. She moved away from the town. She didn’t know where she was but she was scared.

She got to a crowded bunch of trees and bushes and decided she needed to risk it and stand. She needed her bearings. She took another deep breath and slid her body up along the side of a tree. She tried to blend in. Hoards of people had gathered in the street in front of the town. Y/n could see the field and the cement road. She knew she was on the right side.

Women and children were being loaded into trucks. They sobbed and reached for their loved ones. One girl looked about thirteen. Y/n felt anger welling inside of her. There were four guards from the gates and five other men milling around the trucks. The tenth man was inside the cab of the truck.

Her brain was screaming at her to help the girl. She was a kid but that wouldn’t stop them. The sweaty men who took turns. She closed her eyes and shook her head to rearrange her thoughts.

She turned her back on them. She ran away like the coward she was. She ran until she found the broken branches. She used them to lead herself back to her weapon stash. She breathed easier when her bow was back in her hand and she could just kiss her knife. She tucked it into her boot and started the run back to her house. She ran faster than she did the day before. She ran with a new fear.

Xxxx

She reached the house in the middle of the night and saw Hades' eyes. He stalked toward her and sniffed her everywhere. He was checking to make sure she was okay. When she bent her knee to kiss him, she started to sob. He had seen that before. He knew sometimes she just needed to get it out.

“Y/n?” She looked up to see Mina pointing a gun at her. Y/n smiled and held up her sack and Mina lowered the gun. “You okay?”

“No, but it’s not anything new. How is he?” Y/n could see the grim look on Mina’s face in the moonlight and her stomach sank. She wanted to panic and cry out.

“He’s fading fast. I was about to cut his leg off when I heard you.”

Y/n sighed and broke into a run and bursted through the farm door, something she’d never done before. She pulled the needle out of the sack with one of the vials as she kneeled before Kirishima. His red hair was matted against his face and Y/n could see where his black roots were growing in from the lack of dye. She could see the moisture in the moonlight.

Mina poured the vodka she found in one of the cupboards all over Y/n’s hands and the needles and vial. The liquor was splashing all over her. She held the bottle up to Y/n’s lips and it burned its way down her empty stomach. The bits of food she had eaten were long gone. Thank god. Mina wiped his arm and Y/n finished putting the vial together and stabbed him in the arm. She pushed it in slowly like her dad had showed her. Kirishima didn’t stir. He didn’t register that Y/n was pumping his arm full of antibiotics.

She pulled the bandages off his wounds. The red lines were everywhere and she swallowed hard. Mina put the vodka back to Y/n’s lips and she drank again. She poured the tea tree all over the wound and blade of her knife. She sliced into the swollen part of the injury and milked the puss from it. She poured more tea tree after, being careful as to not rupture the blood vessels and cause more infection. When it was clean again and there was no more puss she smothered it in the old tube of medical salve. She covered it again with a gauze bandage and tape.

His fever was still high and he licked his lips and looked down at Y/n with blood shot eyes.

“You made it back.” Y/n nodded, his expression was breaking her heart. He looked so weak. He reached a hand to hers and squeezed. “I was worried.”

“I can take care of myself.” Y/n didn’t even let the bizarre day she had cross her mind. It was not the time to stress him out.

“I don’t doubt that, you scare me.”

Y/n laughed. She couldn’t help herself. He was huge and no doubt strong, stronger than he knew. Stronger than Y/n. She tried not to think about the young girls in the truck. She was a coward.

“I’m goin’ back to watching.” Mina was gone and suddenly Kirishima and Y/n were alone. She felt funny about it.

Kirishima pulled her up onto the couch, “Come lay with me.” It was the first human contact Y/n had had in a while. Watching t.v with friends was the closest thing to cuddling she had ever experienced. She didn’t know what to do and went limp. Kirishima laughed and pulled her alongside him on the couch. His arm was burning hot, it felt amazing. He wrapped his arm around her and she shivered from the heat.”

“Tell me a story Y/n.”

Y/n paused, she didn’t have any. She wanted to tell him something fun about her childhood but it basically looked just like her life now, but with more showering.

“I went to the town once a long time ago. The infection was newer then. I ran through the woods and broke the branches to make a path for myself to find the farmhouse again. Just like my dad taught me. I was excited when I saw the gates. I was so stupid. I thought being with other survivors would be better for me. I went in and begged for food from a lady. She laughed at me.” Y/n felt her air getting trapped in her throat. The shame filling her was her punishment. She deserved it. “I went out her door and sat in the narrow alley near the back of the house. I was hidden by a bunch of old buckets and garbage. The lady and her daughter were walking around the back with bags of stuff. Some men came. They started tearing at them. They stripped them and hurt them.” Y/n choked slightly on her next sentence, “I ran into the store and stole as much food as I could carry. I ran and gorged myself in the back of her store. I could still hear her screaming and I did nothing. I just ate.”

Kirishima squeezed her and kissed the top of her forehead. She stared into his black t-shirt that was soaked with sweat.

“You’re kinda bad at storytelling. I sorta wanted to go to sleep. Now I think I’ll never sleep again.” Y/n laughed with him. It killed the moment of suffering she deserved. He kissed her forehead again, “Do you have anything lighter? I don’t want that to be the last thing I think about when I die.” Y/n laughed again, but this time she wanted to cry. He was dying and Y/n knew this. Instead of her leaving him, he was leaving her and it hurt.

“I have one memory of my mother. She was in the hospital bed. I was two years old. She looked like me, but she was really pretty. Her lip looked like she was pushing them out.”

“Duck lips.”

“What?”

He laughed, “They were called duck lips back then.”

“Oh. Well she had those. She was in the bed and she let me climb up with her. I sat on her lap and we watched t.v. It was a cartoon about a bald kid and his family.”

“Caillou. I loved that show. LOVE IT.” He spoke in a high pitched voice. It made Y/n smile, he remembered things so clearly. He nudged her, “What happened then?”

Y/n shook her head, “Nothing. We just sat in the sun on her bed. I remember how soft her nightgown was and she let me eat her pudding.”

“Yeah okay that’s another bad example of storytelling.” Y/n wanted to defend herself, but she knew it would only make him feel sorry for her.

He smiled, “Once when I was six, me and Bakugo went and played down by the river behind my house. His mom was really strict about it and never let us go down there. We figured because Bakugo was old enough to babysit we were good. We brought boats we made out of paper and put them on the water.. They floated perfectly until mine flipped over. I reached for it before it got too far away and of course fell in. Bakugo grabbed me before I got pulled away. I would have drowned for sure. We ran back to my house but we were too long getting back and his mom was there already. We snuck in the backyard. I thought we were dead but Bakugo grabbed the hose from the side of the house and sprayed me. His mom came out the back door at that moment. So she walks to the backyard to see Bakugo hosing and me screaming. He got grounded for a week for being a bully. He was the best friend ever.”

A weird feeling overtook the other feelings Y/n had. She was jealous that she didn’t have a single story like that one. She looked into his eyes and felt lost. She felt like she was part of them.

“Now that’s a story, jackass.” Y/n frowned at him. He lifted her chin and pressed his warm lips to hers. She loved it. She loved him. His warmth rushed through her. His lips parted hers and his tongue caressed her lips softly. He pulled back but she wanted more and watched his laps as he pulled away. “You’re supposed to close your eyes Y/n.”

She blushed, “I liked that.”

He laughed softly, “It was on my list of things to do before I die.” His words stung.

“You haven’t kissed a girl before?”

He shook his head, “Not a girl I really like.”

“Your fever is making you crazy.”

“Good.” He pulled her close and kissed her until she was dizzy.

--

haha cliffhanger go brrrr

[whump-town]

Psych 101

Defiance • Struggling • Crying

(Warning for language, torture, drugs, and just bad guy things)

The Hotch telling the team he loves them while being forced to shoot Garcia story 

Waking up in his pajamas, strapped to a wooden chair, and surrounded by his friends… Reid doesn’t know what’s happening but he knows it’s not good. “Guys,” he whispers, fear creeping up his sternum. He peaks over his shoulder, leaning forward to see down the line of people. Morgan is to his immediate right, beside him his Garcia. On his left, it runs Emily, JJ, and Dave. “Morgan?”

The older agent lifts his head, eyes peeling open slowly. He can feel the sedative still working through his body but as awareness creeps in, his mind clears. “Reid,” he croaks, rubbing his chin against his shoulder-- his bare shoulder. He looks down and frowns when he realizes he’s sitting in boxers he’d worn to bed and nothing else. “Kid?”

“Oh fuck me!”

Reid and Morgan lean forward, catching the eyes of the very pissed Emily Prentiss. Well, it’s not hard to put two and two together here. She’s clearly not pleased about her dressing arrangements either. She’s got a shirt on even if it’s twisted beneath her and showering the ling of her underwear. 

She gets over it fairly quickly when she’s able to see everyone. No, not everyone. “Where the hell is--”

They flinch as a sudden light comes on overhead. It’s bright and a broken kind of yellow tint that sinks into everything. More importantly, it puts Hotch right in front of them. He hadn’t been spared in the clothing of choice either. His green boxers are rolled up his thighs, his legs limply splayed out. The white shirt he customarily wears to bed is sitting on the ground at his feet. Having been pulled off to attach the heart monitor leads to his chest. 

“Fuck… Hotch?” Emily mumbles. They’re all grappling to take this to the best of their abilities. It’s bad enough they’re tied down but… There are two bags of something clear hanging above Hotch’s head. It’s snaking into the back of his hand and judging from the light trail of drool and just how limp he remains while they sit up and become aware, it’s not good. “This is gonna suck.”

A large door hidden by the shadow of where the light doesn’t go, the UNSUB steps in. “You can say that again, Agent Prentiss.” 

The power in the tone and statement are fairly lost as Garcia comes in, held by her elbow in the UNSUBs tight grip. “Honestly, your professionalism sucks complete--” Garcia stops when she sees them. She pales and her gaze nervously shifts between them until it lands on Hotch. A wall comes down and she scowls at the UNSUB. “If you’ve touched a hair on my bossman’s head, I’ll--”

The UNSUB pulls a gun from behind him, tucked into the back of his pants, releasing Garcia and stepping to Hotch. He presses the metal to Hotch’s temple, pushing Hotch’s head upright and smiling when Hotch remains limp and leaning into the metal. He smiles, “you’ll what? Huh? You’ll kill me?” He grips Hotch by his dark hair, lifting his head and making sure the other’s can see. “You can try but it won’t be before I kill him.”

He rolls his eyes, shaking his head as he releases Hotch. 

They wince when Hotch’s head falls back and cracks against the table behind him. A sickening crack filling the air before Hotch breathlessly grunts in pain.

“Sit down,” the UNSUB points to a spare chair. It’s like he isn’t even bothered with her. He doesn’t say a word or even give her anything to bind herself to the chair with. His first and fatal mistake.

The UNSUB goes the tray pushed up against Hotch’s chair. It’s a sophisticated setup and surely someone’s noticed this equipment is missing. It helps that he has to be trained for some of this. So many bread crumbs… someone has to catch on.

From her spot Emily can see everything the UNSUB is doing. Watching him produce a needle and a bottle of medicine, her heart leaps. “Hey!” Emily shouts, her mind reeling as the UNSUB draws the clear liquid into the syringe. “What are you doing,” she kicks out at her chair. She’s not sure what that is or who he’s going to give it to but she knows it’s not good.

The UNSUB’s face darkens but he doesn’t look up from what he’s doing. “I’d stop all that nonsense, Emily.” He glances up at her, “one too many milligrams of this stuff and I’ll stop his heart. Now,” he says, “we wouldn’t want me to miss calculate would we?” He smiles when Emily stops. He pulls the syringe out and presses it into the port on Hotch’s hand. “Wakey, wakey Aaron.”

They all watch in silent horror as the medicine takes effect.

Hotch groans, shifting as he grows more and more uncomfortable. The heart monitor doesn’t sound off through the room but that doesn’t mean they can’t watch Hotch’s heart rate get dangerously high. His hands tremble where they remain in the binds, his face pinching in pain. He makes a soft choked noise and his chest stops rising with his breathes. His head falls limply to the right.

Dave curses in Italian, the sound of his deep voice enough to make the other’s flinch. “You bastard! You’ll kill him!” Dave falls silent as Hotch’s eyes crack open, his pale chest heaving as a thin layer of sweat spreads over his skin. “His vascular system is compromised! He can’t take too much stress,” Dave says, much of his previous fight gone as just how off Hotch looks. “His heart can’t take it. You’ll kill him.”

The UNSUB disregards Dave entirely. He steps up to Hotch, cupping his cheek and directing Hotch’s empty gaze to himself. “Are you with us, Aaron?” His cheek is cold and damp against the UNSUB’s palm. His bloodshot eyes are far off and unfocused.

Hotch feels a million miles away from his body. Through half-lidded eyes, he can see Reid. He feels an instant relief as he slowly recognizes each person before him. The team’s here, he sighs, everything’s okay.

“Aaron,” the UNSUBS calls again. Slowly Hotch’s eyes move over and look at him. “There you are. How do you feel?”

Hotch shivers, trembling as his body works through the drugs in his system. He’s not present. His mind is clouded by the number of drugs in his system. What he knows is that he can see the team before him and the man beside him is his therapist: John. While his heart beats so fast that it makes his chest ache and his body feel eerily cold, he trusts John and the team.

“My mouth’s dry,” he slurs softly. He struggles to bite down against the need to whine out the statement. To make it clear just how uncomfortable and poorly he feels. 

The UNSUB nods his head and steps back, grabbing a bottle of water and carefully moving it to Hotch’s pale, chapped lips. 

The whole display-- the soft, nearly kind way that the UNSUB is treating Hotch is startling. It’s even more unsettling. 

“Look at your team, Aaron.” 

Hotch’s heavy eyes move over to them. He’s told John a lot about them. 

John smiles at the team, eyes moving over them one by one. “I want you to tell them how you feel,” John directs. “Tell them the truth,” John whispers, a malicious grin spreading across his lips. “Tell them how much you hate them. How you hate the team and everything they stand for.”

Hotch’s face pinches in confusion. He shakes his head. “No,” he groans, weakly pulling at the ropes keeping his arms securely bound to the chair he’s occupying. He lets out a soft sob, unable to control his emotions with the pain and exhaustion wearing him down. The drugs doing their job. Something has to be wrong. “I don’t hate them.” He shakes his head, voice cracking, “don’t. I don’t.”

The UNSUB grabs him by the back of the hair, jerking his head back. 

Hotch lets out a soft whimper when the back of his sore head hits the chair. Tears flow over his cheeks, his confusion evident in the clear fear in his eyes as he looks at John. “Please,” he rasps. 

Seeing Hotch’s tears, Morgan’s anger overflows. “Son of a bitch,” Morgan curses, hitting his hand against the arm of his chair. “Leave him alone!”

The UNSUB points the gun at Morgan, a silent threat. The two holding eye contact until Morgan bites his tongue and averts his eyes.

John turns his head back to Hotch. “Yes, you do, Aaron,” he croons. He trails the gun down Hotch’s naked chest. “They left you after Foyet,” he reminds Hotch. “They let Haley die.” He pushes the gun against one of the scars on Hotch’s chest. One left by Foyet. “Tell them, Aaron.” His temper is making itself known as he digs the gun’s tip into Hotch’s side until he grunts. “Tell them how you hate them!”

Hotch can’t manage to force any words out. He just weakly shakes his head, crying. He doesn’t understand what’s happening. It’s all too much. He’s cold and he doesn’t feel well and he doesn’t understand why no one’s helping.

“Tell them!” The UNSUB shouts. He draws back and hits Hotch across the face. He’s quick to move, aiming the gun back at the team when there’s a unanimous wave of outbursts.

Dave’s voice cuts clear the best. “Listen,” his voice wavers. His eyes are darting between Hotch and John. “Why are you doing this? You’re clearly upset. What---”

The UNSUB points the gun at Dave, deep voice burning in his chest as he grits out, “don’t.” He steps away from Hotch, attention diverted. “He needs to say. He needs to admit it or he’ll never get better!” His entire body shakes as he bites out that last word, making them jump back.

He shouts in fury, throwing his head back. “Fine,” he comes back down and looks down at them. “I’ll do it myself.” 

Walking over to Hotch he carelessly rips a knife through the zip ties holding his bleeding wrist down. With a sharp pull that rips the IV from Hotch’s hand, Hotch let’s out a stifled shout. “Up,” he commands, pulling Hotch onto his feet with a rough arm looped under Hotch’s shoulder. They stand in front of the others for a moment. Hotch sways and leans into John, too weak to hold himself upright. John takes his time moving his gun down the line until he settles on Garcia and with a smile says, “come here.”

Garcia stands, looking to the others for some guidance. She’s choking back a sob when Morgan starts to thrash, hitting and making as much noise as possible. “No!” He cries, “no, baby girl. Come back here. Sit down! Don’t go to him! You stupid son of a bitch, if you hurt her I’ll kill you!”

The UNSUB it too delighted with his new plan to ever validate Morgan when a response. “Kill her,” John whispers, taking Hotch’s weak shaking hand into his own. He wraps Hotch’s long fingers around the hold, guiding it upright so Garcia’s at the end. “Go ahead, Aaron.”

Hotch can’t even hold his arms up. His body screams in agony as he stands and he wants to pull away but he can’t. He doesn’t know what to do.

Garcia sobs. “Oh please, sir.” She can’t even bother to wipe away the mascara running down her face. “I love you, Hotch. I’m your friend.”

Hotch’s knees give out from beneath him. John wraps his arm around Hotch’s hip and holds him upright. A single tear falls down Hotch’s cheek, as he wracks his mind for what to do. The obvious choice is to shoot Garcia. He thinks. Shooting Garcia… no, that’s wrong. He’d hurt and he doesn’t want to hurt Garcia. She’s never hurt a soul in her life. 

With a shaky sigh, he knows what to do. He pulls in a breath and pushes with all his strength up onto his legs. Arching his back he throws John off and from there’s practiced ease. Two shots mid-center.

“Hotch!”

The world spins as he remains in place, his head blurring. His eyes have already rolled into the back of his head before his body hits the ground. Body pushed past its breaking point, the cocktail of messy drugs in his system, and hurting he starts to seize. 

Garcia struggles to get them out of the chairs, torn between Hotch and the team. The team she needs fast access to. Besides while seizing she really shouldn’t touch Hotch to much. Pushing into the rescue position she has to leave him to get the others.

“Time,” Emily calls out to Reid.

“Fifty-four seconds. On average, most acute seizures stop at this point.”

But Hotch’s doesn’t. 

The first thing that Dave does when he’s free is lift Hotch’s head from the floor and place it in his lap. Working his hands through Hotch’s cold-sweat soaked hair, he whispers to him in Italian. Soothing him through it. “That’s my boy,” he says, his own eyes tearing up as Hotch whimpers and cries. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

“One minute, thirty-seven seconds.”

Hotch’s seizure stops exactly thirteen seconds later. 

Gently patting at his cheek, JJ leans over his shoulder and calls his name. Trying to rouse him. “Hotch,” she calls. 

Emily leans down, roughly pushing at his cheek. “Get up, Hotch. You’re not quitting on us yet.”

Hotch groans, moving his head away from her hand. “Not,” he grumbles, opening two bloodshot eyes and shooting her the best scowl she can manage at the moment. He looks around at the other’s gathered around him. Each going through a different stage of working off their anxiety. Morgan is sitting back on his thighs, rubbing two hands down his face and Dave is mumbling a prayer to himself.

“Don’t hate you,” he croaks, softly. 

JJ reaches down, soothing the tear that runs down his cheek. “We know,” she promises. 

He turns his head into her palm. His body feels so heavy and he knows it’s the drugs. “ ‘s good.” But he’s struggling to fight his exhaustion.

JJ presses a kiss to the top of his head. “We love you too.”

Hotch feels his left hand being squeezed gentle before several other voices softly agree. His eyes move around the room until he spots Garcia. With a small grunt, he manages to move his head better to see her. “Sorry if I scared you,” he whispers, throat raw and body rapidly shutting down.

Garcia steps closer to him and he can feel her hand on his, squeezing. “Don’t be silly,” she says. “I have complete trust in you, sir.”

Hotch smirks. Unable to keep his eyes open any longer with Dave’s hand resuming its soothing trip through his hair and Emily and Garcia’s tight grips on his hand. He caves to the drugs and falls into the painless heat. Trusting that when he wakes up he’ll be home.

[phoenix-before-the-flame]

A Dragon by any other Name

Hey hey hey! Been a while since a phoenix wrote a thing but i was a pinch hitter for the @ftguildevents reverse bang, writing a fic for @rougescribe dope af artwork that is right here (seriously it's sick af)

Hopefully this fic is worthy of it, so without any further ado please, enjoy.

Natsu knelt in the snow, holding down a shiver that tried to shake his small body. The moon hung too high above him in the inky sky, uncaring in how its cold light shone like a spotlight on him as it guided biting winter winds and the frost to attack him. His knees dug deeper in the ground, trying to focus his thoughts, to keep them from wandering. To keep the cold from scattering them like it scattered flurries of flakes in his face with each heaving gust. His fingers long had gone numb, unable to feel them as they ran shakily over the gooseflesh on his arms. The scarf wound tight around his neck did nothing to aid in his plight.

What he wouldn't give for the warmth of rigid scales, scratchy like bark as they dug into his back when he rested. 

Natsu shook his head furiously to banish the thought but the cold seemed even harsher now as the memories of searing warmth and soothing smoke crawled to the front of his mind. He stood suddenly, his young bones creaking much too loudly at the action, eyes darting about the unbroken line of trees. His gaze locked onto a familiar rise above the treetops, piercing yellow eyes staring back at him pensievely with wings like sails unfurled slightly by his sides. The red of his scales painted black by the night. 

Natsu hurriedly blinked away the flakes gathered on his lashes, the beginnings of another shiver threatened to travel up his spine. He bit down on the insides of his cheeks, knowing full well what chastising words laced with disappointment awaited him when he took off into the brush. The same words as yesterday, and the day before that. And the many before that. Natsu decided it was better to hear them again that lose to the cold.

Igneel huffed as Natsu came to a stop before him, straightening with his wings folding to his back with a leathery snap. He fixed the young boy with a stern look, unmoving as he hurried to hide beneath his wing to press tiny hands against his hardened skin to sap warmth. He remained silent as the minutes ticked by, the snow piling higher by his clawed feet, unbothered by its presence save for when it started to gather on his snout. With a slight shake of his head it fell to the ground.

"You're mad at me again. Aren't you?" The voice was small, muffled from under his wing and he felt Natsu shy away, scurrying into the smallest corner of Igneel's wing to hide from the scathing words he thought were coming his way. Igneel sighed, his breath swirling heavily in the air. He unfurled his wings slightly once more, enough to see Natsu's back facing him but still closed enough to keep the snowfall from the child.

"I could never be mad at you. Only disappointed at worst." Igneel voice rumbled loud even as he spoke softly, the trees shivered at his words. Natsu flinched, curling in on himself. "That's just soft mad." He said glumly. Igneel couldn't help the light chuckle at his son's logic.

"You are too dependent on my flames when your own needs tending to." Igneel lowered himself to the forest floor, curling his head towards Natsu as he rested it on his forelegs. A mischievous glint in his eye aimed at Natsu's back. "Perhaps I should hide away deeper in the woods, behind the tallest tree. Maybe without me here your inner fire will blossom."

His joke did not have the desired effect he wanted. The small child wheeled around, horror painting his features and his fists clenched tightly, trembling from something other than the cold.

"No!" He shouted. "No no no! Don't do that! I'll try harder I promise! Just don't…" His voice trailed off. He pulled his scarf over his face and tucked himself away once more. "...don't leave me alone..."

Igneel blinked at the unexpected outburst. Silently he chastised himself, tail sweeping guiltily from side to side. He should've known better. Atlas always bemoaned his jokes, said they were in too poor a flavour. Igneel would roll his eyes then. Maybe his old friend was right.

"Natsu." He called softly, nudging the boy with his wingtip. "Natsu, come here. Please." He didn't move and Igneel tried again, praying his words hadn't dug too deep a wound.

Slowly Natsu turned, scarf still pulled over his face, and trudged out from under Igneel's wing. He stopped when he felt the dragon's warm breath on his skin and plopped down heavily on the ground near Igneel's face.

"You shouldn't make jokes like that." Natsu sniffled, voice muffled by the scaly cloth and Igneel winced at the realization that he made him cry. " I'm sorry my son. Truly I am. I should never have said those words to you."

"Yeah you shouldn't have." The retort was well deserved. Though there was an odd hitch to Natsu's words, as though he wanted to say something more. " It's just that…" He shuffled where he sat, curling in on himself as he held the scarf tighter to his face. " All of this is so hard to do. Everything would be way easier if i'd have just hatched out of an egg like you."

"I can't eat fire without it burning the corners of my mouth. And when I try to breath it, it hurts my tongue. My flames don't always come when I call for them and I can't keep warm in the cold like you can. Because i'm not like you." The words tumbled out fast, almost tripping over each other in the haste they were forced out in. He drew his knees to his chest and dropped his head to rest on them.

" Everyday you tell me that I should try harder and that I give up too soon. And that one day it'll all be natural. But I know it won't be. Because i'm not a dragon." He drew a shuddering breath, heart pounding wildly in his chest at the rush of letting all his fears free and Igneel almost reeled from the force of it. Stress and insecurity and anger at himself had laced Natsu's words, digging their way past Igneel's scales to attack his heart. His tail swept across the snow once more, piling it up against the tree trunks. He dug a claw into the snow in thought, the gouge mark deepening with each passing. Natsu rocked slightly, back and forth on his heels, lost in a whirlwind of emotion.

"And who is to say…" Igneel paused, eyes narrowing as he chose his words tactfully. "...that you aren't a dragon?" Natsu stopped rocking and lifted his head somewhat, allowing the scarf to fall just beneath his eyes to Igneel with a withering glare. Bright green eyes were tinged with red around the edges.

"I'm not stupid Igneel." He accused. 

"So what makes a dragon 'a dragon' then?"

"A dragon has scales and claws, and fangs and-"

"Ah, but you have those too." Igneel cut him off, reaching a claw out tenderly to hook on the end of the scarf to pull it down past his quavering mouth." You have fangs hidden away beneath those lips of yours. And you have scales." He raised the claw slightly, showing off the end of the scarf that hung limply from it. "As for claws, well you always chew them off but they're there. Strong enough to leave a scratch on my scales in your rowdy sleeps. You are my son, that makes you a dragon in the truest sense."

"Dragons have tails. And wings."

"I knew some with one or the other. Any many who had neither." Igneel responded cheekily. "And those without were no lesser than those with. Only less burdened in a fight."

Natsu snatched away his scarf from Igneel,  flying to his feet and staring at level with Igneel's eyes. He dug his heels into the ground. " A dragon's s'pose to be strong and powerful! I'm not! This is supposed to be easy for a dragon cause it's easy for you! But it's not for me! Cause i'm.not.like. you! Stop trying to make me feel like I am!"

His echoed words from earlier stung at Igneel even harder now as he saw the turmoil in Natsu's eyes, locked behind a wave of fresh tears that struggled to break free and run down his face. He dug his teeth into his bottom lip harshly, biting at it without care even as Igneel caught glimpse of the first beads of blood. He only slowed his gnawings then, wincing slightly at the pain while he forced his eyes down to focus at his bare feet shuffling on the ground.

"Natsu…" Igneel murmured. He eased his head closer to the child until his horned snout was just mere inches from his chest. His eyes rounded with softness. "My son… My one and only son. A dragon is more than just the few traits you can see. Or what they came from. Do you really think us so unalike despite everything that we share?" His question hung in the air, unanswered, yet Igneel pressed on.

"What magic do you have? What magic do you train everyday to use?"

"....fire… " came the trembling answer. 

"Fire." Igneel affirmed with the slightest of nods. "Fire that I gave to you. Fire burned into your bones, your soul, that connects us both in a bond stronger than blood not only to each other, but to the others before us." 

Natsu focused back on Igneel,lifting his head while he swiped a knuckle over his split lip to smear the bits of red on his cheek. "What others? It's just me and you out here."

Igneel smiled, crinkling the corners of his eyes slightly. " My flame was passed on to me from my mother. And she gained it from her mother before her. And the line continues beyond that, with the flame passed from fire dragon to fire dragon for countless generations. They live on in our fires though they have long since passed." He huffed out a breath. Thin puffs of smoke laced with blinking embers danced around Natsu and winking out of existence when they touched his skin.

"You are a part of that lineage. Whether you were born into it or not holds no account, you hear me? The snowflakes that fall around us are all different with no two alike and yet they are still very much the same. Much like you and I."

Natsu curled his fingers around the ends of his scarf, eyes flitting between it and Igneel's face, as if mulling over hiding behind it again the way his fingers tightened on the tassles. He moved forward with an unreadable expression that seemed unsuited for his young face, resting his head against Igneel's dry snout. 

"Why is all of this so hard for me then?" He mumbled

"It takes time for an ember to grow to a blaze."

"It wasn't for you though. It's always easy for you."

At this Igneel chuckled. "I'm old Natsu. Very old. I've had my time to make it look easy. But there were times I struggled, much like you. Or perhaps I was worse off." The cold moonlight now dripped through thick, dark clouds on the pair, determined to stay on them and not be hidden away like the rest of the sky. " Far beyond my days as a hatchling I struggled with my abilities. Much to the….ire of my mother." The fire dragon's lips thinned at his chosen words. She was a tough one, with a scaled over heart he would often joke out of range. The love was in there, as he always saw in her blind eyes. But so was annoyance and a palpable sadness at each failure. And at each failure her methods became harsher to get him to a point she deemed satisfactory. Igneel winced.

His tail curled closer to his body at the memories rushing back, the tip brushing Natsu's ankle. "She was a master like no other. Truly. But i'm embarrassed to think that my training methods are a bit too much like hers in some ways." He sighed, nudging Natsu with his snout. A silent tell that Natsu understood, scaling the dragon's head with practiced ease to settle for the night.

"In my haste to see you strong I may have repeated her mistakes as a teacher and perhaps, as a parent as well." Igneel's eyes glanced up at the weight resting atop his head, nestled comfortably just between his horns. "Tell me my son. Do you think I need to change how you're trained?"

He felt Natsu move, sliding down just above his ridged brow. Then a pink head came into view hanging upside down, the scarf almost unwinding fully. " Are you gonna be disappointed if I say yes?"

Igneel shook his head."No."

"Then yeah, you should. And no more bad jokes." His tone was firm with his mouth set in a serious line. "I'll still keep trying hard if you promise."

"I promise."  "And you promise never to leave me alone?" 

"I never will."

Natsu's lips curled in a small smile, twinging slightly from the cut. He pulled back but stopped himself short, doubt filtering in his eyes. "....Did you really mean what you said? About me being a dragon like you?" He sounded unsure, as though mentally steeling himself for a bad answer.

"Yes. You have no reason to ever doubt that you aren't. As long as you have the fire then you are a dragon like me. One who can be better when you get older." 

The snowfall had finally eased, the clouds finally winning over the moon and painting everything dark. Igneel tipped his head up slightly, and Natsu slid back with a surprised yelp. "Now close those eyes and get some rest, fire dragons have to rise early to greet the sun."

"Can't fire dragons ever sleep in?" Came the whispered grumble though he already felt Natsu curling up dutifully. Igneel chuckled, resting his head on his clawed legs. "One day we can give it a try."  He mumbled out something more that Igneel didn't quite catch but he didn't press any further into it. The trees were still, the winds having died down some time ago to barely a stirring.

"Hey Igneel."

"Yes Natsu."

"......Thanks, for making me feel better."

"Anytime, my son. Anytime."

[eliemo]

All Gone- Part 3

Next part of my fan work for the Labelled Universe by @snowdice

Sorry this part took a bit longer to upload, but its also a longer chapter! 

TW: kidnapping, violence, panic and mention of drugs (nothing too bad, just sedatives and stuff) 

Virgil woke with what he quickly decided was the absolute worst headache he’d ever had in his entire life. 

And with how many times he’d woken up in varying degrees of pain, that was really saying something. At least he’d had morphine when he’d opened his eyes to a bullet wound. 

Now though, it felt like somebody had taken a meat cleaver to his skull, his head throbbing in time to his racing heartbeat, his whole body trembling and burning like he’d been dunked in lava. 

Jesus, he wasn’t even sure he could move. 

Virgil tried to open his eyes, quickly backtracking and squeezing them shut when even a sliver of dim light felt like a million tiny knives burrowing into his brain. 

He bit back a groan as a wave of nausea washed over him, overwhelming and awful as he lay perfectly still against something cold and hard. 

Hadn’t he been at school? He thought so. It had been the week from Hell- his foggy, pounding brain could at least piece that together. 

Between school work piling up as the year came to an end, stress from a new villain rising in power, and the fight with Logan, Virgil was--

Logan. 

This time, Virgil’s eyes did fly open, his sudden panic as memories came flooding back not nearly enough to smother the cry of pain as agony shot through his whole body at the movement. 

Logan had been right in front of him, calling to him from the car, panicked and afraid as arms wrapped around Virgil and dragged him into the dark. 

There’s been a stabbing pain in his neck, something cold and sharp pressing into his skin before he’d passed out. 

Oh god, had he been drugged? How long had he been out?

It couldn’t have been too long, he reasoned against the rising panic. Logan wouldn’t let him stay kidnapped for long. Logan would find him, kick the shit out of whoever had taken Virgil, and bring him home to a fretting Patton. 

It would be fine. It was ok. No need to freak out like a baby, Logan was probably on his way right now to--

“Are you awake, Shadow Caster?” 

That made Virgil freeze, panic intensifying because last time he checked he definitely was not wearing his mask. He’d just been trying to get home after band practice. 

There were feet suddenly moving in his line of sight, and Virgil shrank back out of instinct, tensing at the feeling of someone looming over him, in far too much pain to try scrambling away. 

 “Well, hey.” The man was crouching down, still too close and too tall, and Virgil squeezed his eyes shut as he moved closer. “What’s the matter, Shadow? Scared?” 

It was that horrible sickly sweet tone, the one Virgil had heard so many times before that reeked of false kindness, drenched in eager giddiness at the power they had over him. 

Virgil couldn’t move from where he lay on the floor, and he was quickly realizing that wasn’t just from the fear. His body, aside from the lingering pain, felt heavy and cold, limbs slow and unresponsive. 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” the man said. “Do you prefer Virgil?”

Virgil felt like he was going to be sick, hearing his real name somehow so much worse, the reality of the entire situation hitting all at once, too many memories flooding back. 

He couldn’t even concentrate long enough to form anything more than a measly shadow against his ankle. Nothing that would be of any help. 

Virgil risked a glance up, furiously forcing back the tears that threatened to spill over at what he saw. 

It was the man from the news, the one Logan had been working tirelessly to track down. The one that clearly had no qualms with killing innocents. 

And he knew who Virgil was behind the mask. He’d taken him right in front of Logan. 

“What do you want?” Virgil asked in a breathy rush, cringing at how shaky his voice was. He couldn’t see most of his kidnapper’s face behind the black mask, but his eyes were practically glowing with amusement. 

“Here,” he said, and Virgil couldn;t even try to hold back the whimper that escaped when the man reached forward, shrinking back and shutting his eyes. “Let’s get you off the floor.” 

Virgil tried to protest, tried to kick and scramble away, tried to do anything in his power to make sure this man didn’t touch him, but in the end it was useless. 

Virgil’s body was still slow and uncooperative, and the man moved too fast. Before he knew it there was a hand fisted in his shirt, another squeezing his wrist, and Virgil was roughly yanked to his feet and dragged to the nearest wall, forced to sit up and lean against it. 

It wasn’t any better than laying on the floor, despite being a bit less vulnerable, and the sudden movements had only sent more bursts of stabbing pain through his body, stars dancing along his already hazy vision. 

He grit his teeth and said nothing, now staring resolutely at the man’s black jeans in front of him. 

“You’re sixteen, right?” the masked man asked. Virgil didn’t answer. “Poor kid. Do your parents know about your little bank robbing habit?” 

Virgil forced himself not to flinch, wishing he had the strength to curl up into a ball, feeling far too vulnerable and exposed. 

He barely went out as Shadow Caster anymore, spending the free time he did have training with Logan, and he definitely hadn’t stolen since moving in Logan and Patton. 

The man’s hand was suddenly moving without warning, too fast and too close to Virgil’s face, and he couldn’t fight back against a violent flinch this time, ears burning when the man laughed. 

“I don’t need to hurt you,” he said, a hand now rested on Virgil’s shoulder. It was too tight, too confining, to be anything even remotely gentle. “Your dad seemed real upset when I picked you up. We don’t want to keep him worrying much longer, right?” 

Virgil tired (and failed) to steady his breathing, dissolving mostly into hiccuping gasps, ignoring the nagging panic that came with each second Logan failed to make his entrance. 

He...he was coming, right? Virgil knew they’d fought that morning, and he’d been unfairly short tempered when he’d known Logan was already stressed but...but that wouldn’t mean…

Virgil didn’t realize he’d been hit until the pain registered, seconds after the deafening crack that rose up in the empty room, the man’s hand now missing one of his black gloves. 

“Are you paying attention to me, Shadow Caster?” 

It wasn;t the first time he’d been slapped, obviously, and definitely not the first time he’d heard that demand afterwards. Of course, this situation was arguably a bit different. 

He’d literally been kidnapped, he had no obligation to cower and submit to this adult’s wants. Logan was coming- he was. Virgil was still alive for a reason. He could afford to be defiant. 

But a bit of rational thought wasn’t nearly enough to erase a lifetime worth of conditioning. Virgil found himself pressing back even further against the wall, fighting to raise heavy, trembling hands up to block his face from another hit, unable to raise his eyes from the floor. 

“S-sorry,” he stuttered out, hating himself for turning so weak so quickly. He wondered, briefly, if Logan would be disappointed. “I...what do you want?” 

The man’s eyes practically lit up at the obvious fear, and Virgil shuddered under the weight of his excitement. He hoped his own expression wasn’t giving away how badly that slap had hurt. 

“I sent your friend Bluebird a nice little picture,” he said. “Figured he’d want to know the kid that used to follow him around had gotten into a little...predicament. Smart guy like him should be able to find our location, right?” 

Virgil forced himself to breathe, the mark on his face burning like acid. He had enough experience to know that it would probably leave a nasty bruise. 

“He’s...he’ll be here.” 

“Yeah?” It was impossible to tell for sure behind the mask, but Virgil thought the man was smirking. “You’ve already been here about two hours now.” 

Two hours? And Logan still hadn’t…

No. No. It was fine. It was all going to be ok. Logan would find him. He would. 

“He’ll be here,” Virgil repeated, barely audible, more for himself than anything. “And he’ll kick your ass.” 

Virgil expected the slap this time, but that didn’t mean it hurt any less, a new burst of pain exploding across his already throbbing cheek. 

“Tell you what,” the man said, casually, like Virgil wasn’t hunched over himself and fighting back tears. “Let’s make a deal, ok? Just in case he doesn’t.” 

Virgil didn’t answer, just stared resolutely down at his feet, shivering  and uselessly trying not to dissolve into sobs. 

God, he just wanted to go home. 

“I’ll let you go right now,” he said. “All I need is the Bird’s name. His real name. Tell me who he is, and you’re good to go.” 

And there was no way in hell Virgil was ever going to accept that. It wasn’t even a question. Not for a second. 

He was just glad this guy was apparently too stupid to connect Virgil’s recent adoption with the superhero’s identity. 

“No,” he spat, and quickly cringed back when the man’s hand raised again. “Wh-why don't you just...figure it out yourself? You found me.” 

“It’s not hard to find some street kid, Shadow. Not if you try hard enough. Bluebird’s another story.” 

Virgil swallowed, fairly sure he could taste some blood in his mouth as he hunched his shoulders and braced himself, knowing what was coming. 

“I don’t know who he is.” 

It was a fist that connected with his face this time, real anger finally leaking through the man’s giddy facade, and Virgil definitely tasted blood now. 

 “Don’t lie to me, kid.” 

“I-I’m not--” 

He honestly couldn’t tell if he’d been punched again, all of the pain was starting to blend together into one horrible wave of agony. But even as he feels himself roughly shoved to the ground, something digging into the back of his neck, his answer never changed. 

He was used to beatings. He could...he could take it. And yeah, maybe he’d gotten used to living under Logan and Patton’s safety the last year. Maybe it was worse because there was absolutely nothing stopping this man from killing him in seconds. 

But there wasn’t a second where he considered giving Logan up. Because even if he died...Logan would be ok. The only people to ever show him a shred of kindness in his life would be safe. 

And that was...that was…

He didn’t even have time to finish his thought before the weight on top of him was ripped away, the sudden change in pressure only making the pain flare up worse than before, and Virgil cried out in alarm. 

There were noises around him, too far away to make out, and much too loud to bring any semblance of calm. There were voices, he thought, angry and demanding, followed by deafening crashes and thuds. 

Had he done something wrong again? Everything hurt so bad and he couldn’t lift his head to even see where he was anymore. He shouldn’t be this weak. He should be able to get up and run while he could. He needed to get away, he needed--

There was a crash, louder than any of the other sounds, and Virgil thought he heard someone scream. A second later, he realized it could have been him. 

But the crash had definitely been close this time, like someone had hit the wall right above him, and Virgil used what was left of his fading strength to curl into himself, doing what he could to protect his face. 

Something sharp scraped against his arms and legs as he moved, stabbing pain joining the rest of the constant hurt, but he didn’t pay it any mind. 

And then, despite the fact that he hadn’t opened his eyes or lifted his head, Virgil is painfully aware of a presence making its way back towards him, looming over him, ready to hurt him all over again. 

But he wasn’t giving this guy any answers. 

“Virgil--” 

“I-I’m...I’m not telling you who-who he is, I’m not--” 

Oh god, Virgil can’t breathe. He can feel the panic rising up, stronger than the pain and drowsiness, and his chest aches with his labored, frantic breaths. 

There’s a hand on his shoulder and Virgil couldn’t help the sob that escaped as he flinched back, back slamming into the wall. 

“Please d-dont.” He was begging now, desperate and scared, unable to stop himself. “Don’t hurt me, don’t hurt me I’m--”

“Virgil, it’s me.” The hand loosened slightly, but didn’t let go. “It’s just me. I found you, you’re safe.” 

And that...that sounded like…

“Look at me, Virgil. Please. I...I need to see that you’re alright.” 

Virgil found himself obeying, not moving from where he was curled up on the floor, but glancing up just enough to see Bluebird on his knees in front of him, gloved hand on Virgil’s hoodie. 

He couldn’t remember deciding to speak, barely able to hear his own pitiful voice. But it was there all the same, small and unsure. “D...dad?” 

There’s a beat of silence, Bluebird--Logan-- watching him with poorly concealed worry, before he clears his throat and replies. 

“Hello, Virgil. I assume you’re ready to go home.”

Virgil had broken down within seconds. He didn’t bother to hold back any sobs this time, still not strong enough to move from the floor, but Logan quickly gathers Virgil in his arms, murmuring frantic reassurances and what sounded like apologies. 

Logan held him close to his chet, Virgil pressed close enough to hear his heartbeat, fast and strong and real. 

Virgil felt himself being moved, but there was no panic that came with the motion, just another wave of pain and dizziness. Logan said something when he cried out in pain, hold briefly tightening, but Virgil was asleep before he could hear it. 

[leet911]

Echoes in the Dark

Beatrice knows she should sleep.  “Four hours.”  Mary had said.  “We sleep four hours each in two shifts, then we move again.”

So Beatrice is here, with Ava, in this tiny stone room where two bare cots sit side by side while the others keep watch outside.  Ava sleeps, and Beatrice fidgets.

Ava snores.  Just a little bit, but only when she sleeps on her back.  Beatrice notices these things.  She notices everything about Ava.

They are facing each other in the dark, the thinnest slice of moonlight sneaking past the curtained window.  And Beatrice knows she shouldn’t, but she is memorizing Ava’s face, the curve of her cheek, the line of her jaw, the rhythmic flutter of eyelids in her sleep.  Beatrice has used faith as her armor for a long time.  When challenged, she always knew exactly which verse to quote, which book to draw inspiration from, which prayer to recite.  But this time, faith is not enough, and it has no answers.  Her tears wet the threadbare pillow.  Because for once, Beatrice is worried about actually succeeding in their mission, and what that might mean.

Ava stirs then, stretches and rolls towards her, eyes blinking open.  Beatrice closes hers, hiding in reflex, but even if she were fast enough, it’s the tears that give her away.

“Hey,” Ava’s voice is soft, still slurred from sleep, “why are you crying?”

“It’s nothing.”  Beatrice turns away, her practiced mask of indifference slamming into place.

The mattress creaks as Ava sidles closer, right to the boundary between the two cots.  Beatrice feels a hand on her back, gentle.

“What’s wrong?”

Maybe it’s the fatigue, the lack of sleep, the far too many battles in too few days with not enough time to recover.  Maybe it’s the stress, or the yearning, or the warmth at her back, or the fact she can’t help but be honest with Ava, but Beatrice is speaking all of a sudden.  She is giving voice to all the frustration and anger that is rooted not in their mission, but what came before and what will come after.  “What happens after we save the world?  When we defeat Adriel?  Do you go back to being dead?  And what do I go back to?  My family?”

"What about the church, can’t you go back to that?"

“The church that made me subjugate myself for a lie?  Father Vincent lied to all of us.  The entire Order was founded on a lie.”

There’s a long pause, a heavy silence punctuated with wet sniffling.  When Beatrice turns back, they are nose to nose, and Ava is crying too.  “What are we supposed to do?” Ava asks, “Let the world end?”

“Why does saving the world mean losing you?”  Beatrice can’t know that’s how it will turn out of course.  No one knows.  But it’s a possibility, and just the thought of that scares her.

“You don’t need me.”  Ava says, and Beatrice’s heart breaks because that can’t possibly be true.  “You’re my guide, but I’m the halo-bearer.  And after we stop Adriel, we won’t need halo-bearers anymore.”

I’ll still need you.

And though Beatrice can’t bring herself to say those words out loud, Ava is here, crying right in front of her.  And Beatrice has to show her she is needed.  So Beatrice closes the gap between them, presses her mouth against Ava’s.  Their lips and tongues move seemingly of their own will.  The kiss is sloppy and frantic, filled with tears and gasps and bodies crushing into one another.

When they break apart, Ava’s eyes are closed, sharp breaths exhaled into the space between their faces.  Beatrice wipes away tears with the back of a trembling hand.  “What if I'm selfish? What if I want you to keep the halo?  Not for power or anything like that.  But just so you can stay a little longer with me.  Is that so wrong?”

“It’s not wrong for you to want that.  I know you would never do that.”

Beatrice wants to kiss her again.  Because Ava believes.  Ava, in her newfound optimism and unrepressed freedom, truly believes in them.  Ava believes in Sister Beatrice, even in the darkness where moments of weakness abound.

So it’s Ava who moves this time.  It’s Ava who puts her hands on either side of Beatrice’s face so she can kiss her slowly.  It’s Ava who runs her fingers underneath the cap to tangle in dark hair.  “No matter what happens, I’m here for you.  In this life or the next, right?”

“In this life or the next,” Beatrice echoes, biting back a fresh set of tears.  She reaches for Ava, and they fall asleep holding each other.  And Beatrice knows that even if most of her life has been built on lies, and Adriel might not be an angel, Ava clearly is.

[the-edge-of-great]

I'm jittery on coffee, lack of food, and I had a stressful day, so here’s some angst. 1700 words of pure angst. enjoy :)))

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

As a teenager, it was an alliance between friends. Brothers.

Protect Luke, they thought. Keep his location a secret. His parents are being unreasonable. This is what he’s born to do.

But in secret, they knew. They shared looks over his shoulders, silent concern that they never spoke on. Never discussed because they took an oath. They took Luke’s side, always.

Bobby thought he’d get over it. He thought they’d make up eventually; they just needed a few weeks to cool off.

But then weeks turned into months. 

Luke stopped going to school.

And the Missing Person posters began showing up.

And then a year had passed. Luke stopped talking about them. The guys didn’t bring it up.

Bobby’s own parents never caught on to the extra person living in the garage. Luke slept on the couch, but when Bobby’s parents came over, he hid in the loft. Bobby snuck food out to him. They spent long nights in the studio on the floor, backs against the couch as they listened to Bobby’s CD collection. So many almost-normal nights with his heart heavy with guilt eventually turned into a new normal. He shoved the guilt away and locked it up until it simmered into numbness he could ignore.

After they died, Bobby learned to block everything out. He liked to think he forgot; that’s what he told his therapist. His wife. His daughter. Maybe if he said it enough, it would actually happen.

The Pattersons invite him in with a smile. They’re warm, kind, exactly how he remembers. He wishes he could remember how to smile back at them.

Their house looks the same as it did when he was sixteen, celebrating Luke’s birthday in their living room. They didn’t stay long that day; Luke’s relationship with his parents was just beginning to crumble. He and the guys left quickly after cake because they had to practice. His parents weren’t happy. Luke didn’t care.

“How have you been, Bobby?” Mitch asks. He takes a seat next to Emily. She reaches for his hand; they smile at each other. Trevor’s heart hurts. “Sorry, you go by Trevor these days don’t you?”

Trevor nods stiffly. “I do. Yeah, um, I’ve been good. Things are good.”

“Working hard on your next album, I assume?” Emily says with a smile. “We have all of your CDs, you know.”

He swallows thickly. “That’s… actually what I wanted to talk to you about. I have something for you.”

The envelope is numb in his fingers as he hands it over. Emily’s warm smile never falters, though her eyebrows scrunch together in confusion as she grabs it. While she tears it open, Mitch asks, “What’s this?”

“Compensation.” Twenty-five years too late.

“Oh my,” she gasps, sliding the check out of the envelope. “Bobby—Trevor—”

“I couldn’t track down Alex and Reggie’s parents,” he explains quickly, wiping his palms against his pants. “So, you’re getting all of it.”

Emily shakes her head. “I don’t understand. Why would you—”

And—how do you tell a secret you’ve kept for twenty-five years? How do you rip a bandage off that you yourself cemented into place years ago?

He was only sixteen when Luke ran away from home. Couldn’t tell anyone: not his parents or Reggie’s or Alex’s. It weighed on him like lead. He resented Luke for a long time. How selfish could he be to ask his friends to lie to their parents? To the police when they questioned Luke’s disappearance? They were teenagers. Kids.

He was only seventeen when his best friends died. For a long time, he replayed that night in his head. He should’ve warned them about those street hotdogs. Should’ve tried harder to make them consider a diet change—he didn’t trust that street vendor; never did. But they loved that place, so maybe that’s where his first lie came from. His band was so supportive of everything, even his sudden decision to swear off meat. Maybe he should’ve gone with them, could’ve been the one to steer them away when the dogs tasted funny or called an ambulance to get them help faster. Maybe he could’ve saved them.

“I stole Luke’s music.”

He doesn’t hear himself speak. Did he finally say it?

Emily’s face crumbles. Mitch’s twists into anger.

Yeah, he said it.

“You what?” Mitch says. His voice is controlled; he’s never been the emotional one.

Trevor continues with a dry mouth because he has to; there’s no going back now: “My parents found his notebook in my garage after he died. I was afraid of what they’d do if they found out I’d been hiding Luke there, so I said it was mine. Then they read through the songs, and they thought I needed to share them. My dad knew a guy, they got me in a studio, and then—”

And then.

“—before I knew it… They were my songs. At least, that’s what LA thought. Then the entire US. Then Canada, England… It all happened so fast,” he added quickly, trying to explain better because they were getting angry.

“You never credited him,” Mitch accuses. “Any of them. They were your friends—!”

Emily’s seconds away from breaking. She’s quiet when she speaks, soft as ever: “Luke was with you.”

“I’m sorry,” he says. His own eyes are filled with tears. “I’m sorry. He told me—told us to keep quiet. We promised, made an oath—”

“We told the police,” she continues, as if she can’t even hear him. Maybe she can’t. Maybe she’s as numb as he is now. “We bothered them for months after Luke’s disappearance, called every other week for updates. We covered the city in posters with his face on it. I just wanted to know that he was okay. That he wasn’t on the street somewhere—” Tears spill over her cheeks. She doesn’t wipe them away; her gaze is fixed on the check. “I drove down dozens of streets, checked every corner I knew of that had street performers usually, hoping I’d see him. Hoping I could… convince him to come home…

“And he was just—” Her smile is watery, broken. She finally looks at him. He wants to puke. “He was safe.”

Trevor’s shoulders tremble with the dam that finally breaks. “I’m so sorry,” he sobs. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know any better. I was—we were kids. He was a kid. He missed you every day. Never stopped thinking about you, even if he never said anything. I wanted to say something. I know Alex and Reggie did too. I think we just… we just…” He sniffs, wipes his eyes, rubs his hands over his face. “We thought you guys would make up. We thought everything would work out in the end. And it would’ve! I know it would’ve, if he hadn’t…”

For a long moment, they don’t talk. Nobody does; they can’t find enough strength between the sobs wrecking their bodies, making their throats raw. Emily cries into the safety of Mitch’s arms. Trevor’s fingers wrap around his own arms. He wipes his nose with the back of his hand, focuses on the window, on the bright sun pouring in. The curtain moves, he swears, but he doesn’t think anything of it. Even though he can’t feel the air, he tells himself that’s what it is.

“We were supposed to play the Orpheum,” he whispers, and his voice crumbles and gives on the last syllable. His head falls to his hands. The Orpheum. He was supposed to play the Orpheum with his best friends. They were about to make it.

Emily sniffs. She gently tears away from her husband, wipes her eyes, and stands. “Thank you for the offer, but we don’t want your money.” She leans over the coffee table to offer the check. “We don’t need it.”

It slips between one trembling hand to another. He stares at it: Five hundred thousand dollars. Should be more. Even if they don’t want it, it should be more. Five million. Ten. They deserve so much more.

“I’m sorry,” he says again, even though that carries no weight. No amount of apologies will bring Luke back. Or Reggie. Or Alex. He can’t fix anything. Actually, he’s probably done the most damage. Twenty-five years of lies.

The sun is too bright outside. He stumbles through the yard, check clenched so tightly in his hand that the edges are cutting into his skin. The lights on his car flash like he’s just unlocked it. Or, maybe he locked it again. Doesn’t know; can’t hear. Can’t focus on anything except his band. His best friends. His brothers. They left him, but what did he do?

He stole their lives. Their dream.

Trevor stumbles into the door. His crying is louder inside, clogs his eardrums and rattles through his body painfully. Everything is so painful. He clutches at his heart.

The air conditioning is on full blast—the coldest it can go—when he turns it on. His windows fog up; he doesn’t notice.

Not until—something squeaks in his ear. He jolts in surprise, head whipping around in a blur.

There are letters, but they’re backward. There are also voices—he swears he can hear voices. Arguing, critiquing that sounds too much like—and then a word. A backward word. And when his breath catches in his throat and his body freezes over all over again, he knows he’s not as numb as he thought because he can see it. And he knows—he knows. It’s them. They’re there. Were there. Still are? Whatever it is, he bursts into tears again. Happy tears. Sad tears. So many emotional tears that his head is spinning.

But his chest—his chest is loosening. There’s a weight disappearing. He feels like he can breathe for the first time in twenty-five years.

Bobby

As the letters begin to bleed, a new spot of fog forms on the window. He watches in amazement as someone spells three more words. It’s Alex, he thinks. Has to be. After all these years, he still recognizes that handwriting—Alex has always had the best handwriting out of their group.

Once the last word is finished, they’re gone. He doesn’t know how he knows, he just does. And in their place, they leave reassurance. They leave peace:

We forgive you