#and he opens the door for them with the same stone face he wore when he let the journalist walk into his doom

[ophelianated]

I'm too lazy to make it, but:

the Why Do We Have Hands? meme but with Austin from the Prof. Challenger series

[huntingingoodwill]

beneath the surface (j.p.)

masterlist

pairing: javier pena x reader

desc: you’re dying of boredom in your family’s sprawling summer home in the lush countryside, until an old friend brings her summer fling, javi, onto your estate for a getaway. dips in lakes and fountains, secret rendezvous in forest clearings and rowboat rides devolve into jealousy, pride, and an undeniable attraction between you and javi.

The first thing he noticed was your silhouette.

His eyes were drawn to where you stood, on the balcony, far above him. Light filtered gently through the curtains that billowed around you.

He studied you from the lawn, watching the shadowy curve of your hip, the breeze’s tousle of your hair. You turned, your face catching the light.

The slam of the car door led his gaze toward his summer fling. When he turned back, you were gone, dissolved through the curtains like an apparition, disappearing back into the cavernous estate.

“Rough ride, huh?” Carina laughed, wrapping an arm around Javi’s bicep. Ever the gentleman, he reached to carry her suitcase for her, subtly manoeuvring out of her grasp.

“Brutal.” He mumbled.

Carina was nice.

She was his latest fling, a new girl at the office. She had invited him somewhere rural, lush and green for a summer holiday. A cottage on the estate of a wealthy family she had some tenuous relationship to.

He didn’t have any better plans.

Carina led him down the path toward the cottage, a little off from the main house that you had vanished into, a stoic stone giant in the night.

Javi looked out for your shadow behind the curtains.

Your name echoed through the trees as you whipped past them, sprinting through the woods to try and create some distance between you and Alexei.

The dress you wore over your swimsuit swished about your thighs as you ducked toward the fountain.

The fountain was an old fixture on the estate, a gigantic marble monstrosity that seemed to have sprouted in the middle of a clearing in the woods on your property. You swung your leg over the high wall of the fountain basin, crashing beneath the surface. You laid perfectly still beneath the water, holding your breath.

You always felt a little like this when you were back at home.

A little suffocated, everything a little muted, as if you were trapped underwater.

You forced your eyes open as you listened for Alexei’s muffled voice. You stared at the sky, a blur of blue beneath the water.

What seemed like hundreds of rooms in the estate, sprawling acres of land, and you still felt trapped.

Alexei was nice.

He was what your family wanted for you. Good family, comparable status. Oozed money. A total bore.

Now he was looking for you, trying to join you on a swim in the lake that you were looking forward to as a solo endeavour.

Your lungs began to ache, minuscule air bubbles escaping between your lips as you heard his voice recede into the distance.

You shot through the surface, gasping for air.

The crunch of leaves caused you to jolt, your gaze met by the intense stare of dark brown eyes.

Your chest heaved as you struggled to catch your breath, the intent gaze of the man before you knocking the air out of your lungs.

Your ribs pressed against the thin white material of your dress, exposed as you realised the material had been soaked through, revealing the swimsuit beneath.

His eyes followed the dribble of the clear water down your skin, the light filtering through the trees causing the droplets to glimmer like jewels.

He envied the water that touched your skin. When you met his gaze, every nerve in his body seemed to set alight.

You tried to ignore the heat that bloomed across your chest at the sight of him, partly embarrassment, partly something different, something electric.

This beautiful stranger, whose tan skin glowed in the sun, the dip of his collarbones stark against his bare chest.

“Having fun in there?” Carina giggled.

You tore your eyes away from him, and he barely managed to do the same, putting on the dark aviators he had held in his hand. Though the shades shielded his eyes, you could still feel the heat of his gaze as his eyes roved over you.

“Lots.” You cleared your throat, plastering on a smile as you climbed out of the fountain.

Carina. You tried to ignore the disappointment that shot through your heart. You’d been childhood friends with her, but you’d grown distant. Now, she was back, and with possibly the most beautiful man you’d ever seen. And he was all hers for the summer.

“It’s been too long, babe.” She pulled you in for a hug, and though you knew you shouldn’t, you couldn’t help but look over her shoulder, eyes flitting across her companion.

“Javi and I were just heading to the lake.” She said, pulling away from you to gesture towards him. “Javi, this is the one I was telling you about.”

Javi. You wanted to say his name, let it flow seamlessly off your tongue. You didn’t let yourself.

“Hello.” You mumbled, extending your hand.

His palm was warm in contrast to your skin, chilled with water, and you felt as if his rough hand was searing against yours. His hand lingered.

“There you are!” Alexei grinned as he appeared up the trail, causing you and Javi to break apart. I’ve been looking for you.”

“Ditto.” You said, unconvincingly.

The four of you started off toward the lake, Alexei making polite conversation that barely registered compared to the heat of Javi’s stare boring into your back.

Your fingers skimmed the surface of the water, the gentle rock of the boat and rhythmic slicing of Alexei’s oars through the water boring you immensely.

Your eyes flitted to the shore, where Carina lay on her stomach, face nuzzled into the crook of her elbow. Javi propped himself up on his forearms, lifting a cigarette to his lips as he squinted through the sunlight, catching your eye. You thought you saw the corner of his lips quirk, but it was hard to say from afar.

You felt an intense blush flare through your cheeks. You shouldn’t. You really shouldn’t. But you couldn’t help but notice him, the broad shoulders, the press of muscle against the skin of his bicep.

He was invading your senses, even all the way out on the shore. The heat was unbearable.

You shot up, ignoring the frightened look that flashed across Alexei’s face as your sudden movement sent the boat rocking.

“Where are you going?” Alexei panted, chest heaving from the exertion of having to row the boat for the past half hour without any help from you.

“Swimming.” You kept your eyes locked with Javi’s, watching as silver smoke filtered through his lips, the afternoon sun golden in his hair.

You peeled your dress off, the damp fabric sticking to your skin as you pulled it over your head, feeling Javi’s eyes on you the whole time.

“Should I come?” Alexei asked.

“Nope.” You said, tossing your dress at him in a crumpled ball. “Why don’t you just… watch the boat?”

You shot a glance toward Javi’s direction, trying to tamp down the twinge of disappointment when you were met with an empty towel lying crumpled on the grass next to Carina, who had completely dozed off in the heat. He was gone.

Whatever. As if you cared.

You leapt off of the boat, crashing into the water before swimming away, cutting through the water and trying to create as much distance as you could from Carina and Alexei.

You broke through the surface, relishing in the quiet. With Carina asleep and Alexei taking a break from rowing, reclining in the boat with his eyes closed against the sun, all you could hear was the drip of water and the sound of the birds.

The water broke behind you suddenly, and you jumped as an arm snaked around your waist, heart thumping as the beginnings of a shocked yelp formed in your mouth.

“It’s just me.” His voice hummed in his chest, and you felt it rumble against your back as he held you flush against his torso.

Your breathing steadied, and you tried not to melt into his arms.

His warm arms, taut against your stomach as he held you close.

“Aren’t you supposed to be with Carina?” You breathed.

“I wanted to swim.” He muttered, his warm breath ghosting the shell of your ear.

You felt a sudden surge of courage that you knew you shouldn’t feel, inebriated by his closeness.

“Is that all you wanted?” You ask.

His arm falls away from your waist, and you feel a flash of fear, knowing you pushed too far. It disintegrates when he says, “Follow me.”

You swim after him as he leads you to the edge of the lake, far enough from where Carina and Alexei were.

He waded out of the water, hand grasping for yours as he helped you out and led you to a clearing obscured by a cover of trees. You tried to ignore the jolt of electricity his touch sent through your hand.

You reached along to the shallow end of the water, producing a whiskey bottle from beneath the surface.

“Lake keeps it cold.” You explained.

You caught the amused glint in his eyes as you took a swig.

“I come out here a lot. It’s a good hiding spot. How d’you know this was here?”

You handed him the bottle, watching him take a drink as you sunk down to the grass, leaning against the trunk of a tree.

You looked up at him, watching as a drop the amber liquid dribbled down his chin, landing in the hollow of his neck.

“I’m perceptive.” He muttered.

“I know you are. I see the way you look at me.”

You knew with those words, you were on the precipice of something. You knew you should stop. He knew. The both of you kept pushing.

He sat on the grass, facing you.

“How do I look at you?”

“With your eyes.”

He smirked. “You think you’re funny, huh?”

“Hilarious.”

“I like girls with a sense of humour.”

“Lucky me.” You smiled.

He let a moment of silence pass, and you watched the steady drip of water off his skin. He readjusted his position, letting his arm cross over your outstretched legs, his palm planted firmly on the grass next to your thigh.

So close, yet so far.

“That your boyfriend?” He said, nodding toward the rowboat.

“Nope. Just some heir of something or another. It escapes me.” You grinned. “Why, you jealous?”

“You jealous of me and Carina?” He challenged, leaning in closer. Your heart thrummed in your chest.

“Why would I be?”

“I see the way you look at me.” Casually, as if it were nothing at all, he leaned closer still, hand lifting to fiddle with your hair, letting it fall between his fingers.

“How do I look at you?” You whisper, echoing his earlier words. Every fibre of your being told you to close the distance between the two of you.

Just a few inches. Your eyes flitted over his face, the dark, heavy lashes, the strong jaw. His mouth.

“Javi?” Carina’s voice, faint in the distance and heavy with sleep, called out.

You broke apart, Javi clearing his throat and taking a moment to slick back his damp hair. He got to his feet, and you watched the broad expanse of his back.

“Will I see you tonight?”.

“What’s tonight?” You sighed, dreamily.

He tossed a look over his shoulder, raising a dark eyebrow. “Your family’s throwing a party. Carina’s invited. I’m her plus one.”

“Lucky girl.” You muttered, ignoring the flare of jealousy in your stomach. You pulled a blade of grass out of the dirt, crushing it in your palm.

“You think you could make time for me tonight, even with all the heirs of somethings trying to hit on you?” He smiled.

“We’ll see.” You said off-handedly, trying to disguise your excitement. You ducked through the trees and headed back into the water.

Javi waited for a few moments before finding a way out, making it look as if he’d been swimming the whole time before making it back to Carina.

The only evidence of your meeting were two damp patches in the grass where your bodies had been, marked by a half full bottle of whiskey.

[keys-hellscape-1020]

You get captured

You get captured by the enemy, you don’t know where you are, or who you’ve even been captured by. Your boys better hurry up and come get you because time is ticking fast.

Platonic!141st x medic!reader

Warning: Angst, hurt/comfort, canon typical violence, heavy mentions of physical assault, being tied up against ones will, kidnapping, gore, mentions of death and dying, cussing, medical inaccuracies, military inaccuracies.

This was not how you were expecting this mission to go, to put it lightly.

Your head pounded, the pain raidiating through your skull, making you feel as though you were a rung bell. You peeled your eyes open, glancing around. You were in a dark, damp cell made of stone. The only light was from an old, flickering lamp that gently swung on a chain in the middle of the room. The door on the other side of the room from you was a large heavy looking thing. The only signs it was a door at all were the hinges on the side, and the small, barred window near the top of it. There was no handle facing into the room.

You struggled to piece together the memories of how you got here. You vaguely recalled rushing along an alley way, trying to meet up with your team mates, when you felt a hard *smack* to the back of your skull.

Ah that’s right. You’ve been captured. Those fuckers.

As your memories started to return you could feel your panic at the situation start to rise before you willed yourself to focus. Don’t give them the pleasure of a reaction, there will be time for that later. Focus.

Observing your surroundings you noticed that you were sat on a cold metal chair which your arms and ankles were tightly tied to with a rope. You pulled on your restraints, trying to see if there was any way you could gain an advantage in your situation, but the restraints were tight, and you could feel rope burn developing already.

Suddenly you heard a loud THUD outside of the door, and there was the small sound of metal hitting metal over and over again. Then the door was pushed open, the stone on the bottom of the door dragged across the stone floor with a horrible screech, forcing you to attempt to conceal a wince.

Out from behind the door came a shriveled looking man. If you had to guess he was about 5’6. He had pasty, greasy skin and looked under weight, although it was hard to tell due to the fact he wore a black suit a size to big for him. He wore no shirt under it, revealing his flabby chest. His facial features looked sunken in, yet somehow at the same time engorged from all the excess skin that hung at the edges of his face. He was clean shaven, with a large bald spot bordered by thin wire-like white hair that was coated in grease. He was closely followed by two large men on either side of him. If you had to guess they were the size of Ghost, if not bigger, but it was hard to get a good read between the fact that they were covered in tactical gear and the poor lighting in the room.

The slimy man slunk forward, approaching you with a sneer that pulled up the flaps of skin on his jaw unnaturally, his two body guards followed closely behind him, starting straight ahead, unbothered about the fact that the light hanging from the ceiling brushed the top of their heads.

“How are you feeling?” The greasy man crackled, putting his face far to close to yours, his breath stunk of rotten fish, and his teeth were yellow and more stumps then anything else.

You did not give him the pleasure of a response, only staring straight back into his shark like eyes. It would take much more than bad breath to make you break.

“I really am so sorry about this.” he began, placing a hand on your shoulder and walking around you. You swore that you could feel his hand leave a trail of slime as it passed along your shoulders and the back of your neck.

He stopped in front of you once more. “I just have a few questions. I’m sure you understand how this… business goes?” He asked.

“Who are you?” You asked, willing your back to remain straight and constantly reminding yourself to maintain eye contact. Don’t give him the pleasure of a reaction.

His sneer, which has been consistent up until now, faded at that. Instead it was replaced with a stomach curling smile.

“Oh? Oh oh oh, come on now!” He cackled, his eyes almost seeming to bulge from his skull. “That’s not important!”

“What is important,” his voice dropped into a sudden whisper, the smile dropping from his face in an instant, “is where those documents your friends found are. So, care to share?”

You kept your face neutral, projecting what you could only hope was a display of perfect calm, as you leaned forward to look him right in his beady eyes. “Go fuck yourself.”

His skin started to stretch and bulge again as his mouth pulled up in to a smile and he erupted in giggles that sounded almost like radio static. Seriously what is wrong with this guys voice?

“I was hoping you’d say that!” He yelped, the sound reminding you almost of a hyena. How they laugh when they’re hunting. How they derive joy from others pain.

“Have at em’ boys.” And with a final sickening smile in your direction he walked out of the room.

~

Your time here so far had been absolute hell. After that very first beating they tossed a bag over your head and dragged you to another room. This room was similar to the old one, except it had a flimsy cot in one corner and a bucket in the other. Not to mention it was far more filthy.

You could only assume these people operated on a 24 hour schedule, and if the lack of daylight hasn’t completely fucked up your sense of time yet you’d deduced that you’ve been here about a week.

Everyday was the same. You’d wake up on your flimsy cot, and have nothing to do for hours but contemplate when, if, you’d ever be saved. With each passing day that if was getting bigger and bigger.

A little after your daily crisis two large guards would enter your cell, restrain you with a bag over your head, and drag you to another room. Once there and secured by multiple pieces of rope the bag would be removed and you would be greeted by the horrible image of grease man and two of his goons.

He would ask you multiple questions, you wouldn’t answer, and thus he would leave his goons to beat you. Following that they would bring you back to your current residence.

Shortly after your daily beating two guards would enter your cell. One would point a gun at your head while the other would set down a tray of food, if you could call it that, on the floor. The substance on the tray was simple, to put it nicely. A small cup of water, paired with a small stale bread roll, and maybe half a cup of some kind of strange, greasy vegetable mush. Is this what made the guy who was obviously in charge so greasy? You hoped you wouldn’t stay long enough to find out.

And thus that was your routine today. You sat on your cot after your tray was collected by the guards. You could feel the festering wounds on your ribs, given to you the first day you got here. The pus in them told you they were getting infected. God you hoped your boys found you soon. What the fuck were they doing?

You shifted on your cot, taking inventory of your most recent injuries. You had multiple bruises on your face, and you feared you had a concussion, as when you stood up the world spun and you felt weak. Although that could very well be because you were being given practically no food or water. You also could barely walk, you suspected a broken knee the cause.

Your clothes were absolutely filthy and you are sure you smell like shit. You’ve been left in a tank top and cargo pants. Everything else had been taken when you’d gotten captured. Including your socks and shoes, to prevent you from getting far if you ran you suspect.

And then, unexpectedly, a large guard burst into your cell and stood in front of you, aiming a gun at your head. You leaned back on your cot, calming observing him as two more men hurriedly came into your cell, one of them being the slimy man in charge.

“You are going on a little trip.” He growled, anxiously glancing over his shoulder at the guard behind him.

You kept your vision on the guards gun that was in front of your forehead despite the spark of excitement in your gut. Don’t give them the pleasure of a reaction. “Nice gun.” You quipped, trying to mask your feelings.

The guard evidently did not appreciate your compliment as he yanked you up onto your feet, causing you to wince as your knee screamed at you, and he roughly tugged your arms behind your back and secured them with a zip tie. The other guard quickly approached you and tugged a bag over your head.

There would only be one reason they would move you on such obviously short notice. Someone was raiding their base. It might be your boys coming for you or it might be someone else and they’re taking precautions. Either way you had to treat it like the latter, this could very well be your only opportunity to escape.

You struggled to orient yourself as you were dragged through the complex. You tried your best to note corners and the sounds around you but you were being dragged more than you were walking and you could barely force yourself to stay conscious.

As you turned another corner you heard a loud bang of metal hitting something. A door opening? You were dragged forward and felt sunlight on your skin, you never thought that you would miss that feeling so much.

Just as you were basking in actually being outside you heard the loud screech of a plane overhead, and then the whistle of bombs being dropped. Fuck.

You heard the guards yell something, they pulled and pushed but you couldn’t tell what was happening, and then, all at once, an impact.

You flew back, your travel stopped by violently crashing into something. A wall? You could feel intense heat in front of your still covered face, it was almost painful. You knew that you had to move, now, but your knee was screaming at you from you putting your weight on it and your ribs hurt worse than ever. It would be fine to just take a little nap right? At least you would die in the sunshine.

You were startled out of your nap by someone roughly throwing you over their shoulder, causing you to let out a pained grunt.

“Sorry Stitch but we have got to move!”

Wait a minute you know that voice. Don’t you? You at least recognize that name, there isn’t many people who call you that.

The person was running, you could recognize that at least by how much they were moving, every time their shoulder moved it jostled your ribs causing you to let out a pained groan.

After what felt like a century they slid to stop, shrugging you off their shoulder and placing you against a wall. They yelled something you couldn’t make out and then the bag was off your head and you could see again.

Hovering in front of you with his brows furrowed in concern was Price. He reached behind you to quickly free your arms.

“Stitch! Are you alright?” You heard someone yell over the sound of gunfire. Turning your head you saw Soap next to you. You hadn’t even seen him there.

“Evac is in 1 minute! Hold position!”

Who said that? Price? Where did he go? He wasn’t in front of you anymore. You tried to will yourself to focus, being this out of it in an active war zone guaranteed death.

You attempted to ground yourself by taking stock of your surroundings. You’re on a roof, placed against a wall. Soap is on one side of you, peaking out from behind cover to fire at who you could only guess were your kidnappers. Price was on your other side in a similar situation, but where were Gaz and Ghost? Did they not come or are they just outside your line of sight? You hoped they were okay.

Your vision was swimming. How long had you been awake? It felt like forever. You leaned your head back against the wall. You could just rest for a moment couldn’t you? Your boys would wake you up.

~

You were stirred awake by your body being jostled side to side, and the loud sound of wind rushing past. You had to will yourself to wake up, were your boys alright? You could never live with yourself if they got hurt retrieving you.

You slowly peeled your eyes open, and your suspicions were immediately confirmed, you were in a heli.

“SITCH.” And with a call of your name someone’s arms were wrapped tightly around you, causing you to yelp in pain as they constricted your ribs.

“Let up Soap!” You heard a raspy voice bark from the other side of the Heli, causing you to lift your head to look at them. You were met with Price, who was looking at you with obvious concern. You never thought you would be so happy to see his horrible, horrible, hat.

Soap pulled back to hold onto your shoulders, being much more gentle now but still keeping a firm grip.

“Scared the shit out of me Stitch.” He admitted, raising his voice to be heard over the Heli. Despite his loud volume the look in his eyes told you that he had nothing but soft intentions.

You rocked forward to tackle him in a hug, which he immediately returned, taking care to be far more gentle this time. Gosh you missed him.

Pulling yourself partly away from him you called out, “Is anyone hurt?” Only hoping your voice was able to carry over the sounds of the heli.

Gaz leaned over from where he was sitting on your other side to put a hand on your shoulder. “We’re all fine Stitch, worry about yourself for once!”

“What he said!” Price called out, giving you a pointed look that clearly said “Rest for once in your life or I’ll make you.” Ghost simply nodded his head, but you could tell he was questioning your sanity at being help captive for a week and the first thing you ask them is if they’re all alright.

“We are landing!” You heard from the front of the heli. Nik? You never thought you would be so happy to hear him.

As the heli cruised down to the base you saw a stretcher and medical personnel waiting, one of your boys must have called in your injuries.

The heli landed and your boys systematically got out until it was just you and Ghost left. You attempted to stand to get out but started falling over as soon as you got your legs underneath you.

Before you could hit the ground Ghost quickly wrapped one arm, with a gentleness you did not know he possessed, around your waist. He brought your other arm around his shoulders and gently and slowly helped you walk. He let you limp along, yet he was still supporting most of your weight, he knew he would at least want to walk out on his own two feet if he had just survived a week of torture. You deserved the same respect.

And so he helped you make your way slowly out of the helicopter, and assisted you in sitting down on the stretcher as the rest of your boys watched. As the medical personnel rolled you away you gave one final wave towards your boys. You couldn’t thank them enough for this.

~

You were getting increasingly anxious to see your boys.

It had only been about 6 hours since you were brought in, and you are sure that if they had been allowed to they would’ve come in already, but doctors and nurses were still anxiously fluttering around you, although thankfully the scans and blood tests were slowing down to a stop at last.

You were in a hospital bed, the smell of antiseptic was comforting and reminded you of home. It reminded you of long hours in the medical bay tending to your boys stupid injuries, yelling at them for not taking care of themselves, what you would give to go back to them right now.

You were roused out of your daze by a sound coming from the other room, the lobby? It was hard to tell where it was coming from.

The doors flew open, (unsurprisingly, you really needed to teach them how to open doors normally) and Price came stomping in.

“It has been 6 bloody hours! I want to see them damnit!”

“Captain I know your upset but we’re running tests, please step outside.” Said a nurse who quickly came up to try and push him back outside.

“Price!” You croaked, your voice was shot to hell and back due to all the smoke you had inhaled earlier.

He immediately rushed over to your side and gently brought you into a warm hug, you could feel his shoulders shaking slightly, was he crying?

“Kid I am so fucking sorry. This never should’ve happened on my watch.” He said sternly as he pulled back to look you in the eyes. Contrary to what you suspected he wasn’t actually crying, but his face was getting more and more red by the second and he was shaking fiercely.

You pulled him back into a hug, (on a list of things you missed, Price’s hugs definitely make top 10).

“Don’t say that. You did everything you could, it was my own fault that I got captured.” You said, attempting to soothe him.

He pulled back once again, and you had to suppress a whine as his heat and comfort left you. Let me hug you damnit old man!

“No. It is no one’s fault but the bastard who captured you. Roger?” He asked strictly, looking you dead in the eyes.

“Check Captain.” you said, your eyes filling up with tears. You missed him, you missed this, so much.

Your emotional moment was interrupted by someone clearing their throat, causing you to turn your head.

There stood the rest of your boys in all their glory. Their presence was not helping your emotional state as once you caught sight of them the tears started flooding out of your eyes like a waterfall.

Gaz and Soap immediately sprung into action, both of them leaping forward to wrap you in a hug as gently as they could. Price fell back to let them comfort you but kept a hand on your shin the whole time to remind you he was there. Ghost didn’t join in on the hug but he was rubbing gentle circles on your back, his presence was quite but his intentions could never be lost on you.

You had a long, long road of recovery ahead of you, there was absolutely no denying that, but with your boys by your side you have no doubt that you’ll make it.

Just after one more question.

“Hey guys, which one of you ordered those bombs dropped on my head?”

Silence.

“OHHHHH would you look at the time? Ghost don’t cha’ remember we have that uhhh meeting! Yeah a meeting!”

“At midnight Soap?” You asked, completely deadpan.

“Yep! Y’know those people in charge! No sense of time! Come on Ghost!” And with that your local Scotsman ran from the room with his tail between his legs, Ghost following behind with a sigh.

“I’m gonna kill that fucker the moment I can walk again.”

[zelphin124]

Dust x YN Short Story

You simps... this is the result of this poll.

Uh, yeah... Here we go I guess.

THIS IS YOUR FAULT @kuuuuro YOU BIAS LIL NUGGET /lh

I swear I have motivation somewhere-

~o0o~

Twenty weeks.

You started to lose count of the days as you circled your cell. The sun was setting again, so your evening meal would arrive soon.

Nightmare had kidnapped you not so long ago. All you could gather was you were being used as a bargaining chip. If your friends didn't make enough negative energy in your AU, you would die.

Depression would be achieved either way.

You heard tales of the negative king. You know that he had a brother who was the positive opposite of him, you also heard fantasies of him having a soft spot for people, wanting to just have a time of rest.

None of those were true at all.

He was the definition of evil. He was cruel and treated everyone poorly to feed off it. He didn't care about anyone, not even his own employees, who were the ones that brought you food. He laughed in the face of requests and always got what he wanted, one way or another, often making others kill for him.

This led your train of thought to the various employees. There was Killer, the smiley, toxic one. He never shut up and obeyed Nightmare like a dog. He was the one who wanted to cause you the most pain. His addiction to blood and knives didn't help with that. You found it unsettling how much black ink dripped from his eyes when he looked at you. You knew he saw you as an object, nothing more. He has threatened to do horrendous things to you to please his boss... but... he hasn't laid a hand on you yet.

Horror was the second employee. He appeared to be the polar opposite of Killer in personality but equally as unsettling. He would stare at you for long hours, his bulging red eye unwavering and not blinking. You have overheard many conversations that he wanted to save you for a meal. Whenever he was hungry, he lingered not too far from you. If it weren't for the negativity he gave off when he was unable to eat you, you were sure Nightmare would've let him already.

Then there was Murder Sans. He was the quietest, and the one who didn't say much, if at all. The entire time you've known him, he lurked in conversations and only gave off nods, shrugs, and head shakes as communication. The other two employees were terrified of him; they often talked about his LV levels and how he could kill them easily. Although all of them were murderers, he was the only one reluctant to do it again.

Especially to you.

When he came to give you food, you didn't have to cower in the corner or tell them to leave. He barely said anything to you, but he's whispered enough words to tell you his voice was rasp and aloof. His eyes never narrowed at you, and he didn't stare like the others. If you caught him staring, he would respectfully look away, going about his business. He always ensured that you got the best food and that none of it dropped before it reached you. Sometimes, he would take the food that he got and give it to you. His coworkers always said he acted weird when he saw you, but you couldn't quite tell why.

You couldn't tell anything about him, in reality.

The door to your cell opened. You pressed yourself against the damp, cold, stone bricks of your cell, the chains around your ankles clamped tight. You prayed that it wasn't Killer again; you didn't want to fake happy feelings in your heart for Nightmare to come take him away.

You couldn't tell which coworker it was until their entire body walked down the stairs. They all wore the same clothing, and the only difference they had from one another was their faces.

You saw the hooded employee holding a candle in one hand and your food in the other. You sigh in relief, the pace of your heartbeat slowing down tremendously. His red eyes glowed softly as his gaze shifted towards you. He looked more tired than usual.

"Your food," he raises it up before setting it down by your feet.

You were starving. Before he could say anything else, you gulfed down the food before him, delighting at the taste of mashed potatoes and green beans. Although you used to be picky, prison has taught you to like every form of food. Anything that Dust brought you tasted good.

He watched you eat before sitting down in front of you. You didn't notice until your food was good. Thanking him for the food, you lay back down on the paved floor, hoping that you wouldn't get back pain as you slept.

Murder traced his hands across the floor before he looked back up at you. "It's boring in here, do you wanna watch a movie?"

At first, you were confused. Did you want to watch a movie? Of course you did; anyone would take that over sitting in a cell again all night. Heck, you haven't been out of the cell in weeks, and you started to smell, let alone go crazy. You nod, telling him you wish to, but you couldn't because you were chained-

The bones that flew through the chains around your frail body shattered as bones shot up from the ground. For the first time, the weight of the metal was off your skin, setting you free. You reach down and rub your ankles and wrists, which you were unable to touch weeks before.

As you were distracted, you felt hands wrap around your waist and legs. Your eyes widen as he hoists you up into his arms and carries you out of the stall. You yelp from shock, asking him what's going on.

"I need a movie partner. Horror doesn't want to watch movies with me anymore," he explained nonchalantly. "And call me Dust, please."

You were about to ask more questions but kept your mouth shut as he carried you through the castle and up the stairs. You passed the dining room where the rest of the castle inhabitants were.

"Pass me the sauce Horror!" Killer cried.

"No, I'm using it." Horror dumped a large amount of sauce onto whatever he was eating.

"You're going to eat it all!" Killer whined.

"Both of you shut up," Nightmare twirled his food around with a fork, looking slimy as ever.

Despite being so close to your kidnappers, they did not notice you and Dust. Not even Nightmare caught a glimpse of the silent worker carrying you up toward his room, as if he had years of practice slipping away...

As he opened the door to his room, you were greeted with a heavy scent of forest pine. His windows were open and a soft breeze blew into his room. It wasn't the most tidy room, there were a few hooks and a red scarf lying across the floor. His bed was massive and faced a TV, which was on its home screen. There was little to no light besides the gaping moon outside.

Dust set you down by the bathroom door. "Shower, clean, whatever you do I guess," he scavenged through his dresser. He pulled out a hoodie and some sweatpants. "I just washed these, will these work?"

The clothes he gave you looked so comfortable, and nothing would do besides the rags you were in currently. You didn't waste time and headed into the shower, finally cleaning yourself of the prison stench you had become so accustomed to. Despite Dust's appearance, it was clear that he took good care of himself. He seemed to have a higher respect for himself than the others.

As you walk out, you barely put on the hoodie, finding Dust on his bed scrolling through different videos. He glanced you up and down and patted the bed next to him. "Do you have a movie preference?"

You inform him of one of the movies you used to watch. Dust shrugged and pulled it up on screen as you sat beside him. Although you tried to keep your distance out of respect, he pulled you closer to him and wrapped an arm around your shoulder. A single pillow was what kept you from being buried in his chest.

You felt the blood rush to your face. Why was he being so nice? You were a prisoner, yet he treated you like a comrade, if not like royalty. He offered you popcorn and watched the movie in silence, asking only two questions throughout the show. He was polite, and he made sure you had enough blankets to keep you warm, and he offered his hand to squeeze when you got scared at certain parts.

When Killer came banging on the door, Dust gestured to you to stay quiet as he changed his voice, barely talking to Killer through the door and telling him to go away. However, he seemed very tired when he sat on the bed again... and fell asleep on your lap.

At first, you panicked. What happens if someone barges through the door? If someone sees you, what will you say? Would they finally kill you?

But something else told you that there was a reason why you weren't dead yet. Perhaps Dust advocated for you and kept you alive behind your back. Perhaps he didn't want you dead. After all, he did want to watch a movie with you.

You gasp from surprise as Dust's arms wrap around you like he is hugging the most treasured thing in the world. His face was buried in your shoulder, and he breathed slowly. If you hadn't fallen for the skeleton and all the kind things he's done for you yet, you sure did now. He was so peaceful as you stroked his head, not moving so he could sleep. He was so kind to you, giving you food and finally freeing you from prison.

You couldn't figure out why but decided not to think about it as your own eyes got droopy. Despite your situation, you had no trouble falling asleep in Dust's arms.

Maybe you'll wake up from this wonderous dream.

Or maybe you'll find out that there is good in everyone after all.

[sumaneun-stars]

'One reason to stay'

Pairing. Jungwon x fem!reader

Genre. Best friends to lovers, fluff, angst, comfort

Warnings. Mentions of suicide, reader going through depression

Synopsis. You finally broke down- in front of your crush out of all people. Sigh.

You sat atop of a large rock which lay on the many other rocks- overlooking the sea. You admired the golden tinted water which moved back and forth in steady waves, slowly swallowing the radiant sun.

The scene switched to a dark misty forest. You wore a beige flowy dress, hair tied to a half ponytail with little green accessories decorating it. You ran to the source of light a few meters away to spot a small pond which was framed by algae covered white stone benches. Small creepers which bore light purple flowers entangled with the legs of the benches, with little green butterflies fluttering their wings around them.

You opened your eyes to disappointing, depressing reality. You found yourself sitting on the carpeted floor, your head resting on one of the couch cushions. Your eyes were drained out from the number of tears which flowed out not many moments ago. Your lips were dry and your skin was pale- with dark lines circling your worn out, sleepy eyes.

The world is not a nice place to live in. It was drowning you slowly- except it didn't let you die. Assignments and homework piled up on your shoulders- and exams dropped like a boulder on your head. You didn't mind falling off a cliff considering the fact that you're dying anyways. But there was one thing which made you not want to leave. 

One reason to make you stay.

You heard the faint sound of the door unlocking, thinking it was one of your friends because your phone was on silent for days.

"Y/n?" You heard a soft voice call.

You then saw the blurred figure run towards you. He knelt down to your level. "Y/n? What's wrong? Why are you so pale?" he asked- holding your face with his warm hands. You smiled at him, but your eyes told a different story. You looked down, trying to hide the redness of your face.

His eyebrows dropped, making his face show nothing but concern. 

"Hey, look at me," he said, his voice lower than a whisper. He raised your head up to meet your eyes. 

"I don't like it here" you mumbled through your pouting lips.

"Why?" He asked, caressing your hair in hopes to comfort you.

Your lips trembled and your eyes became teary. You dropped your head on his shoulder- and he didn't hesitate to wrap his arms around you. You sobbed softly into his sweater as he carried you to the couch slowly. He sat on the ground, his hand still cupping your face wiping your hot tears.

"You wanna talk about it?" He asked.

You shook your head, making him whisper a tiny 'okay'.

Jungwon was your best friend, at least you were for him. Ever since you first set your eyes on his contagious smile, in the midst of about 5 to 6 people in the classroom, you fell hard. You thought it was a mere crush, until he walked up and spoke to you, lighting up your dark and misty perspective of life. Except you weren't the only girl in his life, or else that's what you thought. Silly little you, of course he likes popular girls with bright smiles and pretty faces- you remind yourself everyday. But little did you know, he felt just the same butterflies as you did when you looked at him.

After a few minutes, he brought you back to his lap, letting you sob into his shirt.

“Y/n” he started. “Life is hard, I agree. But I swear you're the strongest person I've ever seen, this'll be a piece of cake, alright?” He ended with a smile. He looked confused, and looked like he was trying so hard, making you chuckle a little.

“What? I know I'm a horrible therapist, you don't need to say it out loud” he rolled his eyes.

“Noo” you replied, giving him a smile that didn't reach your eyes. 

If only you could kiss those lips, it would solve all your problems even for a little while. A boulder off your shoulders, a plaster on your wounded heart, an umbrella from the blazing sun.

He shifted a bit, before pursing his lips and humming to himself in thought. He was in a dilemma, by the looks of it. He reached out to his bag lying beside him, a tiny smile forming in his lips. He took out a lollipop, orange flavored to be specific, your favorite. You gasped. 4 years of running towards the candy section to search for the orange flavored lollipops but it was always out of the market.

“They brought it back?” You exclaimed, making him instantly laugh at your change of expression.

“Mhm” he nodded his head.

“Thank you so much!” You wrapped your arms around him, expecting to stay like that for a while before he parted the hug. It upsetted you slightly, but of course, there should be a reason for it.

“Well…” he started, scratching the back of his neck. He looked- nervous. “I'm not good with words, so I wrote it down” he said as he dug his pockets, and finally took out an unevenly folded piece of paper with a smiley face drawn on the blank side of it.

You were about to unfold it, until he took your hands in his, closing the paper back again. He smiled giddily, before taking the strap of his bag and rushing out of the room. You were left in confusion, but was soon snapped back into reality when his face appeared once again.

“I'll walk slowly so you can catch up after reading it” he said before giving you a bright smile and leaving the room.

You unfolded the piece of paper, to be met with his usual messy, ant-sized handwriting. It had ink marks in the corners of the paper, clearly showing that it was accidentally drawn while he was spinning his pen.

‘Uhh well, hi! It's me, Jungwon. Let's get right to it, shall we? 

I can't really describe this, but I'll try. I used to think I knew happiness, and that smiling could only be formed intentionally, a command from my brain or heart- until I met you. Crazy, right? You didn't even smile that often at me, but I found myself giggling and smiling every time I saw you. Over time, I realized I couldn't spend a day without drifting away in thoughts about you. Daydreams and imaginary scenarios which were once starred by me and a really pretty celebrity, got replaced by me and you. You, you and you. Everything is about you. My world now revolves around you. I see you in clouds and sand, even in plain sight! Sometimes I think I'm crazy! Y/n, I'm obsessed with you. It's almost unhealthy. Every little thing you do makes my heart beat faster than the speed of light. The way your eyes turn into rainbows everytime it rains, the way you can't laugh without snorting, the way you walk like a penguin, the way you can't hold your laughter in a serious situation; they all make me feel lighter than a cloud. Y/n, I sorta, kinda, maybe, might, slightly, possibly be in love with you. No- I am in love with you. 

Hurry! I might be still waiting outside, it's freezing! Hug me if you accept my heart by the way ♡’

You found yourself crying once more, not in sadness, but pure joy. Without any hesitancy, you grabbed your coat and ran out of your apartment. You ran as fast as possible towards the bakery you two shared most memories with, to find him sitting on a bench, head down and back crouched.

He raised his head up to the sound of your footsteps and panting, a smile as bright as the sun forming on his face soaked with tears. He stood up, feeling slightly dizzy from the tears shed not long ago. You didn't hesitate to wrap your arms around him, tears of joy exploding into his chest. You looked up at his mixed expression.

“Were you crying?” You asked as you wiped the tears off his face, chuckling at his state.

“I was scared you wouldn't come,” he mumbled, before snuggling his head into the nape of your neck.

“But I did,” you said, your voice low.

He raised his head up, staring at you until you pressed your lips to his. His face was in pure shock, before he connected his lips with yours once again. You felt him smile into the kiss, making your heart explode into a thousand butterflies.

Funny, how a single person can lift a truck's worth of problems off another's shoulders. Your mind which was once filled with nothing but plans to leave behind your melancholic life, was paused by a single piece of paper. It was him all along, the answer to your never ending mystery of life. 

Him, the one and only reason to make you stay.

End.

A/n: Comfort for us depressed/delulu hoomans<3

[nanaminokanojo]

BAD NEWS (part 58)

-just when you thought you were over your humongous crush on your older brother’s best friend, geto suguru, you couldn’t have been more dead wrong, except satoru doesn’t like suguru for you because he knows his kind all too well: a huge ass playboy who breaks hearts like he changes socks. but you think, MAYBE you’ll be the exception…maybe not.

CHARACTERS: drummer!geto suguru x you/afab reader | gojo satoru | various jjk characters

GENRE: full-length smau + prose | band au | college au | stupid pining | aged-up characters | friends to lovers (?) | smut

TW/CW: strong/mature language | adult content so mdni on some parts | mentions of alcohol, drugs | mentions of cheating, promiscuity, mild dubcon, etc. | god-awful pet names | toxic behavior | will add more if something arises

MASTERLIST | CHAPTER INDEX

<<prev part 58 next>>

A/N: Smutty things ahead, be warned. Panels 3 to 10 at the end. 😊

Red-bottoms in hand, you slung one arm over Mai's shoulder, both of you dissolving into giggles when you started dancing barefoot on the stone steps that led to your doorstep while her twin looked on in abject annoyance. It was mostly about Mai who insisted on coming out of the car to walk you to the door and you basically encouraging it. She didn't know what was worse, this or when you guys jumped into a loud discussion about your favorite pro footballers earlier during the ride.

"What's the code to the door, Y/N?" Maki asked you as she hoisted Mai over to her other side to split the two of you up.

"Code? Code..." You swayed dangerously towards the side of the elevated step by the door, and she was only able to pull you in time before you fell on the rose bushes. You laughed at how she rolled her eyes before stumbling towards the door, almost hitting your head against the hard wood. Still, you repeated the same word over and over again, thinking long and hard about what to punch on the glowing blue buttons.

"Well?"

"Ah!" you responded, raising your index finger up. "Toru...it's..." You swallowed hard, the action coming with a little hiccup that sent Mai into another round of giggles, also triggering you.

"His birthday?" Maki supplied for you and you nodded vigorously, about to raise your arms but you hit your shoe against the door, gasping as you checked for scuffs as if you could see straight.

Shaking her head, she punched the numbers into the keypad, successfully opening it. "Get inside. I'll help you to your room."

You waved your hands at her. "No, no...'m fine, Captain." You stepped in rather unsteadily.

"You sure?"

Again, you snickered at the way her brow arched but nodded nonetheless, doing a little dance as you said goodbye to Mai whom Makit dragged away to the car just as you were closing the door.

"Toru?" you called, but got no answer, swaying towards the stairs and haphazardly holding onto the banister whilst you still held onto your heels, careful not to drop them. One wobbly step at a time, you pulled your weight up, snickering when you nearly tripped. You did that halfway up and made it the rest of the way crawling on all fours.

You blindly made your way to the second room from the stairs, slowly and quietly pushing the door, or at least as quietly as you can in your drunken state. It's more like you pushed your way in, hand faltering several times on the knob. When you finally stumbled in, it was dark. You didn’t turn on the lights, you were not confident you can find the switch anyway, so you just started stripping your clothes off until you were just in the tiny, form-fitting dress you wore to the club, your heels dropping with loud thuds on the laminate floors.

You still had the mind to think about washing the makeup off of your face, marching towards the wall you knew your dresser was at, but you didn't see it there.

"Huh," you muttered under your breath, the effort you exerted trying to walk without falling making your head spin even more. There was no way you were making it anywhere else, so you opted for the bed which was closer, and finally fell into it.

You could have sworn you heard someone groan somewhere near you, but you couldn’t care less, giggling when you felt an irregular lump on where you had fallen. You nearly slipped off the bed, but somehow, you didn't, a warm, snug feeling engulfing you as you lay face down, comfortable on the spot you've chosen. You clung to that feeling of sleep starting to devour you, afraid that if you opened your eyes, your world would start spinning again so you screwed your eyes shut, and soon, you were dead to the world with nothing but the feeling of warm hands soothing your back.

Wait...hands?

The idea seemed ridiculous to you. You kept your eyes closed, thinking it was just the alcohol and that you were probably just imagining things. Very specific ones involving a man with beautiful, long, ebony hair and the way he smelled – smoky wind in a pine forest with hints of something akin to limes and sandalwood – along with that familiar warmth that reminded you of home and everything else familiar to you.

You were still too dizzy, but not without any coherent thoughts as you seemed to lack just moments ago. How long you've been trying to get sleep in the suddenly uncomfortable position you were in, you didn't know. But you were slowly realizing that something was amiss, making your heart thud heavily in your chest. You, however, couldn't pinpoint just what it was in your state of inebriation.

Just then, you felt the "bed" you were laying on shift, and you could have sworn you felt a pair of arms wrap themselves around your shoulder and waist, gently easing you to your back.

"Kitten?" came those deep mellow notes you'd know anywhere, and something seemed to click in your brain, the dress you were wearing suddenly feeling too tight as heat flared up all over your body. Ironically, you felt like shivering.

In the seconds that followed, the cogs in your brain moved and you realized you made a bed out of someone, and when you finally came to full awareness and opened your eyes, you were confronted by the face of your older brother's best friend, mere centimeters from yours, slowly breaking into that lopsided smile, faint dimples making themselves known as he looked down at you sleepily. The action enhanced his features even in the semi-darkness, hot-wiring your already addled brain.

You wanted to bolt right out of bed, but his steady amber gaze held you there, not to mention the alcohol in your system. “Su...suguru?” You chuckled, torn between thinking your seeing the real thing or some specter of your fantasies. But at that point, who cares?

You tilted your head to the side, flashing him a sultry smile even as his brows furrowed together. "Whatchu doin' here, sexy?" you slurred.

“I slept over,” he answered, grinning cheekily at you as he got rid of some stray hairs on your cheek, his cold fingers brushing over your skin. You inched towards his touch, humming in satisfaction. “What are you doing here, kitten?”

You did a little scoff or something close to it. “This is my room.”

“No, sweetheart, this is the guest room.” His voice sounded so velvety, making you shiver visibly.

“Well shit…” You chuckled as you closed your eyes, willing the nausea away. “Give me a sec.”

You felt Suguru move closer to you, your foreheads touching as he wrapped his arms tighter around you as he laid back down, guiding you to lie on your side. “I don’t mind.”

“Funnily enough, I don’t either.” You looked at him unsteadily, seemingly unable to focus as you blinked slowly, trying to make sense of what you were currently seeing. Without thinking, you placed a hand on his cheek, running the pad of your thumb over his skin. And then you broke into a smile. "I can never seem to reach you..."

Suguru placed a hand over yours. "What do you mean? I've always been here," he whispered back. "You'll always have me, kitten. You know that."

You shook your head. "No..."

"No?"

"Not..." You breathed in, moving your fingers over the line of his nose, trying to be gentle, afraid that he will disappear. But when he didn't, you dared to touch his cupid's bow, tracing along it as you slowly released your breath a little at a time. "Not like this."

Suguru looked at you in confusion now."Not like what, hm?" At that, he started nuzzling you on the cheek until your lips were mere millimeters away. "Care to explain that?"

"Like this."

"Mhmm?" He brushed his nose against yours.

"This close..."

This can't be real, you thought, your heart sinking in your chest. In the slowness of your mind, you suddenly had so many things making themselves evident. You hated how even in your drunken moments, it was only Geto Suguru that you could think off; how your longing was conjuring images in your head so damn real, it made your yearning even stronger. You've wanted him for so long that your brain is making things up.

You sat up, easing his arms off you gently, but then, the look of disappointment on his face made you stop.

"Y/N, what's wrong?"

"This whole thing – this...y-you, here, right now. This isn't right – You're not even real, why am I talking to you?"

He, too, sat up, his face inching closer towards you as if daring you to move farther from him, but you didn’t. "I am real, Y/N. I am in front of you."

You chuckled as you felt your resolve faltering, submitting to your daydreams and imagination, making you lose yourself enough to believe what this version of Suguru was telling you.

“I’m still drunk, right?”

Suguru snickered, nodding. “Pretty much.”

You leaned closer. “Good. At least I have an excuse.”

"Excuse for?"

Instead of an answer, you cupped his face as you rose to your knees, crashing your lips to his slightly parted ones, hoping and praying to every higher power that this was real, and not just happening inside your head.

**

How could you tell him he wasn't real? You weren't real. None of this was.

It's not real that you just strolled into the guest room Suguru happened to be in, drunk to your toes. It's not real that you just decided to make a bed out of him. It's not real, everything that you said to him. It's not –

Oh. But this felt real – the feeling of your skin against his, warm and flushed and so smooth under his calloused palms; your presence as you weighed down on him, hands firm at the sides of his head as you coveted him; the feel and taste of your plush lips, a cocktail of your lip gloss, alcohol and whatever you were made of, pressed against his, the air you were breathing one and the same.

This was real. It's happening. And he wanted it. Oh, how much he had longed for it...waited for it. Before he knew it, he was opening his mouth, fingers delving into your hair to hold you in place, returning every adamant movement of your lips, giving it back with his. It's been over a year since you left him with the taste of you lingering at the back of his mind and the tip of his tongue, thinking he will never have the pleasure of ever knowing it again. And yet there you were again, in his arms, him locked in yours, giving him what he's always wanted and filling that void that he tried so hard to fill when you went away without acknowledging matters between you.

"Suguru," you spoke against his mouth, almost begging, trapping him in a bewitching spell from which he never wanted to snap out of as if you were calling his very soul. He never thought his name ever sounded so good coming out of someone else's mouth, and yet you seemed to be giving it a whole new meaning.

Entranced and enchanted, he unconsciously took the initiative, recapturing your lips as he pulled you even closer to him. A nagging voice at the back of his head told him to stop, but it went unheard when you slid your tongue between his lips, the sound of your moaned out triumph rendering what's left of his capacity to reason useless. You took your fill of him, giggling when you found that piece of silver embedded on his tongue, reaching for it with yours.

With a whine, you anchored yourself on his shoulder, kneeling astride his lap and leveraging the tangle of sheets below you to push him backwards until he was lying against the pillows. You followed after him, in hot pursuit of his lips which momentarily detached from yours, eyes glazed and wild as you laughed quietly, the sound almost sounding like a purr.

Getting a bit of clarity, Suguru pushed himself up, steadying you by the waist to stop you from going even further. "Kitten," he shook his head, "Y/N, you're drunk – mmmff –!"

Huge mistake as you were having none of it, your lips immediately finding his like a homing missile that's got its target locked. And if that didn't make a hot mess out of him, you deliberately ground your hips against his, the fabric of his sweats and your underwear providing much of the friction both of you yearned for yet not enough. You gasped as the apex of your thighs rubbed precisely over his hardening length, but it didn't even take you a second to do it again, unable to get enough.

"Kitten, don't – holy shit, baby..."

"Want you," you mumbled against his lips as you continued to grind against him, your hand reaching underneath you as you grabbed fistfuls of his gray sweats, clawing at the fabric and along the skin of his iliac furrow, making him hiss as you managed to pull it off of him. He held onto your wrist in an attempt to stop you again, but to no avail.

Suguru knew you had a one-track mind, and like Satoru, if you wanted something, come hell or high water, you will get it. The means didn't matter. You were both such brats growing up that he knew as much. And it seems it didn't matter what state of mind you were in either. You sought and you took without thinking twice, the same way you saw your goals on the field and executed them. This time he was the field, and you were going to conquer him regardless.

You bent down, kissing him senseless again, your hand firm on his nape while the other one guided his hand under your dress. You smirked into the kiss, nipping at his lower lip before letting go and saying, "Take it off."

"A-are you –"

"Yes."

You didn't have to tell him twice. In the next second, your pesky underwear was out of the way and your bare, wetness was pressed down midway his cock, pinning it flat against his stomach. Your grip on his shirt was tight as you started to rock back and forth over his length, setting your rhythm.

Again, as much as he thought it wasn't really happening, that his mind was probably trapped in a perpetual oasis of dreams that were solely made of you, Suguru was much too awake to deny it, all his nerves firing within him as the realization dawned that you were there. Crazy drunk. On top of him. Chasing your pleasure and taking you with him.

His hands were all over you, not knowing where to touch until he finally found purchase on your ass, kneading your flesh as he directed your movements closer to his tip until it was repeatedly catching into your slick folds while also simultaneously stimulating your sensitive bundle of nerves. Your snagged breaths and airy moans made him want to just topple you into the bed and take over you, but Suguru kept his restraint, merely satisfying himself with the view of you dominating him, your lips parted as you threw your head back in pleasure.

This was about you, and he wouldn't have it any other way. If you wanted him, you can have him, use him to your heart's content even if it meant you will forget when you wake up.

Do you even realize what you were doing? He wondered at that, feeling a twinge on his chest at the thought that you'll slip from his grasp again when daylight comes.

No, he thought. Not this time.

He felt your movements grow erratic, your nails scratching at the skin of his chiseled abdomen.

"Fuck, baby, right there," he encouraged you, helping your movements as you evidently grew tired chasing your high. His fingers will bruise your hips with how tight he was gripping you, intensifying the heat between where you were touching until you were spasming and letting out high-pitched moans, your release fueling your movements as it dripped onto him.

"Sugu...ru..." you called his name, mostly broken parts of it as he let you ride your high, eventually leading to his own undoing.

"K-kitten – fuck!" he let out along with his stuttering breaths when he, too, came hard, staining his stomach and the inner side of your thighs.

He breathed deeply, sweat matting his skin. He let out a quiet chuckle as he watched you listing towards the side, all spent and succumbing to the exhaustion, coupled with the alcohol still in your system.

Before you could fall, Suguru got up, gently laying you down on the bed before removing his shirt and silently making his way to the bathroom, suddenly reminded that Satoru was just at the end of the hallway.

He's fucked, he knew that, but he couldn't help but smile to himself as he watched you squirm and groan in your sleep while he cleaned you up and changed your clothes, patiently removing your makeup even when you swatted at his hands irritably.

After all that, he carried you back to your room, making sure you were comfortable, leaning down to place a kiss on your forehead, the act seemingly chaste and out of place after all that you two have done.

He sighed, much too awake to get back to sleep, his mind on the consequences of the night's events, but he couldn't care less, not even at the thought that Satoru might hate him.

Because Geto Suguru may be damned to the deepest pits of hell, but as long as he has you, he'll gladly suffer in the flames for it.

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© ORIGINAL WORK BY nanaminokanojo. CHARACTERS ARE INSPIRED BY GEGE AKUTAMI’S “JUJUTSU KAISEN”. [20240605]

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[bb-sg]

Wildfire

Relationship: Yandere!Dabi x fem!reader

Summary: Dabi can't stop thinking about the new warden of the prison. Prison AU.

MDNI! Please mind the content warnings, this fic contains dark content and themes.

CW: Smut, masturbation, violence, gun use, yandere!dabi, obsession, language, implied murder, language, punishment, implied non-con/dub con, domestic violence, darcyphilia

You were a natural disaster waiting to ravage him. You were like lightning; you were striking and consuming. You were meticulously put together, not a hair out of place, always presenting your best self. You shone through the bleakness of these cold walls. Just like lightning, your presence was electrifying. The moment you entered a room, your energy flooded the room and demanded attention.

Where there was lightning, there was thunder. Just like thunder, you made your existence known. It was the way you walked with confidence and an area of authority that made you impossible to miss. You carried your head high, beautiful eyes facing forward, your composed demeanor never faltering.

Why shouldn’t you carry yourself like a queen? You were the new warden after all.

The first time he saw you was in the cafeteria. A fight had just broken out between two gangs. Men in faded orange jumpsuits brawling over the thriving contraband economy. It was nothing that concerned him, so he sat back and watched. Secretly cheering certain men on until the security guards called for a lockdown. He rolled his eyes, annoyed at the inconvenience of having to lay on the ground. He complied but kept his eyes glued to the commotion.

He had never been happier that a fight broke out when he saw you. Alarms started blaring as you burst through the door with your face set in stone. He watched every move you made as you surveyed the scene. Two security guards protected you as you approached the two original instigators of the altercation.

“Take these two to solitary. Along with anyone else who was involved.” You snarled, looking down on the prisoners being detained on the ground. “Take the injured to the infirmary.” The clack on your heels could be heard as you walked to one of your guards, delegating him to get the rest of the prisoners back to their cells. You took one more look around when you locked eyes with him.

He thought you were too beautiful to be in such a wretched place with people like him. Everything about you drew him to you. You stern but gorgeous features never displaying any emotion as you stared him down. He let his eyes drift down your body, devouring your delicious figure under his gaze.

What really made him want you was the way you tried to exude control when he knew that you were just begging to be dominated. He could see it in your eyes, you wanted- no you needed, to be put in your place.

“Get them back to their cells and get this cleaned up. Now.” You barked out, while turning on your heels to leave the room. You paid him no mind as you sauntered away, but he could not help but watch your hips sway with every step. He listened for the sound of your heels fading away, like rolling thunder in the distance.

Each step echoed in his head as you disappeared from sight. That is when it began, when he found the silver lining about being locked up. Each step you took punctuated the thoughts that consumed him.

Clack. Clack. Clack. Clack.

You. Will. Be. His.  

That was six months ago and since then he has poured all his energy into finding ways to be close to you. He would purposely get caught with contraband, pick fights with a guard, and try to incite chaos wherever he went just to draw you out.

Every time he got called to your office, he wore a smile proudly. He always greeted you with compliments, pick up lines or charming anecdotes to try and get you to open up. The guards frequently jostled him around to try get him to behave but you stopped them. Each time you said the same thing. 

“He’s harmless, he is just trying to get a rise out of me. Don’t entertain him.” Your eyes always stern and unwavering. He wanted to laugh; you really had no idea what he could do. What he would do.

“Yeah, harmless.” He smiled a little too much, almost letting a chuckle slip out. “You do have me chained up like a dog after all.”

“This is the second time this week that you’ve been caught breaking rules. Do you want to be thrown into the hole?” You drawled out, with disinterest.

This annoyed him. He wanted to hold you by the neck while he railed you mercilessly. Wiping the arrogant look of your face. He wanted to make you cry for forgiveness, cry for ever thinking you were above him.

He painted on a calm face and leaned back in the chair positioned in front of your desk.

“There are a few holes I wouldn't mind being in, but solitary confinement isn't one of them.” His voice was laced with honey, batting his eyes at you.

“Please, at least have the decency to refrain from hitting on me.” You were unmoved by him.

“You always seem so high strung, I know how to get you relaxed, let me show you.” He smirked.

“I’m happily married, not that it’s any of your business. Now I’m assigned you to janitorial duties until you can knock off this shit attitude.” You deadpanned.

He was impressed with you. Never once in the past six months had you broken character. It only made the build up to the inevitable better for him. He couldn’t wait to see you reduced to a sniveling mess under him.

“Always work and no play.” He whispered to you. “Your husband must be slacking at his duties.” He laughed as the guard pulled him out of your office. He would keep chipping away at you until you revealed a crack in your armor.

Another six months had passed, and he continued his onslaught of mischief around the prison. It was like clockwork; he would break the rules and you would call him to the office to scold him. His crimes began to escalate, waiting for you to truly break and for him to see the real you.

Then one day he got a glimpse of it. He had gotten in a guard's face and refused to follow orders. On the way down the familiar corridor to the office he heard you arguing with someone. He heard your distraught voice drifting down the halls, your voice shook, wrought with emotion.

He savored it, trying to walk as slowly as possible to bask in the way the timbre in your voice made it impossible to miss the pain you were feeling.

He loved it.

The guard knocked on the door gently, undoubtedly feeling uncomfortable with disturbing you.

“Excuse me ma’am?” the guard beckoned to you. On the other side of the door, he could head you scrambling to get off the phone, shushing whoever was on the other end. You cleared your throat before inviting them in.

It was obvious, your normal shell was cracked. Your eyes were darkened from exhaustion, your hair wasn’t as neat as usual, and your usual conservative clothing was replaced with more relaxed, casual wear. He loved the way your tank top clung to your body, he took in every little detail.

When you saw it was him you audibly signed. You rested your hands on your hips while you tried to compose yourself.

“What have you done now?” you groaned, clearly not in the mood to deal with him.

“That’s no way to greet a friend warden. You don’t look so hot today, what’s troubling you?” He smiled and cooed at you.

You rubbed your eyes, trying to wipe away your fog. The guard shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot, the tension was thick, and the atmosphere was heavy and stale.

You walked around to the front of the desk and leaned against it, eyeing Dabi down.

“Can you please give me a minute alone with him?” You croaked out meeting the guard’s eyes. The guard nodded before he exited your office.

Dabi kept his eyes on you, standing still waiting for you to make a move.

“What is the purpose of all this? I don’t get it anymore. Do you want to be stuck in here forever? You have a parole hearing coming up soon and I have no reason to vouch for you to be released early. So, give me a good explanation on why you’ve been you’re constantly getting into trouble?” You ranted, speaking faster and louder than you normally do. You crossed your arms in front of you protectively when you waited for his response.

“What can I say? Seeing you is the best part of my day warden.” He laughed taking one step closer to you, his kept his eyes trained on you, almost stalking towards you. He couldn’t believe his luck that you asked to be alone with him, this was his chance to finally get to you. He didn’t know what he wanted to do first with you: force you to your knees and make you cry on his cock or push you down on the desk and make you beg to be let go, tears running down your face, whimpering beneath him. He knew you would look beautiful when he broke you and you were so close to finally letting your façade crumble.

“Stop fucking around. You are going to catch a new charge at this rate that you’re going, and you will end up rotting in this prison alone. Is that what you want? I’ll happily throw you into the hole for as long as I can if you don’t drop this act.” You snapped back, dripping with venom. You stood your ground when he took another step closer, his handcuffs rattling cutting through the silence.

“C’mon, you wouldn’t do that to me. Don’t act like you don’t enjoy seeing me warden. If you want, maybe I can get you out of your shit mood and make you feel better.” He sauntered closer to you, now standing directly in front of you. “Just beg for me and I’ll happily make you forget about everything. I’ll put you in a good mood and send you back to your doting husband, you’ll have a great night with him, make dinner, watch your boring shows and pathetically fall asleep next to him in your bed. Fuck, he will be none the wiser.” He whispered, baring his teeth like a wolf who has trapped his target. “What do you say warden? You wanna drop that whole bitch act and give in?”

“Shut up! You’re insufferable. Fine, you want to fuck around? Let’s fuck around and I’ll write a letter to the parole board begging them to keep you in here for your full sentence and then some.” You pressed a finger to his chest and pushed him back when you stood up tall. You gather all your strength to put forward some bravado, but your voice betrayed you as your voice shook with every word.

“You think you know everything about me, don’t you? You don’t know anything about me! How dare you talk to me like that! I’m so sick of the men in my life acting like fucking assholes! What is it about me that makes people want to take advantage of me…” You trailed off quickly and sunk back against the desk.

Then he finally got what he’s been pining for, seeing you break down before him. You covered your face, shoulders slumped and shaking.

Where there is lightning and thunder, there’s also rain. Right now, you were pouring. You started weeping, your sobs wracking your body while you struggled to breathe through each cry. You collapsed into yourself, holding your body as you fell forward.

His smile fell when he saw you. This was supposed to make him happy, overjoyed even but now all he wanted to do was to break the neck of whoever did this to you. The sight of you so disheveled made him feel feral with rage. It wasn’t supposed to be like this, he was supposed to be the one to break you. He wasn’t basking in your pain like he had wanted to, he actually felt sorry for you.  He would find out who did this to you and rip their throat out, he promised this to you silently.

You tried to pick yourself up, attempting to stop crying and fixing your clothes and posture. You wiped your tears away endlessly, still sniffling. Your eyes were puffy and red when you made eye contact with him again.

He was right about one thing though; you did look beautiful when you cried. It made you look more human, vulnerable, and weak. He wanted to protect you, keep you safe from whatever was happening. Keep you safe from this world, lock you up and throw away the key so nothing can make you cry again, except for him.

He lifted his arms up slowly, adjusting the handcuffs slightly to allow him to wrap his arms around you so he could comfort you. He expected you to push him away, but you didn’t. Your head fell to his chest as you started crying more. You knew it was inappropriate, but you didn’t care. He awkwardly tried to pat your back, but his restraints didn’t allow him to. Instead, he just held you, silently waiting for you to be done crying.

“I’m sorry.” You choked out between sobs. “This is so unlike me.”

You nuzzled into him, inhaling the scent of his body wash. He smelled like rich dark wood and smoke. It was soothing and relaxing to you. His broad chest served as a pillow for you while you drained yourself, purging out your frustrations.

After a few moments he spoke, his voice shaking you from your stupor.

“Who did this to you?” The base in his voice vibrating against you.

You pulled back, coming face to face with him. You admired him for a moment. Taking in his features for what felt like the first time. He was handsome, his eyes were beautiful and enticing. His lips fixed in a line while he looked at you, not giving away any of the thoughts running through his head.

“I’m so sorry, this was incredibly unprofessional.” You half-heartedly laughed and unraveled yourself from him. “It’s just some stuff going on at home.” You uncomfortably cleared your throat, fixing your clothes again and cleaning your face with a tissue.

“Is it your husband?” He said quietly. He secretly hoped it was.

He eyed the framed picture of you and your husband on your desk. He pictured beating your husband within an inch of his life for hurting you.

You bit your lip and looked at your feet. “Let’s just pretend this didn’t happen, okay?”

Bingo, he thought as his eyes shifted back to you. Your body language told him everything that you didn’t want to tell him. He shifted his attention back to the photo, he memorized it, burning the image into his brain. He vowed he would find your husband and rip him apart, piece by piece, make him plead for his life. He would laugh while he snuffed out your husband’s life. The only person that had the right to make you weak was Dabi and he would make sure of that. You were his and his alone, you just didn’t know it yet.

He couldn’t help but commit how you looked in the photo to memory too. How could he not? You looked ethereal, your smile was radiant, spreading to your eyes. Your skin was glowing, your eyes were bright, and your lips looked so inviting. He couldn’t stop himself from thinking about your lips around his cock while you drooled and gagged around him. It made his blood rush to his stiffening member. That was going to be one of his favorite ways to make you cry. In the photo you’re wearing a sundress that fit you perfectly, the color complimented your skin tone beautifully. He daydreamed about seeing you walk around in that dress, teasing him with the way the dress flowed around you and gave him hints of your body underneath. In his daydream he preys on you, pouncing on you while ripping your dress off you so he can take you properly. Whether you wanted to or not. He almost audibly moaned at the idea of sheathing himself inside you and fucking you like an animal. Your pussy clenching around him more with every thrust until he came deep inside you, breeding you. You wouldn’t be able to leave him if you were swollen with his baby, right?

You noticed him staring at the photo and quickly put it away in a drawer, feeling uncomfortable with the intensity of his stare.

“Let’s get back to the issue at hand. You need to knock off all your shit if you want to have any chance of getting released early. I don’t want to see you in my office again or I’ll throw your ass into solitary, and I will personally beg the parole board to keep you in here for as long as possible.”

Just like that, you were returning to your normal self, the armor was put back together and your walls were up. You glared at him, waiting for a snarky reply.

“Understood, I will be a saint. You have my word warden.” He held his hands up in defeat and smiled at you.

Oh, he would be on his best behavior, he has to get out in order to be able to find your husband. He’ll be a model prisoner if it meant that he would be able to see that man’s life leave his eyes and he would have you all to himself. He wouldn’t miss the opportunity to have you stuck in a prison of his own design.

You resigned and called for the guard to take Dabi away, hiding your face to prevent the guard from seeing your tear-stained face.

That night in his cell, the only thing he could think of was you. He made a list of ways he would fuck you and another list of ways he would put you in your place. The way you would be sobbing while he railed you from behind, his hands locked around your throat, made him hard. It was only a matter of time.

He swiftly pulled his hard cock out of its confinements and stroked it softly. He groaned at the feeling, thinking about how it would feel even better if he was in your hands. He caved into his lust and increased the pace of his strokes. He used his thumb to swipe the precum from his slit, shuddering at the touch.

“Fuck…” he whispered and lifted his shirt up, holding it out of the way with his teeth. Closing his eyes, he thought of how warm and tight your pussy would feel around his cock. How you would clench around him every time his tip hit your cervix, writhing with pleasure and pain when he held your hips down, making sure you take all of him. The strong, fierce woman he sees everyday reduced to the fuck toy you really were. His fuck toy. The idea of you blubbering over how good his cock felt almost made him cum too quickly. He moaned and slowed his strokes, he wanted this to last, he had too many fantasies of you that he wanted to play out in his head.

His cock twitched when he thought of you riding him, desperately trying to please him. Your breasts bouncing in his face while he lies to you and tells you that if you can make him cum in under five minutes, he would let you go. You would try your little heart out but fail, not only to make him cum but you would fail to deny that he makes you feel so good. The feeling of your slick covering his cock was evidence that you enjoyed every second. Then an even better idea dawned on him. Maybe he would make you make you cum in front of your shitty husband. He’d fuck you stupid while your husband watched his wife scream for another man. You wouldn’t be able to hide the shame you felt from cumming around Dabi’s cock, but you wouldn’t be able to help yourself no matter how much you tried.

His pace quickened and he let out a series of whinny moans while his toes curled in pleasure. He was thankful for the shirt in his mouth that was stifling his moans. The fantasy was perfect, you would look irresistible beneath him, your lips shaped in an “O”, eyes screwed shut and moaning for him. Just for Dabi. He was tethering on the edge, pressure building up as he approached his climax. He focused on imagining how beautiful you would look while he fucked into you relentlessly while your husband begs for Dabi to stop. Would he take you again after he killed your husband? Maybe. He would make sure that you were too scared to ever try to leave him. You’d be his to keep, a pet to play with, forever. He came hard as pleasure washed over him.

He laughed to himself as he came down from his high. You were going to be his. He would keep you hidden away, just for him. You’d hate it at first, but he’d break you down and make you appreciate him. One way or another.

The next few months passed by without an incident. Dabi was true to his word and stayed out of trouble. Keeping to himself and watching you from a distance. You went on like nothing happened, only sparing him a glance from time to time. Every time you graced his presence he memorized every detail about you, each time saw you he felt like he knew you more and more. He was obsessed with you, and he knew it.

His life had become monotonous, until one day he saw you speaking to your staff from across the yard. He noticed your lip was busted and eye swollen. You looked like you had taken quite the beating. He saw red. He knew it had to be your husband. He was filled with a blinding rage, barely able to hold himself back from approaching you. He thought about taking out his anger on the poor bastard next to him, beating him until Dabi felt better. Poor guy would be collateral damage, but it would be a win, win for Dabi. He would get to get this rage out of him, and he would be able to see you when you inevitably threw him into the hole.

He stared at you, his self-control weakening every second he saw your beaten face. How dare another man lay a hand on what was his? He was the only one that has the honor of putting hands on you. He wasn’t going to stand for this. He wanted you and your husband at his mercy.

Now.

He let out a deep breath and calmed himself. Deciding that tonight was the night he was going to get out. He couldn’t wait any longer, he wasn’t going to be able to sleep until you were his for good.

It was one in the morning when the sound of your cell phone ringing woke you up. You groggily rolled over in your bed to feel around for your phone on the nightstand. You figured it was your husband, presumably out at a bar getting plastered before he came home to start another fight with you. For months it was the same thing over and over. The smell of whisky overwhelming you while he yelled in your face about anything and everything. Ever since he lost his job, he hasn’t been the same.

You looked at your phone and noticed the call was from the prison. Your eyes widened in concern as you quickly answered the call.

“What’s wrong?” You croaked out, your voice gravely from sleep.

“It’s an emergency! A riot has broken out and some of the prisoners have escaped. We need your help, t-there’s not enough guards here to handle this!” One of the guards cried over the phone, panic evident in his voice.

“What! Who escaped and how?” You scrambled to get out of bed and throwing on whatever clothes you could find. You picked up a tank top and sweats from the floor before digging in the closet to get shoes. Your mind racing with all the possible ways prisoners would be able to escape. Trying to think of a solution to get the riot under control.

The guard listed several names before he sputtered out Dabi’s name. You froze, panic overwhelming you.

Why would he escape? His parole hearing was coming up, he could have been released. It didn’t make sense. You recalled the way he has been watching you over the past few months, the look in his eyes when you made eye contact and you shuddered.

“Okay, I’ll be there as soon as possible.” You frantically hung up the call and rushed to find your keys. You ran to the front door to where you kept your keys, but they were gone. You were sure you left them here when you came home. Your husband must have taken your car; that was the only explanation you could come up with.

You sighed as you pulled your phone out of your pocket to call your husband. You cringed at the thought of having to ask him to come home, expecting him to be too obliterated to be reasoned with. You called him, bracing yourself mentally when you heard the jingle of a cell phone in your living room.

You couldn’t move. Something wasn’t right. Why did your husband come home and not come to bed? He always ended up passing out next to you. If he’s here, then where are your keys? Your stomach dropped and your chest tightened with fear.

You hesitantly called out your husband’s name but received no response. You heard footsteps coming from the living room and the sound of a chair sliding across the floor.

Each sound reverberating through your body, your heart rate quickened, and you started to sweat. You thought about running out of the house and screaming for help, but you couldn’t bring yourself to flee. You slowly tip toed towards the living room, telling yourself it was just your husband. It had to be. You gripped your phone tightly in your hand, ready to call for help as you rounded the corner.

You stopped in your tracks when you took in the sight before you. Dabi was standing in your living room. He wore baggy joggers, a white tee that was tattered and splattered with blood with a crazed smile on his face. His hair hung in his face, but you caught a glimpse of his bright eyes staring at you. Fear jolted through your body when you saw him standing over your husband. Your husband was gagged and tied to a dining room chair, badly beaten and unconscious. You were about to cry out when Dabi pulled a gun from his waistband and cocked it against your husband’s slumped over head.

He tutted and shook his head. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you warden.”

Your eyes filled with tears; your heart pounded in your ears as you tried to process the scene in front of you. Maybe you were having a nightmare. You wanted to believe you were still in bed, but you couldn’t wake up.

“Come closer and hand me the phone, doll.” He cooed at you.

You slowly walked towards him, your body acting of its own accord. With a shaky hand you gave him your phone, never taking your eyes away from the gun.

“Hey, look at me.” Dabi whispered, pushing the barrel of the gun against your cheek to turn your attention to him. Your heart skipped a beat when you looked into his eyes. His blue eyes looked at you adoringly, he smiled as he leaned closer to you.

“You don’t know how many times I’ve dreamt about this moment. Don’t ruin it by doing something I’d have to punish you for darling.” He whispered his voice low and dangerous.

“Dabi. Why are you doing this? Why?” The tears in your eyes spilled over and raced down your cheeks.

“To see that look on your face. It’s just as beautiful as I thought it would be too.” He grinned while he watched your tears run down your face. “Plus, this piece of shit here needed to pay for what he’s done to you.”

Dabi kicked the leg of the chair your husband sat in, causing it to break. Your husband fell to the floor with a loud thud, waking him up. Dabi laughed when your husband cried out into his gag.

“Dabi...”

You tried to reason with him, but no words came out. You watched in horror as Dabi knelt down closer to your husband.

“Now, tell me. What do you think I should to him?” Dabi asked while locking eyes with you. You wanted to cry for your husband, plead with Dabi to let you both go but you couldn’t. You thought of the torture your husband has put you through, the screaming and yelling, the other night when he finally snapped and hit you in a drunken haze.

“Shoot him.” You whispered softly, your mind going blank as you uttered the sinful words.

Dabi burst out laughing, surprised by your response. Truly were perfect for him.

“Oh dove, you really are a force to be reckoned with, aren’t you? I’ll make a deal with you, I’ll do your little dirty work and rid you of this cockroach but in return you’re mine. You’ll. Belong. To. Me.”

You fell to your knees as you contemplated his proposition. Trying to weigh out your options, figuring out which was the lesser of two evils.

“This is crazy...” You whispered.

He smiled tucking the gun away as he moved to kneel in front of you, capturing your face in his hand.

“What can I say, you make me crazy. I’ll let you in on a little secret love, you’re already mine, whether you like it or not. So, I’ll do you a favor and get rid of him,” he nodded in the direction of your husband who thrashed against his restraints. “But first, let’s show him who owns you.”

He leaned in, holding you still as he pressed his lips against yours. He kissed you feverishly, moving his lips against yours hungrily. He bit your lip harshly, causing you to yelp. He used the opportunity to slip his tongue in your mouth and taste you. You couldn’t stop yourself from moving in time with him, your skin burning with desire. You shouldn’t enjoy it, but you did. You hadn’t been intimate with your husband in months, and Dabi’s touch caused your body to tingle, you didn’t even want to fight it.

He pulled away from you and hummed in approval. He licked the tears off your cheek and smiled to himself. This was better than he imagined it. You tasted sweet, your lips and skin were so soft, and he could hear your heart beating rapidly in your little body. He felt his cock straining against his pants, the sight of you making him hard. Nothing and nobody was going to be able to take you from him now.

“Oh doll, you don’t know how far I’m willing to go in order to make you mine. Don’t worry, I’ll make you feel so good that you’ll forget all this asshole. You’ll learn to love how I make you feel. You’ll learn to love me.” He whispered in your ear.

You trembled at the feeling of his breath on your neck. You couldn’t think, speak or move. You could only focus on the heat radiating off of him, the tickle of his breath and cadence of his voice.

You may be a storm; you may be made out of lightning and thunder, but he was a wildfire. He would burn the world down to keep you by his side. He will destroy everything that gets in his way, and he will consume you with his flames. The passion he felt for you fueling him.

He stood up, unbuckling his belt. “Now take off your fucking clothes or I’ll do it for you.”

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This was inspired by a yandere prompt list and a fan art of Dabi that has been living in my mind rent free.

Please let me know what you think, my first yandere/dark fic.

Reblogs and likes are appreciated, please help my spread my writing. :)

Thank you for reading!

[lacrymatoryao3]

First Time for Everything

One Shot Smut with Little Plot

Charles and Arthur awkwardly explore each other. Still working on my main fic, but also am on a Charthur jag.

1,557 Words (AO3 Link)

They needed somewhere private, but not in Saint Denis or even Rhodes. Those were still too close to Shady Belle and would risk the rest of the gang hearing rumors from locals. After hushed private discussions, they agreed to make a return to Valentine under the guise of having a robbery lead. Charles was the one to ride in first to get a room at the hotel. He wasn’t there during the shootout with Cornwall’s men, so the owner wouldn’t cause a commotion with him like he probably would with Arthur.

Arthur waited outside the town, on the side of an infrequently used trail that led to the Dakota River. He smoked two, maybe three cigarettes in a row to calm himself with his binoculars on the side of the hotel waiting for Charles’s sign from the window. As the sun set it arrived. From the upper floor in the room the owner always seemed to put people in, he saw the curtains be pulled back to block out the view of the street below.

He urged his horse forward and into Valentine. He pulled his hat down to make it harder to see his face, hoping no one remembered the great black Shire he was sitting upon. He hitched him beside Taima in front of the hotel and walked to the side of the building where there was an outside staircase to the top floor that avoided the lobby all together. Once he was in the hall the door to the room was on his immediate left. He took off his had and smoothed out his ash brown hair, taking a deep breath and lightly knocking on the door.

Charles answered with his long black hair still damp from his bath. No wonder he took so long. He put on fresher clothes, different from the weathered light blue with white dotted shirt he wore during the long and dusty ride, an outfit he started wearing when they arrived in the South. The one with the black trousers, a faded burgundy red overshirt that he only fastened at one bottom button, and a tanned leather vest that was embroidered with small colored beads in a tribal pattern in strips on both sides down the front.

Arthur just stood there, staring at the man in front of him as if he turned him into stone. He could only utter a strained and nervous “hey”.

“Hey,” Charles replied, a soft and equally clumsy smile breaking from his plump lips, “You, uh, should probably come in.”

Arthur nodded, hastily stepping over the threshold so Charles could close the door. He took off his hat and set it on a wooden chair next to a large standing mirror in the corner of the dimly lit room. His ragged satchel joined it, but not before he went into it and produced an unopened bottle of Kentucky Bourbon.

“I… Brought somethin’ for us.” Arthur said, waving the bottle to Charles.

Arthur opened the bottle and took a sip. The burn calmed the fluttering he had in his stomach, though his heart was still racing. He handed it to Charles, who also took one. They passed it back and forth until there was nothing left.

Charles set the bottle on the mantle of the fireplace. The flames caught his figure and created a blazing halo around his wide, strong, and athletic body. A golden glow washed over his dark skin. Despite having little belief in them, Arthur felt like he was looking upon an angel. His doubts possessed him like ghosts manifesting from the shadows. His heart began to race and get caught in his throat.

What if he embarrasses himself somehow? Neither of them knew what they were about to do. He had only been with women and he couldn’t even remember the last time – 5 years at least. In the world they lived in, two men lying together in the same way was seen as unnatural… An abomination to those religious type of fools.

Another thing was Arthur didn’t see himself anywhere near attractive. When he looked in the mirror all he saw was scars, blemishes where the sun he was almost always under kissed his skin, his crooked nose and chipped teeth from so many brawls, lines that set his scowls into the flesh, he still saw the stains of blood that he shed despite them being long washed away. If it came to that, would Charles even still be attracted to him when he shed his clothes?

It was only a moment that felt like an eternity, with both feeling apprehension and doubt, before Charles returned to him.

“You ready?” Charles asked, more bashfully than Arthur had ever heard from him.

“Yeah…” Arthur responded, “If you are, anyway. We don’t got to if you ain’t.”

“I think we’ll be okay.” Charles assured him, resting his large and shaky hands on Arthur’s waist. He pulled him closer, until their chests were crushed and they both could feel their pounding hearts.

Arthur nodded and breathed, “If you change your mind at any point durin’ this, tell me and we can stop…”

The air became thick as they gazed into each other’s eyes, their minds letting go of any preconceived notions they were taught by the world. Instinctually, their faces grew closer. At first their lips traced, savoring the sensation and heat of their breaths and bodies, until they pressed together. They tried to go slow, soft, building up the flame. It didn’t last very long. Arthur took Charles’s face in his hands, his thumb tracing the large scar that snaked along the right side of his face, kissing harder. He slipped his tongue into Charles’s mouth. He grasped Arthur tighter, greeting him with his own. Their faces burned with a hunger and passion neither of them expected to experience with another man.

With eager hands, Charles gently took hold of the kerchief around Arthur’s neck. He untied the knot and pulled it away, dropping it onto the floor. He unbuttoned his shirt, exposing his broad chest. Arthur let out a low grown as he felt Charles’s rough, calloused hands explore his hair covered flesh.

“I’ve always been jealous of you for this…” Charles muttered, circling the bare halo around Arthur’s nipples.

Arthur chuckled, his face and ears turning a bright red, “Ain’t all it’s cracked up to be.”

They became emboldened enough to fully undress and joined each other in the bed. In Arthur’s arms Charles felt so warm, his plush skin hiding the hard and well sculpted muscle underneath. It excited him more than he expected, his cock beginning to pulse as it swelled. He refrained from touching it, focusing on Charles instead. He pressed his mouth to an area behind his ear, working downward to his neck.

Charles never experienced such tenderness, such attentiveness to the most sensitive areas on his body. His breathing increased, Arthur’s coarse fingers messaging his breast. His head tilted back for a moment, his throat letting out a soft yet high pitched moan. The ache was becoming too intense to ignore. He reached down, taking hold of his own cock and started to slowly stroke it. He looked down and saw how hard they both were. Arthur’s was slightly longer, but incredibly thick. The skin was pulled taught away from head, which was almost purple at the edges. From the tip, a clear fluid wept in long tears that dropped onto the bedspread. Charles took one of Arthur’s hands, leading it downward to replace his own. In return he took Arthur’s. He looked deeply into his beautiful blue eyes, pupils blown in lust.

Charles filled Arthur’s hand. With each movement his shaft throbbed, eliciting a sigh or grunt from the man it was attached to. Christ… It was the most foreign and erotic thing Arthur encountered. It wasn’t enough. He took Charles’s ass and pulled him closer, until their sensitive members brushed. Arthur couldn’t close his fingers around them both. Their hips moved in rhythm, spreading Arthur’s precum until it covered their cocks and they slid against each other with ease.

Words became rendered useless. The only thing Arthur muttered between the two men’s moans was an often unused ‘fuck’.

Charles started to buck more in his grasp, panting with beads of sweat on his brow. His cock was constantly twitching, begging, desperate.

“Arthur…” Charles gasped, “Arthur, I’m going to-”

“Come for me, Charles. Let it go.” Arthur whispered. He was dangerously close too, fighting to keep it before he was ready.

A few more aggressive thrusts, then Charles tensed. His cock erupted, his seed splattering both of their stomachs. It was joined soon after by Arthur’s. He shook, riding the intensity of their orgasms until they were spent. Arthur let go, rolling onto his back and huffing to catch his breath.

They laid in a stupor for some time, paralyzed by blissful relief. Arthur got up to fetch the towel hanging off the washing stand. He wiped Charles off first before himself, throwing it across the room. He opened his arms and Charles rolled over to rest his head on Arthur’s chest, the two embracing.

“What did we tell Dutch we were goin’ out for?” Arthur asked drifting off into sleep.

“We’ll figure it out tomorrow.” Charles replied with a soft and tired laugh.

[whumpyourdamnpears]

Fruit of the Wicked: Chapter Two

CW: lady whump, male whumper/female whumpee, poc whump (whumpee is a Black woman), age gap whump (whumper is an older man), religious whump (Christianity), use of restraints

Thank you Marz, Gen, and Beck for beta reading <3

Word Count: 2,406 Previous Next

Dani’s feet skipped beneath her as she ran to the other side of the kitchen. Behind her, the man pulled himself up from the wall, still rubbing at his jaw. She had maybe a minute before the shock wore off and he’d catch up with her.

She ran up to the other girl in the cabin, frantic.

The girl was pressing herself back against the counter, breathing heavily, eyes wild and terrified. It hadn’t registered to Dani yet that it might be because of her.

“What are you doing?” Dani demanded, panting. “Run!”

The girl looked at her like she was crazy. It was only when they were in such close proximity to each other that Dani could make out the blonde of her eyebrows, the rosiness in her cheeks. Her piercing blue eyes.

The same features of the man, just arranged differently on her face.

Dani backed away from her, now realizing her mistake. Of course the girl wouldn’t run. Why would she? She was clearly part of the man’s family.

The man started to move forward, and Dani knew it was time to go.

The front door slammed into the wall as Dani yanked it open, swinging as she bounded down the wooden steps leading off the porch. She ran down the dirt driveway and quickly turned to see how far behind her he was, taking in the sight of the small wood cabin she’d just run from. The man rested against the frame of the front door, looking out at her. Blonde hair peeked out from behind him. “Let her run.” Dani barely made out. “She won’t get far.”

Dani staggered to the treeline, still staring behind her, before finally turning back around to run. She didn’t have time to wait for him to follow her. The sun was already starting to set, golden light washing over the woods ahead of her, and she had no idea where the fuck she even was to begin with. She would probably get lost. But being lost in the woods was a lot better than whatever was waiting for her back at that cabin.

It was only a few minutes in when Dani wished she had her shoes. Somewhere between the parking garage and the cabin, she’d lost them. God knows why he’d taken them off of her. Maybe he didn’t want her tracking dirt around his study. Maybe he had a sick perversion for feet. The reason wasn’t important. What was, however, was now she was lacking a very vital form of protection against the elements. No shoes, no socks. Just her bare feet scraping across the various twigs and little stones strewn across the ground in front of her.

Dying sunlight peeked through the trees as Dani continued through. The birds screamed as she passed through, flying up from the brush and into the trees. Her feet were raw. Her ankles were itching like mad. Her chest felt like it was on fire. It was becoming apparent how truly lost she was. There was no end in sight to the trees. There was nothing to follow, no landmarks, nothing to take note of as she ran.

If he didn’t find her, would anyone?

A tree branch floated in Dani’s path. She pushed past it and began to step forward.

A jolt of red-hot pain pulsed through Dani’s legs, sending her careening towards the ground. She couldn’t help the scream that ripped out of her throat as she hit the ground, grasping for the source of the pain. Her ankles were hot to the touch, inflamed and pulsating. She gripped onto one of them as she laid face down in the dirt, gasping for air. The sensation continued, the shocks unrelenting. As Dani’s hands clamped around her ankle, she could feel a small, almost undetectable bump under the hot flesh, a bump that hadn’t been there before. Gasping, Dani let go of her ankle and pushed it away from her.

The shocks stopped.

Dani laid there, staring down at the leg she had just pushed away from her, face burrowed in soil and rotting leaves, stupefied. Her ankle still burned with the aftershock, the muscles of her lower legs cramped and aching, but the source of the pain had simply… stopped. Dani began to pull her ankle back towards her, and as she did, the painful sensation came back to life. She shoved her leg away, and again, the sensation stopped.

What the hell?

She knew she couldn’t stand, as any time Dani pulled her legs towards her, the shocks came back. Tears pricked in Dani’s eyes. This couldn’t be it. She’d tried too hard for this to be the end.

As she began to bury her face into the earth to stifle the keening noise that’d begun to come out of her mouth, she could hear the sound of rumbling in the distance getting closer and closer.

No.

No, no, no.

Eventually, the rumbling of the pickup truck’s engine cut out, and the sound of one of its doors slamming echoed throughout the woods. The birds stopped screaming. Footsteps crunched through the brush, making their way towards her. Eventually, the footsteps reached the clearing, stopping right beside her.

“Are you proud of yourself?” The man asked.

Dani said nothing as she turned her head to look over at him. He stood there, arms crossed and eyebrows cocked as he stared down at her prone form. She could only imagine how pitiful she looked, face down in the dirt, with muddy cheeks from where the dirt and her tears mixed. She quickly wiped her face, sniffing.

“You weren’t very successful, you know. Only got about a mile out before you hit the fence line.” He looked past her, sighing.

Fence line?

As the man reached down to grab her leg, Dani began kicking wildly to avoid his hands, stopping only when another shock hit her ankle. “What am I gonna do with you?” He muttered, wrapping his hand around the bottom of her calf. Her skin burned where he touched her.

As the man pulled her towards him, the movement shifted Dani from her shoulder onto her back, her head bouncing against the earth as he dragged her forward. “You know,” he said, grunting. “I think there’s a lesson to be learned here. And I’m getting the feeling you only learn with experience.” He twisted her around so her foot was just over where she’d been laying, her back a few feet behind it. “You see, years ago, I had an electric fence dug around the property for situations just like this. Now, you don’t got a collar on or nothin’ to set it off, then you could just find a way to take it off, but I found another means to get the same reaction.” He fondled the skin around her ankle, and as he did, a small lump rolled around under his fingertips.

Son of a bitch.

“It seems like you already found out what happens when you step onto the fence line, but I think it’d be good for the both of us if we revisited that.”

Before Dani could say a word, the man was already dragging her back over the spot where she had fallen. Try as she might, the scream that ripped out of her throat once her leg made contact with the fence couldn’t be stopped. The fire erupting from her ankle traveled up her leg and hips and into her chest, burning everything in its path. It was too much. She couldn’t breathe. Her attempts to crawl back from the spot were unsuccessful, as the man’s hold on her ankle was too strong for her to break. She could feel her body begin to flail from the pain, her arms smacking down onto the ground.

Before long, the man pulled her leg off of the fence line. Dani gasped for air as the sensation stopped, going still. Dropping her leg, the man walked to her side, bent down, and quietly said, “Next time you run, I’m leaving you out here.”

Dani laid there for a moment, panting for air, as the man stayed crouched beside her.

“Do you think you’ve learned your lesson yet?”

Dani swallowed, nodding.

“And what’ll happen if you try something like this again?”

Dani said nothing. The man began to reach for her leg again. “You’ll leave me out here,” Dani croaked, throat raw from screaming.

“Damn right, I will.” The man glanced behind him and sighed. “It’s getting dark. We better get movin’.”

As the man dug his arm under her legs and back to lift her up, Dani squirmed, uncomfortable from the proximity. The man gave her a scathing look. She stopped squirming. He hoisted her off the ground like she was nothing, carrying her through the brush towards the bed of his red pickup truck. Dani did her best to resist leaning her body against his as he carried her, but there was only so much distance she could put between the two of them while she was in his arms. He was probably strong enough to outpower her physically, if it came to it. Definitely strong enough to toss Dani into the bed of his truck like she was a sack of potatoes.

Dani swore to herself as she hit the truck bed with a resounding thud, curling in on herself once she was in it. She’d fucked up. She had one chance, and she had managed to fuck it up. She should’ve noticed that something weird was going on with her legs. Then she could’ve done something about it, before she decided to make a run for it and effectively fuck up any shot she could’ve had at freedom.

The truck rumbled as it started, and soon it was pulling out of the trees and down the beaten dirt road it drove up on. Dani almost had the mind to throw herself out of the truck bed, but didn’t in the interest of less pain. It didn’t matter. The drive decided to throw her around the truck bed anyways.

It felt like forever when the truck finally pulled to a stop. She could hear the ignition turn off and the keys jingle as they left the key fob before the eventual click and swing of the truck door opening. Dani nearly jumped out of her skin as the door slammed shut, scrambling to sit up before he got to the back of the truck.

When the tailgate swung open, he was there, offering his hand.

“What are you doing?” Dani asked, eyeing his hand in disgust.

“Offering you a hand down.” The man said. “Unless, of course, you’d like to brave the way down yourself.”

Dani glanced down the foot of the truck bed. The drop to the ground was steep, probably too steep for her to jump down onto without her knees buckling. If she fell now, there was no guarantee he’d help her back up.

She took his hand.

The contact was brief, but it made her skin crawl all the same.

As soon as Dani’s feet settled onto the dirt, the man pulled his hand away from hers and started walking back to the cabin. When Dani didn’t follow, he turned around and said, “What, did you think I was gonna help you walk the rest of the way back? You ran out on your own two feet, surely you can walk back on them.”

Asshole, Dani thought to herself as she took a tentative step forward. Her ankles practically screamed as she moved, threatening to give out the further she walked. She took another wobbling step. And another. Every step was hell, but all Dani could do was grit her teeth and keep moving.

Moving got easier once she reached the stair railing that led up to the cabin porch, but hurt more as she pulled herself up the steps. One ankle finally gave out on her when she hit the second step, nearly sending her hurdling down the steps before she threw her body onto the railing. The man said nothing as it happened. He just watched her from the top of the steps, patient as a saint.

When she reached the door frame, she caught a quick glimpse of the girl from before before she disappeared behind the hall wall. The only thing Dani could make out from her were the slender fingers wrapped around the edge of the wall and the wave of hair that hung out from beyond it. Behind Dani came the man, who crossed the cabin within a few strides and stood at the doorway of the study they came from minutes ago, expectant. She limped her way over to him, and then past the doors. The man led her back to the ring in the floor and gestured toward it. “Sit down.” He told her, poking at her ankle with his boot.

Dani trembled as she sat on the floor next to the ring. She should be fighting back, but then what? There was nowhere to run, no escape she’d be able to find tonight. The man clamped the cuff around her ankle, produced the key from around his neck, and locked it into place. “You know, things would’ve been so much easier for you if you hadn’t decided to run.”

“Had to try,” Dani grumbled as the man let go of her ankle.

He didn’t even acknowledge her as he made his way to the door. “We’ll be seeing each other in the morning,” was all he said before shutting and locking the double doors behind him. The lights followed him, plunging Dani into darkness.

She couldn’t help herself as the tears began to pour down her dirty cheeks. She laid herself down onto the floor and curled into a ball, letting the tears run off her face and into her tangled curls. What the hell was she gonna do now? She couldn’t run with whatever the fuck was in her ankles, and she was in the middle of nowhere. Dani had gotten herself into enough situations to know which ones she could and couldn’t get out of on her own. She wasn’t getting out of this one by herself.

Dani hiccuped with sobs. She knew no one was coming. She was going to die here, and he was going to enjoy every second of it.

Taglist: @flowersarefreetherapy, @generic-whumperz, @lektricwhump, @heartinthehospital, @deluxewhump, @another-whump-sideblog, @pigeonwhumps,

[shes-some-other-where]

June of Doom Day 9, Day 12, Day 25

“I made a mistake.” | “I can’t stand seeing you like this.” | Guilt

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Contains: royal whump, lady whump + dudewhump, restraints, gagged/muzzled, death mention, grief, collar (implied), threats

WC: 740

One grievous mistake

“Would you like to see your sister?”

The seer nodded, clenching his jaw around the bit between his teeth. How humiliating it would be to have her see him like this: weak, overpowered, bound, reduced to such a pathetic state. But his pride withered. Stronger, much stronger, was the need to know she was alive.

The usurper smirked and departed without another word, though it seemed he did not tread far. His voice, full of harsh, throaty notes that bespoke a deeper darkness than his cold grey eyes conveyed, drifted in through the open door as he gave orders to the guards outside: “Bring the girl.”

The girl. Not the princess, not Her Highness. Her title gone, sundered and burned on the pyre of their old life. Along with their family. Along with . . . everything.

The girl—his sister—the only family he had left.

The grief struck him so suddenly and with such violence, he gagged on a wave of nausea and convulsed in panic that he would die after all, choking to death on his own despair. Dead. They were dead. His mother, his father, his brother, who had still been round-faced and bright-eyed with youth. Tenacious and wild, outspoken and courageous.

And dead.

Yet he, a crown prince deserving of no crown and nobody’s veneration, lived. Why? What had stayed the usurper’s hand, stopped that blade from spilling his blood, too? A stroke of cruel mischance? An unhappy, wretched mistake?

It was clear, all too clear: his whole life had been one grievous mistake.

What if . . .

“Now. Hold still.” The usurper reappeared suddenly, clutching something in his hand. The seer shrank away, but where he could go? Nowhere.

Something pressed against his neck, snug and cold. The seer went rigid, certain he was about to be strangled, but the pressure did not tighten.

“There.”

No yanking, no choking, and no explanation. Whatever the prince had hung around his neck, it caused no further pain, but its purpose remained a mystery.

“What is this?” the seer demanded, but if the prince understood the garbled question, he did not deign to answer.

At that moment, rapid footsteps caught his attention, pattering down what sounded to be an echoing stone staircase, then over the dungeon floor.

“Let me in to see him, please!”

His sister’s voice gasped through the rank, rancid air. He straightened, dizzy with relief—and with concern.

She burst through the door.

A disgruntled-looking guard followed her, clinging tightly to the tail of a rope whose other end was wrapped around her wrists. She strained, trying to reach the seer, as he did the same in an effort to reach her, shouting uselessly into the muzzle.

“Let her go, you bastard!”

She seemed, as far as he could tell, unharmed: a faint crimson stained marred her throat, as if blood had dried there and then been weakly washed away, and she still wore her nightclothes, diaphanous and revealing to her captors in a way that made his stomach turn. If she realized or was bothered, though, she hid it well.

“Please,” she said, her eyes wide and desperate as she pleaded with the usurper, “untie me, let me go to him. Look at him—what have you—”

The prince tutted, grabbing her arm and wrenching her toward him. As the soldier released the end of the rope, the prince lifted her bound hands as if to inspect them. “What’s this, now? Disgraceful. What did you do?”

“Nothing,” she said, pale as her nightgown, “nothing, I just—”

“She was fussing with the window when we went to get her,” said the soldier, cutting her off. “Trying to get it open. Looking for a way out.”

“Is that so?”

His sister didn’t answer, instead stealing a glance away to meet her brother’s gaze.

Quick as lightning, the usurper slapped her.

She cried out, her head whipping sideways, and the seer roared. Neither protest changed a thing.

“I asked you a question. Is it true? Were you trying to open your window?”

“Yes, but—”

Once again, the soldier spoke over her, letting her protest crumble into defeated silence. “Leave to speak, Your Highness?”

The usurper smirked. “Granted.”

“This one will turn on you, my lord. On us all.” The soldier fingered his sword, eyeing the two former royals with distaste. “She isn’t worth the trouble she’ll cause. Let me kill her for you. Let me kill them both.”

June of Doom Masterlist

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@juneofdoom

All my writing is original. Feel welcome to interact/comment/reblog. Pls don’t steal or repost.

[acourtofwhatthefuck]

Coming Home (Part 5)

Azriel x Reader

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

Warnings: Light mention of scarring.

⧪

“What do you think?” 

Mor’s hands gripped your shoulders. She spun you around in one fluid movement and held you still. Forced you to face your own reflection.

Immediately, your eyebrows rose. “I think…” Your fingers pinched at your dress – what there was of a dress. “I think everyone’s going to be getting an eyeful of my tits tonight.”

Mor’s stunning face grinned at you over your shoulder. “Exactly.”

The dress was…so very Night Court. Gloriously indecent and sexy, and yet equally decadent and elegant. A tight, dark blue mesh material that had the flimsiest of linings, with cutout details that teased the sight of your breasts and your stomach. Its short length had your legs bold and on show, also.

You just…you never thought you’d have worn something like this, with the scars Tamlin’s father had left marring your body. They were visible now, one poking out from beneath your left breast, another great, jagged silvery line peeking out of the cutout just above your navel. The ones on your legs could easily become visible if the hem off your dress rode up with your movement.

Mor noticed what had snagged your attention, her features softening. She’d been at your bedside every day that Madja had healed you after the attack, had seen the marks when they were gaping wounds. There wasn’t one part of you she hadn’t seen; she didn’t even notice the scars anymore.

“We can change it…if you’re not comfortable.” She told you gently. “...But I don’t think you should feel obliged to cover up for everybody else’s sake. You’re beautiful, scars and all. And wherever Tamlin’s father’s soul is rotting now, you shouldn’t give him the satisfaction of hiding yourself away.”

You nodded, straightened yourself up and held your head high. You did look incredible; Mor had spent the entire day making sure of that. With your hair perfected, your makeup flawlessly painted on, you were a vision of Night Court darkness and beauty. 

And this party was for you, after all.

Just then, the door swung open, and Amren sauntered in. The flowy, silver trousers she wore hung low on her hips, a link of chains and beads hanging around her stomach. Her cropped top was the same iridescent colour, glinting in the faelights.

“Are you ready yet?” She commanded in her usual, clipped tone. “I’m thirsty, and if we don’t go soon, I may start drinking peoples’ souls.” She stopped as her eyes landed on you, her eyebrows arching. “Oh my. Why don’t you just go naked?”

Mor smirked. “Now there’s an idea.” 

“No.” You snorted, sliding your shoes on. “Let’s go. Now. Before Mor gets any other ideas.”

Your cousin’s laughter followed you out of the room, the sweet sound of it easing some of the weight on your shoulders. 

⧪

Rhys, Feyre, Cassian and Azriel had gotten a headstart at The Hewn City – to issue a very firm warning to Keir and his cronies that they were to be on their best behaviour that night.

Not that he often bothered to heed such warnings where you or his own daughter were concerned. His distaste for females had always been painfully obvious. 

You winnowed to the mountains with Mor, Amren and Nesta. All three of them were breathtakingly stunning. You tried not to think about the fact that Elain had decided not to attend your homecoming celebrations.

“The Hewn City isn’t a place for someone such as Elain.” Was all Amren had said on the subject. Your mind became far too crowded for you to give it another thought.

Your breaths were coming in short and fast as you followed the others into the gargantuan structure of hewn, dark stone. The images carved into the walls had frightened you as a child – something the older males had found particularly amusing. Hideous faces of carved figures seemed to stare down at you, as if they’d waited all these years for your return. 

The place was busy, just as you’d always expected from the city tucked within the very core of the mountains. It had such an oppressive, suffocating feel to you that you found yourself rubbing a hand over your chest, trying to ease your thudding heart. 

Mor made a grab for your hand, and together you walked at the front, ignoring the curious gazes of Hewn City residents as you made your way through the giant gates, into the castle at the heart of the city. You could already hear the lilting strum of music drifting through from the throne room as the guards allowed you to enter. 

“Ready?” Mor squeezed your hand outside the throne room. You nodded as convincingly as you could.

Your party was already in full swing as the four of you joined the mass of people drinking and dancing inside. You were eased slightly by some familiar faces – those of people you’d taken your schooling with, or servants who had been kind to you over the years. They offered you easy smiles, knowing not to approach you until you’d been properly announced. 

As if on cue, a door at the far end opened, and silence fell over the giant room as your brother emerged, cutting a figure of dangerous elegance in all his dark Night Court regalia. Feyre was just as breathtaking in a slim, tight-fitting black dress that glittered like starlight. The High Lord and High Lady stepped onto the dais, taking their seats on their matching thrones. 

“Bow.” Rhysand called, his mask of the ruthless, slicing High Lord firmly in place.

Around you, there was a whisper of movement, of fabric swishing against the floor as people bowed over in respect, their noses almost pressed to the ground.

But you — you barely noticed. 

Your attention was on the door they’d emerged from, your mouth turning dry as Cassian entered first – and then Azriel. 

He was a guarded picture. One of indifference. The true face of a Spymaster who was sizing every single person up with little more than a blank expression. 

He was…other-worldy. Ethereal. You weren’t sure you were breathing.

His usual leathers had been swapped for a dark, fitted tunic that teased the cut of his sculpted muscles. His black trousers no doubt housed a whole host of weapons – a thought that had a strange lick of warmth unfurling in your gut. And the span of his wings flared out behind him, bold and proud and devastatingly stunning.

He followed Cassian onto the dais, and the two of them stood either side of Rhys and Feyre. Azriel’s deep, hazel eyes swept the room – and landed on you. 

You stared back, sure, now, that you certainly weren’t breathing. Not as Az’s eyes flickered down your face – and down, and down. 

He seemed to take in the swell of your breasts, the planes of your stomach that were on show, the slight curves of your legs that you knew were trembling.

And he swallowed. Ripped his gaze away. Rolled his shoulders and stared forward.

The entire encounter, from the moment he and Cassian had strode in, must have lasted seconds at most. It felt like hours to you, though, and had left your heart thudding, your mind reeling.

You felt a tug on your hand – Mor. It was then you realised you’d neglected to bow to your High Lord and High Lady just as everyone else had. You could have sworn you heard Cassian snort in amusement as you lowered yourself to the floor. 

“Rise.” Rhys called the second your knee touched the floor, and you scowled. His wicked grin told you he’d done it on purpose. 

Every single person stood, their faces trained on your brother. Males and females alike wore a whole array of expressions in his presence – fearful, awed, intrigued, turned on. You couldn’t imagine having so many pairs of eyes trained on you. 

“Tonight is a truly momentous occasion.” Rhys’s voice echoed out across the giant room, bouncing off the walls. “Tonight, we celebrate the long-awaited return of my dear sister. I hope you join me in welcoming her back to our court after so many years away.” He rose a cup into the air. “To my sister, Y/N. You may all continue – drink, dance, fuck, be merry.”

As if the silence had never swept through the room, the music resumed, the bodies around you falling back into languid, flowing dances. From his throne, your brother beckoned you over with a smile warm and beaming enough to crack the mask he reserved for the Court of Nightmares.

You approached the dais, trying to ignore the hungry gazes trailing you. And equally trying to avoid the profound hazel one that felt intense enough to strip your revealing dress from your body.

⧪

You felt better – after a few glasses of faerie wine. 

With the alcohol warming you from the inside out, it was easy to relax. The novelty of your appearance had worn off, and people weren’t staring so much. Even your uncle Keir hadn’t been too unbearable; although, the night was young yet. 

You stood at the dais, considerably more at ease as you spoke to Feyre, Rhys off mingling with his subjects. Even Azriel’s presence looming behind her, his eyes frequently flickering to you, didn’t have you slinking into yourself. He had to be privy to every word you and the High Lady spoke to each other, but his cold, Spymaster exterior was unflinching, as though he were in a world entirely of his own. His shadows seemed to supply him with remarks made only for his ears.

It was as you reached for another glass of faerie wine that you saw the flash of bright orange hair across the room. Your eyes tracked the tall, muscled figure as he brushed his way through dancing bodies. You’d recognise the golden hue of his skin, the angular jaw, the scar and the intricate, metal eye, from a mile off.

“Is that Lucien Vanserra?” You asked Feyre, swallowing a gulp of wine. Azriel’s gaze immediately flitted to the redhead across the room – a sure indication that he was listening to every word you said. 

“It is.” Feyre confirmed. “As well as him being Elain’s mate, he’s emissary to The Night Court now. He doesn’t usually come to these functions, but we thought it important to make a statement to Keir. That Lucien is part of this court whether Keir likes it or not, and welcome at as many of our parties as he deigns to attend.”

With a slow, thoughtful nod, you studied the handsome Autumn Court male, your first – and only – interaction you’d ever had with him slipping into your mind as he drifted around, cutting a somewhat solitary figure. You felt your cheeks redden slightly.

Feyre didn’t miss a trick as she watched your observation. “Do you know Lucien, then?” She asked. 

“No,” You answered quickly. It wasn’t exactly untrue. “Well – not really.”

“And what exactly does that mean?” The High Lady tilted her head, a smile playing on her lips. When you didn’t answer – when you attempted to stifle your discomfort with another sip of wine – her eyes widened in realisation. “Mother Above, Y/N, have you and Lucien–”

“Shh!” You choked on your drink. But your lack of denial was all the answer she needed. You glanced at Azriel, your cheeks on fire; he merely stared forward, statuesque and expressionless. 

Feyre shot a glance at Lucien – who was edging closer and closer to the dais by the second – and turned back to you. “I have so many questions.” 

“It was years ago.” You told her quietly. “And it was one time. I ran into him on the road when I was travelling, and he was out on Spring Court emissary business. We got caught in a storm and decided to take shelter together until it blew over. Just a one time thing, and I never saw him again.”

“Take shelter together.” She snorted. “Is that a euphemism?” 

You rolled your eyes. “Gods, Feyre.”

There was no chance for her to come up with another witty remark as Lucien’s eyes narrowed in on you, and he came striding over. You supposed you were grateful that Feyre wasn’t annoyed about your history with Elain’s mate.

Even if it had occurred years before Elain was even born.  

Lucien’s black, buckled boots came to a stop at the dais. After inclining his head to Feyre, he turned to you. Cocked an eyebrow. 

“Hello.” His voice was slick, melodious, his metal eye whirring as he appraised you. “Again.”

You cleared your throat, nodding in greeting. “Lucien.” 

He was as breathtaking as you remembered – one of the more unforgettable lovers you’d had. That night all those years ago was a memory that had sometimes kept you warm on cold nights, when you’d been lonely and craved affection, when a gnawing ache between your legs had been hard to abate. He probably had no idea how much he’d helped you with one impulsive night of passion, in a decrepit old cottage in the middle of a storm.

“Curious.” Lucien hummed, tilting his head. “You never did mention that you were Rhysand’s sister when we met.” 

You raised an eyebrow. “And if I had?” 

His grin was wicked, playful – beautiful. “I probably would have left you out in that storm.” 

You snorted, having thought as much. The tensions between the courts had been fraught for as long as you could remember, and once upon a time, your family name wouldn’t have gained you many friends out in the world.

No – when you were out travelling, you’d been almost nameless. Your own person. Not just the little sister of the High Lord of The Night Court.

Feyre cleared her throat very pointedly beside you; like you and Lucien had forgotten you weren’t the only two people in the room. You straightened up, draining the glass in your hand. 

Azriel glanced at you again. 

“Would you like to dance?” Lucien asked you, outstretching a palm. “I’m mighty keen to know who exactly I was holed up in that cottage with all those years ago.”

You faltered – just for a second. Was that a good idea? Eyes all around the room were glued to you tonight, and gossip seemed to worm its way into the most unexpected places, innocent dance or no. And Elain already seemed to have an issue with you. Indifferent as she apparently was towards her mate, that could quickly morph into territorialism if she heard of you dancing with him. Of your past with him.

But this was your party. Your night to have fun. You weren’t going to let your worries about Elain dictate your decisions; especially when she hadn’t even bothered to come. And Lucien seemed like fine company to keep for the evening. 

Feyre dipped her chin – as though she was agreeing with your thoughts, telling you to let go of your worries and enjoy yourself. With a smile, you slid your hand into Lucien’s warm one.

“A dance would be lovely.” You replied. 

It was as Lucien was helping you down the steps of the dais that another voice stopped you in your tracks. Azriel’s.

“Y/N.” He called, your name the first word he’d spoken in a while. The tone of his voice had an odd quality to it; strained and taut. 

Your hand still in Lucien’s, you glanced over your shoulder at the Spymaster. “Yes?” 

Azriel glanced at Lucien and back to you. He seemed to hesitate before he ground out, “Rhys wanted to dance with you.”

You cocked an eyebrow. Certainly not what you’d expected him to come out with. Why he was suddenly speaking to you – speaking for Rhys – you weren’t sure. 

So you simply gave a nonchalant shrug. “So tell him to find me when he’s ready.”

You didn’t wait to hear his response or read his expression as you turned to Lucien and shot him a dazzling smile.

As he led you through the dancing bodies, onto the centre of the dance floor, it was an effort to leave the feeling of Azriel’s intense stare behind.

Tags: @safetypinxtales @historygeekqueen @smartiepants217 @mulansaucey @kennedy-brooke @highladyofillyria @issybee0611 @goldentournesol @percyjacksonspeen @high-bi-andreadytocry @esposadomd @positivewitch @bsenpai @cityofidek @shannonsaid @mis-lil-red

[whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk]

Begged & Borrowed Time (xxv, ao3)

Chapter twenty-five: It's dipping time. (Prologue // previous chapter // next chapter)

Azriel’s blood left a dark trail behind them.

Through winding hallways and past windows overlooking the grey and rough-waved sea, it stained the floor as they cut towards the heart of the castle. Enveloped in walls of such cold stone, even the memory of warmth felt like a fever dream in this place, and yet Cassian did not shiver— only stared resolutely ahead, following the path the king of Hybern set, even as his eyes scanned the walkways, still hoping for a chance to escape. 

And every now and then, Az hissed when the poison in his blood spiked.

The king’s way of reminding them, Cassian supposed grimly, of who was in control.

The cruelty of it made him fix his gaze on the back of the king’s shoulders, focusing on the lack of armour. The king wore only a simple tunic— no leather or plate metal in sight. Nothing but cotton covered that hateful span of muscle and flesh. Suddenly Cassian was wondering how quickly they could get Az to a healer if he were to give in to his instincts and plunge a blade right through the back of the king’s neck— right there, right at the base of his skull, where neck met spine. His fingers twitched towards the blade at his hip, but Azriel’s steps stuttered, and—

Not quickly enough.

Cassian didn’t need to be a medic to know that they wouldn’t make it beyond these walls before the poison stopped Azriel’s heart.

Anger swelled in his chest as he looked at his brother’s face— the bloodless cheeks and eyes clouded with pain. Az’s shadows had fled, and though his siphons were trying, weakly, to shine, they could manage nothing but a faint azure glow. 

The desire to bury his dagger to the hilt in the king’s neck burned through Cassian’s veins, and the hand he had supporting Azriel’s back curled into a fist as they reached a wider hallway, one with double doors at the end crafted of a wood so dark it was almost black. Guards and courtiers lined the hallway, standing silent sentinel, and as they made their approach, the doors were thrown open to reveal—

A throne room.

Vast, empty, and made of the same cold stone as the rest of the castle, the king of Hybern’s throne room was functional and bare, not a glimmer of gold in sight. Tall windows lined with lead overlooked the cliffs, but the night outside was dark and moonless, an unbroken swathe of black pierced not by a single star.

Like the night itself was shying away.

The king’s boots echoed sharply as he strode through the centre of that cavernous room. It was almost entirely devoid of furniture save for the dais where a throne sat waiting, and as the king mounted the steps and claimed his seat—

It was made of bones, Cassian realised with a jolt.

Human bones.

His stomach turned, taking in the sheer number of yellowed bones that made up that throne. Hundreds. Hundreds of bones had been fused together, each one of them representing a life lived— a life stolen by the king who saw no value in humanity at all. Cassian’s jaw clenched. 

Was this the future they could look to, if the king succeeded in tearing down the wall? If he won the war to come? Nothing but darkness and emptiness and thrones made of human bones?

They came to a halt several yards from the foot of that awful dais.

Jurian took up a spot behind them, right beside the doors that swung closed with a resounding, definitive thud. Before them the king leaned back into his throne, arms braced on either side. He tipped his head back, lifted his chin; the arrogant stance of a man so confident in his power that he didn’t even look down at his newfound prisoners as he canted his head to the side and spoke to the shadows clinging to the corners of the room.

“Well?” he said cooly, his voice slashing through the silence. “I’ve upheld my end of the bargain. I expect you to uphold yours.”

The shadows did not stir, and no voice answered from the darkness. Yet the king looked expectantly at the patch of shadow in the corner, and Cassian frowned, because surely there couldn’t be something else they had missed. They had already endured the attack on Velaris, and walked right into the king’s trap down in the depths of the castle. Azriel had been shot. Surely the gods had finished fucking with them by now.

But as the High Lord of Spring stepped into the light of the candles, Cassian thought bitterly that perhaps the gods weren’t finished with them at all. Perhaps they were only just getting started.

Tamlin’s golden hair was dull beneath the weak light of the candles, and his face was drawn, lips pressed in such a thin line that they almost disappeared entirely. He stepped forward, further into the light, and Rhys growled, shifting on his feet. Azriel let out a small sound of pain as the movement tugged at the arrow still buried in his chest, and Cassian could only glare at the High Lord of Spring— and at Lucien, who stood behind him with a face so entirely expressionless, even Cassian could tell that the Autumn prince wanted to be there as much as he did.

“No,” Feyre breathed from behind him, and Rhys snarled once more, softer now, like the gasp that had slipped from Feyre’s lips had wounded him, a knife between his ribs.

Tamlin kept his face carefully blank, but he dared nevertheless to take a step towards the woman that had broken his curse. Even Azriel tried to lift his head at that, his fingers twitching as if they had any hope of reaching a blade.

“No,” she said again, louder now, shaking her head as if reluctant to believe this was real— that the man she’d once loved stood before her now, in league with the king who held them captive.

For a moment there was silence.

Rhys was the one to break it.

“What was the cost?” he asked coldly. “For this alliance— what was the cost?”

Tamlin said nothing, and seated atop his throne, the king smiled like cat.

“We made a bargain,” he shrugged. “I give you over,” - he nodded at Feyre - “and he allows my forces entry to Prythian through the Spring Court. We will use his lands as a base as we remove that wall.”

"You’re insane,” Cassian spat, levelling his gaze at Tamlin— at the High Lord who, once, a long time ago, he had almost considered a friend.

But Tamlin kept his eyes on Feyre, and only on Feyre, like she was worth whatever price he had been forced to pay. Like he’d pay it again, tenfold.

He extended a hand.

Waited for her to take it.

But Feyre shook her head sharply and took a step closer to Rhys. 

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” she hissed.

Cassian lifted his gaze to the king— dropped it to Tamlin, and Lucien behind him. The latter’s face was pale, almost expressionless save for the slight crease in his brow. But Tamlin didn’t blink as Cassian glowered, as he shot him a glare that said he wouldn’t let them take Feyre anywhere she didn’t want to go. He didn’t need to look to Rhys to see that the same murderous expression coloured his face too.

His brother would burn this castle to the ground before he saw her in Tamlin’s arms again. 

Tamlin took another step. The forest-green of his tunic was almost black in the dim light, and deep shadows sat beneath his eyes. The planes of his face were sharp, and there was a haunted look there, a desperate look, as his face twisted into a grimace. He reached for Feyre once more, one pale hand extended, fingers stretching until—

Feyre winnowed out of his reach.

She reappeared right beside Rhys, close enough to touch. How she’d done it, Cassian didn’t know. He fumbled for his own power, tried to graze it with his fingertips, but still there was nothing— nothing but what felt like a wall of solid stone that stopped him from doing anything. Turning his head a half inch, he looked to Mor, who flexed her fingers as if she were trying and failing to call her power too.

Tamlin stumbled, eyes wide, and when he reached for Feyre again—

Rhys snapped.

He lunged forwards, one arm sliding smoothly around Feyre’s waist and pulling her back to his chest. His other hand curled into a fist, darting out and connecting hard with Tamlin’s cheek. The Lord of Spring hissed as the blow cracked his jaw, and Cassian might have let out a low whistle, had Rhys’ sudden movement not meant that Azriel’s entire weight suddenly fell on him. Az gasped, one hand fluttering to the arrow still embedded in his chest, but Cassian kept him standing, his fingers grappling for purchase through the blood that soaked Azriel’s leathers. Mor lurched to take Rhys’ place before Az could slip any further towards the ground, taking one arm and slinging it over her shoulders. 

Tamlin frowned as he wiped blood from his nose. “You see? They are monsters.”

“I’m not going with you,” Feyre repeated. Behind her Rhys growled in agreement as Cassian scanned the room again, searching for any viable kind of exit. There wasn’t one. “You spineless, stupid fool for selling out out to him!” She flung her arm out, pointed at the king. “Do you know what he wants to do with the Cauldron?”

Tamlin blanched, but the king only smirked, still lounging on his throne. His fingers splayed across bone, eyes gleaming with a kind of malice that had Cassian’s fingers drifting again towards the hilt of his dagger. And when one ancient hand unfurled, waved lazily through the air, Cassian watched as the spark in those eyes turned sinister.

A wry smirk tugged at the corners of that thin, cruel mouth. “Oh, I plan to do many things with it,” the king said.

And Cassian didn’t know why, but something about the way the king’s lips curved, the hunger in his eyes… it had horror coiling in his stomach.

It doubled down when the king clicked his fingers— when the Cauldron appeared between them on another raised platform close to the throne. Shivers skittered up Cassian’s spine. He didn’t know what he’d expected to feel, being in the presence of the vessel that had created their entire world. Reverence, perhaps. Awe, certainly. But there was none of either, only a kind of apprehension that made his bones feel weak, a terrible, ominous feeling that slicked through him like oil. And as Tamlin reached for Feyre once a-fucking-gain, as Lucien stepped forwards - as if hoping to try and bring Tamlin back, make him see sense - Cassian couldn’t take his eyes off that Cauldron, or the king, who tilted his head before nodding once to the great black doors behind them.

With a hiss against stone they opened. And through the high archway, four humans stepped slowly into the room, ones Cassian hadn’t thought to ever see again. The four remaining human queens— and with them, a whole host of guards. Some fae, but most of them like the Attor, all wings and claws and teeth. If Cassian had harboured any lingering hope of fighting their way out… it died then, when he saw just how dramatically outnumbered they were.

“You will find, Feyre Archeron,” the king said from his place above them, “that it is in your best interests to behave.”

Cassian’s heart thudded in his chest, and in the moment that followed, the bond there flared to life before pulling painfully taut, like a bowstring about to break. 

The queens parted. 

More guards streamed through the open doors, and the bond yanked harder, so hard that for a moment Cassian couldn’t breathe. 

There were muffled footsteps, whispers— a single strangled sob. 

And through it all Cassian picked up a familiar heartbeat, one that was even more intimately known to him than his own.

And when he finally caught a glimpse of what it was the guards were leading through those doors—

His strength failed him.

Because dragged through the crowd that had gathered and hauled before the king of Hybern, wrists tied and mouth gagged, with the pale tracks of old tears staining her cheeks… 

Nesta.

His Nesta.

His mate.

Elain was there too, and a scream built in Cassian’s throat, a roar, because— 

He had known something was wrong.

He’d known it in his marrow, and his gut twisted now, as sharply as if someone had taken his dagger and plunged it through his stomach.

He could have stopped this.

If only he’d gone below the wall himself two days ago instead of sending a shadow, if he’d refused to relent until he’d seen her with his own two eyes…

He could have stopped this.

And now his mate was standing in a torn nightgown, barefoot on the stone floor, with the skin at her wrists rubbed raw by the coarse rope they’d tied her with.

And when she shivered…

Cassian’s heart was torn from his chest, leaving nothing but a hollow cavity behind. Before he could think, he’d dropped Azriel’s arm and slipped beneath it, lunging forwards and leaving Mor to take all of Azriel’s weight on her own.

But Cassian didn’t care. 

Couldn’t care, could see nothing but Nesta’s face, the steel-blue of her eyes piercing even despite the distance between them. He barely heard Feyre’s strangled gasp, the curse that left her lips.

He unsheathed his blade, feeling it sing in his palm. His anger burned quick, hot, searing right down to his bones, settling inside the hollow in his chest that housed a rage so complete there could never have been hope of containing it. 

“Don’t touch her,” he snarled, interrupting the king and the human queens— their conversation one of eternal life, of the king granting it rather than taking it. Cassian didn’t understand— didn’t care enough to understand. His chest heaved. “Don’t you dare fucking touch her. Let her go— let both of them go.”

The king smirked, mocking and cruel. “Or what, General?”

He tilted his head as Cassian’s wings flared behind him. The blade in his hand suddenly felt unnecessary. Killing power rumbled through his veins, searching for an outlet, and his fingers ached with the force of it. He’d slaughtered a village once, when he found out his mother had died. What might he do now, as he looked up to his mate, held against her will?

Suddenly the urge to rip the king apart with his bare hands was one he didn’t want to suppress. Cassian wanted to relish in it. Wanted to cleave the bastard’s chest in two and feel his old, vindictive blood spill across his knuckles. He didn’t want to end his life clean, with a blade. No— when he glanced to Nesta, standing by Elain’s side as tears streamed silently down her sister’s face…

Cassian wanted to remind each and every one of them that he’d earned the title Lord of Bloodshed.

His fury turned molten, and when the king smirked once more—

Cassian lunged, the most basic, primal instinct within him surging. He didn’t think, didn’t breathe, only moved— hands reaching for her, an agonised growl leaving him as he held his blade aloft—

“I’d brace myself, if I were you,” the king said blandly, turning his head to the queens as he lifted one hand from the arm of his throne.

And before Cassian could blink, before he’d taken more than a handful of steps towards that dais, there was a blast— a flash of white so blinding, so searing, that it was all he could do in the split second he had to spread his wings to protect Mor and Azriel behind him— to take the hit he knew Azriel would not survive as Rhys threw Feyre to the floor.

And just before the sharpest and most acute kind of agony consumed him, just before it took him to his knees, he looked up and met Nesta’s widened gaze, heard her heartbeat stumble. 

Or was it just his own that skipped, seemed to falter?

His knees hit stone with a punishing crack, a rattle that sent him to his hands.

Agony.

Burning, burning, burning.

His wings— he couldn’t feel them, couldn’t move them, and all he could feel was the floor slick beneath his palms, the sticky warmth of blood spilled, and— when did he get on the floor? And was all this blood his? Or Azriel’s Or both?

He tried to move, but—

A scream was lodged in his throat.

Pain speared through his spine, and he couldn’t move, couldn’t move, couldn’t move—

His wings were—

His wings were shredded, and every tiny movement was the most excruciating kind of pain. It rang through his bones, a blazing fire that left nothing in its wake, and he could barely even breathe but—

He heard someone shout his name. A woman, and he knew that voice—

Gods, he knew that voice.

It was muffled, her voice almost silenced by the cotton they’d used to gag her, but only almost, because she screamed his name and he heard it, and he knew, oh even through the pain that eclipsed everything else, he knew her.

Violent need surged through him, a wave that dragged him under. His terror was depthless, a chasm with no end, and every nerve in his body begged him to rise, even as the slight turn of his head sent a fresh cascade of pain tearing down his spine. His need to get to her was too great to fathom, and even when his fingers tried and failed to find purchase on the floor slick with his own blood, he knew he needed to get to her, needed to save her, and—

Don’t touch her.

It was all he could think, all he could breathe, and if he could speak he would scream.

Don’t touch her, don’t touch her, don’t touch her.

A dim kind of awareness began to filter back in through the pain, but Cassian didn’t understand what was happening— the king was speaking, and one of the human queens answered, the words eternal youth echoing off the stone. But Cassian could hardly hear beyond the ringing in his ears, couldn’t concentrate on anything but the agony in his wings and the sight of Nesta standing across the room, her eyes fixed on him, like she was screaming too, trying to get to him as desperately as he was trying to find the strength to rise and reach for her.

Something like a sob clawed its way up his throat.

He didn’t know what to do.

His body begged him to stop, to rest, to close his eyes and sleep, but— she was there, he could hear her heartbeat through the darkness and the pain and the weight of the blood that seeped from his wings, every pull of it a draw that made him long to close his eyes. His arms shook as he forced himself to lift his head, the infinitesimal rise of his chin a monumental effort that his body could only barely take. On the back of his hands, his siphons were hardly glowing.

There was a pleading in his bones, but he ignored it. What good was his life anyway, if Nesta were harmed? What would be the point in him surviving Hybern’s shadowed halls if she did not?

His skin was slick with sweat - or was that just blood? - and he trembled again as he tried to rise. His head dropped towards his chest as he struggled against the pain, against the roaring in his spine, his wings. Each shift was a sharp, flaring sort of agony, the kind that had stars bursting behind his eyes, his vision eclipsed by bursts of white.

His life was measured in minutes now, seconds, and it wouldn’t matter, if only he could lift his head. If he could just get to his feet and tear the ropes that bound her wrists, get her off that dais and away from this brutal place.

Time slipped away, the minutes passing like melting wax— thick and slow. 

The wounds to his wings were sharp, but as Cassian watched his mate be held against her will, a different wound was inflicted, one dealt with a dull and rusty blade. One that would take far longer to heal, if they ever made it out of here. He didn’t think he’d ever forget it, the way her eyes flared with anger and fear and grief and pain. It would haunt his dreams for the rest of his life, if it happened to extend beyond the next few scattered seconds.

He pushed up onto his palms, hands slipping in the pool of blood beneath him. He knew Mor was a handful of feet away, knew Azriel was only just clinging to life, but Cassian wasn’t looking at them. Wasn’t looking at Rhys either, or Feyre, or Lucien or Tamlin. He saw their mouths open in an argument that he was too far gone to hear, and all Cassian could do was look to that dais and note the faces of the men who had their hands on his mate.

Even through the agony, he memorised them.

He was going to kill them.

He didn’t know when— as soon as he could get up, as soon as he could reach for the blade he’d dropped when he hit the floor. He was going to kill them and make it slow.

And then, as his vision began to blur—

Something was said.

Nesta’s eyes widened, another scream breaking free of her as the guard holding Elain forced her forwards, towards the Cauldron. Sound began to filter back in, and Cassian could hear Feyre begging, pleading with the king of Hybern. Lucien ordered the king to stop, and Tamlin began shouting too.

This wasn’t part of our deal— stop this.

Stop this.

It mingled with Feyre’s last aching please, and then—

Cassian watched as Nesta bucked and thrashed against the hands that held her as Elain was lifted up into arms that didn’t care if she struggled. The guards took a step towards the Cauldron, and Feyre fell to her knees as—

Elain was thrown into the Cauldron and swallowed whole by the water within.

Nesta screamed.

Cassian’s blood curdled in his veins, and this time he managed to force himself up onto his elbows, even though his lungs protested and his breaths began to shake. He lifted himself an inch from the floor, tried to rise, tried to stagger to his feet, but he couldn’t, still couldn’t move—

His wings were decimated, and every inch he shifted was a pain so complete it made him dizzy. But Nesta was screaming, tears slipping free of her face, and fucking hell—

The wounds he’d been dealt were nothing compared to that.

Hadn’t he vowed to protect her?

Another sob slipped through his gritted teeth as his fingers slipped once more in his own blood. He tried to breathe, but it came out as whimper. Tried to speak, but it came out as nothing more than a hiss.

His vision was beginning to go dark at the edges, but after a mere handful of seconds that felt like an eternity, he saw Elain be tipped out of the Cauldron. 

Magic hung in the air, thick and cloying, and as the water spilled across ancient stone, Cassian collapsed back onto his hands, unable to hold his own weight.

The middle Archeron lay shivering in the puddle of water the Cauldron left behind, and though Cassian saw Lucien rush forward, saw him drape his coat over her shoulders, he heard nothing but Nesta’s muffled screams, renewed now, when Elain tilted her head to reveal the newly arched points of her ears. He saw the words you’re my mate be uttered by the Autumn prince too, a horrified kind of surprise lining the planes of Lucien’s face, but—

“The hellcat now, if you’ll be so kind.”

Cassian bottomed out as the king’s voice echoed. 

Don’t touch her, he thought once more, as Nesta kicked when the guards holding her led her towards the lip of the Cauldron that had remade her sister.

Don’t touch her, he begged, to any deity that might listen. 

Darkness beckoned, threatened to pull him under, but Cassian groaned— thought he heard himself scream. Agony bloomed in his spine, in his heart too, and he couldn’t take it, couldn’t take much more—

His wings twitched as he tried to get up again, fighting against the pain with every single piece of shattered strength he had left. His vision swam, his ears were ringing, and still he couldn’t move—

But he managed to rise back onto his hands, screaming, breathless, as his chest lifted a fraction from the floor, but even as he dragged himself just a half an inch forwards—

Nesta was thrown into the Cauldron.

And he saw her hand extended, saw his bracelet still tied around her wrist before it was submerged.

And all he could think was—

I never told her I loved her.

And now he was going to die, in this castle, on this floor, watching as strangers’ hands forced her into that Cauldron, took her life and broke it.

He would have roared, had he the strength. Would have brought the castle down around them, if only he could lift his head.

And as time slowed to a crawl, the blood in his veins slowing too, he could have sworn he felt her heart stop— felt it fail down the bond that stretched between his soul and hers.

The entire world had been tipped from that Cauldron, and now Cassian watched as his entire world came free of it too, and when Nesta was tipped out and lay soaking on the cold stone floor…

Cassian grieved.

Mourned.

“She’s…” he managed, but it was broken and quiet, swallowed by the shouting that had erupted in the throne room.

Nesta scrambled to Elain’s side, on her knees. Her skin was pale, her limbs longer, and when her head fell forward to pull Elain into her arms, Cassian got his first look at her ears— perfectly pointed. Perfectly fae. Something deep within his soul cracked— broke. Her heart was pounding— he could still hear it, still feel it calling to him, but whether it pulsed with fury or with terror, Cassian didn’t know.

He tried to speak again, but the room went dark at the edges.

Mine— that’s what he was trying to say. She’s mine.

And as he pushed his head up, as their eyes collided across that room filled with blood and fear, he saw her breath catch— saw her drop Elain’s hand and lean forwards, as if she might run to him. As if she needed to remind herself that he was still alive, despite the blood coating the floor beneath his hands. Her lips parted, the bond tightened, and for a moment Cassian wondered if she could feel it now, the bond— feel it the way he had for so long, alone.

Did she realise— did she know what it was, that pressure in her chest?

He tried to offer her a smile or a wink or anything to ease the anguish in her eyes— but then Rhys was shouting. Tamlin was shouting. Feyre was screaming, and Mor was looking at Rhys with manufactured horror on her face.

Cassian didn’t know what was happening, couldn’t follow, and was aware of very little except the agony in his broken body and the pounding in his chest from where the bond was, even now, thrumming in Nesta’s presence. He groaned against a fresh wave of pain, a fresh torrent of blood that seeped from his wounds.

“She’s…” he tried again.

“She’s…”

“…Mine,” he breathed— but it was swallowed by the noise, and a moment later, everything went black as Cassian was finally dragged under.

Taglist: @hiimheresworld @highladyofillyria @wannawriteyouabook @infiremetotakeachonce @melphss @hereforthenessian @c-e-d-dreamer @lady-winter-sunrise @the-lost-changeling @valkyriesupremacy @that-little-red-head @sv0430

[climbthemountain2020]

Flame of Autumn - Chapter 2

Part 3/25 Also on Ao3!

*Mild TW for extremely brief violence.*

Eris

He hated the Hewn City. And more than that, he hated the fucking Night Court. Rhysand and his worthless “inner circle” as he dubbed them. Pretentious assholes who paraded around like they were better than everyone else, despite leaving their very court to its own ruinous spirit.

Of course, Eris made the effort to be cordial, if not somewhat aloof. Sometimes. Eris knew the importance of keeping Rhys and his bat collection in his favor. Their alliance, though fraught with taunting and toeing the line, was vital to him one day overthrowing Beron and becoming High Lord. Truthfully, he could admit to himself and only himself that he was somewhat jealous of Rhysand.

Eris knew that Rhysand wore the same mask he did. A cool, cruel demeanor allowed him to keep things in check, but it didn’t take a genius to figure out that the High Lord of Night was not that way with his family. Eris could see what his life might have been like if he had people he truly trusted, a family who loved him. He shook the thought out of his head as that trained voice taunted him: No weakness. No consequences.

He straightened his coat a final time as he waited in the stone-walled room for Rhysand and his party to arrive. It wouldn’t do to have him thinking such thoughts once they arrived. Though his mental shields had been honed for hundreds of years, Rhysand could easily tear them apart if he felt particularly cruel. Best to not tempt fate with any sort of redeeming thoughts about the great bat and his gang of merry followers.

He rapped his long fingers against the table in front of him, and only years of training his reactions stopped him from flinching when the massive stone doors abruptly burst open.

Always so theatrical.

Rhysand arrived with Feyre, Cassian, and Azriel in tow. No Morrigan. Not unexpected. Perhaps she’d still tell them one day of the truth behind their encounters, but until she was ready to face that truth herself, he would play the villain. He was a natural.

“So Eris, I hear congratulations are in order.”

How in the fucking cauldron could news have possibly already traveled here? Inwardly he rolled his eyes and outwardly he projected a bored demeanor.

“For?” He refused to give an inch, ever, where the Night Court was concerned.

“We hear a wedding is coming up. A lovely Autumn bride for the fireling.” It appeared Rhysand and Feyre had not told their warriors. They worked quickly to school their shock, but Eris registered it anyway.

“Yes, I’m told she’s wonderful. About the reason I am here today–”

“What? Not excited for your own wedding, Eris? I would think this betrothal is already going much better than your last.” He fought to not grind his teeth, and he watched Azriel tense visibly across the table. So, no truth yet, then.

“My betrothal is going fine. I am not here about that.”

Cassian smiled. “You were certainly willing when you were propositioning my mate.”

Gods, were they ever going to let this go?

“As I have said before, and will say again, I saw her power, and I thought it would be usefully honed in Autumn. I have offered my congratulations to you many times since.” He projected as much exhaustion with the topic as he could into his voice.

More like I saw that your High Lord would mistreat her then hone her into a weapon, but I digress. Seems to have worked out fine.

“I’ve found traces of stores of what appear to be faebane in the oceanside manor.” This stopped them. He had known it would. “The stores were no longer present, but they left behind traces of the stone used for shackles and the powder dusted on arrows as were used in the war with Hybern. I don’t have any ideas where they might have been moved to, but I haven’t seen traces of them within the Forest House.”

The males nodded, then Feyre spoke up. “Do you think Beron is hoarding them with a purpose in mind? His own safety, or an attack on others?”

“My guess would be that he is keeping them to keep tabs on them, as he does all of his belongings. I think if he wanted to use them, or had any use for them, he would have already done so. I would wager he thinks if he keeps them close, that no one can use them against him.” Feyre nodded.

“You’ll keep tracking them and let us know if and where they resurface?” He nodded. He far preferred working with Feyre. Despite their history, she had softened to him after the war, after becoming a mother.

She was young, but practical. She displayed a haughty aura in situations that called for it, but she wasn’t unnecessarily cruel in the way Rhysand could often be. He respected her more for the things she’d been through, even as a human.

“I will. Are there plans in place yet for an attack on Beron?”

Rhysand responded this time. “Our spies tell us that this is not an ideal time for an attack. I must agree. If he is staying close to the Forest House and hoarding faebane, it would be prudent to wait until circumstances change to move forward with any planning.” Eris tried not to deflate visibly. It was the same every time for the past few years. One step forward, two steps back. He took the opportunity to stand.

“In that case, that concludes my business here.” Rhysand stood and smirked at him wickedly.

“See you at the wedding, fireling.”

Matilda

This region of Autumn was stunning, the leaves changing like fires racing through the trees as they passed in the carriage. The ride had been very bumpy, so she hadn’t been able to sleep. Not that she’d felt comfortable enough with her uncle to sleep near him anyway. She wished she’d been able to stow away a weapon or two for her journey. Indeed, she’d planned to, but the servants burst in before dawn’s first light today to shove her into embroidered dresses and rip at her hair until it sat in a coronet upon her head.

She sighed lightly as she looked again at the passing scenery. At least she would be seeing new parts of Autumn. She hadn’t been to the Forest House since she was very young, perhaps in her late teens. She remembered the gaggle of rowdy redheaded boys, all roughly around her age and younger, and the sad, eternal eyes of the Lady of Autumn. She recalled with vivid clarity the savage and cold face of Beron Vanserra.

“You’ll be on your own tonight. I will be expected to eat with the family of the High Lord, and you won’t be welcome.” She snorted.

“A female? Unwelcome in Autumn? How unexpected.” His hand shot out to slap her and she reared back, still unfamiliar even after two years with a male raising his hands to her.

“Enough of that, you wretch. You’d better get your tongue in check before you enter the Forest House. Eris and any other member of the family will have you killed for speaking in such a way.”

“Why will it matter to you?” She sneered. “You’ll have your coin and be gone, spending my father’s money.” For a second he looked like he might hit her again, but instead he settled for calling her an ungrateful bitch beneath his breath and turning back to look at his letters.

“Once I am gone, you’ll have no one to protect you.” She fought every single impulse to roll her eyes at her uncle’s feeble claim to have ever protected her from anything. “You’d better hope you can spread your legs and produce an heir with your mouth shut. Otherwise, I’m sure Beron will find a more suitable use for you.”

She winced at the implication. She knew she needed to rein it in before arriving. She truly was being dumped into a den of snakes, and she easily could be killed for a slip of the tongue.

She looked back to the beautiful woods.

I wonder if I might be able to wander the woods here. Will he even let me outdoors?

She let her thoughts wander again to what he might be like.

Would they share a bed? Would he hit her? Ignore her? Pretend she didn’t exist at all?

She had the vaguest recollection of Eris from her visit long ago. He’d been impeccably mannered and quiet for the shortest bit of time he was even there, and then he had been sent off only a day into her trip. While the other boys had been running wild, Eris had sat at the table and displayed incredible etiquette for a fae of no more than twenty. He’d walked with an almost undetectable limp, and she remembered that his hair was a beautiful shade of Autumn red–she’d even been jealous of the wine red color against her auburn orange.

She wondered if he might have grown to be handsome, or if he would now bear the vicious features of Beron as an adult.

As she rested her head against the window to watch the passing trees, she couldn’t get the haunted eyes of the Lady of Autumn, shining starkly in her memories, out of her mind.

[clementine-writes-things]

The Girl In The Woods pt.2 - V.Z

Summary: It's been some time since y/n and Victor first met, nearing around 3 months. During that time, the two of them had seen each other again 12 times. It wasn't much, but they still enjoyed their time together. One morning, Victor stops by again.

@killingboredom (i started writing this almost immediately after they commented they'd wanna be tagged in part 2! so, enjoy!)

Content Warning: Explicit language, mentions of death, fluff, knife, gun, Victor being a scary hitman and y/n being a sweet girl who can make him comfortable, think about the tiny fish that attach to sharks. They both help each other out :3 that's how these two are.

Songs For Inspo:

Soldier, Poet, King - The Oh Hellos

Call It Fate, Call It Karma - The Strokes

Heaven - I Monster

Good Looking - Suki Waterhouse (I know this song is about loss and realizing you weren't meant for each other, but the upbeat tempo fits the fanfic, so that's why I used it.)

Swan Lake - Tchaikovsky (im not writing out the whole thing u guys know what song it is stfu <3 also this song is SO Victor Zsasz coded...)

(bro I saw this gif while listening to end part of Swan Lake and I got chills...this gif doesn't rlly play a role in this fanfic im just using it cuz it made me get goosebumps...)

Read Below Cut

Y/n stood in the garden behind their cottage, a low cobblestone wall surrounding it. Moss covered the stones, the dark green patches soaked in the dew from the early morning rain. The clouds had parted just a little while ago, sun shining down and illuminating the woods. Mourning doves were cooing, their melancholy chirps echoing in the woods. Y/n sighed softly, closing her eyes as she took in the comforting warmth of the sun. They got down on their knees, the overall shorts they wore caused her exposed legs to get slightly covered with dirt. Pulling up the sleeves of her light brown shirt, she reached down and pulled up a carrot from the ground. Smiling, y/n placed it in the basket beside her.

"Need some help with that?" A voice asked.

Y/n turned around, a wide smile spreading on their face. She stood up, brushing dirt off their knees. She walked over to him, wrapping their arms around him. He chuckled lightly, hugging her back and using his gloved hand to pat y/n on the shoulder softly. The girl pulled away, giving him a simple nod.

"That would be very nice, Victor." She responded.

The two of them walked over toward the basket, getting back down on the ground. Victor pulled up his sleeves as well, his muscles flexing as he started to pull carrots out. Y/n giggled, touching him on the shoulder to get his attention. He looked over towards her.

"Pull them out more gently, we don't want the tops to rip off. It'll make them harder to get out of the ground." She said.

Victor nodded, smiling awkwardly. He looked back towards the vegetables, seeing that there was only one left. Digging a little under, he grabbed the top and pulled softly. When it yanked out, he smiled. The whole carrot was intact, which he was proud of. Placing it in the basket y/n had, he stood back up. Y/n did the same, dusting her legs off once again before grabbing the basket of various vegetables.

"I didn't expect to see you again so soon." She said, walking out of the garden.

He followed her, cracking his neck as he rolled it around. His eyes squinted as the sun peered out from behind a tree and shone on him. Using his hand, he covered over his eyes at an angle so he could block the sun. The two of them stepped inside the cottage.

"Well, it's hard to keep away. The scenery is just absolutely breathtaking. What can I say?" He smirked, removing his shoes as he began to close the door behind him.

"Oh yeah, I'm sure that's why you came. Would you mind keeping the door open? It's pretty warm today, I'd like a nice breeze to blow in here." She asked.

"Okie doke. You want the windows open too?" He asked.

"Oh, yes please. Thank you, Victor."

He pushed open the front door gently, getting blinded by the sun once again. Squinting, he moved to the windows around the cottage. Opening every one of them, he took a look at the scenery around him when he poked his head out. There was a pond not too far from y/n cottage that he would sometimes see duck in. Sadly, there were none today. When he finished opening the windows he sat down at the kitchen table.

"Hey, y/n."

"Yes, Victor?" She asked, placing the basket of carrots down as she sat at the table.

He looked at her, face void of emotion. His eyes were heavy, thoughts racing behind them. Y/n tilted her head, unsure of what was going on. Victor sighed, pulling out a packet from the pocket of his pants. He slid it across the table.

"What's thi-"

Y/n looked down at the table, covering her mouth. She giggled, grabbing the packet quickly. Victor tried to hide the smile that was spreading on his face. He cleared his throat, tapping his fingers on the table nonchalantly.

"Sunflower seeds? Victor..." Y/n trailed.

"Yeah well, I know you wanted some. And, I was doing a hit on this guy who had a garden. I saw he had those so I figured I'd take some." He said, looking out the window.

"Oh, well, that's slightly disturbing. But, I still appreciate it nonetheless!" She cheered.

"It was no big deal." He stated.

Y/n smiled, standing up from her seat. She walked over to him, bending over slightly. Victor looked towards her, confused as to what she was doing. However, his eyes widened when she pressed her lips against his forehead. A blush spread over his cheeks which he quickly fought away.

"You're cute, for a hitman..." She joked.

"I'm not cute, but thanks." He said monotone.

"Hm, what about handsome?" She asked.

Victor chuckled, tracing circles onto the wooden table. Y/n watched him through batting eyelashes. She crouched down, knees on the floor as she rested her arms on the table. Y/n rested her chin on her hands, tilting her head sideways to look at him. He looked at her.

"What about charming, hm? Attractive? Devilishly ensnaring?" She suggested.

"Why don't you keep complimenting me, maybe you'll find the right word soon enough." He grinned.

"I think I'm out of words. I don't have a thesaurus on me." She teased.

"Well, that's a shame. I was enjoying those compliments from your pretty mouth."

Y/n blushed, her face slowly turning bright red. Victor chuckled, crossing his arms over his chest. She giggled softly, looking up at him through he hair that hung in her face. He watched as she slowly stood up in front of him. Straightening his posture, turned the chair slightly so he was facing her straight on.

"What are you looking at?" She teased, running a hand through her hair.

"You." He answered simply.

Y/n, already blushing, smiling shyly and looked towards the ground. Victor grinned, leaning forwards and grabbing her hand. Gently, he pulled her closer to him. With his other hand, he brought it up and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear.

"I can't help but look at you, y/n."

"Victor..." She sighed.

"Hm?"

"Can you move your guns?" She asked, pointing at his holster.

Smiling, he removed his holster and placed it on the table. The guns clunked against the wood. Y/n watched as he pulled out a knife too, placing it on the table as well. He gave y/n a soft smile, teeth slightly showing.

"Do they scare you?" He asked.

"No. They were just in my way..." She said.

Victor's eyes widened slightly as y/n crawled onto his lap. Her legs straddled both sides of him. He had a grin on his face, y/n blushing above him. Pulling his gloves off, he placed them on the table. He reached up, cupping y/n's face with his hands. He sighed softly, looking into her eyes.

"You're so warm." He commented.

"You're so cold." She replied.

Victor looked down at her lips, glancing back up into her eyes. Y/n shifted in his lap, causing him to grunt quietly. He rubbed her cheek with his thumb.

"You do realize I'm a criminal, right? A notorious hitman? A sadist?" He asked, pulling down her bottom lip with his thumb.

"Yes, I do."

"Then why aren't you scared of me?" He asked.

"Because I know you won't hurt me. You love me too much to do that to me. And I love you too." She stated simply.

"What makes you think I love you?"

Y/n placed a hand on his chest, looking him in the eyes. She smiled softly, playing with the buttons of his shirt. Victor watched her as she did this, his heart rate accelerating.

"Well, if I'm wrong, then tell me I'm wrong."

Victor looked her in the eyes, one of his hands trailing to the small of her back. The other hand cupped her face gently. He mumbled under his breath, pulling her in slowly. Victor placed his lips against hers, eyes closing. Y/n placed her hands on his shoulders, giving her stability as she kissed him. Pulling away, hummed, an extremely subtle smile on his face.

"You're right. I do love you..." He sighed.

"Look at that, Mr. Zsasz has fallen for a girl..." Y/n teased.

Victor sat up quickly, grabbing y/n by their thighs. He placed them on the kitchen table, making sure to move the basket of carrots out of the way. Y/n blushed as he stood in between her legs, wrapping them around his waist.

"And look at this, y/n has fallen for a sadistic hitman..." He mocked.

"And I couldn't be happier." She said.

Victor leaned in, gently kissing her once again. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into a hug. Y/n hid her face into the crook of his neck, kissing it lightly. Victor chuckled, holding the back of her head with his hand. He kissed the side of her head as he mumbled something into her ear.

"Me neither..."

~

[hopelessromantic423]

Back to Where We Started

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: After the blip, you fell off the grid. One random day Bucky Barnes shows up at your door and you two have a lot more than just aliens to talk about.

Warnings: lonely reader, talks about the blip in general, kissing, Bucky calling you sweetheart, a little too much dialogue, idk you might hate it you might like it. Angst??

A/N: howdy! I’m too lazy to proofread so be warned.

After the battle against Thanos, you kinda fell off the grid. You didn't talk to Bucky or Sam, nobody. Trying to understand being blipped and how you jumped into a battle you had just lost, it took a tole mentally.

You sat in your apartment floor, sorting though five years worth of mail that was packed in a large sack. You'd smile at the few birthday cards or Christmas cards. Then you'd cry after seeing cards and letters that made you remember all the time you missed.

You were about half way through the mess when a loud knock appeared at your door. "Give me a minute," you called struggling to step over the many empty envelopes.

You didn't care to peek through the peephole, thinking it was some religious order, you unlocked the door and swung it open.

"Bucky," you said in complete shock.

He looked good and more put together than he had ever appeared. His chestnut brown hair was short and he wore a nice black coat that fit like a good jacket should. His eyes were full of worry like a thousand thoughts were filling his brain the moment he laid eyes on you.

You forgot how nice it was too see a familiar face. You and Bucky had always been close. At one point you thought of him as your best friend, and crush. Right on the battle, you told him you loved him. You really did love him. You still do.

So the minute you saw him, all you could do was embrace him. Your arms wrapped around him and his quickly did the same. Before you could notice, a few tears had fallen on his jacket from your cheeks.

Finally you pulled away simultaneously wiping the tears from your cheeks. "Sorry, I'm just really happy to see you James."

"No ones heard from you, I just needed to know you were alive. I was really worried about you."

"I know, I know, I'm sorry. Why don't you come in," you motioned. "Don't mind the pile of mail."

"I had some too. Luckily it all went to the compound so Steve took care of it."

"You cut your hair," you mumbled awkwardly as he stepped over your pile of mail.

"I did. I remembered how much you begged me to cut it, so I just went for it."

"To be clear, I was right,” you smirked while feeling your cheeks getting red by the second. “It really frames your face perfectly."

"So how's the team?” You leaned against your kitchen countertop as you asked. “Did Steve take the stones back?"

Bucky's face immediately dropped. "Steve he dropped off the stones and then um.. he stayed in the past. He's 102 now. Wrinkles and all."

"Oh." The lull of silence filled the room soon followed by a "yea," by Bucky.

"Well, how are you? Are you still at the compound."

"I moved back to Brooklynn, and under my pardon I'm seeing a therapist."

"Is she a good therapist?"

One hum out of Bucky and a uncertain facial expression gave you all the answer you needed.

"What happened Y/N?"

"After the battle, I was just done. I was trying to piece together the blip and then we won a battle we had just lost. I just fell off the grid and went back to the one place I knew and that was here. Luckily it hadn't been touched, but I know that's not the case for many people."

"You could've called me, you could've called any of us."

"Everyone is going through the same thing Buck, why bother someone if the problem isn't that special."

"Sweetheart, are you saying you're not special?"

Your eyes glanced up and he could see the tears starting to line them. He took your shaky hands in his to get a better look at you and immediately wrapped his arms around you and pulled you closer.

"You are nothing but special Y/N. Don't ever feel you're not worthy of help," Bucky's chest buzzed while he spoke while the top of your head stayed tucked under his chin.

"What happened to us Buck?" Sometime after you mumbled your question into his chest, Bucky pulled away but still left his hands resting on your back.

"Loaded question there," he looked down at you with his usual comedic smile. Although, it faded quickly when he saw the serious expression written in your face.

"Sorry, kind of coping with humor at the moment," just as he went to his cheesy self, he was back to the awkward Bucky you knew all too well. "Do you remember the moments right before we all, ya know, dusted?"

"Like it was yesterday," you answered quietly. It broke Bucky's heart as you stared at your hands shyly.

Everyone watched in terror as Sam dusted into a grey flaky material. You ran up to Bucky hoping he wouldn't succumb the same future.

"Bucky, I need to tell you something."

"Hm?" He asked in shock

"I love you," you said trying not to cry, but soon his hand started turning to flakes like Sam

"Y/N," he muttered before his body fell to the ground turning to dust.

What felt like a few seconds later, you could see your hands turning dusty and all you saw was white.

Bucky’s hand cupped your face lightly, taking you out of your daydream state. His eyes were soft as he looked at you, like he could read every thought that was going through your brain.

"Y/N," he said in an almost whisper. His thumb now tracing back and forth lightly against your cheek.

"I love you too. I always have."

A warm smile spread to your face as he said the words you had hoped to hear all that time ago. All you wanted to do in that moment was take a photograph of Bucky’s grin as looked down at you.

“Can I kiss you now?” His tone was close to an excited high schooler. All you did was nod and there was little time before your lips met in a soft sweet kiss. Bucky’s arms pulled your closer by your waist as your hands snaked up towards his shoulders.

"I missed you Buck,” you muttered in between kisses.

Bucky stopped for a second to look you right in your eyes and whispered, "I missed you too sweetheart,” before kissing you once more.

[laangdonn]

hot trains

summary: peeta & katniss find comfort in each other when they can’t sleep on the victory tour.

pairing: catchingfire!peeta mellark x katniss everdeen

a/n: wrote this on a train myself lolol so y’know i was immersed.

*************************

katniss’s bed was comfy, but her body wasn’t.

she was tangled in the mustard silk sheets, large pillows encasing her in the large expanse of the mattress. her skin flamed with heat, hair stuck to her forehead with slick sweat. twisting and turning to find a cold spot in the bed, anything to relieve her skin from the unbearable heat flashes that came from not being able to sleep.

the victory tour had been an absolute nightmare so far. every day on the train was an extension of her misery in the games. it was insufferable having to speak in front of the families whom had lost loved ones at katniss’s hands. she knew peeta felt the same, he’d been quieter than usual since the tour began.

effie insisted she try and rest after the events of district 11, the stop katniss had been dreading the most. and it went worse than she expected, the brutality, sorrow, and complete angst of the events had taken its toll. effie was out of her mind if she thought katniss could get any shut-eye.

and apparently so was katniss herself, because here she was, the dim twilight of the morning grazing the curtains of her windows. and she was alone. still unable to sleep.

another thirty minutes passed, and katniss had officially given up on the futile attempt at rest. with a huff, she stood up, slicking her damp hair back and running a hand down her hot face. the silk nightgown she wore stuck to her body, making her cringe with each step out of her room.

luckily, the lounge was chilly, a relief from the stifling heat of her bedroom. katniss slowly felt her body get cooler, goosebumps arising on her skin as she took a seat at the empty bar.

she played with a chip in the marble, a flaw that made her eyebrows raise. the capitol isn’t so perfect, are they? she thought to herself, chuckling under her breath.

just as she’d ripped the loose piece of stone off the bar top, her perfect was disrupted, the sound of a train door rustling open cutting through her silence.

katniss didn’t bother turning around, recognizing the footsteps as they approached her instantly.

peeta took a seat next to her, clearing is throat awkwardly.

“i didn’t know you were awake.” he said first.

she kept her eyes trained on the chip she rolled under the pads of her fingers, “i didn’t know you were, either.”

he shifted in his seat, “i sit out here every night.”

“it was hot in my room,” katniss announced, suddenly feeling the need to explain why she was invading his space. “i had to get out.”

“me too,” he agreed, “can’t sleep?”

she nodded. and they stayed silent for a while.

“are you thirsty?” his soft voice asked, purring in katniss’s ears.

“sure.”

he stood up, going behind the bar to grab two glasses. he handed her one and they sipped, staring at each other over the cup rim.

“good water,” she mumbled, wanting to say something.

he nodded in agreement, a small smile playing at his lips. “capitol water.”

“it’s cold,” the words tumbled off her tongue before she could stop them. she suddenly became aware that her hands and shoulders were shaking.

peeta’s eyes glanced over her figure, “do you want my robe?” he gestured to the thin, grey cardigan he wore over his pajamas.

she knew it wouldn’t be much to stop her shivering, but she also knew peeta wouldn’t allow her to refuse.

the warm fabric encased her arms, goosebumps retreating back into her skin. katniss found it unfathomable she was so hot just a bit earlier.

“better?” he asked, eyebrow raised.

she nodded, biting her lip. she couldn’t pretend not to notice the way his eyes lingered on her, the prospect of her in his clothes probably made his mind spin. it smelled like him, his musk. it made her knees weak, for some reason.

“we should try to get back to bed,” peeta suggested, gaze peering behind katniss to the window that was now brightened by a soft orange light, no longer blue with the fading darkness.

but she didn’t want to go back to bed. in fact, she would much rather stay here, cold but wrapped in something of him. her heart dropped, dreading her bed and her room and those ugly yellow sheets.

“no!” she blurted, noticing he started getting up at her silence. her cheeks flushed pink, “i- i mean, i think the air conditioning in my room is broken.”

peeta looked stuck, looking from the exit door to his room and katniss, before he too, blushed like a young child confessing a crush. “you could sleep in my room, only if you want.”

katniss didn’t know if that’s what she wanted him to say, but by the way her heart picked up and her mind raced, she wasn’t opposed to it.

“thanks,” she said, suddenly uncomfortable in her seat.

she followed him to his room, the air still cold and his sheets even colder.

this wouldn’t be the first time they slept next to each other, the nightmares she’s been having since the tour started causing him to run into her room, panicked, asking if she’s okay. and all she wants is him and his comfort. she’d lay her head on his thumping chest and try to forget the dream where his heart was stagnant.

but this was different. he willingly asked her to come to his room, no nightmares forcing them together, just the two of them on pure will. katniss couldn’t help the sigh and smile of relief when her body melted under the thick duvet, warming her skin perfectly.

peeta slipped next to her, inching closer and closer until her head lightly grazed his rib cage. they kept both their arms at their sides, not wanting to overstep but still, craving touch.

the tension was so thick between them, compressing against katniss’s chest like her lungs would collapse if she didn’t make a move. so she did, hoisting herself higher against him till her head was above his heart and her forearm was draped across his stomach.

she felt him take a sharp breath at her sudden shift, his lungs deflating slowly as he eased into her. his strong arm slowly wrapped itself around her waist, the two now tangled together. by their own design.

��i feel like i cant sleep without you,” katniss confessed, her words muffled by his shirt.

she felt his chest rumble under her ear as he chuckled lightly, “neither can i.”

“so let’s not,” she lifted her head to look at him suddenly, sunlight illuminating the side of his face, his favorite color blending into his complexion and glittering in his blue eyes like shimmering sparkles. “let’s always sleep together.”

it could’ve been the lack of sleep talking, or the fact that his bed was just so comfortable, she couldn’t fathom her own. but this was truth that fell past her teeth. this was real.

he broke their eye contact to let his gaze flicker to her lips, only for a split second. but she didn’t miss it. his words were breathy as he whispered,

“always,”