#apologies for not usually doing them i get overwhelmed when its more than one image

[gregorygerwitz]

Ok, so I'm new to your blog! (Sorry abt that) but I'm super interested in the super soldier and pirate au's. I tried searching your blog for more info but as we know Tumblr search is terrible, can you point me to more posts on the topic or tell me some stuff about them?

I do have a specific question about the super soldier AU; what super abilities are we talking about aside from enhanced strength?

As for pirate Au (which I am just as excited for) is this based on any source material or is it entirely your worldbuilding? I'd love to know more!

Hi, nonny! Welcome to the chaos! I know I gained a lot of followers during the first run of the firefighter bracket, to welcome to all of you! And you definitely don't have to apologize for being new here, especially for One Chicago things - I'm still kinda new here.

I did give both Super Soldier AU and Pirate AU tags on this blog in an attempt to keep things organized, but you're absolutely right. Tumblr search is a whole mess sometimes. But! Pirate AUs have a masterpost here, with a link to the tag in it, and the Super Soldier AU posts can all be found in its tag here, though it has significantly less content to peruse for that one than Pirate AU (to be fair to me, I actually have plans to write Pirate AU this year, whereas Super Soldier AU is just something I think about from time to time with no solid plans to actually write it)

As for your specific questions...

Super Soldier AU

I was literally joking last night (and this morning) that the experiments kind of just... gave Mouse more autism? Yes, obviously, there's the cliché super strength, and heightened senses, but that makes his life so hard when he already got overstimulated and overwhelmed by too much noise or a stressful day to begin with.

They also kind of reverted his brain to a few base instincts? When he's living his every day life back in Chicago again, it doesn't show, but that's because everything is triggered by stress or certain situations. Mouse was, for lack of a better word, programmed to take out threats - usually, he's explicitly told what those threats are, for the missions he went on for the army, but without that guidance, and specifically without a proper handler, it becomes this vague order that he doesn't know how to handle and process all the time.

It's what led to him doing his single handed rescue of Jay in the situation outlined in the moodboard. He saw his friend in danger, perceived a threat, and took it out, like he was programmed to do. When he's not in a war zone, it just turns into protecting his friends instead of following orders.

Pirate AU

This AU happened because I saw a picture of Sam from a short film he did ~11 years ago, where he's holding a sword? I thought it was hot, so I built an AU around it. In my defense...

He should be allowed to hold a sword more often (yes, I watched the short film and made gifs they're very important to me they get me through rough weeks)

I kind of built the idea of Mouse as a pirate around that image, and then engagement-of-convenience Linstead happened off to the side of him, and the plot fell into place after that. And then I listened to a lot of The Amazing Devil and it's a whole world now. I don't think about Pirate AU enough considering I'm supposed to be writing it this year...

I know I haven't shared much about either of these AUs by way of like... the actually plot of Pirate AU, or any of my world building for Super Soldier Mouse, so if you have any more questions that I haven't answered yet, feel free to ask them! I love talking about these little universes! Thank you for giving me the opportunity today!

[ragnars-tooth]

[ID: Lucy is an older teenager with a ginger mullet. She sits at her laptop with a small green dragon. The dragon’s tail is plugged into the computer like a USB. Lucy says “Yess, #women in stem vibes”. End ID.]

Maybe I’ll re-edit this or upload it again with some more lucy doodles but i just really liked this one

[yandere-sins]

Could I request a yandere vampire viewing humans to be nothing more than food, only to find their Darling stand out amongst the many mortals they’ve consumed over the years?Instead of draining their Darling prey dry in a few weeks like usual, the vampire decides to keep their Darling - to savor, to play with, and cherish in its own way - much to Darling’s dismay at seeing no end or escape in sight. Bonus points if the vamp bite can be pleasurable or painful, depending on the vamp’s mood, and can be used as a reward or punishment as needed. Double bonus for nsfw bits if you’re feeling up to it

I just felt like writing about bitemarks, make of that what you want. Thanks for requesting!

»»———————— ♡ ————————«« 

You winced as they put the weight of their arms on top of yours, tangling their fingers with yours. With your arms stretched out by long, silk fabric and suspended in the air on either side, you had crumbled to the ground, exhausted, drained, spent. Only making you more vulnerable than you already were. You looked up into the mirror before you and at yourself, your eyes lidded from getting no sleep ever since you arrived, and your body missing its energy, skin sunken in as if you were sick.

The vampire let out a satisfied groan, watching you through the reflection in the mirror. Of course, you couldn’t see them in return. You just felt them. You felt their breath against your cheek, the weight of their body as they leaned on you and your feeble condition, and the itching pain from the bite marks that were all over you.

When you were chosen as a sacrifice, you naturally felt the weight of the world on your shoulders. Unlike the many sacrifices you had witnessed over the years, you tried to put on a brave smile, help with the preparations, and even changed your diet. All so that the last few hours of your life would be meaningful. But in reality, you were horrified. Scared and unwilling to die. Creatures like the vampires should be flogged and not appeased with sacrifices they could eat. You weren’t cattle! You were a living, breathing human! However, now that you spent days with them, you realized that it was absolutely impossible to be anything other than a blood donor.

Over and over, their fingertips tapped on the marks they left behind from their teeth. Some started bruising, hurting under their touch. Others were still oozing crimson blood after being torn open. Your life had become much worse than that of cattle. You wouldn’t die as quickly as a cow or goat. You had to endure until you either were killed out of boredom or drained dry to the vampire’s pleasure.

“Tears ruin the taste,” they scolded you, indifferent to the feeling of helplessness and fear you were experiencing. Instinctively, like the people-pleaser you were, you tried to wipe them away, but your hands were still suspended in midair, hanging from the walls on either side of you. If only you could have had a bit of dignity, maybe dying wouldn’t have been so bad. But they restrained you like the sacrifice you were, making you look at yourself in the mirror as they tortured you.

You didn’t even want to think about what they’d do to your body after you died.

Long, cold fingers wrapped around your throat, the mild strangulation uncomfortable yet able to make you focus on it instead of everything else. Deep breaths, the villagers said. Whenever the vampire touches you, take deep breaths to keep calm. Struggling was futile anyway, and you are a sacrifice, not a wild animal. The villagers told you that as if you should be proud of your position, but how in the world could you be proud of what you had become?

One hand wandered upwards to your face, the fingers slim like spider legs, but you couldn’t help but notice that they had begun to warm up, and you assumed that was thanks to your blood. They crept up on you until you had to fear their long nails were going to pluck out your eye. Squeezing them both close tightly, you hoped to at least not experience that horror, only feeling how one of the fingers brushed by your eyelashes, wiping away the tears for you.

Blinking a few times, the hand disappeared, and you heard a very disappointed sounding, “Salty...” from behind you. Twisting your head to look back over your shoulder, you were met with the bright crimson eyes that drilled into yours, their hand slowly lowering from their mouth after they had a taste of your tears and an unsatisfied expression on their face.

“Told you it ruins the taste,” they shrugged, elegantly gesturing that they didn’t care for your tears, and you almost felt inclined to apologize.

“Please...” you muttered, finding that your mouth was terribly dry.

“Hm?” they perked up, having forgotten how your voice sounded after days of silently accepting your fate.

“Please end it,” you pleaded, close to tears again. “I-I’m ready. I don’t care what happens, but I can’t live like this anymore. Please, have mercy!”

You were tired. So, so tired. You wanted to sleep or eat. Go back to your family and see your friends again. But knowing that would never happen, if you at least could die, then you wouldn’t have to suffer anymore.

Instead, fingers wrapped around your chin, their presence suddenly in front of you. Forcing your head back, you were stared at from above, just two red orbs enveloped in darkness, and it was hard to maintain eye contact with them more than ever. “Who do you think you are? Thinking you can make demands?”

“N-No,” you pressed forth through the pain of your jaw crushing under their grip and your bruises ripping open from the strain. “I’d never dare!”

“Good.” Instantly, the vampire’s mood seemed to change back to the usual indifference, and they kneeled down before you. Their right hand brushed down your neck and along your shoulder, getting covered in the red color of your blood before they brought it to their lips, licking it off their knuckles. “I gave you these for a reason. They are a perfect imprint from me on you, so no one will dare to feed off my property. And I’m not done with you yet.”

Speechless, you wanted to say something, but the situation was simply overwhelming. Why would they want to mark you? Why was it important who you belonged to? You were just a sacrificed ready to be consumed.

A flinch escaped you as they leaned forward, and you were expecting another burning bite, but instead, lips pecked at the bite wounds tenderly, one after the other. Again and again, until the kisses became fervent, tongue lapping out, sucking at your skin. It stung and burned, and you had to bite your lip tightly as to not let out a sound. Your body grew hot and felt like it was pulling at your open skin; it was almost too much.

Until you suddenly felt hot breath against your lips, opening your eyes alarmed. With an eager tongue, the vampire tasted from the blood on your mouth before parting your lips, breaths and tongues mingling. You expected to taste your own blood, but it tasted sweeter than you could have ever dreamed about. Sweet, enticing, and hot, that’s what the kiss felt like, even though your body was struggling with the pain and the hand on your throat cutting off more air than you could take in. And yet, as if magically pushed towards the vampire, you only leaned in more, tried to get more of the sweet pleasure of their tongue. Just as surprising as it came, it ended, and you were left gasping as the vampire pulled away.

“Better?” they asked, and through your fogged brain, you weren’t sure you understood. “Don’t ever ask to die again. Remember, you are mine forever.”

With them standing up, you got a glimpse of yourself in the mirror again, and you blinked a few times at the image before you. All over your left shoulder, there was no mark left, and your skin had puffed up again, eyes wide open and awake. The vampire disappeared behind you again, but you quickly felt their arms wrap around your torso, a feeling you knew well by now. “If you’re truly that miserable, tell me. I wouldn’t know. I don’t understand you humans. But know that my help comes at a price.”

Finally, you were able to puzzle together your thoughts. The healthy feeling you had, together with your body looking perfectly fine, must be the vampire’s doing. They must have used some kind of magic or trick on you, but having exhausted themselves by doing that, that probably meant...

Their fangs protruding from their mouth, they dragged them along your supple skin, searching for the best spot to bite down. Fleshy, warm, and soft. Where the blood would spurt out from the slightest irritation. Clenching your teeth, you couldn’t help but try to fight their tight embrace, tried to get out before it was too late. But your struggles were futile, only pressing you up into their fangs until you felt them sink into you inch by inch.

Your ears buzzing and your heart racing as you were fed from, you only shut your eyes tightly, holding back the gasps and moans, not wanting anyone to think this was actually enjoyable. But the sweet taste on your tongue remained, as well as the feeling of their lips against yours, making you wonder what they meant when they claimed you for ‘forever’.

[loousir]

[Satyr} Insecurities

Soft Male Presenting NB Satyr x Male Reader

Dakota

Warnings: Dakota get comforted by you after a sudden breakup and you end up confessing, they realized they like you too, mentions of alcohol (tho not explicitly stated other than beer), two faced boyfriend (now ex)

Masterlist

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

Currently, you are on your way to third wheel for your best friend, Dakota. This guy that Dakota was dating was one that you really did not like. He was all sweet and kind around Dakota but the second they turned their back, he was a complete jerk. You knew you should tell Dakota but they just looked so happy being with this guy that you didn't want to ruin this momentary happiness.

Anyhow, both of you were walking down the street to a small yet busy pub that he had asked Dakota to meet. Dakota had asked him if you could come and he said yes but you knew he would have said no if that didn't ruin his "perfect boyfriend" image. You developed feelings for Dakota years ago, long into your friendship with him but you never confessed. You knew they didn't feel the same so you decided to just try to be the very best friend you could be.

Dakota pointed out the place you two were going and you followed them up to the front door. You opened it for them and they almost instantly spot their boyfriend, going over to him and hugging him. You smiled a sad smile and looked at the two before joining them at their table. He had sent Dakota off to get drinks for the three of you. "How have you been (R/n)?" He looks over to you with a not glare for once. "I'm breaking up with him."

Your eyes widened slightly. "What?" He nods. "Yeah I got hit pretty hard in the face with reality after the last time we met." His whole demeanor had changed from what it was before. You tried to say something but Dakota came back with a beer bottle and two glasses. They set one of the glasses down in front of you and handed the bottle to their soon to be ex who's demeanor went back to perfect boyfriend mode.

You smiled at Dakotas smile before taking a drink of what they got you. "Ah, (R/n)! Did you see the new episode yesterday? It was so good!" Dakota said before going on to ramble about bits and pieces. (R/n) smiled and nodded, chatting about said episode with Dakota.

A few minutes had past with the three of you talking before (R/n) decided it was time to bring the bad news. "Dakota." They looked up to (R/n) who looked like he just accidentally kicked a puppy. Dakota noticed and went to grab his hands to ask what's wrong but he pulled away. You looked away out of courtesy but still listened in. "I'm sorry Dakota. I dont think we can be together anymore. Its really me, not you. You've been nothing but good to me and I want you to be happy but it can't be with me."

"Maybe we'll see each other around. Don't worry about paying for drinks, I'll cover it on the way out." He said standing up to leave. Dakota couldn't seem to process what what happening as they watched their now ex-boyfriend walk away. "Kota, let's go." You said standing and grabbing their hand.

They didn't move but instead started to shake slightly. "Dakota, please." You pulled them up and practically dragged them out of the pub and stopped when you were a block away from it. Dakota hadn't said a word but held on tightly to your hand. "Do you wanna go back to your house?" You asked, looking to them. They nodded softly, more hair moving to cover their usually covered eyes.

You squeezed their hand gently as the two of you walked back to Dakotas place. It wasn't too far from the pub so neither of you saw the point in taking the car. After a few minutes of walking, Dakota stopped, making you look back. "Im... S-so sorry... I... I cant..." They tried to say something but ended up almost collapsing, legs shaking like crazy. You caught them before they could and opted to carry them the rest of the way.

Dakota holds onto you and cries into your neck. You gently rub the back of their head and whisper reassuring words into their ears. After a few more minutes of walking, you make it to the house and carefully unlock the door and close it behind you before taking them upstairs to their bedroom. "I'll go grab some water. I'll be right back ok?"

You head back down stairs, lost in thought as you grabbed water from the fridge before heading back up. You didn't expect to see what you did though.

Your body stood ridgid with shock. Standing in front of you, staring back with wild and afraid eyes was your best friend of 5 years. They looked like they were wearing pants but they weren't. Their legs were covered in dark brown fur, same colour as their hair. Your eyes followed the soft digitigrade shape down to the cloven hooves in place of feet. A small tail to match laid tight against their body.

"Dakota..?"

You breathed out hesitantly. They seemed to snap out of whatever trance they were in for a moment and they started to shake. "Hey... Hey whats wrong?" You asked as you very slowly approached them, as if the wrong step could send them sprinting away. They didn't say a word and you eventually got to their side. You very carefully grabbed their hand but they pulled it away faster than you could blink.

They looked at you with such fear that you could barely even tell if it was your sweet Dakota anymore. A tense moment passed as you had seen his eyes for the first time. You gently took their hand again and pressed their palm against your chest. They could feel your heart pounding, theirs was probably just as fast. You and Dakota had this thing where if one of you were panicking, the other would place a hand on the heart of the one whos panicking. It usually ended with a hug but it was really just a comfort thing that Dakota had started with you when they had a panic attack in public. Once they had seemed to realized, some lever must have flipped as they pulled you into a tight hug.

"(Y/n)..."

You hugged them back, gently placing a hand on the back of their head to keep them close. A silent minute had past before you felt your shoulder getting wet again. "I'm so sorry." It was barely a whisper but you heard it. Neither of you said a word after that. Dakota pulled their head out from the crook of your neck and rested their forehead against your chest.

"I didn't want you to find out like this..." Their voice was small as they spoke, hands gripping tightly to the back of your shirt. You carefully set a hand on their cheek, coaxing them to look up to you. Their eyes were red and slightly puffy from crying. The bright green, almost yellow irises stood out against their pink-ish scleras. "Your eyes are so beautiful." You mumbled out without thinking.

Dakota blushed and looked away. "I know you probably don't wanna talk so let's sit down and I'll go first." You lead them over to the bed and both of you sat down. "Judging by your reaction you didn't want me knowing about the whole... Lower half thing." You paused to look at Dakota who nodded. "Sorry." You said, still processing everything. Dakota shook their head. "N-no... I..."

"I don't know what to say..." Dakota said with a heavy sigh. "It's ok. You don't have to say anything-" They cut you off before you could continue. "(Y/n) I've lied to you for 5 years about it! Of course I have to say something!" You looked away from them and sighed. "I would be lying if I said it didn't upset me that you never told me what you were." Without hesitation, you grabbed Dakotas hand again, staring at it as they let you intertwine your fingers. "But I always had a feeling you weren't exactly human anyways... Of course I wanted to know but I didn't want you to feel uncomfortable around me."

Dakota looked to your eyes, tears welling up in theirs again. You could see that they wanted to apologize for not saying anything but you just shook your head. "Kota, I could care less that your a Satyr. If anything I like you even more." You mumbled the last part but they still heard it anyway, signaled by the blush that rose to their cheeks yet again. Dakota placed their free hand on your cheek and made you look back to them.

"I love you so fucking much Kota. You don't even know. I'm sorry. This is probably a lot on top of me finding out about probably your biggest secret and the... Y'know." Dakota shook their head. "Its all been so overwhelming. I'm honestly surprised I haven't passed out yet." You let a small huff of a laugh pass as they pulled your face closer to theirs. "You seemed to have calmed down a lot." You mumbled out.

Dakota nodded. "Yeah. I guess I'm... Relieved... I've known you long enough that I know you when you aren't feigning truths." They pause for a moment. You took this moment to observe their tear stained face. "(Y/n). I dont ever want you to leave me." Their voice had been shaky since you found out about them being a Satyr but it was even worse when they said that. "I couldn't truly live if you weren't in my life Kota."

They looked at you with wide eyes. "Sorry, said something weird didnt-" You were cut off by a pair of soft lips against yours. You carefully kissed back, tangling your hand in their soft, fuffy hair. The second both of you pulled away, Dakota smiled and pulled you into a tight hug. "Kota-" "I think him breaking up with me was the best decision ever." You furrowed your brows, really confused.

"What? Why? I though you two were happy together." Dakota nodded. "I was happy. But I also saw how unhappy you were. A-and it made me realize... Just how much I wanted to make you happy because you make me happy." You couldn't say anything but just looked at them with surprise. "Can I... Can I kiss you?" You asked quietly. Dakota laughed and nodded, pulling you into a kiss.

Your hands decided to test the waters a bit and you gently ran a hand through the soft fur that coat their leg. They shivered and gripped onto your shirt, leaning into the kiss more. You pulled away and let your hand linger on their thigh. "Did... Did you really mean it when you said that you liked me more knowing I was a Satyr?" You blushed and laughed awkwardly while looking away. "Yeah... I didn't realize I said that out loud."

Dakota let out a gentle laugh and pulled you into a tight hug. "Let's take a nap, I'm tired after crying so much..." You nodded and kissed their neck softly as the two of you laid down.

"Please stay by my side."

I originally started this one shot at the paragraph that starts at "Your body stood ridgid with shock." so sorry if everything above it seemed weird-

---

1890

[delimeful]

my virtues uncounted (6)

warnings: panic attack, fear, arguing

there will probably be an epilogue after this, but we're nearing the end of this story! :)

-

Virgil floated into consciousness with surprisingly little pain, considering the last thing he remembered was bleeding out from a stab wound.

He wasn’t entirely sure how the others’ returned after discorporating-- they weren’t much in the habit of randomly sharing vulnerabilities-- but for him, it was always rushed, his reformation slapdash at best. It was probably part of being Anxiety: he couldn’t stand the idea of being ‘out of it’ for long, not when anything could be happening to Thomas with his influence muted.

So, he would come back to himself with whatever injury that killed him barely knitted back together, and grit his teeth and bear it for the next few weeks while it slowly healed. One of his recurring nightmares was the Light Sides finding out about it, using it to keep him out of commission to ‘help’ Thomas. It seemed… less likely, after meeting them.

Meeting them. Right. He’d done that.

A low thrum of panic in his gut chased the lingering sleepiness from him, and he pushed himself into a sitting position as quickly as he dared, figuring that he might as well test the boundaries of his lack of stab wound pain before he snuck over to check that the core parts of Thomas had all made it through okay. Or before he encountered Remus again.

The first thing he registered was that there wasn’t any pain, none at all.

The second thing was that everything was proportionally huge around him.

The third thing was that these absolutely were not the Dark Side commons.

His heart rate spiked immediately as he whipped his head around, staring at what could only be the Light Side common area. He’d only caught a glimpse of it before, with the whole ‘bleeding out’ thing, and it looked impossibly different from where he stood on the living room table. Now that he was paying attention, he could feel the way Thomas was so much closer here than in the Subconscious, like the difference between shallow water and the depths.

He shook himself. Now wasn’t the time to get caught up in how much easier core Sides had it. There were bigger things to worry about, literally. He hadn’t discorporated, he was in the Conscious part of the mind, and he was tiny-- through no doing of his own.

Oh. They wanted revenge.

Virgil kicked away the assortment of tiny blankets around him and got to his feet, blood rushing in his ears. He’d been an asshole to them while they were stuck in the Subconscious, so they were returning the favor. Why else would they have healed him and turned him pocket-sized? It was the only explanation that made sense.

The commons were just shy of completely disorienting while empty, so he certainly wasn’t going to stick around for something as overwhelming as a Side to appear. He hurried to the edge of the table, eyeing the drop with no little trepidation. Was he lighter like this, or would he land heavily on the carpet below and break half his bones?

He shouldn’t risk it. No point in doing half the work for his captors.

If he could get a running start to the other end of the table, he might be able to make the jump to the couch, though. From there… maybe pushing a pillow to the ground. Could he even move a pillow at this size?

Another shudder worked its way through him, something small and terrified in the back of his mind shrieking at the way everything around him had changed. Had this been how the others had felt? He shook his head, stepping back from the edge and turning to face the other end of the table. He couldn’t freak out yet. Not until he was safe.

There was a distant phone alarm, the generic sort that Thomas had come to resent after using it for his morning alarm for months on end. Virgil felt a chill of foreboding pass over him, and a heartbeat later, he heard the telltale woosh of one of the core Sides rising up next to the table.

Their shadow fell over Virgil, impossibly large, and he bolted.

There was a voice, but he couldn’t pick out the words past the blood rushing in his ears, his own breathing, and the panicked rush of thoughts that came with picking flight. He focused on the jump ahead instead, the length of table ahead of him growing shorter and shorter until he was nearly to the edge, muscles tensed to leap.

The light around him being blocked out was the only warning he got before his view of the world was suddenly cut off. Half a second later, his momentum was halted by a collision with something soft, warm, and alive. He recoiled as sharply as he could, but there were already what could only be fingers curling around him, his stomach dropping as he was lifted clear off the table’s surface, his center of gravity shifting against his will.

If he hadn’t been panicking before, he certainly was now, his breaths coming shallow and shaky, barely bringing in any air as black spots started to dot his vision.

He was in someone’s hand. They could do anything to him, and he wouldn’t be able to do anything to stop it, would probably deserve it, but it would hurt and couldn’t they have just let him discorporate--

The low, calm voice that had been rumbling in the background paused for a moment, and then they were moving again, his nausea growing as everything moved too fast around him, like a car someone else was driving but a hundred times worse.

And then, abruptly, there was solid ground under his feet again. The hand opened around him.

Virgil dropped to his hands and knees immediately, pressing his forehead against the table to both quell his dizziness and find something to ground himself. He was hyperaware of the warmth emanating from the hand that still bracketed him on one side, like a shield or a threat.

The Side was still talking, though Virgil still couldn’t quite parse the words. Despite his incoherence, the hand didn’t even twitch, no underlying threat to whatever it was they were saying to him. His breathing settled a bit despite himself. The implied promise that they weren’t going to outright attack him shouldn’t have been so reassuring, but it was.

His head slightly clearer, he slowly pushed himself back up to sit back on his heels, looking up to see who had found him.

It was undoubtedly Logan, though he’d never seen those glasses and tie at such a warped scale before. He could have figured it out earlier, if he’d just been listening; neither Roman nor Patton tended to be so carefully enunciated with their words.

Logan’s words, right. He was counting, which confused Virgil for a moment-- was this an experiment? Something to see how long the local idiot spent caught up in a panic attack when he was supposed to be a survival instinct-- until he caught on to the way Logan’s chest rose and fell along with the numbers. A breathing exercise.

He was kind of surprised, in that pleasant ‘pessimist-proven-wrong’ sort of way, but it figured that the Sides up here would offer even their captive literal time to breathe. He let himself follow along with the pattern for a few more moments before clearing his throat roughly and forcing himself to speak.

“Hey.”

Logan paused, looking down at him. “Hello.”

There was a short, slightly awkward pause, in which Logan seemed to flounder while Virgil refused to apologize for being kidnapped and reduced to doll size, even if he’d just had a completely image-ruining breakdown over it.

“Are you alright?” Logan finally settled on, his gaze piercing as it swept over him as though searching for injuries. “I apologize for not warning you, but I needed to stop you from recklessly endangering yourself. I didn’t intend for my actions to trigger a panic attack.”

“Yeah, who would freak out over some little old thing like being picked up by a giant hand,” Virgil snapped back sharply, his sarcasm coming out a little less biting than usual after such a draining attack. “It’s not like I’m the embodiment of Anxiety or anything.”

“You are Anxiety, though.” Logan shifted, the motion jarring his hand slightly, and Virgil barely managed to contain his flinch. “And as such, I’m surprised that you would entertain the idea of unnecessarily trying to fling yourself off of a considerable height at your size.”

Virgil squinted at him, trying to figure out if he was serious. “Unnecessarily?”

“Clearly? I cannot imagine why your first solution would be to attempt something so risky, though it’s possible I’m missing some vital context,” Logan replied, his face scrunching up slightly in confusion. “Perhaps the others--,” he lifted a hand.

“Wait!” A surge of panic forced Virgil to his feet, but it was too late. The summons registered, and Creativity and Morality wasted virtually no time in rising up, both of them instantly looking to him instead of Logan.

“Anxiety!” they both cried, and they didn’t sound mad, but that didn’t really mean anything, did it?

They crowded forward, and Virgil couldn’t keep himself rigid this time, his whole body jerking back and bumping into Logan’s hand.The mixed signals-- hide versus get away-- left him frozen, cowering under that pitiful defense.

“Anxiety?” Patton tried, and the concern in his voice was enough to convince him to look up and meet the other Side’s gaze. “Are you okay, kiddo?”

“I’m stuck in a room with three giants, what do you think?” he spat automatically, his shoulders hunching up like they could protect him.

Patton’s mouth twisted in a sympathetic sort of way, and he moved to sit, scrunching his body down slightly so that he was more-or-less level with the table. “It’s all kind of overwhelming, huh?”

With a simple glance from the moral Side, Roman followed suit and Logan settled back on his heels, having already been kneeling. Virgil stared between the three of them, his skin prickling with nerves.

Behind him, Logan’s hand moved. Virgil immediately crouched, ducking his head down and lifting his arms in an ineffective attempt to ward off whatever was happening. There was a beat of silence, and when he glanced up, he found that Logan had simply retracted his hand, apparently convinced that Virgil wasn’t planning on a repeat of his escape attempt. Or that the three huge Sides surrounding Anxiety was enough of a cage in itself.

“We’re not going to hurt you, Jack and the Beanstalker,” Roman lied, doing an impressive job of sounding confused and harmless. “You’re not in the Subconscious anymore.”

A bitter laugh bubbled up in Virgil, one that he didn’t bother to stifle. “Yeah, right. I’m not an idiot, Princey. Remus got you all twisted up over what he did and I was an asshole and now you’re paying the favor forward, I get it. You don’t have to lie about it.”

The three of them exchanged complicated glances, ones that admittedly looked more upset and horrified than conspiring, but Virgil refused to buy the act.

“We’re not lying to you!” Roman insisted, making Virgil scoff. Patton’s face started to take on that kicked-puppy cast, and Virgil averted his gaze, feeling hot anger bubble up in him at Patton’s involvement. How was any of this right and moral?

“I live with Deceit, you’re not going to fool me. Just get whatever you’re going to do to me over with,” he forced out, grimacing when his voice wobbled slightly at the end.

“Anxiety.” Logan leaned forwards, meeting his gaze with utmost seriousness. “Perhaps it will help if you understand our motives for your current state. Can you tell me how much you remember from our escape?”

“Remus found us and turned me into a pincushion,” Virgil deadpanned, a hand moving to settle over his gut. He knew now that he probably hadn’t discorporated, but he could still barely believe that there was no pain there. Core Sides could just do that? “And then you three decided to turn me pincushion-sized, I guess. How is that not revenge?”

“It was to save your life!” Roman cried dramatically, looking very put-out. “And to keep you from going back to the Subconscious and my brother, y’know, the guy who was tormenting us for fun!”

“To save my-- we can’t die!” Virgil snarled, pushing his complex feelings about Remus down in favor of twisting the fabric of his hoodie in his hands. “You trapped me up here, no room, no powers, no height, and you expected me to be grateful?!”

“We weren’t trying to trap you,” Patton interjected, looking between him and Roman worriedly. “And we aren’t going to hurt you, I promise.”

Roman, who had drawn himself up in outraged offense, visibly deflated. “Patton’s right. You know he wouldn’t lie to you about something like this.”

Virgil hesitated despite himself.

“The problem of your current stature is one that we know how to fix,” Logan took the opportunity to add, fiddling with his tie. “Once you summon your room to this level of the mind, you will be able to find security and power within it, and we won’t bother you while you recover your lost energy.”

“Woah, woah,” Virgil held his hands up to stall further explanation, feeling thrown off. “Who said anything about putting my room up here?”

Roman raised a disbelieving eyebrow. “What, you want to be that size around a vengeful Remus?”

“I wouldn’t be this size if you hadn’t meddled!” Virgil snapped, scowling fiercely

“We weren’t going to just let you die,” Patton burst out, looking downright distraught. “You saved us. You didn’t want to rise up and you knew it would make your friends upset, but you did it anyhow. It wouldn’t be right, to just… not try to save you back!”

Virgil gaped for a moment, his next prepared retort completely upended. “No, I… that’s my job. Of course I did that. You don’t owe me for it.”

“Anxiety, Roman prevented your discorporation because he wanted to help you. Not to repay a perceived debt,” Logan informed him, his words stiff but genuine.

Roman shot Logan a look, heaving a dramatic sigh before turning back to Virgil. “All of us wanted to help, Gloomy B. Jones. Who wouldn’t choose to revive a party member who nearly perished heroically on a quest?”

In what universe was Roman calling him a hero? Inside his hoodie pocket, Virgil pinched himself, his confusion rising when everything refused to turn out to be a dream. Even a terrible plot twist like that would be more understandable to him than whatever was happening right now.

For that matter, they couldn’t really be implying what he thought they were implying.

“You really want me to pull my room up here. And be a… a core Side.”

Looking from face to face, he found no trace of anger or mockery, only earnestness. A genuine offer. He shook his head, his heart somehow racing even harder.

“What about when I have to do the other part of my job? The part you guys all hate me for?” he reminded them harshly. “I bet you won’t be so keen on my presence then.” He could easily imagine how well that would go over. Could a Side be cast out from both parts of the mind?

Patton shuffled forward a bit, his hands flapping like he wanted to reach out reassuringly but knew that Virgil would absolutely lose his shit if he even tried. “It’s like you said, kiddo. You want to keep Thomas safe, and we want that, too!”

“You’ve more than proven yourself willing to compromise when it counts,” Logan said, and then added wryly, “Statistically, the three of us already spend a fair amount of our time arguing before we come to a decision anyways.”

“Seriously?” Virgil asked, and Logan gestured to the necktie emphatically.

“That’s right! You may be as contrary as your jittery little heart desires, and you’ll still be in excellent company,” Roman piped up, gesturing to himself magnanimously. After a moment, he let the posturing fade into something more serious. “Anxiety, we don’t have to agree on everything for you to deserve better. Won’t you at least give us a chance?”

Virgil scrubbed his hands through his hair roughly, turning away despite his misgivings. Apart from that first incident with Logan, they hadn’t grabbed him, hadn’t even touched him despite knowing that he couldn’t do anything to stop them. At some point between that first disastrous meeting and now, they’d stopped treating him like an enemy.

He’d have to go back down there and explain at some point, but he couldn’t deny that the idea of not being repressed was one that seemed almost too good to be true. Deceit wouldn’t be happy, but maybe this would be the proof they all needed, that separating the Sides and hiding some of them from Thomas wasn’t working as well as they pretended it did.

It could be an opportunity. It could be… good.

“Alright,” he said, turning back to where they’d all been waiting, “I’ll pull my room up. I’ll-- I’ll try. That’s the best you’re going to get.”

And as the others cheered or smiled victoriously, he felt like maybe it was worth a shot after all.

[heliads]

I Need a Savior

Based on this request: "A songfic for My Demons by Starset? Stiles and the reader are twins. She’s a witch and part of Scott’s pack. The reader helps Scott and the others get rid of the nogitsune and save Stiles."

masterlist

There’s a video playing on your computer. You’re sitting before it, knees tucked up to your chest like you’re a child right now instead of watching yourself as one on the screen in front of you. Your eyes are glued to the two playing figures as if they’ll find some way to save you from the mess you’ve found yourself in, as if by watching what you used to have you’ll be able to have it all back once more.

You’re not alone in the video. The four-year-old Y/N rarely was, and in this particular video her laugh is joined by someone else- your twin brother, Stiles. He’s racing after you in a grassy backyard, in the midst of some no doubt momentous game of tag. He’s shouting something at the top of his tiny lungs as he goes, something about how he’ll always get back to you in the end. If only you could make that same promise now.

The video ends, but you still sit there, unable to move. It’s barely been a few days that your brother was fully possessed by the Nogitsune, but the loss still cuts at you like a knife. Stiles is your twin brother, older only by ten minutes or so. You’ve never had to go without him for longer than a few hours- he’s always there, at home or at school or at your father’s station. This, knowing that he’s somewhere within Beacon Hills but utterly gone to you, is an entirely different kind of pain.

A knock sounds at the door, and you look up to see your father hovering in the doorframe. His attempt at a reassuring smile drops as he sees the video still up on your screen. “I thought I heard voices.” You sigh. “I miss him, Dad. I miss Stiles.” Sheriff Stilinski sighs, walking inside the room at last. “So do I. We’re going to get him back, though. Don’t worry about that.”

You throw your hands in the air, frustrated. “We don’t know that! We don’t know that at all. This is so out of our range that it’s almost crazy. I mean, you barely even started to believe us about the supernatural. You didn’t trust us that werewolves existed, and now my brother has been possessed by a spirit that’s thousands of years old. None of us have any proof that we’re going to get him back.”

Your father winces for a second, then his expression smooths over again. “I’ve heard what you said about all your other exploits with Scott. He never gave up on anything or anyone, and I know you won’t either. None of us are giving up on Stiles, and even if it means that we have to play the long game to get him back, we will. Sure, I may not completely get why Scott McCall went from a kid with terrible asthma to a werewolf, but I know we won’t leave my son behind.”

His voice twists slightly as he says ‘my son’, and you’re hit with the distinct memory that you’re not the only one grieving someone you might have already lost. Yes, you lost your twin brother, but the sheriff lost his son. You can’t snap on him completely. So, you close your laptop screen, forcing the image of you and Stiles away into the darkness, and stand up. “What do you say we get some dinner? It’s late and I’m hungry.” Sheriff Stilinski nods, accepting this best attempt at an apology, and heads back downstairs. You’re left in the dark again, alone.

You can’t help but think through the whole thing over again. Your dad’s right- there’s no way Scott or you or anyone else is remotely considering letting Stiles go. You’ve seen Scott before, and you’ve known him for almost as long as he’s known your brother, so you know for a fact that he won’t give up until your twin is back and as he should be.

Besides, you’ve got another tool in your kit that will help you rescue Stiles- namely, your magic. You are a witch, just like the women in your family before you. Well, just like most of them. Your mother, Claudia, should have inherited the power of the family coven, but the magic seemed to skip over a generation and it went to you instead. Your grandmother kept the power of the witches a secret until it manifested in you a few years ago. You’ve learned spells from her, and you’re hoping that you’ll be able to use at least one of them to save Stiles.

This, actually, is what you find yourself doing the next day. Scott calls you up early, saying something in a rushed tone about how he found an old story about a healing spell in some dusty text in Deaton’s storage. You head over there immediately, and are surprised to find that Scott’s spell just might work. It’s fairly simple, as spells go, but it’ll take a lot out of you. In the spell, you’ll be able to peel back the Nogitsune’s control over Stiles, but you’re not sure that you’ll be able to completely eradicate the spirit’s presence from your brother’s mind, you don’t have enough power for that. Then again, even a brief reprieve for Stiles may help you save him.

So, you, Scott, Lydia, Allison, Isaac, Kira, and the rest head down to where Stiles was last spotted. Derek’s waiting for you there, and he points wordlessly into the Beacon Hills preserve. “I think the Nogitsune is trying to find the Nemeton. He just went in there a few minutes ago.” You nod your gratitude, already slipping between the trees. You used to play in these very woods with your brother when you were small, doing your best to escape your father’s watch long enough to have some fun before the rules came crashing back down around you.

When you see Stiles at once, you almost wonder if you’ve stepped back into your memories. It makes no sense- surely, you should be able to tell that this is an ancient spirit and not your brother. You should know your twin by soul and heart and word, shouldn’t you? Yet, for that one moment, you want to run over to him, sure that Stiles has managed to shake the spirit possessing him and come back to you.

Then Stiles turns around, and you’re hit by a wave of utter wrongness. There’s no other way to describe it- this being is your brother in flesh, sure, but in nothing else. There is no soul in the eyes looking at you, no love or even familiarity in the gruesome smile twisting this thing’s lips. The body is your twin brother, but the mind, oh the mind is so far from being him that it’s almost repulsive.

The Not-Stiles leers at you from where he stands amongst the trees, taking a few steps towards you as if relishing your horror. “Ah. I see my sister has come to visit me.” You shake your head. “I’m not your sister. You’re not him.” The Nogitsune shrugs. “Well, I see I can’t fool you like the others. Unfortunate.” Scott and the others have reached you by now, and your old friend hands you a scanned copy of the spells. You take it wordlessly, although you notice that the Nogitsune’s eyes widen almost imperceptibly at the transferral of the document.

Seconds later, its voice rings out across the forest again, and you swear you can detect an almost nonexistentant strand of nervousness in the spirit’s voice. It’s as if it’s woven trepidation in with the usual array of emotions as it toys with Stiles’ vocal chords. “What’s that about?” You ignore it, beginning to read the spell. You can only hope that it will work, that it will clear the Nogitsune from Stiles’ mind long enough to speak with him.

You finish reading out the spell and stand there for a moment, unsure of what to do next. At first, it looks as if the spell hasn’t done anything at all, and then the boy in front of you that was previously not your brother spasms slightly, bending over at the waist. When he straightens, you know at once that Stiles is back. You run to him, unable to keep a slight sob from tearing its way out of your throat. “Stiles!”

He catches you in his arms. Stiles feels the same way he always has- your brother is well and truly back. He stammers at first, hand rising to his temples as if he can’t believe that he’s back in control once more. “Y/N- it’s me. I’m me.” You muffle another sob. “How are you? Are you okay?” A dark look crosses Stiles’ face now, so mute in its agony that you almost think the Nogitsune has come back to possess him once more.

“It’s bad, Y/N. It’s really bad. I keep trying to fight, but it’s like I’m going insane. Even now, I can feel it circling around me like a vulture.” He grabs at your hands now. “I need you to save me, Y/N. I’m becoming it.” You try to speak, but you can’t find the strength. Already, the power necessary to cast the spell is wearing at you; you’ll only be able to keep it up for so long.

Stiles seems able to sense this, and his voice takes on an additional note of urgency. “I need you to make everything okay again, Y/N. I can’t fight this forever.” You shake your head slightly, afraid to let him down yet knowing that you can’t do much more. “I’m not all-powerful, Stiles. I wish I was.” Something like a broken half-smile flits onto his face. “You’ve always been able to take my pain away, Y/N. Not like Scott, but because of you. We are one and the same, are we not? We’re twins. I know you can do this.”

The spell is clawing at you now, practically tearing you into pieces. You manage to fight it back. You can’t let him go yet- you just got Stiles back. “What can we do? How do I get you back?” Stiles looks panicked, as if he can physically feel the Nogitsune forcing its way back into his head once more. “I don’t know. I don’t know anything. I just need you, Y/N. Save me if I become this demon.”

Then you’re stumbling, lost in an intense thicket of pain. The spell is overwhelming you now, and through tears you release it, letting your thin veneer of control go once more. Scott and the others catch you before you fall, but you’re not paying attention to yourself anymore. No, you’re looking back at your brother, or the body of a boy that was once your brother. The Nogitsune is back, and all traces of Stiles can only be seen in his physical form once more. You feel like sobbing, like breaking down entirely, but you remember what Stiles asked you to do. You have to save him, and that is exactly what you intend on doing.

In the end, you do save him, along with Scott and the others. You barely have time to mourn Allison’s death before you’re plunged into yet another peril, this time to take the Nogitsune down for good. You end up separating from the pack as they go into battle, choosing instead to maintain protective spells around the area that will keep the Oni and other aspects of the Nogitsune from killing your friends. The cost of maintaining all of that magic is wearing on you, but you stand firm. When Scott calls out to you, asking you to give him one last ounce of strength or courage or anything, you do it. Anything to save your brother.

They come out of the school in the end. Walking with them is a dark-haired boy who’s been your friend since birth, someone who was there to take his first steps with you and make you laugh when no one else could. For a second, you draw back, terrified that after all of this the Nogitsune might still be lurking under some crevice of Stiles’ mind, ready to draw him back under again, but when your brother looks at you, you breathe a deep sigh of relief. It’s him. It really and truly is.

Before you can run to him, though, Scott is offering you a small container. “We trapped the Nogitsune inside it, but it could escape at any moment. Can you secure it?” You nod, the spell to contain the evil spirit already running through your head. A second earlier, you would swear that you didn’t have enough energy to levitate a feather, let alone trap a thousand-year-old spirit, but you’re not about to let any chance of harm come to your twin again.

When you finish the spell, you see Stiles straighten up beside you, as if one last chain binding him to the earth has been released, one final shackle broken. You carefully hand the now-bound contained to Scott, and wrap your arms around Stiles. He holds you tight for a second, then steps away, holding you at arm’s length as if he’s almost forgotten what you look like. “Thank you for helping me. Scott told me that you’ve been using your magic to save us.”

Scott nods fervently. “I don’t know that we could have done it without her. Her spells saved our asses several times over.” You can’t help but grin shakily at that. “I needed to get you back. Anything else didn’t really matter.” Stiles hugs you one last time. “Thank you, anyway.” You smile back at him. “Of course, we’re family. You’re my twin, I would do anything for you. Besides, you asked me to save you and so I did. We don’t have to be our demons anymore.”

teen wolf tag list: my savior @underc0vercryptid

[samstree]

Snowball Effect

Geraskier, hurt/comfort, accidental injury, soft Jaskier, Geralt is self-conscious about his strength, angst and fluff and feelings

cw: panic attack, minor injury

Rated T, 2.3k, read on AO3

Geralt has never been scared of a little roughhousing with Jaskier.

He knows humans are not as sturdy as witchers, but really, tackling him into the thick snow and starting a snowball fight is just a little harmless fun during the never-ending winter of Kaer Morhen.

Eskel hisses nervously the first time he sees the bard getting pinned under Geralt's bulk, but soon the human laughs and rolls back on top of Geralt to retaliate. The other two witchers sometimes join in too, though Lambert keeps playing dirty and the bard soon picks up.

Jaskier, the cheeky bastard, keeps stealing kisses from Geralt to distract him from the attack of his brothers. Every time, the witcher falls for it.

Jaskier is a physical being from the start, tactile, unafraid of Geralt's difficult exterior. He’s always been comfortable, at home with Geralt, long before they tumbled into bed together. Later, years of learning about each other’s body and rhythm has taught Geralt everything about the bard, his strengths and limits alike.

That's why it takes Geralt a second to register the snap of a bone.

Immediately pain fills the air around the bard, who has just been tackled to the ground with a squeal and tried to get away from the snow melting into his collar.

"Fuck," he curses under his breath as a panicked whimper escapes Jaskier's lips.

It's his arm, the one Geralt is not holding. The bard now cradles his left forearm, the one supporting his weight a moment ago.

"Shit, buttercup. Are you okay?" Lambert appears in Geralt's peripheral, crouched beside the injured human. Eskel's concerned voice reaches Geralt too but he can't seem to focus on the words.

His world narrows down to Jaskier's pained gasps and rabbiting heart, soon joined by the salty tang of tears.

Geralt scrambles back as if burned.

No. His thoughts are coming in all at once. He hurt Jaskier.

Geralt has never thought – oh but he should have. Why didn't he hold back? Why did he allow it to go this far just because the bard is blind to the danger Geralt could put him in?

Jaskier would never even bat an eye if Geralt threw him to a griffin as bait, because he has no self-preservation instincts like that. Because he trusts Geralt like that.

The world continues to narrow, choking the air out of Geralt. In his blurred vision, Geralt can see his brothers helping Jaskier up and securing what seems like his broken wrist. The bard hunches over in pain and the image overlaps with the incident he desperately tries to forget – Jaskier choking on his own blood, gasping for air.

Geralt's legs almost give out as his breaths hitch and trap in his lungs. In the flurry of snow, the blue of Jaskier's eyes fixes on Geralt, wide and worried.

"...G'ralt..." Jaskier's mouth moves. "...need to breathe..."

Geralt can't seem to hear the call as if it's from miles away. Or is it a plea?

Suddenly, amidst the crisp cold air and the faint smell of smoke, there’s a whiff of fear. Jaskier’s fear.

It’s too much.

"...I'm so sorry," he murmurs with words that sound like someone else's.

He needs air, so he turns to leave the courtyard, and flees towards the northern tower.

Behind him, Eskel's soft voice ushers three sets of footsteps inside. Someone's gaze remains on Geralt's back, burning a hole into it.

 *

The wind at the top of the tower cuts sharply on Geralt's face, but it washes away the panic.

The rumbling of noise subsides in Geralt’s mind as he uses the breathing exercise Eskel taught him in their teenage years to calm down. The older witcher helped him the first time he got overwhelmed by the sharp senses, and he’s forever grateful for it.

Now that the storm of emotions has passed, Geralt can recognize the episode he just had. It’s not often that he has a panic attack in Jaskier’s presence – it’s so much easier to ground his senses when the bard is around with his constant chatter or floral scents.

First he breaks Jaskier’s wrist, one of the most important things for a lutist, and then the attack. No wonder Jaskier was scared, as he should be of Geralt’s unstable mind on top of his witcher strength.

He really should apologize. He hurt Jaskier and he just up and left, not knowing the extent of the bard’s injury. Worry creeps in, almost tipping the calm that just settled.

Geralt’s legs take him down the tower in a frenzy when he almost runs into his brother on the stairs.

“There you are, wolf,” Eskel says with ease, “We were wondering where you went –”

“How is he?” Geralt searches Eskel’s face but the older witcher only looks relaxed.

“Just scared.”

Blood runs cold in Geralt’s veins. Of course. What was he expecting? Jaskier will always fear him now, and maybe it’s best if he can leave the bard somewhere, maybe Oxenfurt –

“He’s scared for you, wolf.” Eskel softens, clasping Geralt’s forearm from where he’s standing a few steps down. “You had quite an episode there. Scared me too.” he squeezed gently. “Are you feeling okay?”

“I’m fine.” Geralt tries to shake off Eskel’s hold and concern. “I broke Jaskier’s arm and you are asking if I’m alright?”

Eskel pauses for a moment before giving him a tight smile.

“His wrist is only fractured. He’ll be fine, wolf. Though you should talk to him. Gods know how he freaked out and won’t let Vesemir patch him up until I promised to come and fetch you.”

With that they walk down the rest of the stairs. The urge to see Jaskier bubbles in his throat.

 *

Inside the potion room, Vesemir is tying up the end of Jaskier’s bandages while the bard holds his wrist out on the worktable. From a distance Geralt can’t discern the subtle heaviness in his expression, so he knocks on the doorframe.

Immediately the most beautiful blue fixes on Geralt with relief. Jaskier’s shoulders sag with a shuddering breath, his lips quirk up into a tiny smile.

“Hey,” he says.

Geralt remains silent and only holds his gaze for a moment before Vesemir draws Jaskier’s attention.

“You should be fine in a month or so. Take it easy in the meantime.”

“Thanks, Vesemir. Guess I’m not getting out of my library duties after all.” Jaskier smiles to see the other witcher collect the supplies and leave. When he passes Geralt in the doorway, Vesemir only pats him on the shoulder in silent reassurance.

Jaskier still sits there, alone and tense, until he pats the chair next to him expectantly.

With the utmost carefulness, Geralt approaches Jaskier as he would when Roach is startled and sits down. Their knees are separated by a hair’s breadth, but it feels like miles.

“How’s –”

“Are you –”

The bard exhales and gestures for him to go first.

“How’s your wrist?” Geralt asks with concern, still smelling a hint of pain and anxiety in the air. Now that he’s close, he can see the slight redness around Jaskier’s eyes, like he just rubbed them dry to hide the tears.

But Jaskier only holds up his bandaged wrist with a wink. “This old thing? It’ll be right as rain in a bit, like Vesemir said. Really, it doesn’t even hurt that much.”

No matter how good a liar Jaskier believes himself to be, Geralt can detect the lie in the slight quiver of his voice.

“You don’t have to say this to make me feel better, Jask.” The love Geralt feels for his bard is overwhelming. Jaskier shouldn’t be the one comforting him now. “I – I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I hurt you. I shouldn’t have gotten carried away.”

“Geralt,” Jaskier answers softly. “It’s okay. It was an accident. Sometimes things like this happen. It’s you I’m worried about, okay?” the bard reaches out but hesitates like he’s not sure the touch is welcome. “Can I?”

Geralt nods. As if there will come a time when he denies Jaskier anything.

With that, Jaskier cups his jaw gently with his uninjured hand. Leaning into the solid contact with a sigh, Geralt feels the weight in his chest seep away.

“I’m so sorry.” He covers Jaskier’s hand to keep it there.

The bard chuckles tightly. “You are completely forgiven, darling. Always.”

They sit in companionable silence for what feels like a long time, but cannot be more than a minute. The crackling of the hearth is the only sound in the room.

“Now, will you tell me what just happened?” The worry remains in Jaskier’s hushed voice, his calloused fingers massaging Geralt’s temple. Funny he didn’t even realize the headache building himself.

“I panicked.”

“I could see that,” Jaskier encourages softly, “Why? It wasn’t anything worse than what I’ve had before. You keep insisting humans are not as strong as witchers, but you know how tough I am. I’ve certainly had worse.”

“Exactly.” Geralt’s heart sinks again. “I’ve done it again. The djinn, the mountain. Jaskier, I promised to never hurt you again, to do better. And you were hurt because of me…again.”

“Oh.” Jaskier sounds shocked, anguished even. “That’s why you freaked out like that? My heart, you shouldn’t have. I know you wouldn’t do it on purpose, and I – Oh, if only I knew.”

With a screech of chair, Jaskier desperately gets up and throws himself into Geralt’s embrace. The movement is sudden and clumsy, and eventually they settle into their usual form – with Jaskier in Geralt’s lap and cuddling his neck. It’s so warm and solid, Geralt didn’t know he missed Jaskier this much until this point.

“I’m sorry you felt like that.” His breath brushes against Geralt’s neck. “I know you would never willingly hurt me, dear heart, or anyone. It was just a silly accident, partially my fault even. I think landed on my arm the wrong way. Really, I didn’t even think too much about it, but then you started to panic.”

“I smelled fear on you. I thought you were afraid of me.” Geralt presses his nose on Jaskier’s doublet and breathes. Thankfully that particular stench is gone. In its place is the pungent salve they use for bruises, so out of place among Jaskier’s floral notes.

“I was afraid because you were hyperventilating.” Jaskier pulls away to look at him in seriousness. “I know you get overwhelmed sometimes, and it looked really scary for a moment there.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Jaskier looks at Geralt in all earnest before placing a kiss on his forehead with a pop. “All these years I’ve never been –” another kiss on his cheek, “– scared of you, and –” another between his furrowed brows, “– stop blaming yourself, you big oaf. You are the best man I know.” on the tip of his nose, “You protect me, all the time. To me, you are the safest person on the Continent.”

The blue of Jaskier’s eyes glistens with soft adoration, and Geralt melts into it. With every passing second, the hint of pain dissipates around them. The injured wrist rests on Geralt’s chest, so he cradles it in a gentle hold, his thumb running circles on the tight bandage.

“I love you, Jask.”

“I love you, too. So next time, don’t just run away when you feel like freaking out.” Jaskier’s plea softens with apprehension. “Stay with me so I can help. Seeing you like that when you wouldn’t let me near you was scarier than being kidnapped by those asshole mages last year. Please?”

“Sorry for scaring you.” Geralt threads their fingers together.

“Stop apologizing. Just promise me you’ll stay.”

The idea of Jaskier being there at his most vulnerable would have made him self-conscious a few years ago. But now, it just warms him to think someone will always be in his corner. “I promise.”

The grin that breaks out on the bard’s face is so precious that Geralt has to capture those soft lips and kiss him senseless and leave them both panting into the air between them.

“Are you still in pain?”

Jaskier presses their forehead together and shakes his head, the tip of his mussed hair still damp from the snow. “But I will need you to wait on me for the next month or so, my love. In fact, I believe it’s best if you carried me around the keep all the time.”

When Geralt pulls back, the mischief has returned to the bard’s eyes. Geralt raises an eyebrow in challenge.

“It’s only your wrist, Jaskier. You can still walk,” he deadpans.

“Oh but I’m sure it’ll hasten the recovery.” Now Jaskier is full of drama again. “You know I read in a book that being carried by a handsome man is good for your… joints. And shirtless too. You should be shirtless more often – it’ll help with the healing of my soul – and tend to my every need, darling. After all, I have been gravely injured and it puts me in a very delicate state.”

“I thought you were fine.”

“Gravely.”

“Mmm-hm, and what else do you need?” It’s hard to keep a straight face.

“What else –” Jaskier smiles and pecks the corner of Geralt’s mouth. “Kisses. And cuddles, in bed.”

That’s an idea.

Geralt shifts his hold under Jaskier’s knees, and stands up in a swift motion, taking the bard’s full weight with him. Jaskier lets out a graceless yelp and clings tighter.

A laugh rumbles out of Geralt’s chest as he walks towards their bedroom. “This what you wanted?”

“Yes, my dear,” Jaskier says cheerfully. “You are all I wanted.”

Maybe Geralt should indulge him a bit. It’s been a long day after all.

[21burritoseavey]

Hey love!

How are you?

I hope you are doing good.

Can we please get a pt2 of secret relationship and where’s my love

hey! here's pt.2 to 'where's my love'. FINALLY. The pt.2 to 'secret relationship' will come a little later:) 

a/n: without giving too much away...Daniel finds Y/n...and this sucks ergogeijhet

warnings: mental illness. please read at your own discretion:)

Where's my love Pt.2 (d.s.)

 9:27am 

 “Hello,” Daniel rubbed his dreary eyes with the back of his hand, holding his phone between his ear and shoulder tightly as he lifted an energetic Kobe up to his chest. 

“Hi Daniel, it’s me, Victoria.” 

Daniel took a second to recall who this person was. Victoria, he whispered to himself, finally remembering that she was one of Y/n’s work friends. A smile smeared across his lips slowly, and his eyes lit up with a small glimmer of hope that Y/n would just be at work, and she’d be safe...and warm...and okay. “Oh, hey! You work with Y/n, right? Is she at work right now?” He asked, trying to tone down the sudden excitement laced in his voice. 

“Actually, that’s why I called. She didn’t come to the office yesterday, or today.” Her voice was quiet, and despite only hearing her voice through the phone, Daniel could sense her worry. He tried to ignore the pit in his stomach. 

“W-what? No, no. There’s no way.” He stammered. “She went to work yesterday.” He clenched his jaw tightly. 

“No, she didn’t...Look, I just wanted to ask, next time you talk to her, can you tell her I called?” 

Daniel nodded. He didn’t have the guts to tell Victoria he hadn’t seen Y/n in more than a day and he simply let out a “yeah.” in reply. 

“I’m just a little worried is all.”

“Yeah,” Daniel nodded again, “I’ll tell her.”

“Great, thank you Daniel. She’s lucky to have you.”

He didn’t even try to mutter out a steady reply before hanging up the phone. He tapped on Y/n’s number and waited impatiently as the phone rang, ultimately going to voicemail after a few long seconds. Daniel didn’t know what to do with himself. With the new information he’d just been told he tried to piece together where Y/n might’ve gone but...nothing. His mind went blank, and he shamed himself for it quietly as he paced the living room. Christian’s door opened rather silently and padded from his bedroom to the kitchen, catching a glimpse of his brother. 

“Hey, Daniel.” Daniel looked over his shoulder. “What’s up?” He took a shaky deep breath before speaking. “Y/n’s missing.” “What?” “She’s gone. I haven’t seen her since yesterday and her co-worker called me, and she wasn’t at work yesterday or today and I literally have no idea where she could be. What should I do?” Daniel rushed out, scaring himself even more as stared at his older brother, awaiting his reply. The two boys shared identical panic-stricken faces. 

“Do you wanna call the police?” Christian asked gingerly. 

Daniel chucked humourlessly. “Y-you don’t think she’s actually in danger, right?” He answered the question himself. “No, no. Sh- she wouldn-” “Look, we should call them just in case, just to make sure.” Christian assured, walking back towards his bedroom to retrieve his phone. 

Daniel stopped in front of him and walked backwards, closer to the front door. “No, I can find her. I will find her. Don’t call!” Christian barely had time to at least compromise with his younger brother before the door slammed with a loud thud. Daniel was rushing out towards his car with his keys laced in his fingers and untied sneakers nearly slipping off his feet

The studio came into view as Daniel took his usual right turn - almost speeding - towards the contemporary style building. He knew it was far away from Y/n’s workplace, which was where he planned to drive next, but he always needed his best friends. Especially today. 

The automatic door gaped open as he rushed into the studio, running down the corridor that was lined with multiple studio rehearsal rooms. Daniel’s eyes flickered towards the window to look at his bandmates around their microphones and instruments. He swung the door open.  

“Hey,” Daniel started, lifting his gaze to his friends sitting on the mini sofas around the sound board. “Guys?” The overlap of voices that lingered in the room and the background plucking and strumming and playing of instruments sent him into overwhelm. “Everybody shut up!” Daniel hardly ever yelled, but when he did, it was more etched with stress than anger and the rise in his tone startled the boys working in the studio. They looked over their shoulders to peer at Daniel, who had a hopeless frown on his face and eyes shimmering with tears. “Daniel? Hey, we missed you this morning.” Corbyn chuckled gently, placed his guitar down to lean on a nearby chair and walked towards the doorway.  

Daniel stayed still, suddenly the reality of it all settled right there. “We need to go find her.” They boys knew what Daniel was talking about and they all exchanged concerned glances with each other before turning back to the fearful boy in front of them. 

“Like now. We need to go now, come on!” He gestured to his car outside. 

“Okay,” Jonah said, getting up as he grabbed his car keys. It took a little convincing from their management and other members of their team, but the boys did ultimately get permission to leave rehearsal early. The boys all followed Daniel’s request and headed out of the studio. Since Daniel was basically brimming with worry, Jonah suggested he should drive as they looked for Y/n. 

The car of concerned boys wandered the streets and roads with furrowed brows and narrowed eyes, peering out in hope that Y/n would be found. Daniel raked a quick hand through his hair. “God. I hope we find her,” Daniel melted further into his chair tiredly. “Can you drive faster?” he breathed. He knew Jonah couldn’t, but panic was running high, and he had no idea what to do with himself. 

Daniel’s gaze drifted out the window, and he kept his chin in his palm as he thought for a moment. “We gotta go to the beach.” Daniel said, glancing towards Jonah in the driver’s seat beside him. “Y/n loves the beach.” Despite the long car ride so far, the boys didn’t argue with him one bit. They all knew first-hand what it was like to feel that heart wrenching fear and concern that emerged when texts or calls go unanswered. Of course they all loved Y/n dearly, but they could’ve never imagined just how terrible Daniel was feeling. 

Daniel was right about Y/n. She was at the beach; a place she appreciated devotedly and always went when she wasn’t feeling like herself. The beach looked dozy as it rested in the afternoon glow. Y/n always liked it that way, where the rich blue surface rose and fell easily or where the sun illuminated the clouds with thin streams of light. Y/n ambled along the sandy shore, slowly at first. Hesitant. She took agile steps towards the sea that ebbed ever so gently beneath her feet. 

The band got to the beach not long after. Jonah stealthily parked the car on the edge of the curb. They had no idea where Y/n was yet, let alone that she had plunged deeper into the freezing water. And Y/n, was utterly clueless to the boys that were on the razor’s edge of panic only a few metres away from her.  

The coldness of the water stung her skin, futile compared to the sting of melancholy in her heart. The sea was like an icebreaker to her, and from there Y/n found it easier to wade across the water despite its aggressive waves pushing her towards the shore again and again. 

Daniel leaned his arms on the front of the car and leaned over to look for her from his spot on the pier. He was casting his eyes warily, straining to any sounds with eyes and ears. 

“She’s over there!” Corbyn called after hearing her feeble sobs from across the beach. He pulled at Daniel’s shirt so they could run over to her together. Daniel’s whole body shot up at Corbyn’s words but before he could even stumble out any words, the little, slightly blurred image of Y/n knee deep in the water made his blood run cold and he felt a wave of...something rush over him. Corbyn, Daniel and Jonah called Y/n’s name profusely as they clambered down to the beach towards Y/n. Jack and Zach lingered near the shore, shaken and scared. 

“Y/n!” Daniel yelled, wading through the relentless water as fast as he could to get to her. “Y/n! Baby?! Come here!”

Sorrowful body-shaking sobs racked Y/n’s body, weakened by her walking, each coming in a wave, and she let out soft whimpers. There was no doubt that Daniel was crying too. He let his tears roll down his face and drop into the water as he got closer to Y/n. 

“Hey, hey, hey...” He repeated quietly, finally able to get a hold of her. Y/n clung onto him limply and Daniel wrapped his arms around her, as sure as the sun shining down on them. Y/n couldn’t focus on much. The overwhelming hovering birds orbiting around her or the splashing of water against her skin filled her cloudy mind. “I’m sorry!” Y/n sobbed, “I’m so-sorry!” her sorrowful apologies infused with the crashing waves and surging tide. “I thought it would make me happy, Dani. I didn’t make me happy…. I-it didn’t make me happy she repeated. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay.” Daniel repeated. “You’re okay,” 

Y/n’s voice was thick with tears and Daniel tried his best to wipe them away. Corbyn and Jonah were right at her side too. Their hands hovered over her back and arms just in case her or Daniel needed that extra help. They all walked towards the shoreline silently. 

---

The car ride was silent. Y/n was cuddled up comfortably in a cocoon of Daniel’s sweater, Corbyn’s jacket and a small blanket that Jonah found in his trunk - tending to Y/n was a team effort - and despite scaring the boys to death, she was glad to feel the sense of warmth and love that mingled with their wary supervision. Particularly Daniel. And she felt awful that she made him feel the way he did. She kept her gaze out of the window and let her mind drift to thoughts of sleeping in his warm bed when they’d get home. The security and cosiness of it all was comforting and she let her cool face lean against the glass to warm under the sun that cascaded down through the car windows. 

No matter how hard he tried not to, Daniel couldn’t stop blaming himself for what had happened that afternoon, barely an hour ago. He sat stiffly in the driver’s seat, his knuckles white from the cold water and the lingering glint of panic present in his eyes. The roads shimmered in the midday sun and the city buildings stood tall, piercing the blue sky as they sparkled in the distance. The faraway horizon was a feast for the eyes, but Daniel didn’t care. The world was all a blur to him, and the only view his eyes would focus on was the one right in the seat beside him. 

When they arrived back at his place, Daniel noticed Christian through the front window as he parked the car. He was standing right near the foyer with Kobe held securely in his arms. Daniel smiled to himself and glimpsed towards Y/n before he hopped out of his side of the car. As he walked around to her side, Y/n let her eyes linger on his figure trudging across the front of the car, particularly his tired, red eyes, either from crying or lack of sleep. She gazed at him as he opened her door. 

Daniel pressed a hand to her back with his hands gently holding hers as she stepped out. Y/n sighed tiredly as her feet hit the ground and she felt his protective hands upon her rosy cheeks, “You alright?” 

 Y/n nodded. He pressed a kiss to the same spot without a word and let his forehead rest against hers. 

“Y/n,” Christian breathed as they walked through the door, guiding the clueless dog away from her as he scrambled around her excitedly. His paws tapped lightly on the wooden floors and Y/n dropped her gaze at the gentle sound, pulling a smile towards the wide eyed puppy that hadn’t seen her in a couple days. She looked back at Christian. “Hey, Chris.” She spoke gently. Daniel kept his hand placed behind her back and he shared concerned glances with his older brother. 

“We should get you to bed now, Y/n.” Daniel whispered gently, linking his arm in hers as they walked to his bedroom. 

“Have a good sleep, my love, okay?”

Y/n nodded. “Okay,” she held out her hand to hold Daniel’s, and he placed it lazily over hers, bending down to press a kiss to her hair as she kissed his knuckles gently. “M’kay, I love you.” He threaded his fingers through a strand of her hair before pulling away. “I’ll just be in the living room.” He assured her. 

---

3:32pm 

“Here you go,” Daniel turned around to Y/n, “your pancakes...or what I call, little bits of happiness.” Daniel beamed towards her the best he could and placed the plate on the tabletop. 

“You think I could get about a thousand of those right now?” She joked. “The...happiness, I mean.” She let a gentle smile tug at the corners of her lips as she spoke. It was a small smile, but a real one. 

 “There’s my girl,” Daniel whispered. He rested his forearms on the counter and leaned in closer to dust his thumb over her cheek. “There’s my happy girl…” His quiet voice wavered between them and he finally let the tears in his baby blue eyes drop onto the counter. 

Y/n’s heart virtually broke as she watched him cry and sniffle silently. She dropped her fork and cupped his face in her hands. “No, no, Daniel...” Y/n’s voice lowered in sadness and with best efforts, she tried to continue steadily for both their sakes. “I’m okay, I’m okay, really.” She rushed out, lifting Daniel’s limp chin upwards to meet her eyes. 

“Why did you do that?” 

Daniel’s strong words echoed inside her like a ripple of guitar strings. She thought for a moment, dropping her hands back to her plate of pancakes. “I don’t know...I don’t know what I was thinking.” Daniel didn’t answer. Her genuine response didn’t seem to heal the intense, aching hurt that lingered in his heart from the hours before. 

Y/n sighed before continuing, “I’m...I-I feel like I’m being pulled into different directions...I can’t deal with it all! I’m just getting overwhelmed with school and work..,and you’re always busy,”

“I knew it. This was all my fault.” Daniel sighed, lifting his hands up in front of his face.

“No, no. It’s not, none of it is. You are the sweetest, kindest guy I know and it’s not your fault I did...that,” Y/n said quickly. 

“We-were you trying to…” Daniel pressed his fingers to the nape of his nose before his tears could fall again. He took a shaky inhale before continuing, but Y/n did it for him. 

“No, I wasn’t…trying to hurt myself.” She said honestly. “I just need a break from…”

“Us?” Daniel asked quietly. 

“No,” she said strongly, meeting his gaze with a subtle smile. “I need you more than anything right now. I just...need a break from work, and maybe school.”

“Okay,” Daniel’s eyes misted over again as he spoke. “Don’t ever feel like you need to hide things from me, okay? I love you. And when you need to talk and I say I’m busy and all that, you let me know that you need to talk, okay? We can talk whenever you want.”

“Okay,” She muttered with a smile. 

 Daniel lifted her chin up to look at him. “I know this won’t all go away, but it’s a start.” 

“Yeah, it’s a start.”

taglist:  @chilling-seavey @marthagryffindor @randomlimelightxxx @hiya-its-amber @the-girl-who-cried-wolf @hackerXavery @jonahlovescoffee  @onlyangelavery 

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[isaac-lahey-imagines]

Imagine #70 | Request #31 (Part 3/3 of Isaac Lahey x Alpha!Reader)

Catch up here: Part 1, Part 2 (might need to rewrite these two though)

Can I just say that you guys who stuck with this blog (and the Wattpad imagines) are the best? And to think I haven't posted in years and we've hit 6k+ followers when I came back?! I don't even know how you people are still here and loving the pieces I put out when I'm here cringing over the old works back in 2015!

Warnings: The usual when it comes to the Teen Wolf series, specifically the Dread Doctors' season, mentions of blood, bones breaking, drugs, needles, a few curse words, idk if this is angst? whump?

Word Count: 6k+ (it's probably the longest I've written omg)

Not much of a flashback or backstory (I'm out of words, I can't squeeze anymore juices out of my brain, my bad). As usual, this is note beta-ed and sorry for any mistakes! English isn't my first language :(

~

“No more, please,” weak cries fell on deaf ears as you were dragged down from one hall to another, the smell of disinfectant and rust overpowering your already sensitive nose and magnifying the headache that was present from when you took a beating earlier.

The sound of bare flesh skidding on the polished floor bounced off the walls as you tried to pull away and run from your captors, you did not care of the stinging sensation that radiated from the pads of your feet - the open wounds left untreated by the people who kept you in hopes that whatever was inside of you can take care of it on its own.

You were repulsed at the thought of them still being considered as people after what they have put you through - they were monsters.

“Just a little more, my dear.” One of the figures that held your arm sneered, the grip on your bicep tightening making you clench your jaw. You internally scoffed at this knowing well that it won’t be ‘just a little more’ with how long and how frequent it happened and will happen.

“She should be able to go through another round.” A voice, deeper than the feminine one from earlier, spoke up as you entered through the heavy double doors of a room - an operating theater you guessed from the setup. “Prep her.”

“Her vitals are stronger now.” The third person declared, their fingers flipping through the pages of the clipboard in their hands before glancing towards the monitor to one side of the room - an image of your anatomy on display with different colors corresponding to each system in your body.

“The less you struggle the faster this will be.” One of the doctors, the Geneticist, who dragged you to this hell hole hummed as she was met with resistance on your end while she strapped you down on the cold metal table, the leather rubbing your already raw skin.

Her patience with you was at a limit, she was close to just ending it - ending you. But they have already achieved so much with their craft that it would be such a waste of time and resource to start from square one.

“Remember,” The Pathologist warned as he walked closer to you once you were settled down. “The louder you scream, the more blood we take from you.”

The tears that fell from your eyes to the sides of your face tickled your ears at the threat, small whimpers coming from you were ignored.

“Might I remind you that the btch wakes up?” The Geneticist interrupted, irritation in her voice as she steadied your shaking right hand before inserting an IV cannula in a vein at the back of your hand and taping it in place. Looking up to her left, she reached for the device below one of the two bags that hung on the pole and unclamped its tube letting the mix of anxiolytic, hypnotic, and anticonvulsant start to flow down to you. She then turned her attention to the other bag beside it, a mix of amnestic, and myorelaxant drugs, and did the same - a near-perfect cocktail mix they specifically designed for you.

She reminded the other doctors that no matter how much benzos, relaxants, or other drug concoctions they pump in your veins, you will wake up in between operations screaming your head off while attempting to break free of the hold you are currently in. “No matter how much sedatives we put in her, her wolf is too strong-”

“It’s an animal-” The Surgeon spoke up.

“She’s an alpha, a pure one-” She argued again, almost growling at the hard-headedness of her co-doctors before she was cut off by the same person.

“An animal.” He spoke in finality. “We are humans - gods even! We are at the very top of the damned food chain.”

The room suddenly fell silent, your whimpers, the beeping of a monitor, and the hum of the machines somewhere in the room were the only things that could be heard as you started to feel the effects of the fluids injected into you.

The tension you felt from earlier began to leave your body just as your vision started getting cloudy, your eyelids feeling heavier by the minute. You didn’t notice the Pathologist holding up a syringe to the light, flicking the bubbles away with his middle finger and thumb a few times before the taste of rubber invaded your mouth with such force that hurt your lips, gums, and teeth.

The Surgeon that was above you, blocking the light for a few moments, had shoved the mouth guard in before he continued securing your head in the metal gear positioned above you. Your neck followed suit with a hard metal clamp attached to the table effectively locking you in place and soon, your whole body was completely immobilized with a loud click from the double lock clamps.

The tears continued to flow down the sides of your face as you fought the sleepiness, praying for this to just end. The dread of what is to come overwhelming you and making your body shake as much as the drugs and table’s hold on you would allow.

“I’m surprised the smart one hasn’t figured it out yet.” They exchanged small talk over your muffled screams as soon as you felt the sharp sting of a needle puncturing your skin and into your cervical spine; expelling whatever it was they created into your system for the nth time. Your ears hurt from the ringing in your head while your throat burned as the pain from the syringe radiated all over your body.

“I’m surprised her mate hasn’t.” The Geneticist replied with emphasis.

“My friends, let us not be complacent.” Their leader ended their conversation as he now concentrated on looking at the x-ray on the monitor showing the movement of the serum as it spread in you.

“We continue our routine - clean her up, wipe her to an extent and then return her. ” He added as he pushed more of the liquid in you with a press of a button by your head.

“Marcel, they will know, soon enough.” She pointed out. “She will start to have withdrawals if-”

“We won’t let that happen.”

~

Sneakers skidding on the floor as everyone seemed to scramble out of the way towards the door, eyes wide with fear looking at the figure in front of them.

“Y/N?”

“Alpha?”

Isaac watched as the massive wolf in front of them let out a deep growl with its teeth bared at the people that called her attention, the fur on her back and chest standing up making her look even bigger than she already is.

“Y/N,” Isaac knew that Deaton was the best person to handle all kinds of supernatural cases, hence, the title of Emissary to their pack. “It’s Deaton.”

Letting out another growl as you licked your lips, your tail flicked lowly behind you as your eyes darted to each person present in the room before landing back to one in particular who was too close for comfort.

“Y/N, hey,” His voice sounded softer, it almost made you feel a sense of comfort until his hand reached out to you and made you snap back and almost bite it off.

This instinctively made Scott pull Isaac back by his shirt to a safe distance, struggling a bit in his grasp as the beta did not want to be moved further away from you despite the situation.

“Isaac, move back,” Deaton warned when he noticed that the curly-haired werewolf was not backing down, a hand gesturing for him to move away from you. “She’s scared.”

“No, Deaton, she heard me. She’s there - Y/N,” Isaac argued before turning his attention back to you again, blue eyes already glassy as tears filled the rim of his eyes. “She heard me.”

Isaac tried to hold on to the hope that you were present underneath the wolf because he was sure he saw that familiar glimmer that was distinctly you.

Just as he attempted to reach out to you again with a whisper of your name on his lips, the same frequency you heard before rang in your ears making you seize up and drop to the ground.

“Agh! What is that?” Liam winced as his hands reached up to his head to cover his ears, eyes scrunching shut as he tried to will away the incessant ringing.

“What’s what?” Mason asked with confusion etched on his face as he looked at his friend then to Stiles and the others, the werewolves in the room in particular, doing the same.

Isaac did not care for the ringing he heard, witnessing you looking like you were being kicked or beaten as you struggled to stand up, the sound of pained screams, whines, and whimpers coming out of you pulled at his heart making him drop to his knees beside you.

His hands hovered over your form trying to figure out what to do while he avoided getting scratched by the large clawed paws that writhed with your body, Scott and Thor doing the same and looking over you trying to see where exactly were you hurting.

“Deaton,” Isaac called as he carefully placed his hand on your shoulder before hissing - you were burning up and the black color that coursed through his veins upon touching you wreaked of disease. “Deaton what do we do?!”

“What is that?” Thor asked in bewilderment as he saw what was happening with Isaac’s arms.

“Hold her still as much as you can,” The vet’s voice was calm despite the mess, going to one of the counters in the room and asking Stiles and Mason for assistance as he tried to collect what sounded like glass vials from the way it clinked in their hold.

Isaac heard Thor mutter an apology to his alpha as he tried to hold your hind legs down as much as he can, Scott doing the same by your torso and Isaac by your neck.

“Y/N,” Isaac continued to call for you as he tried to hold your front legs down. “It’s Isaac, baby - it’s me.”

“Hurry!” Scott called to Deaton as his eyes scrunched and a sheen of sweat already present on their foreheads, the ringing still present in their ears making it difficult for them to concentrate.

Just as Deaton returned and knelt by your side, carrying a stainless steel tray that contained what looked like multiple large syringes in it, the static ringing noise started to get louder making the supernatural beings in the room let out a pained groan and lose their grip on you.

It grew too much too quickly to bear, causing the lights and windows above your heads to shatter and engulf the room in darkness. As everyone ducked for cover, Isaac stayed by your side and tried to shield you from the onslaught of sharp glass descending on you.

It took a few moments before the ringing stopped and the feel of cold air entered the room, snapping them back to their senses as their eyes opened at the smell of blood it carried with it.

Isaac immediately sat up as he felt the cold tiled floor and not your warm body underneath him.

“Y/N,” was all he said before he sprinted out of the room, the others following behind him.

“How did she get out?” He heard Stiles behind him once they reached the outside of the clinic, Thor already looking around the perimeter of the establishment for any signs of you.

Isaac’s brain was running a hundred miles at what he saw and what had just happened inside, his lips quivering as he ran his hands through his hair and pulling at the roots in frustration. He sniffled as he tried to stop the tears from running down his cheeks with the heels of his hands. Exhaling, he closed his eyes and tried to even out his breathing before turning to Scott.

“She’s not gone,” his alpha spoke, already reassuring him. “We’re going to find her.”

Just before Isaac could reply and shoot down the optimism his alpha had, a car screeched to a halt in front of them.

“Where is she?!” Lydia asked as she got out of the driver’s side, a frantic look in her bloodshot eyes.

“Hey, hey, what happened?” Stiles was immediately by her side, cupping her face in his hands. But Lydia only moved out of the way and turned to Isaac and asked again.

“We don’t know where she is. She disappeared right before Deaton -” Lydia was close to tears again as she groaned in frustration.

“They can’t get her back.” She said, sounding more of a beg as her voice shook a little.

Everyone in front of her stopped what they were doing and looked at the Banshee.

“Who’s they? And where do you think Y/N is?” Stiles asked before a few seconds later, realization hit him.

~

It was on the way to Eichen House that Lydia explained everything she saw that made her break all the traffic laws implemented in Beacon Hills just to rush to the vet clinic. Isaac could not shake the feeling that Lydia, a banshee – a herald of death, had visions of you in his arms already in eternal slumber. His wolf broke more than a little as she spoke more of what she saw, only a few words registering to him – Y/N, doctors, experiment, and torture.

Everything was a flash for Isaac now, he did not even realize that they were now in a tunnel under the mental facility planning on who was going where.

But once their strategy was laid out, Isaac wasted no time in trying to locate even the faintest of your scent in the damp and moldy tunnel he was walking through. He heard Stiles and Lydia speaking on the phone in his pocket that they'd found an office that had files strewn everywhere – files that specifically contained information about you and what they have done with you so far.

“Any luck finding her?” Lydia asked as Isaac heard papers being flipped on the other end of the line.

“Nope, not yet,” Liam replied.

“No, she’s not here.” Thor was next then Scott, all claiming to find only empty rooms and dungeons.

“Isaac?” Lydia asked after not hearing from him.

“None,” he answered, sounding defeated as he rounded another corner with you nowhere in sight.

Isaac could hear collective sighs as they continued their searches, his ears already drowning out what Lydia and Stiles were doing - occasionally spitting out questions of why’s as they continued to browse through what they found in the files.

His breathing became labored as his mind started to play tricks on him the further we walked down the tunnel, the source of light slowly fading the deeper he went.

Just as he was about to turn another corner, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He felt as though soft fingertips touched him, making his skin crawl as he turned around quickly only to find an empty space. But as he directed his attention to the other corner of the room, the colors on his face drained.

Amidst the mess of metal chains and torn blankets, Isaac watched closely as the figure on the floor took a raspy breath, eyes moving behind closed lids, lips mumbling incoherent words.

“Y/N?” Isaac slowly approached, the other members of the pack on the other line calling for his attention and asking if they heard him call your name.

At the sound of your name being called, your body went rigid. Your eyes flew open, widening as you saw a shadowy figure in front of you moving closer.

“Please, no more.” Your voice cracked from the overuse as you begged, the sound of heavy metal clinking together echoed in the empty room as you backed away slowly. “I’m sorry! I won’t do it again, please!”

Your frame quivered as you continued to plead, sweat mixed with blood trickled down your body as you attempted to make yourself smaller against the corner of the cell; failing from the sudden pain on the back of your neck that restricted you to move any further away from where you were.

“Y/N, it’s Isaac. I’m not going to hurt you.” Isaac ignored the voices over the phone calling for him, asking if he really found you. “You’re safe now, they’re not going to hurt you.”

Isaac almost expected for you to cower further away from him, but you didn’t – instead, you relaxed a little as his hand landed on the small of your back and the other on your shoulder effectively pulling you into an embrace.

As Isaac felt you release a breath before melting against his chest, his scent effectively calmed you down as your wolf recognized her other half. You both stayed like that for a while before he went back to examining you and what was behind you, more so what was attached to you.

Now, more diligent in his movements, his hands hovered over what seemed to be a tube attached to the back of your neck. He shifted in his kneeling position, careful not to jostle you, before taking his phone from his pocket.

“Something’s attached to her, I need to get it off-.” He informed more to Stiles and Lydia than to others present on the call.

“Don’t!” Lydia exclaimed, panicked at what Isaac was planning. “Not yet.”

“But she’s already hurting!” Isaac’s hands returned to your shoulder and back, holding you closer - as close as the tube permitted.

“That’s connected to her spine, Isaac,” Stiles added, warning him of what might happen. “If you remove it you might do some serious damage here.”

His attention turned back to you when he heard you whimper his name.

You were testing to see if Isaac was really there with you or if you were merely hallucinating again, not sure anymore of what was real after everything that happened to you for the past few years.

“Isaac?”

“Hi,” he smiled down when he pulled away from you a little, his voice shaking as he cupped your face in his hands. “I’m here.”

Your eyes focused on his face, blinking a few times before-

“No.”

That, he did not expect.

“No, no, no.” You mumbled repeatedly making Isaac more confused- were you not happy or relieved to see him with you?

“You shouldn’t be here.” As you came to your senses, you moved out of his grasp and pushed him away at the same time with the little strength you have left.

“Y/N, we came here for you. What are you talking about?” Isaac was hurt, you can see it in his face the way his brows furrowed and eyes already releasing a few tears down his cheeks.

Before you could answer back, the same ringing sounded again.

“Isaac, you have to go, please.” You cried, your own tears flowing down your cheek as you tried to pry his hands that held on to your wrists away, wanting to get out of his hold on you all the while fighting the heavy ache in your body to turn against your own will.

“Isaac, you have to get out of there!” You can hear Stiles over the phone, can hear Scott and the others running to where your werewolf was located.

“I’m not leaving her,” Isaac growled at them but his eyes stayed on you.

“You have to, plea-”

“Y/N!”

A blood-curdling scream left your lips as your body started to tremble on the floor, your bones were visibly breaking and morphing under your skin against your will yet again. The jagged edges of the broken bones breaking through skin and the movement causing purple and blue patches to decorate your flesh, all the while the liquid inside the tube that was still attached to you bubbled angrily.

“Isaac!”

Turning to the person who called his name, he suddenly felt himself being tugged down to the floor as the sound of electricity zipping past them blasted onto the steel bars of a small window on the wall overcame your pained screams.

“Y/N Y/L/N,” the static voice called.

“It’s the Dread Doctors.” Stiles’ voice over the phone can be heard, more papers can be heard being flipped and thrown somewhere. “They’re the ones doing this to Y/N.”

“I need to get it off of her!” Isaac spoke to the phone as he watched Thor lunge at one of the doctors in front of them, his clawed hand not holding back any hits he let out. Scott was next when another appeared much closer to where you and Isaac were.

Once your cries quieted down and your body settled down to small shakes - appeased from the onslaught of transforming against your will, Isaac’s hands hovered over the tube.

“You have to go before they hurt you.” It was barely a whisper when the words came out of your mouth, your body was getting too tired to fight it anymore.

“No, I’m not leaving without you, you know that.” Isaac spoke it with a voice that left no room for arguments as he held the tube in his hand and attempted to pull.

Isaac held back a sob as the screams you let out shattered through the noise of the grunts and punches being thrown. But before he could successfully pull it out, a force had hit him and sent him across the room hitting a wall with a loud thud.

“Near-perfect.” Another doctor, the same one who threw Isaac off of you, had appeared next to you with a device in his hand that, from the looks of it, controlled the tube that was pumping the liquid into you.

“Stop, please!” Your hands flew to the contraption attached to you just as Isaac charged at the doctor, sending them both to the ground.

Blinking away the heaviness of your eyelids, you tried to move from your position on the floor only to fall back down flat on your stomach. The wolf in you whined in panic, barking almost as she nudged you with her head to stand up - that you still had strength in you and she was there to anchor you herself.

“Give her back to me,” You can hear Isaac from across the room, the sight of him swiftly landing blow after blow at the doctor caught you off guard. The blood that ran down his temple to his eyes only added a level of intensity to his yellow glowing gaze as he gave a growl that had an unnerving timbre to it. “Now.”

On the other end of the room, you watch Scott claw at the doctor he was against before the mask fell off and revealed a face that was mottled, wrinkled, and scarred. If the true alpha was disgusted, he did not show it as he put his arms up to block the hit the doctor threw his way.

At the sound of a device dropping to the cemented floor, you felt the vibration of the tube behind you stop - the bubbles silencing as it halted its actions. This immediately cleared your head and relieved you of the pain, the fuzzy veil finally lifting as you took another deep breath and attempted to sit upright again.

Successfully sitting up with a few labored breaths accompanied by a wince, you lifted your aching arms and took hold of the tube attached behind you - the stinging feel of the needle made itself known as the small movement you made just from holding it jostled a little.

Taking a couple of ragged breaths again, trying to gather the courage and strength to pull the thing behind you when the air was suddenly knocked out of your lungs. The sensation of a sharp jab radiated from your side, the groan you let out echoed to the other end of the room making your eyes dart to where Isaac was.

“No,” you let out a gasp at the sight of your mate wide-eyed as he stared up at the doctor in front of him - the pain you felt on your side mirroring where the Surgeon’s swordcane embedded on Isaac’s side and giving it a twist for good measure. “Isaac!”

Your wolf’s painful yips turned to a low dangerous growl.

Feeling the familiar throb in your gums as your canines grew longer, you heard a banshee’s piercing scream all the way from the other wing of the Eichen house while a true alpha’s growl filled the place you were in.

“No more,” You say through clenched teeth, Thor’s knees buckling at the command in his alpha’s voice, Scott and the doctors they were up against stood in awe at the willpower you displayed.

“Perfect,” one of them said under their breath, the final push for perfection.

Finally standing tall, the tube attached to your neck earlier now clutched in your hand, you did not waste time as you took down each person who did you wrong.

Going for the closest antagonist in your life, Thor immediately scrambled out of your way as your claws wrapped around the Geneticists neck. You let your body move past her without letting go of your grip on her before using the momentum to lift the doctor up, the weight and force effectively disconnecting her head from the rest of her body before hurdling her to the Pathologist who was clambering away from Scott and the fight.

Everything was a blur to the other occupants of the room as you zipped past them and took down each one before you finally lunged at the Surgeon who finally released his grip on both his cane and on Isaac.

“My child-” he managed to say as your grip on his neck tightened, his feet barely touching the ground - your eyes glowing a dangerous color as you stared up at him.

You can finally see through the mask, raw pink flesh with stitches decorating it was what the steel mask protected. His mouth opened to say something but only a gurgled gasp came out as your other hand embedded itself in his chest and pierced through skin and muscle. You felt your wolf puffing up with pride and anger - you were their greatest creation and downfall.

Silence enveloped the room as the lead doctor took his last breath before you haphazardly threw him to the ground.

With his nose scrunched and eyebrows furrowed, Isaac pulled the swordcane out of him. His jaw clenching before he let out a pained groan at the feel of the weapon sliding out before leaning heavily against the brick wall while clutching his side.

Your attention was immediately drawn to your other half, managing to wipe off some of the blood on your hand before tending to him.

“Hey,” Isaac greeted as he tried to not lean all his weight to you as you wrapped your arms around his waist, careful not to touch the stab wound on his side. You felt tears playing at the edge of your lashes as you buried your face against his chest, the scent signifying home.

“Can’t really ask you if you’re okay,” You managed to say once you pulled away and looked up at him.

“You’re one to talk,” Isaac replied with a chuckle, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear before placing a soft kiss on your forehead.

You smiled, wiping the stray tear that ran down your cheek with the back of your hand as Isaac’s lips returned to your forehead for another kiss.

“Y/N, look-”

“No!”

A loud bang and the pain that came with it suddenly broke the bubble of peace you were in.

Clutching you to his chest, you saw the same confused expression that reflected on Isaac’s eyes before they darted from you to where the smell of gunpowder was coming from.

The Pathologist’s hand shook as he held the gun up, a crazed look in his eyes as he attempted to stand up from being buried under his colleague's lifeless body. He muttered incoherent words as he aimed the gun at you again.

But before he can pull the trigger, another loud thud took you all by surprise as you witnessed the man fall down flat on his face.

“Damn.” Lydia was behind him with a bloodied metal bat clutched in her hands - Stiles’ hands were up in the air, his eyes were wide as if he couldn’t believe his girl just did that.

“Well mark me down as scared and horny,” Stiles muttered under his breath, his brain replaying the moment Lydia all but took off with his metal bat and ran down the hall as fast as her heels allowed her to where they were now.

~

“Thank you, Thor.” You hugged the larger-built werewolf, his arms wrapping around you tightly but still being mindful of your current state. “But I don’t think I’m fit to be your alpha - to be the pack’s alpha anymore.”

“I will never understand how you and the others accepted me after what had happened.” Your feet dangled as you sat on a bricked fence outside of the Eichen house, the jacket from Isaac wrapped around you securely to act as a buffer against the coolness of the night.

You can hear Thor’s wolf whine at your words, his face already reflecting the sadness you both felt at what you were doing as he leaned against the fence you were sitting on.

“Alpha, please don’t discredit yourself.”

You looked up at him, not really believing his words with how much damage you’ve done to the pack - to your family.

“You are more than worthy - especially at your age.” He added, pointing out that most of the alphas out there were a hundred years older than you. “You are strong.”

“Thank you, again - for everything,” your lips quivered as you gave your best smile before glancing up to try and prevent the tears from spilling down your cheeks. The thought of leaving your pack broke your heart, they were family. But you needed to have someone better to lead and handle pack-related things -- you needed to recover.

A comfortable silence settled around the two of you before you heard Stiles and Isaac walking towards you.

“Jeep’s good to go, big guy.” Stiles said - more to Thor than you - with a tilt of his head to gesture to where they were parked as Isaac helped you to your feet and walked you towards Lydia’s car.

“You okay?” Isaac asked softly as you both settled in the back seat.

His eyes double-checked the graze on your shoulder from the bullet that hit you, his arms never leaving your side as he let you lean on him - exhaustion already catching up to you with the way your body sagged against his.

No, not really. You wanted to say as he only tugged you closer to him, the drive to Deaton being quieter save for the soft tunes the radio played.

“I will be.”

~~~

Isaac didn’t know what exactly woke him up.

Staring back at the ceiling, his ears strained to hear bed sheets rustling beside him. With the little light that passed through the curtains of the room you shared, he ran his hands down his face before turning to his bedside.

His eyes squinted when his phone awoke and flashed the time, 3:01AM it read - the phone’s screen showed a picture of the two of you together during a weekend picnic Lydia had arranged a few weeks ago. You had your eyes closed and lips smiling - a genuine smile after so long - against his neck as he had his arms wrapped around you tightly while he made a face to the camera.

Isaac stared at his phone’s lock screen a few moments longer before movement on his side and the feel of cold skin touching his leg took him out of his reverie.

Putting his phone back on the nightstand, he curled back down the covers and turned to face you. For someone who’s a warm-blooded supernatural creature themself, you sure have cold feet.

Isaac cupped your face before tucking a stray hair behind your ear, you were lying on your stomach facing him with your hands tucked just a little under your pillow. You were still in deep sleep but it did not look as peaceful as he remembered - your brows were furrowed, your lips moved as if mumbling something and an occasional hand twitch was what he observed.

“Y/N?” Isaac asked, his voice croaked from the lack of use as he leaned on his elbow and tried to coax you awake.

It didn’t take too long before Isaac finally understood what you were saying.

Please, no more...p-please.

Leaning over your side of the bed, Isaac flicked the switch to your bedside lamp open and tried to call for you again. He could now see the thin layer of sweat on your forehead, the sheets bunching up in your grasp as your knuckles turned a lighter shade from how tight your grip was.

I can’t t-take it anymore...

“Hey, baby,” Isaac gently ran his hand down your back a few times, trying not to ‘jolt’ you awake. He knew what methods to use in waking you up when things like these happen, though it took multiple trials and errors with a few bumps - more or less scratches - in the way. But god, he’d take you screaming and lashing out at him any day than this.

I’m sorry, I won’t do it again...

“Y/N, please wake up for me.”

It broke his heart more at the thought that while you were already together, even if in that span of time you were simply friends at first, they’ve already done a multitude of things to you.

“Y/N, I’m here - you’re safe.” He tried again, the soft kiss to your temple lingering a little longer in hopes that it might help - let you sense that he was present and you were not in danger anymore.

“Y/N, no one’s gonna hurt you,” He spoke softly.

Covering your clenched hand with his, it was all it took before your eyes flew open with a sharp gasp of air. It took some strength and swiftness from Isaac to hold your wrists when you sat up so fast - almost bumping his chin in the process - that you almost fell out of the shared bed.

“Hey, hey,” He called for you, your eyes were dilated, blown wide and looking around frantically as if you were searching for the threat that plagued your life a year ago and giving you these night terrors that prevented you from having a good night’s sleep.

“I’m here, you’re safe.” He repeated, waiting for you and not letting go.

“Isaac,” He waited a little more before you finally settled down and realized where you were, your voice shook a little as you spoke his name; eyes glassy as you looked at the familiar blue eyes that called for you.

“I’m here.” Isaac gave a small smile as his hold on your wrist loosened before sliding his hands in yours and holding onto them on your lap - the soft yellow light from your bedside lamp gave his face a soft glow; his eyes looking more kinder that it already was.

Not again. Your lips trembled as you held back a sob, you shook your head as you stared down at your joined hands.

You felt trapped.

That was the only thing you felt and you wanted out, you wanted this to stop; you want an end to this thing happening to you - you don’t deserve the man in front of you.

Having known you for so long, Isaac can already see it on your face, he already anticipated it.

“I love you,” He spoke.

Absolutely no room for arguments, “I won’t leave you.”

You felt Isaac’s hands rest on your hips as you withdrew yours from his hold and tried to stop and wipe as many tears as you could with the heel of your hands. He let you lean your head on his shoulder, the feel of his lips placing a comforting kiss to your ear should’ve given your heart a little leap but it didn’t.

“How much longer will you tell me that before you finally get tired?” You did not mean to say it out loud, you hiccupped once your tears finally settled down with your head and heart.

“Never,” Isaac said as he pushed you away a little to look at you, cupping your face in his warm hands to make you look up at him, a glint of playfulness present. “You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

You could only sigh and give a soft smile.

“You’re too good for me, Isaac.”

Bringing your hands to his lips to kiss your knuckles, he let them go before cupping your face again and leaned down to plant a kiss on your forehead, then your nose and lastly a chaste kiss on your lips.

“You deserve good things, Y/N.”

You deserve them after everything you went through. Isaac gave that smile he reserved only for you when he pulled away.

Lying back down, Isaac pulled you closer to him before pulling the covers up just below your chin.

“We’ll be okay, remember?” Isaac reminded you of the words you said to him when he asked you a year ago.

You did not miss the way he said ‘we.’ You did remember what he told you, that you were in this together - you’re it for me.

“I remember,” you answered, curling as close as you can to his side. The tip of your nose resting against the warm skin of his neck as he rest his chin on top of your head, arms tightening around you before they relaxed.

~

Feedbacks are always appreciated! Especially since I miss writing. But again, I won't be doing much writing anymore since I've somewhat lost touch with both my imagines blogs. I might just rewrite/refurbish some of my old imagines/drabbles.

Again, thank you so much for those who stuck by this imagines blog (and for Brett as well). You don't know how much I appreciate it, again, I'm sorry for not being active (read more here)

[thegirlwhomoanedwolf]

Lust spell

Dark lord x reader

virgin reader does a sex spell after giving up on waiting for the dark lord... guess who shows up ;)

Warnings: 18+, hair pulling

(Y/n) sighed tapping a pen against her soft lips. She laid on her stomach books spread all around her large bed. Reading the page of the demonomicon again she tried to deeper understand its meaning. She wanted to know everything she could about magic and most importantly the dark lord. She was at the top of her class before she graduated from the academy of unseen arts and truly lived to make the dark lord proud. Realizing she wouldn’t learn anything else so exhausted from hours of reading and writing any new findings she moved from her bed grabbing her books placing them back on one of the many bookshelves in her candlelit room.

Deciding to get ready for bed she moved into her eclectic bathroom and began to fill the enormous claw foot tub with steaming hot water. She looked over to the cabinet of oils and dried herbs an idea coming to her mind. (Y/n) was beautiful and had the attention of everyone at the academy when she attended but none of them ever caught her eye. This didn’t mean she didn’t have desires like everyone else but she was saving herself for the dark lord. She knew it was unrealistic but if she had enough faith maybe he would listen. It had been years of thinking this way and pleasuring herself trying to keep the will power to wait for him. Her need was becoming too much. She needed real release.

Walking over to the wooden cabinet and grabbing handfuls of dried roses, baby’s breath and lavender she sprinkled them into the tub beginning to set her intention for the spell. Stripping her clothes she grabbed the most important part of the spell. The ornate glass bottle felt warm in her hand as she poured the oil over her chest. The feeling sent tingles through her body. The lust oil made her desire stronger than usual which would be necessary if she wanted the spell to work. After rubbing the oil all over (y/n) stepped into the tub fully submerging her glistening body.

After performing the spell she lay in the tub and prayed to the dark lord. (Y/n) continued to soak in the tub when a loud knock on her front door startled her. There was no way the spell worked that quickly she thought as she stepped out of the tub and threw on a black silk robe. Curious as to who was knocking on her door so late she opened it. Her heart nearly stopped at the sight that greeted her. The most gorgeous man she had ever seen towered above her practically nude. All he had was a small cloth tied around his waist and she realized he was covered in dirt. Maybe her spell had come true so soon.

“ Hello miss I hope I didn’t startle you, your house is the first one I’ve come across and I’m not sure how I got here,” the man spoke in a voice that was innocent yet pure sex. This was definitely the spell alright.

“Please come in,” (y/n) said as she stepped out of the doorway quickly. Lucifer came inside hiding his smile at how easy it was for him to lie to her and how for all her prayers and devotion she couldn’t tell it was him. Trying to be kind to the man (y/n) asked “ are you hungry?”

“ very,” Lucifer said as he looked over (y/n)s body the the meaning changed by the way he said it. “ I’m filthy though and would like to clean up first if possible?” He asked pretending to be a gentleman.

“ of course, I was actually just taking a bath and it’s still hot if you wouldn’t mind that.”

“ I can tell,” he said looking her over. Her skin was glowing from the oil on her body that was only covered by a small bath robe and he couldn’t wait to see what was underneath. “ a bath would be wonderful.” He followed her into the candlelit bathroom watching as she bent over to add more hot water.

“ I’ll leave this running so you can turn it off when it’s hot enough.” (Y/n) pressed her thighs together trying to stop the ache this beautiful man was creating.

She began to walk out of the bathroom looking back to shut the door behind her stopping in her tracks as the toned man removed the small piece of cloth his muscular ass fully on display. Paralyzed by his beauty she couldn’t look away. He turned slowly to step into the bath his large member now in view. ‘oh my satan,’ she thought biting her lip disappointed when he sunk down into the tub. Lucifer smirked hearing her prayer and looked over to her. “ Would you mind helping me with my back ?”

“I don’t mind ,”she responded breathily and grabbed a cloth walking over to the tub. Getting on her knees to be at the same level Lucifer thought of what he really wanted her to do on her knees and could feel himself begin to grow. “ (Y/n) dipped the cloth into the water then onto Lucifers back watching as the dirt wiped away easily. Sitting behind him she so badly wanted to run her fingers through his curly hair and decided to wash it as an excuse. Ringing the cloth in his hair she then added soap and began to lather it. As she massaged his scalp he let out a moan.

“ That feels incredible,” he moaned again causing butterflies in her stomach. (Y/n) continued wanting to please him in more ways than one. She grabbed the cloth again ready to rinse his hair but he slid under the water giving her a full view of his nakedness. ‘ oh my fucking satan’ she thought his member now fully erect and even bigger than she had seen before. Explicit images formed in her mind as he sat back up and turned to her, “ would you like to join me?”

( y/n)s heart beat in her chest knowing what was to come. He motioned to the tub and she slowly stood silently accepting his offer. She was ready to completely give herself to him. Standing at the edge of the tub she looked down at him biting her lip. He moved to the edge his fingers on the silk bow of her robe pulling and slowly undoing it. ( y/n) let the robe fall off of her and saw the desire in his eyes. Lucifer ran a finger over her nipple enjoying the small tremble it caused her. He held out his strong hand helping her step into the tub her back toward him. She sat turned away from him leaving enough distance so that they weren’t yet touching.

Lucifer moved his arms around her pulling her back against his chest. (Y/n) gasped now feeling his large member against her back. “ relax,” he whispered softly and she let the tension leave her body. Lucifer moved his hands to her thighs rubbing them and began to move even higher up. He moved his mouth to her neck kissing below her ear. “ so beautiful.” His hand traveled to her clit keeping still as she moaned softly at the sensation. “ no one has touched you here before me.” He stated.

“ no,” (y/n) replied thinking it was a question.

“ I will give you pleasure no other could,” He whispered as he began to rub her clit.

“ oh yes,” (y/n) softly moaned, his fingers doing magic against her most intimate spot. Lucifer kissed her neck and shoulder loving the reactions he was pulling from her body. He could feel her tensing slightly and knew the pleasure was going to overtake her soon. He moved his other hand to her opening teasing her folds with a finger.

“ I wish to be inside you so badly,” he slowly thrust a finger inside his eyes rolling at her tightness. He worked her with his finger the other hand circling her clit. (Y/n)s walls were starting to flutter around his finger so close to letting go. “I wish to feel you shake around my cock giving in to the pleasure.” She began to shake almost there, “ give in (y/n) .” With that her orgasm ripped through her. A shriek left her lips and Lucifer smiled excited to see how she would react to his member.

( y/n) lay back against Lucifers chest breathing heavily coming down from her orgasm. The cloudiness from her mind disappearing a realization hit her and she tensed nervous this time. “ how did you know my name ?”

“ I know all my children’s names (y/n).” He turned her face to look up at him the shock was evident on her face. “ You are very special though, I wouldn’t just leave hell for anyone. How sweet you were planning to wait for me.”

She looked up at his beautiful face still in shock, “ dark lord I’m so sorry... I .”

“ Do not apologize,” he said sternly interrupting her. Lucifer looked deep into her (y/e/c) eyes filled with worry, “ show me you still have faith,” he said sweetly and seductively. Just like that the worry of upsetting him was gone and (y/n) knew how to prove her loyalty. Adjusting herself quickly in the tub she pressed her lips to his her hand wrapping in his hair for balance. Lucifer wrapped his strong arms around her possessively pulling her as close to him as possible while exploring her soft mouth. Now that she was seated above him he leaned forward and wrapped her legs around his waist holding her tightly as he lifted them from the water. He continued to kiss her as he carried them out of the tub and into the hallway. She squirmed in his arms desperate for more bringing out the beast in him. Moving to her bedroom quickly he kicked the door open and laid her down on her overly cushioned bed hovering above her.

“ please dark lord,” she whimpered as he moved to kiss her neck and chest. Years of waiting and she was so close yet so far. Reaching down between them she wrapped her small hand around him causing him to pin her hands to the bed quickly. (Y/n) looked up at him her chest heaving as she watched his gaze travel over her body. Her need for him was overwhelming, “ I need you so bad it hurts.”

With that he let go of her hands and they wrapped around his back as he leaned down and kissed her gently. He grabbed his large member in his hand lining it up with her glistening opening. (Y/n) gasped at the feel of his skin against hers as he ran his tip up and down her folds teasing her. ‘ oh dark lord please I can’t take it anymore I need you’ she prayed knowing he would hear. He pulled his lips away from hers and she looked at his angelic face as he softly spoke “ I will show you mercy.” He sunk into her forcefully causing her to cry out his large member stretching her more than she thought she could handle.

Lucifers fingers found her clit caressing it roughly as he thrusted again slowly this time filling her completely. The added sensation on her clit made her eyes roll in her head. The pleasure was too much but she didn’t want it to stop.

“ yes dark lord!” She exclaimed encouraging him even more. “ you feel amazing.”

Her words stroked his ego as her pussy stroked his cock. “ you are hell on earth (y/n),” he grunted as she tightened around him even more. He thrusted slow and hard reveling in her. He looked down at where they were connected and watched as her folds gripped him tightly bringing him close to release. Lucifer began to rub her faster his thrusts picking up pace along with her moans. (Y/n)s legs began to tremble and he looked down at her in awe of her beauty. “Cum for me little witch.”

An earth shattering orgasm overtook her body and soul. She never wanted it to end and it seemed like it wasn’t going to. Lucifer groaned as her walls began to milk him and he thrusted into her prolonging both of their orgasms even further.

He laid on top of her still enveloped by her and kissed her cheek sweetly. “ That alone was worth being kicked out of heaven”

(y/n) blushed not expecting his kindness and worriedly asked, “ will you be going back to hell now?”

“ of course I’m the king,” he said arrogantly. Caressing her bottom lip and kissing her Lucifer pulled away and added “ would you like to be a queen (y/n)?”

[novelconcepts]

fic: walking with the lady

Every movie, every book, every story about the horrors of letting in the ghosts has prepared Dani for the constant state of alarm. The panic. The discomfort of the situation.

Not a single goddamn one told her how stupid it would be.

***

The first time Viola Lloyd rears her spectral head outside of a dream, Dani is doing her best to enjoy an incredibly pleasant spring morning. She’s been having strange thoughts--strange echoes of night terrors that have been escalating, images weaving as though shot from the depths of some great ocean--for a few months now. Has been trying her very best to take Jamie’s advice and not worry about it. One day at a time. Stop gazing into every reflective surface in the county and just...live. 

And she’s been doing that, she thinks, with a decent amount of peaceful abandon for a woman carrying an unknown beast in the depths of her psyche. She’s traveled. She’s seen much of America, and more of Jamie. She’s learned she’ll never get any better at tea, that she’s honestly not terrible at pasta, that she can talk the ear off old women who just want to stop and smell the flowers. It’s been a serene six, seven, eight years, if she lays them all end to end, and she’s glad of it. 

But the dreams are coming faster now. With more regularity. Long stretches of night fade into black and white, into memories she can feel with her whole body, but knows aren’t her own. Corsets and sweeping skirts, a sister she never had, a husband. A child. None of this belongs to Dani, so it must be her, mustn’t it? 

It scares her. She talks about it to Jamie when she wakes--sometimes in the morning, sometimes in the middle of the night; whether she’s truly awake or not, Jamie always listens. They always hunker back down, holding tight to one another, Jamie whispering into her hair that you’re still here, you’re still you, it’s all okay, Poppins. It helps, as much as anything’s going to. 

What doesn’t help is sitting here on this park bench, a list of shopping plans open in her lap, and hearing--hearing isn’t even the right word for it, it’s like a ringing voice coming up from the very back of her head--someone say, “And what on earth is that?”

Dani sits straight upright, every line of her body rigid with fear. “What...is what?”

She’s said the words out loud, she realizes when an elderly man with a basket of stale bread turns slowly to look at her. Her mouth twists itself into a rictus grin of apology, and he shuffles off, looking very much like a man prepared for his own murder at the hands of a lunatic schoolteacher. 

“Well,” the voice says, coolly amused. “That was embarrassing for us both.”

What, Dani thinks, the fuck is going on?

“What’s going on,” Viola Lloyd’s deep, accented voice says, “is truly beyond my knowledge. Do you know the last time I had this many thoughts of my own? Must have been...oh, three hundred years, now...”

Why, Dani thinks furiously, are you having them now?

“I certainly couldn't say.” Viola sounds astonished. “The last I recall, I was trying to reclaim my child--”

Flora, Dani interrupts with a rush of anger, was not your child. 

She imagines she can feel Viola’s hand flip to and fro, carelessly. “It’s all apples in the end, isn’t it?”

She’s clenching her fists in her lap, she realizes, as if there’s anything to fight. As if she could ward Viola off from inside her own body. 

“Oh,” Viola says coolly, “I wouldn’t worry just yet. I couldn’t say for sure--it’s all rather new, you must understand--but I don’t think I could do anything to you. Not yet. Look, here, I’ll try...”

Dani’s muscles strain against an invisible force that never comes. Viola chuckles. 

“See? Nothing. The lights are on, my dear, but none but you is really home.”

Then why are you awake? Dani demands. 

“Not a clue, darling. It’s nice, though, isn’t it? You really take it for granted in life.”

Take what for--

“Seeing,” Viola breathes. “I haven’t seen anything properly in centuries. I’d forgotten how bright the world was. How full of...color.”

Is it Dani’s imagination, or does Viola’s tone hold an edge of disgust on that final word?

“So, again, I find myself asking. What on earth do you call that?”

Dani allows instinct to turn her head, somehow sensing the direction Viola wishes for her to look. She finds herself staring at a young child playing at her mother’s feet. 

I--it’s... And it’s here, in this moment, faced with the nearly impossible task of explaining to the 400-year-old ghost woman who shares her body what a Slinky is for that Dani Clayton decides this whole cohabitation thing might have been a mistake. 

***

“Hang on,” Jamie says. “Hang on, she’s awake in there?”

Dani, folded nearly double on their couch with her face in her hands, nods. Her head is pounding. Viola has been, ah, what’s the polite way to put it? Running her mouth. For nearly four hours. 

“She’s got some...opinions,” Dani mumbles into her cupped hands. Jamie stops rubbing light circles into her back, curious. 

“About what?”

“Might be a shorter list, to ask what she doesn’t have an opinion about,” Dani says. At the back of her head, she feels Viola cross her arms. 

“This sounds like you are on the path to impudence, Miss Clayton.”

“But hang on, I thought--” Jamie seems to be choosing her words carefully. “I thought she was just sort of...in there. Tucked away, like the kids said. What do you mean she can see?”

Dani blows out a long breath, wishing dearly for a cigarette. “I don’t know, Jamie, I’m not the authority on carrying Victorian women around in my skull.”

“Bit nearer to it than me, Poppins.” Jamie’s smiling, plainly trying to make her feel better. Dani turns to glower at her. 

“I love you very much. Please don’t test me right now. She hasn’t stopped talking for more than twenty minutes all afternoon.”

Jamie raises her hands in surrender. “Can she...can she see me now?”

“Tell her,” Viola says. “Tell her I can see her, and her mannishly-inappropriate hairstyle.”

“I will not be saying that,” Dani mutters. Jamie raises an eyebrow. 

“Are you having a conversation now? What’s she saying?”

“Please let her know I find her insistence upon men’s trousers silly at best, her blouses are entirely too loose, and I am bewildered by the wealth of ankle she seems to find appropriate in mixed company--”

“She says you have a nice smile,” Dani says. Jamie’s eyebrows raise to her hairline. Viola makes a horrible little noise of revulsion.

“How dare you place words in my mouth!”

“You are absolutely not telling me the truth, are you?” Jamie says in the same moment. Dani groans.

“Aspirin. I am going to need so much aspirin.”

***

It’s not all the time, thankfully; Dani thinks she’d go mad if Viola were truly there at all hours, yammering away about silks and petticoats and the good old days when a person could just drop dead of the plague with no notice. Sometimes, Viola even goes days at a stretch without saying a word, as though she’s sunk back to sleep in whatever little corner of Dani’s mind she calls a bedroom. 

And then, like a thunderstorm, she emerges once more. Usually with something snappy and irritating to share with Dani.

“Are we really wearing that?”

“There is no we, Viola,” Dani grumbles. She’s in the process of trying to choose between a flower-patterned dress and a denim vest, unable to gauge what kind of day it’s going to be when she steps out of the closet and into the chaos. Business has been booming down at The Leafling, which is wonderful, but more than a little overwhelming. And Jamie, god love her, has taken to watching Dani when she thinks Dani won’t notice, always with this worried little crease between her eyes. 

It’s making her crazy, if she’s honest about it. Jamie isn’t the worrier in the relationship, and watching her slip into the role is making Dani feel worse about the whole situation. She needs Jamie to tell her it’s all fine, it’s all perfectly all right, they’re going to make it through this new weirdness together no problem. 

“My dear, we became a we the night you said the magic words,” Viola says, a bit pettily. “Or have you forgotten me already?”

“How,” Dani grits out, “on earth am I supposed to forget you? Feel like I spend every day just...waiting for you to spring up and ask some idiotic question about cars or airplanes or deodorant--”

“For a schoolteacher, you surely lack for patience, Miss Clayton.”

Dani closes her eyes, searching for strength. Her hands grope, landing on dress and vest and yanking them free. “You know what? Both. We’re doing both today.”

“We most certainly are not! Not even a glove to be found? And again with the florals! We’ve been over how tacky the florals are, Miss Clayton. Miss Clayton, are you listening?”

“No,” Dani says decisively, wriggling into the layers and looking around for her chunkiest pair of earrings. 

“You are the scandal of the town, Miss Clayton,” Viola sniffs.

***

“Does she, ah...watch when we do this?”

Dani groans. They’d been having such a nice evening--an old movie fading slowly into wandering hands, Jamie’s mouth making its way down her neck, Jamie’s fingers slipping beneath the hem of her shirt and tickling her ribs. She’d just flipped Jamie onto her back, was just looking to remove the deeply inconvenient articles of cloth between them, when Jamie pressed a palm lightly against her chest. 

“Not trying to be weird about it,” Jamie says, breathless. Her eyes are dark and heavy; though she’s stopped Dani moving closer, one of her legs has wound around Dani’s hip, easing her in. It’s giving Dani the worst kind of mixed message, to say the least. 

“Would you like us to put this sort of thing on hold until I find a way to exorcise the demon from my head, Jamie?”

“I did not say that. I decidedly said nothing of the kind.”

Dani lets her head fall forward, covering Jamie’s face in a fall of blonde. “Sorry. That was snippy. I just...I don’t know the answer. She’s...” She tilts her head, eyes shut, searching. “Quiet. For now.”

Jamie brushes her hair back, cups the side of her face, thumb moving in a slow arc across her cheekbone. “S’all right then. Can’t blame me being curious, can you? I mean, it’s not every day you find a third party sneaks into your bed.”

Dani leans into the soft stroke of her hand, sighing. “I don’t like it, either, you know. She’s so...judgey. I hadn’t realized ghosts could be judgey.”

“What’s she judging?” The hand on her chest slides, gripping a fistful of her shirt, pulling her toward Jamie. Dani sighs again, letting Jamie kiss her with the soft determination of someone apologizing for stopping this train in the first place. 

“Me,” she murmurs against Jamie’s lips. “You.”

“Me?” Jamie sounds affronted. “What’s there to judge about me, I’m a bloody peach.”

Dani laughs, bites her lower lip until Jamie groans. “It’s not anything personal. It’s just...the whole world is so different from what she remembers. There’s TV, jean shorts, women out there having jobs and lives without consent of their husbands...for her, it must be the Wild West.”

“Judges what she doesn’t understand, is that it?” Jamie is doing an admirable job of pretending to still be invested in this conversation, even as her hands are making short work of Dani’s sweatpants. Dani sucks in a breath. 

“I guess. Yeah. Can’t blame her for that, really.”

Jamie mulls this over, fingers tracing hipbone. Her nails bite gently into soft skin. “Does she judge us for this, I wonder?”

“Do you care?”

“Not,” Jamie says, twisting her hand and bringing their mouths together hard, “in the least.”

***

“Put it out the window.”

“I am not putting it out the window, Viola.”

“Down a flight of stairs, then! What in all cosmic reaches of hell is this for, if not throwing it somewhere it can never harm another soul again!”

Dani exhales through her nose, slowly, embracing every meditative memory of dealing with errant children. “I am not,” she says slowly to the empty apartment, “going to throw my television anywhere. And I'd really appreciate it if you’d stop making that suggestion every time I turn it on.”

“You are letting your soul rot from the inside out with this filth!” Viola is all but shrieking. Dani imagines her pacing back and forth, back and forth, her hands wild. “Your moral fiber, Miss Clayton. What of your moral fiber?”

“If MTV rots away one’s moral fiber,” Dani says, as calmly as she knows how, “then I suspect we’re all lost causes, anyway.”

Viola is silent for such a long time, Dani thinks she’s done the trick. She turns her attention back to the laundry she’s been folding to the tune of Janet Jackson. Her head bobs gently in time as the videos shuffle past--Madonna, Michael, Paula, George. Then, with the hour change, newer fare. She’s still getting around to some of these artists, still trying to work out how she feels about them. 

"Did you hear that?” Viola seethes. “What was that about an anaconda? Is this man suggesting we feed a woman to snakes? What barbarism do your people accept in this age?”

Dani folds a pair of Jamie’s socks with such deliberate care, she nearly forgets to breathe while doing it. 

“Moral fiber,” Viola hisses. “Moral fiber is wasted on this age of nudity and...and...hammertime.”

Dani finds herself desperately invested in ironing the wrinkles out of a pair of jeans with her hand until Viola goes quiet again.

***

“You could have such nice hair,” Viola croons. “Such nice hair, if you would only put them away...”

“They’re convenient,” Dani says, scraping her hair back into a pink scrunchie. Viola makes a noise of disgust. 

“They’re abhorrent. Honestly, your time and its...fashions. What do you call this?”

She’s gesturing toward the bathroom counter, to the little basket that holds all the hair supplies. Dani sighs. 

“It’s a headband, Viola. We like headbands. They keep the hair out of our eyes.”

“There are other ways. Fine hats. Lovely veils. Why don’t you own any lovely veils, Dani, do you want the common folk seeing your every decision in your eyes?”

Dani reaches for the hairspray. Behind her, Jamie bustles in with shirt half-buttoned, suspenders swinging around her thighs. Viola makes another catty little noise. 

“Any news?” Jamie asks, reaching around for a hairbrush and kissing Dani’s cheek. 

“She doesn’t like scrunchies,” Dani reports. “And she’s started calling me Dani.”

Jamie frowns. “Good sign or bad?”

“Impossible to guess.”

“Tell her you want some veils,” Viola says sweetly. “And for her to learn the value of a fine skirt.”

Dani, ignoring this, reaches around the back of Jamie’s neck and pulls her into a searing kiss. Jamie drops the hairbrush with a clatter, leaning Dani back against the counter and gripping the small of her back like she’s suddenly forgotten they’re both late for work. 

When they break apart, they’re both flushed, Dani giggling into the underside of Jamie’s jaw, Jamie’s eyes glazed. In the back of her mind, she hears Viola sigh. 

“That is truly childish, you know.”

***

It’s kind of an accidental habit, punishing her inner ghost for bad behavior by channeling her frustrations into sex. She couldn’t explain it if she tried, except to say Viola does tend to shut up when Dani’s properly distracted. Maybe it’s just the way the connection works, thinner when Dani isn’t willing to give it energy. Maybe Viola’s embarrassed. Either way, a year after Viola first speaks, her life with Jamie burns hotter than it ever has. 

It’s best when Viola is trying to run her mouth over Jamie’s fashion sense, she’s noticed. It is, in fact, the only way to shut Viola up about the aforementioned fashion sense. Which Dani intellectually understands; coming up from a world 400 years away, where women dressed in endless layers and a person’s value was often found in the shine of her jewels and the rich fabric of her skirts, slamming face-first into the 1990s must have been a trip. Truly, Viola is lucky Dani didn’t cart her out of that lake earlier. If she thinks scrunchies are bad, she should have seen the heyday of shoulder pads. 

Honestly, though, the worst thing is listening to Viola trill on about how much better Jamie could look if she’d only bow to the whims of femininity. Jamie, whose primary word on fashion has always been “can I dig a hole in this?” is perfect just the way she is. In fact, as the years go on and her jeans grow cuffs, her shorts grow shorter, her tops crop midway up her stomach, Dani thinks the world is finally suiting Jamie instead of the other way around. 

“She’s prancing around for the world to see--”

“It’s ninety-six degrees out,” Dani says in a low voice. She understands these conversations with Viola can be internalized, but she tends to wind up wearing this distant expression every time, and Jamie can spot it a mile off. Best to just mutter aloud in the sanctity of their own home. 

“She’s walking her wares up and down the block,” Viola rages on. “Not a shawl to be seen!”

“Jamie,” Dani calls from the kitchen, “have you ever in your life worn a shawl?”

“That’s, uh, one of those blankets with the fringy bits, yeah?” Jamie calls back. She’s bent over the air conditioning unit, trying to coax life into the old girl. The cropped line of her black t-shirt rides up her back, revealing glistening skin. Dani tips her head to enjoy the view. “I’ll pass on account of any blanket in this heat being like to kill me.”

“Best not to test it,” Dani agrees. Viola heaves the longest-suffering sigh Dani’s ever heard. 

“It doesn’t bother you in the least, your woman out there, where anyone could see her...her bare stomach!”

“One,” Dani says coolly, “she’s my girlfriend, not my woman. Two, I’ve never once tried to dictate her clothing, and I’m not stopping because a dead woman insists. Three, I happen to like it.”

“Like what?” Jamie strolls back to her, pushing sweaty hair off her forehead with a sigh. She stops a few inches away, rocking back and forth on her heels like she wants nothing more than to close the distance despite the mind-numbing heat. 

“Viola is commenting upon your more risqué clothing choices.”

“What? This?” Jamie grasps the exceedingly high-cut hem of her shirt and tugs it gently upward, teasing. “What’s her problem with all this?”

“It’s on display, evidently.”

“As it should be,” Jamie says almost primly. “I’m a fine specimen to behold. Learn to enjoy it, love, it’ll be faster than trying to change the view.”

This last, she says in a slightly louder voice, as though speaking to the shadow behind Dani’s eyes. She’s grinning, and Dani has time to think how strange it is, how quickly they’ve learned to accommodate Viola’s appearances into their conversations--Jamie has taken to leaving beats between her sentences, allowing for Dani to process two people speaking at once--before Jamie is wrapping both arms around her and lifting her off the floor. She squeals in surprise, delight turning to desire as Jamie licks a bead of sweat from her neck. 

“Not again,” Viola sighs. “You’ll wake the whole village.”

“Apartment,” Dani corrects, catching Jamie by the jaw and kissing her hungrily. It’s too hot for this, probably, but she can’t quite remember how to care when Jamie pulls free of her grasp and slides to her knees, taking Dani’s skirt with her. 

“It’s a nightmare, regardless.”

***

Eventually, Viola proves herself capable of learning a thing or two. Namely, that she is welcome to run commentary on anyone in the world except for Jamie. 

Even old ghosts can learn new tricks, apparently, although it takes a number of months, a great deal of sex, and one memorable weekend in which--upon Viola raging over every article in Jamie’s side of the closet for half an hour--Dani simply removed the option of clothing from Viola’s sight altogether. 

“This,” Jamie panted, both of them on the floor with a sheet draped over their tangled limbs, “is working for me in the weirdest way, Poppins.”

“I think she’s really starting to hate me,” Dani said conversationally, even as her fingers slipped between Jamie’s legs yet again. Jamie’s hips rose to meet her, one hand burying itself in her hair. 

“Well, that makes one of us, doesn’t it?”

***

Not commenting on Jamie, naturally, does nothing to stop Viola talking about every other goddamn thing in the world. 

“We’re going to have to have a long talk about not shaming women for their bodies, you know,” Dani tells her one afternoon. Viola has been tearing a young woman to pieces over her short skirt, furious that someone so pristine could soil herself with such impunity. Dani must be getting used to this in the weirdest way possible, because this kind of floral language is starting to feel second-nature. 

“I would never shame anyone,” Viola protests. “I am simply stating fact. Men do not value women as it is, and while we may win their games, we get nowhere at all if we do not play them.”

“This isn’t a game, Viola, it’s her life. Her body. She can do whatever she likes with it.”

“But I want her to succeed,” Viola insists. There’s an almost disconcerting eagerness to the words. She really truly believes what she’s saying. “A woman viewed as nothing more than a strumpet will have an even more difficult time securing a dowry, and then where will she be?”

“In college?” Dani suggests blithely. “Traveling? Living isn’t just for men, Viola, I know you know this. You refused the oath of obedience on your wedding day.”

“Of course it’s not for men’s sake alone, but when the law--”

“The law is different here,” Dani says, almost gently. “Has been for a long time. Or haven’t you noticed how well Jamie and I get along without a man to be found?”

Viola’s silence stretches so long, Dani’s sure she’s either gone back to sleep or is finally choosing this moment to let the ugly banner of homophobia unfurl. She’s been waiting for this moment for years, it seems, waiting for the ghost in her head to mimic her mother on the one and only occasion she attempted to send home a letter. 

“You’re different,” Viola says at last, very softly. Dani blinks. 

“Pardon?”

“You’re different,” Viola repeats. “Jamie is your forever. Does that young girl have her forever, Miss Clayton?”

“Well--I don't know, I don’t suppose it’s my business--”

“Perhaps she will find it in one like our Jamie,” Viola says impatiently. “But perhaps she will find instead the stones of men who have not, over four centuries, really changed all that much. Is it so wrong of me, to have a mother’s care for that?”

Dani doesn’t know how to answer. Doesn’t have the first idea, when faced with a Viola who is not simply catty for cattiness’ sake, but genuine. She opens and closes her mouth a few times, unable to find argument. 

“We just. We just don’t pick on girls for what they do with their bodies, all right? It’s...it’s cruel, and it isn’t necessary.”

Viola sighs. “Fine. But we still ought to discuss the pattern choices. Those polka dots are not flattering in the least.”

It’s only later, watching Jamie chop carrots for dinner, that Dani realizes Viola had said our. Our Jamie. 

“Oh sweet Christ,” she mumbles.

***

The change is slow. Subtle. If not for the fact of carrying this woman in her head, Dani’s not sure she even would have noticed. 

“She what?” Jamie looks up from the plant she’s tending, fingernails grimed with soil, wedding ring carefully strung upon a thick chain around her neck until she can clean up again. “She...sorry, what?”

“I can’t be sure,” Dani muses. “It sounds...crazy. But I think she’s starting to like you.”

“Well, sure,” Jamie laughs. “I’m a deeply likable human being. But this is the Lady, yeah? Same one who dragged Peter fucking Quint to his death? Same one who thinks I show too much skin?”

“I’m...not convinced she thinks that anymore.” It’s really hard to say for sure. On the one hand, it’s possible Viola has shut up about Jamie’s shorn sleeves and shorts because every time she mentioned either, Dani made it her personal life’s mission to make sure Jamie never wore anything else around the house. On the other...

“I think she looked at your butt the other day.”

Jamie raises her eyes slowly, brow furrowing. “Can she do that? Turn your eyes to something you weren’t already looking at?”

“No,” Dani says, a bit stiffly, all too aware of stepping into the trap. Jamie grins. 

“Thought not.”

“But it was different,” Dani presses on through flushing cheeks. “I mean--even if I was already looking, she was--I mean--she--”

She doesn’t know how to explain it. How the rumble in her chest, already so familiar at the sight of Jamie puttering around their home, had seemed to expand until it encompassed all of her. How it was like someone had turned the heat in the room to its breaking point. 

“I can just tell, okay?” she says, aggrieved. “She looked at your butt, and she liked it.”

Jamie makes a thoughtful face, brushing dirt off her hands with slow, deliberate motions. “So...what you’re saying is...your personal ghostie has a crush on your wife?”

Dani presses her face against the counter, letting the cool metal relieve her blush. “Shit. Yeah. I think she might.”

“This is,” Jamie says triumphantly, pressing up against Dani from behind and kissing the back of her neck, “the funniest thing that has ever happened, by a country goddamn mile.”

***

A series of events, cascading in short order, that Dani almost actually feels bad about. If one could feel guilty about putting strain on one’s personal-pan Casper. 

The Britney Spears video, for one. Viola still does not like music videos--or music, frankly, unless it involves a ridiculous number of flutes and orchestral swells--but she’s grown to tolerate them. Mostly. 

That is, until Britney sways onscreen in a plaid skirt and schoolgirl pigtails. 

“Fuck,” Dani gasps, hand coming down hard against her own breastbone. It’s like someone grabbed the dial on her blood pressure and cranked it all the way up. That someone, she suspects, being the dead woman who has been more and more present of late. 

“I--I cannot--I simply am not capable of understanding--” Viola sounds like she’s short-circuiting. “I know we are not meant to comment, but what on earth is she doing?!”

“Dancing,” Dani says sharply, trying to coax her breathing back down. Is this what a stroke feels like? Is her fucking ghost roommate giving her an actual stroke? “Viola, you’ve seen dancing.”

“She is so young! She is a child! Who is protecting this person from the world?” Viola is furious. Viola is exploding. Dani sort of wonders if her chest is going to explode, too. 

“She’s...a pop star. This is what they get paid lots and lots of money to do.” It’s a bad answer, she knows. These videos make her a little uncomfortable too, when she thinks on them too long. But Viola? Viola’s rage is a towering beast of a thing. For a minute, lungs scraping at the air, Dani is genuinely afraid this is the point where the switch flips. Where she finds herself staring at the room from the back of her own head. 

“Someone,” Viola says in a low, terrible voice, “must protect these children.”

It takes almost an hour to calm her down. Dani doesn’t turn MTV back on for a while after that. 

***

“The. The moon?” The opposite end of the emotional spectrum this time. If Viola had been nearly apoplectic over Britney’s choreography, she now sounds faint.

“You should have floated that a bit more softly,” Dani tells Jamie, who looks confused. 

“Float what, all I did was mention NASA--”

“The moon,” Viola repeats. “We have seen. The moon.”

“She’s having trouble with the moon landing,” Dani says. Jamie waves her hands helplessly.

“Poppins, I have trouble understanding the geography of Texas, we all have problems.”

“We have,” Viola breathes, “stepped foot. Upon. The moon.”

Dani pours herself another large glass of wine.

***

“How’s this, then?” Jamie gives a very small, somewhat self-conscious twirl. “Too much? Too little? Too, ah, revealing, as the ghost contingent might say?”

Dani, leaning against the bedroom wall, can’t quite find the words. Viola, too, is conspicuously silent. 

“It’s bad,” Jamie says, nodding fervently. “Yeah, y’know, I think I knew it when I picked it up. Better on the sales rack, as they say. I can just...if you wouldn’t mind popping the zip real quick...”

“Yes, Dani,” Viola says quietly. “Pop the zip.”

“You don’t even know what that means,” Dani hisses. Jamie raises an eyebrow.

“What’s that?”

“It’s not bad,” Dani says quickly, ignoring the little harrumph Viola utters. “It’s very not bad. Opposite of bad, really.”

Relief floods Jamie’s face. The dress is low cut in a way very little of her clean-up clothes are, with a slit running clear up the leg. Patterned in burgundy petals, the black velvet is stark against her pale skin. 

“I won’t get run out of the convention, then? Only they said there’s a bit about drinks and networking, and it was just shy of black-tie. I could do that instead. Get a black tie. Think I’d look nice in a black tie.”

“The dress,” Viola says in a low, conspiratorial voice. “Tell her it is a nice dress.”

“It’s a nice dress,” Dani repeats with comic dazedness. “Best dress I’ve ever seen, maybe.”

“And now,” Viola says soothingly, “you go to her. Walk confidently now, shoulders back, chin up--”

“Are you...wing-man-ing me toward my own wife?” 

“Seduction requires confidence, Dani.”

“What’s she saying?” Jamie’s face has gone a curious mix of apprehensive and amused. Dani swallows. 

“Seduction requires confidence, evidently.” 

A slow grin spreads across Jamie’s face. Dani raises a hand, finger extended. 

“Don’t. Don’t make that smug face.”

“What’s smug about it?” She’s moving across the room, arms already reaching. “This is my very natural expression, I’ll have you know. The most normal expression in the world for a woman whose wife is being told to undress her by the ancient rage-ghost sharing her body.”

“Our lives,” Dani says helplessly, already pressing herself flush against Jamie, “are different than other people’s lives.”

“Yes,” Jamie agrees in a low voice, sliding the sweater over Dani’s head. “Can’t find it in me to complain, though, can you?”

***

It’s weird, almost. Weirder, that it’s almost not. That the beast in the jungle, the creature Dani spent nearly a decade dreading, has pounced at last and...mostly, she just seems to want to see Dani happy. 

Jamie finds it hilarious, in that pretend-callous way Jamie has of smoothing over genuine concern with soft laughter. She doesn’t like Dani sharing her mental space with someone at all hours, Viola popping up like a wack-a-mole game on high. But, if Dani must share the space with anyone, at least--

“It’s someone who thinks I'm gorgeous.”

“You are gorgeous,” Dani replies, a bit exasperated. “Gorgeous, silly, perfect person. But my inner ghost has a crush on you, that isn’t strange for you?”

“Poppins, my life has been strange since a doe-eyed American strolled into it and told me she still saw her dead fiancé when we kissed.” Jamie reclines on the bed in a sleep shirt and underwear, hands playing lightly with the pillowcase beneath her head. “Strange is my bread and butter these days, and if I had to sacrifice you to have it any other way, we both know how it would go.”

Dani makes a mulish sound under her breath. Jamie cups a hand to her ear. 

“Say again?”

“It’s weird,” she repeats, arms crossed over her chest. “She’s weird. I always thought she’d do something bad--walk me off a roof, or strangle someone to death, or try to rob a convenience store. But mostly she just wants to protect young girls from an uncaring world and look at your butt in the shower.”

“That is...very specific,” Jamie says lightly. Dani shakes her head. 

“It’s so bizarre. The longer this goes on, the more she sees of the world, it’s like...like she’s getting more real. More Viola, less Lady.”

Jamie sits up, hand sliding to rest high on Dani’s thigh as if to shield her from harm. “But not more solid, right? Not taking up space you already rent?”

Dani shakes her head. “That’s the thing. She doesn't feel like she’s taking over. And it feels...like she should.”

“You want her to?” 

“No, no, of course not.” Dani raises Jamie’s knuckles to her lips, raining soft kisses up and down her hand until the tension goes out of her brow. “I just don’t understand what’s happening. This isn’t...what I expected.”

Jamie exhales, shifting her weight until she’s sitting in Dani’s lap. She takes a Dani’s face between her hands, kisses her long and slow until Dani eases back against the headboard. 

“This is good, Poppins. You’re a good influence. You were on those kids, and on me, and now on this Lady of yours. Maybe that’s all a ghost needs, deep down.”

Dani leans into her, lets the rhythm of kiss and gentle bite and hands slipping beneath her clothes carry her away for a while. Still, no Viola, and she’s grateful. She doesn’t like to think how that would feel, Viola popping up while Jamie’s curling her fingers deep, groaning soft against her shoulder. There is a time and a place for hauntings, and time with Jamie is something else entirely. 

She’s pretty sure Viola even respects that. Which is, like everything else, incredibly strange. 

***

Viola attends their second wedding. Their real wedding. It’s bizarre on a level Dani isn’t prepared to deal with, feeling her surface as the plans become reality. Jamie’s got flowers, naturally, and Owen’s catering, and Henry has the kids--who are kids no longer, but fully-formed people with lives of their own--running errands on the day. And Dani...

Dani is looking at herself in a wedding dress for the second time in her life, only this time, she can breathe. 

“You are radiant,” Viola says. Dani closes her eyes for a moment, steels herself. 

“Nothing else to say? No notes?”

“You chose wisely,” Viola says. Dani sighs. 

“I figured lace was classic, and someone told me I had nice shoulders once, so--”

“The dress is beautiful,” Viola says. “But I was not talking about your grooming for the day.”

Dani gives a shaky laugh. “I love her, you know. I really do.”

“I can tell.” A beat of silence. Then: “I did not understand at first. Her. Or you. I suppose I will never understand completely. But...I understand the depths of what you feel. It is a part of me, too, I think. That devotion, sinking into all the spaces where I had forgotten.”

“You’re in love with Jamie, too?” Dani asks, not really wanting the answer. Viola laughs. 

“Yes. And no. You and I are intertwined, Miss Clayton. What you feel, I feel, to a degree. More importantly, I have seen your life with her. The life you build with the reckless joy of two people doomed one day to die.”

“Thanks,” Dani says, a bit sharply. She senses Viola putting her hands up, a terribly-modern gesture of surrender. 

“You understand what I mean. It takes courage, to love this completely. To do so while carrying a burden neither of us can truly comprehend is...something else altogether. There is a strength there I could not have understood on my most willful of days.”

“You turned Death away at your own doorstep,” Dani points out, smiling. Viola is pleased. 

“I did, didn’t I? And I could never regret it, even now. But you. You are doing something so much more incredible. Loving, even knowing what ending love must craft.”

“This is a bit dark for my wedding day,” Dani points out. Viola nods. 

“You are radiant. And you are fortunate. And I wish you both all the happiness in the world.”

It is the strangest wedding toast she’s ever heard, and something within Dani’s heart has never been more at peace.

***

“How’s our Lady doing tonight?” Jamie asks as Dani slips into bed beside her. She tips her head, thinking on it. Viola, as she usually is once Dani crosses the bedroom threshold, is nowhere to be found. 

“Good, I think. Calm.”

“And my wife?” Jamie looks at her, eyes serious. “You’ve been quieter lately. Fighting her less?”

“She’s been fighting me less,” Dani says. “She...likes it here, I think. Likes us. You know, I thought after this much time, she’d get bored or restless or...go back to her old ways, but...”

“But I’m just too gorgeous,” Jamie teases. Dani slings a leg across her body, holds tight to her with hands that never feel as though they can hold on hard enough. 

“I think sometimes...sometimes it’s just about remembering. What it’s like to be a person. What it’s like to be in love.”

“Mm,” Jamie agrees, fingertips drawing dizzying spirals on the bare back of Dani’s shoulder. “Well done, you. You’ve tamed your beast.”

Dani sighs, content. “I think it was a joint effort.”

“Yes,” Jamie agrees, kissing the top of her head. “Because I am, famously, too gorgeous to deny.”

[the-void-i-scream-into]

White Tulips - a JunJin fanfic 1/3

Full Story: Part 2, Part 3

Hello everyone! I hope everyone who is reading this is healthy and safe. This is a fanfic about my favorite characters, Kang Sujin and Han Seojun. I really love these two together so I wrote what I had hoped to see in True Beauty. This is my first time writing fanfiction so its not that good. But I hope you still enjoy it. I didn’t change anything from True Beauty, rather continued the events from the ending with a focus on giving Sujin the redemption arc she so rightly deserved. 

I really have to thank everyone on the shooters gc, especially @prodmina, for being so amazing and awesome. Never before have I come accross such amazing, wonderful, open and friendly group of people. I’m not that active on the chat, but I am so grateful it exists. Thank you to everyone on there. This is dedicated to you all.

Pairing: Kang Sujin x Han Seojun

Romantic Trope: Haters to friends to lovers

Word Count: 5.9k

Rating: T

PART 1

i.

If you asked Han Seojun why he loved Lim Jukyung, he wouldn’t be able to answer. His feelings for her overwhelmed him to the point of inarticulation. His heart still skipped a beat every time he saw her at dinner with their group. He still found himself staring at her from time to time, unable to look away from her beauty. He even wrote songs about her, his only form of expressing his love for her.

He still thought of her in every free minute he had between practice, performance and recording sessions. When he couldn’t see her, he would watch her make-up tutorials online. He was proud of how far she had come with her career as a make-up artist. Her popularity was a source of delight for him. It was only appropriate that everyone see how amazing she was.

The only problem was, Lim Jukyung didn’t belong to him. She belonged to Lee Suho, his best friend.

Seojun was happy for the two of them. They were the best people he knew and even he had to acknowledge that they belonged together. Which was why, having these feelings were burdensome for Seojun.

It was burdensome, seeing them all lovey-dovey with each other and talking about their lives together. Normally Seojun would have faked a smile, but when they were all together in a group he scowled without reserve. He got away with it because right beside Suho and Jukyung, sat Taehoon and Suah who were the kind of cheesy couple that made anyone barf.

In fact, just the thought of Suah and Taehoon fawning over each other made him cringe. Even now as he walked into the special private room they frequented for their gatherings—private due to Seojun’s and Jukyung’s popularity—Seojun was pushing back his gag reflex at the squealing he could hear outside.

He scolded them as he entered the room. “Guys! I can hear you all the way from the front entrance. Why are you always so—” He stopped in his tracks. There, between a giggling Jukyung and beaming Suah sat the worst person Seojun had ever known.

Her.

He had heard peripherally about how she had changed now, having reformed as a charity worker. She had apparently apologized to Jukyung about the shitty things she had done before. As if an apology could change anything.

Han Seojun knew Jukyung had forgiven Kang Sujin. That woman had even attended Heekyung’s wedding. But Seojun didn’t understand why she had to invade their special gatherings.

The room had fallen silent. Everyone awkwardly stared at Seojun, then Sujin.

“It’s been a while, Han Seojun.” She said with a polite smile. Her voice deeper than most girls’. He always hated her voice and its lack of femininity.

Ya Han Seojun, are you a gangster?!

Seojun pushed the memory away.

“Ah-aah! Han Seojun. You must be surprised.” Jukyung said with forced cheerfulness. “I invited Sujin to join us today.

Seojun merely flicked a cynical brow at Jukyung and took his usual seat besides Suho. Suah and Jukyung nervously returned to their conversation.

The uncomfortable air in the room subsided after a while and everyone chatted cheerfully with each other. Everyone except Han Seojun.

“I saw your performance on TV. You looked good.” Suho told Seojun.

“Why the hell have you invited Kang Soojin?” Seojun asked Suho in a hushed tone.

“She’s a friend, of course she’s invited.”

“Why are you friends with her again?”

“Seojun, its fine.”

Seojun opened his mouth to protest but before he could, Sujin interrupted him.

“Ya, Han Seojun. I saw your performance on TV. I didn’t know you could sing so well.” She said, not sounding too impressed. “You were great.”

It was a peace offering. A way to start off on the right foot.

Seojun gave a sarcastic smile and tilted his head. “You should have known I was that good. I performed in school, didn’t I?”

“Oh right. I guess I didn’t really pay attention before.”

“You were too busy giving all of your attention to Lee Suho. I don’t expect you to have noticed anybody else.”

This time, the silence in the room was palpable. Taehoon audibly gulped. The only person unfazed was Sujin.

“Yeah. I was obsessed with Suho.” She said simply. “But now that I look back,” she made a frame with her forefingers and thumbs, “I think what the hell does Jukyung see in you?”

“Ya!” Suho protested so seriously that Jukyung giggled, breaking the tension.

“Honestly Jukyung. You’d be better off with me as your boyfriend.” Suah and Taehoon joined the laughter.

“Ya Kang Sujin, you stay away from my girlfriend.” Suho protested, pouting.

“You’re too serious, Lee Suho. Jukyung needs someone more fun.”

“At least I don’t go around kicking people in the face.”

“You wouldn’t be able to do it, even if you tried.”

“I know jujitsu, you know.”

“Okay, okay!” Jukyung said. And that was it, the friends were back to normal.

Seojun kept out of the conversations, eating and drinking on his own. No one dared to bother him lest he say something else to ruin the mood.

Han Seojun didn’t care to maintain a good mood. He had no tolerance for people like Kang Sujin; people who were bullies. And especially not when said bully had hurt someone he cared about very deeply. He didn’t buy this act that Sujin was pulling. He knew, that people never changed.

The conversation turned to Sujin and her charity work overseas. She talked animatedly about the children she and her non-profit group worked for. It made Seojun’s blood boil, how she was using a noble cause as a front for her true cold-hearted personality. That angel bullshit may work on others, but it would not work on Seojun.

He kept a close eye on her the entire time, almost glaring to the point where Suho had to poke him with his elbow to get him to look away. But Suho was blind, he should have seen how Sujin’s face gave the barest of glances of pain when he and Jukyung kissed each other and pulled each other’s cheeks and talked about living together.

“Oh, you guys share an apartment?” No one else noticed the high-pitchiness of Sujin’s voice when she asked this. No one, expect Seojun.

And then there was the stolen glances at Suho. That was the final nail in the coffin. Seojun was convinced that Sujin was pretending to be over Suho. She was still in love with him. And that was a problem.

“What’s wrong with you?” Suho confronted Seojun outside, when it was just the two of them waiting for the others to leave.

“What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with you? Don’t you know the kind of person Kang Sujin is? How can you let her in again?”

“Calm down, Seojun-ah. That was all years ago.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that she hurt Jukyung.”

“She’s not a bad person. I know her better than you. She made a mistake.”

“She knew what she was doing.”

“Haven’t you ever made a mistake before? Or are you telling me that blaming me for Seyeon’s death was the right thing to do?”

Seojun was quiet.

“Seojun-ah, don’t take this the wrong way. You have a tendency to judge too quickly, and misunderstand. If you really hate her that much then talk to her and ask her about her reasons. Don’t just go on assuming something is the way it is because you think so.”

Seojun grit his teeth.

“Shall we go?” Jukyung came up from behind, taking Suho’s arm. The rest of the group was behind her.

“Yeah. Bye everyone. See you next time.” The couple waved as others waved back. “Seojun, I hope you’ll think about what I said.”

Seojun just nodded and waved too. He watched Jukyung and Suho disappear into the crowd on the street.

The rest of them said their goodbyes and went their way, Seojun leaving after giving Sujin a distrusting side-eye.

ii.

I don’t want to be a fool like you and be just friends, only to like him one sidedly.

It had been such a long time ago when Kang Sujin had said this to Han Seojun, but he remembered it like it was yesterday. That and a couple of other memories that played in his mind, causing whiplash.

Ya Han Seojun, are you a gangster?!

Those words especially felt like a slap on his face. He could actually feel his cheek burning at the image of Kang Sujin standing there in her uniform, telling off him and his boys about bullying Jukyung.

He had respected her back then, for having the guys to stand up for her friend. Even though she had been all haughty like some arrogant princess and thought him a fool, he had still respected her. He had never expected her to turn out to be such a vile person.

Am I handsome?

Yes.

No, no, no. That was one incident he refused to remember. It meant nothing. Only a source of surprise at her bluntness, nothing more.

“Seojun, we’re going to hit the showers now, are you done?”

Seojun didn’t hear Chorong as he ran on the treadmill. His body was in the gym but his mind as fully occupied by Kang Sujin, as it had been for the past week.

“Han Seojun, are you listening?”

She must have had a reason for suddenly showing up out of the blue. She had disappeared completely when the truth about her had been revealed online. Obviously, she ran away like a coward. If she was back now, it must be because she wanted something. Kang Sujin could be very calculating and manipulative.

Was it because of Lee Suho?

“Han Seojun!”

Chorong’s voice snapped Seojun out of his thoughts and he fell backward from his treadmill.

“OOOH! Are you okay?”

“YA! Why would you do that?!” Seojun snapped at Chorong as he got back up. He checked himself for bruises though his dignity caught the worst of it.

“Ah-nee, I called you so many times. You were totally checked out.” Chorong explained.

“Does that make sense? Why would I be checked out?”

“Well… you have been out of it this past week. Has something been bothering you?”

Something had been bothering him; something with silky, black hair and long legs.

“What? You met Kang Sujin?” His entire posse sounded as he told them about her return. Seojun put a finger in his ears as he was bombarded with questions.

“Did she apologize to Jukyung? Are they friends now?”

“Did she tell where she was all that time?”

“Is she still pretty?”

“Is she single?”

“What is she doing these days?”

Seojun ignored all of these useless inquiries.

“Hey! Did you al forget the kind of person she is? How could you ask if she is still pretty?”

“She must be. I bet she’s still the same.”

“She was never pretty.” Seojun declared. “I can never understand what people see in her.”

“That’s because you only have eyes for one.” One of them teased and the rest of them Ooh-ed like school girls.

“Ah, shikkeureo! Shut up!” Chorong said in defense of Seojun. Out of everyone, Chorong understood best how much Seojun still pined for Jukyung. “So, what exactly is bothering you about Kang Sujin?”

“I don’t trust her. Especially around Jukyung.”

“Wae? Do you think she might still be after Lee Suho.”

“Yes. At least I suspect so. I’m not sure what game she’s playing at but I’m not buying this angel persona she has on.”

“So? You can’t exactly stop Jukyung from choosing to be friends with her.”

“I feel I can convince Jukyung if I talk to her.”

“She might just tell you to try to get along with Sujin.”

This was true. Jukyung was too nice and trusting with people. Seojun thought long and hard.

“I’ll have to protect her. I’ll have to keep Kang Sujin away from Jukyung.”

iii.

He had been on his way to the studio, casually riding by on his bike, when he saw her. She was in some blue vest, clearly a uniform of some sort. She was handing out fliers to people who passed by, smiling widely with that fake innocent look she had perfected. What a crock of shit. Seojun swerved around and parked his bike, then sauntered up to her with an amused expression.

She lit up when she saw him approach, waving animatedly at him. Her happiness upon seeing him surprised him so much that he stumbled and almost fell. He played it off as nothing, hoping she hadn’t noticed.

“Ya Han Seojun, gimme your autograph.” She grinned as she pushed forward a petition to help kids in Africa.

Seojun didn’t take it. “What are you doing?” He asked rhetorically, looking at the pictures of children she had set up for people to see along with information as to how to donate. So she’s using these poor kids for her own selfish reasons?

“Huh?” Sujin hadn’t missed his tone. “Just sign it, its for a good cause. And being charitable will help your image too, no?” She tried appealing to his logic.

“Ooooh,” Seojun mocked, “So you keep up the pretense even when you’re not around Jukyung? Isn’t this a too much, Kang Sujin?”

Sujin’s smile dropped into a snarl, “What?”

“I’m on to you, Kang Sujin.” Seojun got up in her face. “Ah-nee, if you’re going to pretend to be all reformed then you shouldn’t make it too obvious. Charity work is a little too on the nose, don’t you think?”

Sujin stared at him in shock and anger. Seojun suddenly recalled how well Sujin had kicked those thugs who had kidnapped Jukyung back in high school and gulped. He hoped she wouldn’t try to kill him in public but it was too late to take back what he said.

“Han Seojun…” Sujin said through clenched teeth and Seojun prepared for the worst.

Ya Han Seojun! Are you a gangster?!

But she said nothing. Instead she calmed herself, exhaling through her mouth.

“I probably deserve that.” She said, not backing away or cowering from him. She pushed the flier in his chest, “But don’t make these kids suffer because of your anger towards me. They could really use the support.”

Seojun looked down at the flier. He couldn’t sign anything without the consent of his agency. So he folded it up and pocketed it. Along with his pride. He could put his ego aside for a good cause.

“These kids deserve a better person representing them than you.” Seojun said. Sujin pressed her lips tightly.

“Aren’t you being a little too harsh? I’m not the same person anymore. And Jukyung has—”

“You may have everyone else fooled, Kang Sujin. But I will always remember what you are.” With that, Seojun walked away, his hand twitching.

 iv.

The next time they all met up, Seojun made sure to sit between Sujin and Jukyung. He felt uncomfortable because he had to bump shoulders with her, but he would bear it for Jukyung.

Suho gave Seojun a warning look when they all sat down. Don’t do anything excessive, the look said. Seojun ignored it.

He could feel Sujin’s stiffness beside him. This was uncomfortable for her too. Good. If I’m suffering, she should too. But she kept up her polite façade, smiling like nothing bothered her.

Seojun made sure to keep her isolated from Jukyung. He didn’t let her speak to Jukyung, didn’t let her participate in the competitions. He even didn’t let her eat properly.

“Jukyung-ah, did I show you my pictures from—”

“Jukyung-ah, has your sister told you about the tour we’re planning?” Seojun interrupted.

Jukyung would be at a loss as to who to answer and Seojun would move forward, blocking Sujin.

When Suho or Jukyung tried to ask Sujin what she wanted to eat first, he took the first dish he saw and shoved it in front of her.  

“Here, have this Kang Sujin.”

“I don’t want it.” She said with an unamused look.

“Take it.” He ordered in his intimidating baritone.

They glared at each other , Sujin’s face twitching with annoyance. Seojun mentally dared her to snap at him but she swallowed her pride, quite literally, and put on a fake smile.

“Thanks.” She said dryly.

By the end of dinner, Han Seojun had successfully managed to annoy Kang Sujin. Her fake persona was slipping as she clenched her jaw and exhaled excessively to keep her temper in check. Seojun guessed he would have her true personality on display by the end of the night.

“Han Seojun what are you doing?” Suho confronted him outside.

“What did I do?” Seojun feigned ignorance.

“You need to sto—”

“Han Seojun. Let’s talk.” Sujin strode up to them from behind, her face set with determination.

“No.” Seojun said.

“I wasn’t asking. I was telling.” And there she was, the old Sujin. Gone was the politeness and friendly demeanor. She stared boldly at him, almost challenging him to refuse again.

“Seojun-ah, just hear her out.” Jukyung broke through their staring match. Seojun could never say no to her. But he didn’t get a chance to say yes either.

Sujin simply commanded, “Follow me,” and grabbed the collar of his jacket, dragging him away.

“Ya! What are you doing?!” But Kang Sujin was stronger than she looked and Seojun found himself being pulled against his will.

The rest of them could only stare.

“Do you think they’ll be alright?” Suah asked, concerned.

“Nope. I’m certain they’ll kill each other.” Suho replied nonchalantly.

“My money’s on Sujin.” Taehoon and Suah said together.

“You’re on.” Suho replied.

iv.

“Are you crazy? How could you grab me like that?” Seojun smoothened the collar of his coat that Sujin had bunched up in her fist. She had let go when he had said that he would follow enough times. They walked together, Sujin going ahead of him. He quickly put on his mask. “How can a girl be so strong?” He said under his breath. Then spoke aloud, “Is this any way to treat an idol?”

Sujin suddenly turned on her heels, stopping Seojun in his tracks. She was a little too close for comfort and looked intimidated with that unfiltered anger on her face. “Just shut up and follow.”

Seojun put his hands on his hips, tilting his head. He was unimpressed by her tough attitude. He gestured forward with his chin, “Then move.”

He followed her, keeping a small distance between them. She marched forward, taking long strides with her long, long legs. She looked like a general going to war.

“She calls me a thug. She should look at herself.” He mumbled.

Sujin led them to a secluded pocha, street food vendor with small plastic seats housed inside a plastic tent. Seojun adjusted his mask.

“Relax, no one here is going to recognize you.” Sujin said, sensing his discomfort. Indeed, when Seojun looked around, all he saw were hold ahjusshis getting drunk and babbling nonsense. None of them seemed like his fans.

Still, Sujin led them in a corner table and sat where he was hidden by her. She ordered two bottles of soju and side dishes for him. He simply watched with his arms crossed.

The silence between them was awkward and heavy. Neither of them said anything. Han Seojun openly stared at Sujin. Kang Sujin looked everywhere but him. The lady brought them their order. Sujin effortlessly opened a bottle and moved to fill his glass. Seojun put his hand on top of his glass to stop her.

With a sigh, he took the bottle from her and poured for himself. She followed suit. They both took a shot.

Sujin sat up straight, shuffling in her seat. She first looked down at her hands in her lap, then looked up, straight in his eyes.

“Mianhae.” It took him by surprise. More than that, the regret on her face moved him. If only by an inch. “I’m sorry, Han Seojun. What I did back then… I was going through some personal issues, and I took it out on Jukyung. But even that is not a good enough excuse. I shouldn’t have done what I did. And even what I said to you… even after you gave me a chance to delete the video… I’m sorry.” She gulped and Seojun mirrored her. “You were right. I was only destroying myself. I should have seen that. But I have changed now. I’m not the same person. I know you’re important to Jukyung. So I hope we can get along from now on.”

Seojun took another shot. He took a minute, considering her words.

“If its forgiveness you want, then Kang Sujin, there is nothing to forgive between us. Your fight was with Jukyung. Not me.” Sujin appeared relieved till Seojun added, “However, my problem with you isn’t because of old grudges. I just can’t trust you, Kang Sujin. I believe you still will hurt Jukyung, even if you don’t mean to. And I can’t let that happen.”

Sujin’s mouth became small. She jutted her jaw, pouring another shot for herself. She downed it aggressively before responding. “I’m not the same girl anymore. I’m not in love with—”

“I keep hearing that you’ve changed. But have you really? Can you honestly tell me that you’re over him?”

“I am over him.”

“Bull shit. I saw the way you were looking Suho. All throughout dinner—”

“Aren’t you just projecting your own feelings onto me?” Sujin interrupted.

Seojun laughed incredulously, “What?”

“The one who’s not over their unrequited love is you. You’re not over Jukyung.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes. All these years you’ve been pretending to be her friend. Aren’t you the one being two faced?”

“I’ve already confessed to her. We even went on a date.” Seojun crossed his arms with a smirk.

This was news to Sujin, “Aah. Is that so? Then isn’t that more pathetic? Even though she clearly doesn’t want you—”

“Ya, Kang Sujin.”

“—you’re still not over her. I too saw how you looked at her. With that pathetic puppy dog expression on your face. Don’t you think this is awkward for Jukyung? Sitting there with her boyfriend and—”

“Shut your damn mouth.”

“Wae? Don’t like it when the tables are turned on you?” Sujin and Seojun glared at each other with hatred. Seojun poured and downed a shot. Sujin swallowed and looked away. This was not how she imagined this conversation going.

“I’m not in love with her.” Seojun declared.

Sujin snorted, “Hul. Then why is it you who is giving me this lecture and not Lee Suho? If I’m really such a threat to Lim Jukyung, then shouldn’t her boyfriend be the one to confront me? What gives you the right to treat me this way?”

Seojun paused. “I can give you a million reasons; that I’m her friend, that even though I’m not her boyfriend, she stills relies on me, that I’m doing this out of humanity.”

Sujin scoffed.

“That I don’t want to lose another friend because of bullying.”

Sujin’s face fell. She licked her lips as she considered his point of view. Then, wordlessly, she poured him a drink.

“I’m not a bully. I never was. I did a shitty thing that I’ve apologized for and now I’d like to move on with my life.” She poured herself a shot of soju too. “I care about Jukyung. I will always regret what I did to her. But I still have a chance at friendship and I am going to take it whether you like it or not.”

They both took the shot. Sujin poured them another.

“We both care about Jukyung. And she would want us to get along, or at least pretend to for her sake.” Sujin gave Seojun a pointed look. The ball was in his court now.

Seojun remembered how uncomfortable Jukyung had been because of his hostility towards Sujin. True, Sujin wasn’t the kind to be trusted. Seojun was a man of action, he didn’t believe in hollow words. But it was also true that fighting with Sujin all the time would cause problems in their peaceful little group. And although he was sure that when it came to it, everyone would choose him and not her, he still held up the shot glass and said, “For Jukyung’s sake.”

v.

The two drunken enemies staggered on the sidewalk, each supporting the other while trying not to fall; a drunk trying to steady another drunk.

“Ah-nee-ya, I’m not *hic* not in love with Jukyung. I don… I don…”

“Arassssso. And I’mf the Pwincess of England.” Sujin slurred, pushing Seojun upright as she tried to hail a taxi.

“Na ah-nee-ya. I’m not. Nope.” Seojun hiccuped.

“Ah just sstand still!” Sujin pushed his body away but his arm was still draped over her shoulder.

“Ah sshutup! Shut up you stupid Suijin!” Seojun started snickering at his own statement, “Hehehe. Stupid Suji. Sujinnie phabo.” Seojun pushed his weight onto her, still chortling.

“Ah stand still!!” Sujin wrapped an arm around his waist to hold him up. She was suddenly very aware of just how tall he was. Even with her own impressive height, he seemed too big.

A taxi finally stopped and Sujin struggled with pushing Seojun inside. She pushed him in with her legs when he bent over on the seat but refused to move further to give her room.

“Where to?” The driver asked when they both were seated.

“Han Seojun, tell him your address.”

Seojun fell to the other side, passed out. Sujin, who herself felt like passing out, leaned over to tap his face, “Han Seojun? Ya! Wake uuup.” He did not.

“Are we leaving or not?” The driver asked impatiently.

Sujin shook Seojun again. He stirred, only to mumble Jukyung’s name and pass out on her shoulder again. Sujin looked at the driver helplessly.

 vi.

The first thing Seojun felt was the pounding headache, it brought him out of a very nice dream he’d been having that he promptly forgot. He could feel his legs sticking out from the side of the bed. In turning over, his elbow punched into something.

“Oof! Ow! What the hell!”

Sujin kicked at him as she pressed her ribs in pain. They both were surprised to find themselves tangled in each other. It took them exactly three seconds to start screaming.

They both flew off the bed, Sujin hitting Seojun repeatedly with her pillow.

“Ow! Ow! Ah! OW!”

“Why. Are. You. In. My. Bed?!”

“Why am I here? Why are you here?”

“This is my room asshole!”

Seojun grabbed Sujin’s wrist to keep her from hitting him. He looked around and indeed it was Sujin’s room.

“What the hell happened?” He asked.

She kicked him in the shin, “How the hell would I know? Explain yourself, Han Seojun!”

“You explain! How can I end up here if you didn’t bring me?”

Sujin’s raised foot, about to kick Seojun, slowly lowered. She was suddenly hit with the memory of last night. Drunkenly trying to enter the code to her door as Seojun whined about missing Jukyung, stumbling into her apartment and dragging Seojun by his collar to the couch, falling on top of him as he fell and then immediately picking herself up and going into her room to pass out.

Seojun put his hands on his hips defiantly, “Kang Sujin. We got drunk last night didn’t we? Aish, chincha. I never thought you’d be the kind of girl to take advantage of a guy like that.”

“Ah-ni-godun! That would never happen! I only brought you here because you wouldn’t tell me your address.”

“Ah, what a nice excuse. And whose idea was it to go drinking any way? Was this your plan all along? Of course, its understandable that you’d want a rebound with the most handsome guy around.”

Sujin scoffed in disbelief. “That’s not the case!” She protested. “And what handsome? I find you laughable.”

“And I find you detestable.”

“Then why did you come into my bedroom when I left you out on the couch?”

A flash of memory sparked in Seojun’s mind; of getting up, using Sujin’s bathroom and going into the bedroom thinking he was at Chorong’s place.

The red spreading on his cheeks was a dead giveaway to Sujin that she had him.

Seojun cleared his throat, “No matter what, this isn’t what it looks like.”

“Of course, it doesn’t.”

They stood there awkwardly for a moment as they wondered what to do next. They both spoke together.

“You should probably go.”

“I should leave.”

A rare agreement. They both nodded in sync.

“But… is there a back door to your apartment? I can risk having my face seen leaving a girl’s apartment.”

Sujin licked her lips as she considered this. “I think I have an idea.”

From the outside, Kang Sujin’s apartment door cracked open, just enough for two heads to poke out to check if the coast was clear. One of those heads was wearing a beanie, a mask and sunglasses. The other was Sujin. They both sneaked out of her apartment and beelined for the emergency stairs.

“Why is your apartment so up high?”

“We can always go in the elevator where my neighbors can see you.”

“I hate you.”

Finally making it out the back exit, the two relaxed.

“How are you going to get home?” She asked him.

“I’ll take the bus. Nobody will recognize me when I’m like this.”

“You shouldn’t underestimate fangirls.”

Seojun chuckled, “Never do. Bye then.”

Seojun turned, then paused, then turned back. “Kang Sujin.” He called out to her just as she was about to go in. “Thanks… for not just abandoning me last night.” It was the most difficult thank-you he had ever said.

Sujin simply nodded. “Get home safely.”

 vii.

Sujin didn’t remember going back up to her apartment, just the click of the door shutting behind her that pulled her out of her daze.

She had just spent the night with Han Seojun. Admittedly, it meant nothing, but it still felt weird and she didn’t know what to do about it.

Maybe I should have asked him to eat before he went. He must have been hungry. She thought. And then scolded herself, Ah-nee, why would I care about him? He doesn’t matter to me anyway.

Traces of Han Seojun still lingered in her apartment; the bedsheet that had fallen on the floor, along with the pillow she had assaulted him with, his spicy scent on the bed and a metal ring on her bedside table that he must have taken off during the night.

Sujin held up the ring, looking through it. She would give it to him later, if they met again. She hoped they didn’t. She was already dreading the thought of encountering him again.

Kang Sujin didn’t let herself think too much about last night. She changed her sheets, showered and firmly put all thoughts of a certain idol out of her mind. He was just a silly twerp who had been a thug in high school and was now just an idol. He had nothing to do with her, nor she with him.

She had better things to do, like her work.

If you’re going to pretend to be all reformed then you shouldn’t make it too obvious. Charity work is a little too on the nose, don’t you think?

Nope, she wasn’t going to let that idiot get to her. Who was he to treat her like this? Next time she saw him, she would kick him in the face. Yes, that’s what she would do.

I keep hearing that you’ve changed. But have you really? Can you honestly tell me that you’re over him?

All day long Sujin’s hand twitched with the need to be scrubbed clean. They kept getting clammy and sticky. She wanted to scrub, scurb, scurb them of all the dirt and the grime and the filth of her past self. Sujin had believed that she had kicked this bad habit of unnecessarily cleaning her hands, but apparently she hadn’t.

My problem with you isn’t because of old grudges. I just can’t trust you, Kang Sujin. I believe you still will hurt Jukyung, even if you don’t mean to.

“Well who the hell wants your trust?” Sujin argued with the wind.

“Is everything okay?” One of the girls she worked with asked.

“What? Oh-um-yeah. Everything is fine! Just… talking to myself.” She put on a fake cheery attitude and shook her head.

It was only when Sujin’s day was finally over, and she was back in her empty apartment, leaning against her front door, that let herself feel the misery she had been suppressing.

Of course that Han Seojun hates me. What reason does he have not to?

Even the person who had been obligated to love and protect her, had only ever seen her as worthless. If her own father, couldn’t treat her with decency, then why should she expect a stranger to?

Her small apartment suddenly seemed so much bigger now. Big and empty, with shadows extending from the ground to the roof.

Kang Sujin, were you always such a piece of trash?

She hadn’t answered him back then. But in these quiet moments, she allowed herself to admit, “Yes, Han Seojun. I was always such a worthless piece of trash.”

Back when she had been a kid—running away from her problems in school, from what she had done to Jukyung—she would let this darkness take over. It would eat her inside and out till she was just a shell. However, now that he had grown up, she had learned how to deal with this on her own.

Sujin pushed herself off of the door and walked into her room, turning on all of the lights. Rest, she needed rest. And food, before anything else. Most of the time her depression would just be weakness caused by hunger. She was indeed careless with her health.

Her phone buzzed suddenly. It was a message from Jukyung. She would respond later. First she would spend time on herself. But then, almost immediately, there was a message from Suah. Then Suho. Even Taehoon. Then the phone lit up with a call from Jukyung.

��What’s going o—”

“Kang Sujin, have you seen the articles?”

“What?”

“There’s articles about you and Seojun dating.”

“WHAT?” It took Sujin a full minute to process what Jukyung was saying. She was speaking but Sujin didn’t hear the rest. Jukyung’s voice was muted from the speaker as Sujin searched through Naver for her and Seojun’s name.

“It’s all over the internet.” Jukyung was saying. “Someone’s posted pictures of you and Seojun together. Sujin-ah. Is that really you? Are you and Seojun dating?”

The room began to spin and Sujin had the urge to kick someone in the face.

“Jukyung-ah. I’ll call you back.”

What the hell happened?”

The articles Sujin found showed her and Seojun exiting her building. It was from this morning. Seojun’s face was well hidden but she could be clearly seen. From the way the pictures were taken, it looked as if the two were involved in something together.

Sujin’s phone suddenly lit up with an unknown number. She knew it could only be Han Seojun.

She pressed answer.

Some JunJin images I came up with just for fun

[xxdragonwriterxx]

🔥The Angelus Mortis (1/2)🔥

A/N: Hey everyone, I’m back! I apologize for the really long wait but I wanted to try something different where, instead of posting one story at a time as soon as I finish it, I wrote five stories and then I went back and edited them in the order I wrote them. It took so long because I’ve been writing a ton in the past week.  Hopefully I can make up for the long wait by giving you guys several stories in the next few days or so. Thank you so much for the support on “Scalding”, I was not expecting it but it makes my really happy to know you guys liked it ❤️. Now, without further ado, here is my next Levi x Reader fic!

Warning: This one is super long so I actually had to split it up into two parts so it wouldn’t be such a huge pill to swallow. I will post the next chapter asap though, so keep an eye out for part two!

Summary: Erwin finds a dangerous assassin in the Underground while Levi is on a solo mission.

~~~

Erwin sighed and rubbed his temples to try to dispel the headache that was already building there, the message from the Military Police on his desk, mocking him. He glared at it, his eyes scanning over the words again.

Gods they were so incapable. He would never voice his frustrations aloud, but he wished, for once, they could deal with their own issues. Fight their own battles without having to drag the Survey Corps back to do all of the hard work for them. 

Despite his annoyance, Erwin would not have normally been so frustrated, but this situation was different than usual due to the fact that Captain Levi was gone from the base. He had been sent off on a solo mission to get some more information for Erwin on the movements of the violent gangsters that were fighting with one of the Military Police branches.

“What’s today’s headache about?” The loud, chipper voice of his girlfriend, Hanji, made him look up and grunt at her and the stack of finished reports she held in her arms.

“Oh, I just received a message from the Commander of the Military Police. There is a dangerous assassin who has been cutting down the MP’s that venture into the Underground. Apparently, this guy is impossible to catch and incredibly ruthless, known to leave pieces of the soldiers around for the officers to find later. They want us to go down there and find them, put an end to them before they wipe out an entire regiment.”

Hanji leaned her hip against Erwin’s desk and raised her eyebrow at her partner as she listened to the gruesome things the assassin had done.

“Holy shit…, who are you going to send? Levi is on that solo mission,” Hanji said.

“Yeah that’s the problem,” Erwin responded. “I’m going to have to be the one to go. I’m not going to send someone who will lose their life on this mission. There is no need to waste lives on something as trivial as catching this guy. Also, if he’s impossible to catch, the only one other than me who has enough experience with the ODM gear to navigate the Underground would be Levi, who you pointed out is not here at the moment.”

“Well, I’m coming with you then,” Hanji said. “Someone will need to watch your back, and be there to bring you back to the surface if you end up getting your ass handed to you.”

Erwin smiled at her as he shook his head.

“I’m not going to lose this fight.”

“Oh ho ho, tough guy! Such confidence, I can’t wait to watch your ass hit the ground when that assassin shows you a couple of choice moves,” Hanji chortled.

“Your obsession with my ass is noted. Now go get ready, we are leaving in an hour,” Erwin said, his eyes twinkling as he teased her.

Hanji’s laughter bounced around the halls as she exited his office to pack her things and prepare for the trip to the Underground.

__________________________

Levi grumbled lowly to himself as he nursed a glass of whiskey, his silver eyes appraising the other people in the bar in annoyance. The Captain was not normally one to drink, especially back at the base, but after having to deal with some of the most annoying people on the planet, he felt as if he deserved to relax a little.

At least neither Erwin nor Hanji were with him. That was one of the only reasons he was able to convince himself to go into the old bar; not having to worry about Erwin pressuring him to loosen up, or Hanji trying to wrestle secrets about his life out of him while he was drunk.

Levi took a sip from his glass. The alcohol slid down his throat, leaving a fiery trail in its wake to settle in his stomach, the warmth spreading throughout his gut. The whiskey was starting to loosen the headache that was holding his skull captive, allowing the usually stoic Captain to settle a bit more in his seat, enjoying the relative silence of the dingy establishment.

All day he had been forced to fight with violent gangsters, helping one of the Military Police branches arrest the most aggressive ones and scaring away the others. The whole day had been a loud, frustrating, exhausting experience, making Levi almost miss his normal expeditions outside the walls with the Titans. At least it was his last day in this shit hole, finally able to return to the base in the morning now that all of the criminals had been successfully rounded up.

Thinking about the men and women he had helped put away that day, combined with the alcohol that was circulating through his system, made his mind stray back to memories from his Underground days. For the most part, he tried to forget about his past, thoughts about his time down there, only bringing up bitter emotions. It was like reliving a nightmare over and over again. 

He huffed as he tried to lead his train of thought elsewhere to no avail, his mind flooding with images from his childhood, his struggle as he and his friends fought for survival. His mind even dragged up a foggy image of a beautiful face from the dregs of his past before he quickly diverted his train of thought, refusing to think about that face, that loving smile.

Levi didn’t know if he was lucky or unlucky when his spiraling thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the appearance of a woman. She wearing a severe red dress that pushed her cleavage up so her breasts were almost spilling out over the top, her lips pursed as she sat herself across from him.

Levi refrained from groaning aloud in frustration, wanting absolutely nothing to do with the woman in front of him, but also recognizing that a tiny part of him was grateful for her intrusion, distracting him from sinking further into the dark memories of his past. Now, he just had to figure out how to shrug this woman off as she leaned forward, so obviously trying to get into his pants he was surprised there was not a ‘FUCK ME’ sign strapped to her chest.

Levi scowled and pulled away from her when she went to touch his arm. To his annoyance, the woman laughed instead of moving away, her eyes sparkling with barely disguised lust as she looked him up and down.

“Look, I’m not interested,” Levi said bluntly.

“Come on, handsome, it won’t hurt for you to relax, why don’t we ditch this joint?” the woman purred.

Levi rolled his eyes so hard he was worried he’d strained something. The situation reminded him of all of the times Hanji had tried to set him up, ignoring his protests and forcing him to meet women from all walks of life despite the fact that he turned them all down without a second thought. It bothered him to no end, not only because it was annoying as hell, but also because there was only one person he had ever given his heart to, and she was gone. Nobody could ever replace her, it didn’t matter that she wasn't around to love him anymore, he refused to be with anyone else.

He figured some people would probably see this as childish, but he didn’t care. To him, he didn’t have a heart left to give, the organ dying with his lost love all those years ago.

“Not interested.”

The woman pouted but moved closer still, practically leaning into him despite his grimace of disgust.

“You don’t mean that, baby, you look like you could use a good time. Here, let me help you. I know exactly how to make you feel better. Have you ever felt the stars? Because you’re about to…,” the woman said boldly, her hand slowly drifting downward.

Levi stood up so fast he almost knocked the table over. His glare was fierce as he slammed his empty whiskey glass on the table. Piercing her with his sharp gaze, Levi snarled lowly at her.

“Not. Interested.”

Grabbing his cloak, Levi stormed out of the bar in even worse spirits than before, memories of the face that haunted his dreams floating across his mind to tease at the edges of his broken heart. Growling to himself, Levi was only grateful that he was leaving in the morning as his feet carried him back to the shitty inn he was staying in for the duration of the mission.

____________________________

This was a bad idea. Scratch that, this was a horrible idea. Erwin laid on the filthy street of the Underground, hidden in the shadows of an alleyway, holding his hand to his shoulder where a dagger was lodged, gritting his teeth as he fought back the bile that rose in his throat at the pain swelling in his body. 

He had no idea where Hanji was, the pair having been separated when they were attacked out of nowhere. Erwin realized now as he lay in the dirt that he had severely underestimated this man, the assassin who got hired to kill the most powerful soldiers and officers in the military. He had read about his strength, but even with that information, he had not expected the fight to be so overwhelming.

This man was dangerous. Very dangerous. Erwin knew from the reports that the killer worked alone, using wit and cold, calculated cunning to attack in ways that not even the veteran soldiers had seen before.

Erwin’s thoughts were suddenly cut short when he heard a pained shriek, one he immediately knew to be Hanji, and watched in horror as a figure slowly came around the corner, holding the limp form of his comrade in his grip.

Hanji let out another pained noise as the figure threw her right at Erwin, the Squad Leader hitting her Commander, causing them both to grunt. Looking down, Erwin saw that Hanji had a long gash down her side, but it didn’t look very deep and she didn’t seem to have any more wounds other than some bruising. A warning.

Erwin managed to hide his nearly imperceptible sigh of relief at the thought that this assassin was considering sparing them if they only left him alone. He knew that he could never leave the assassin alone forever, but if it gave them the chance to get to safety, he could come back another time with reinforcements. It was only one man. A very powerful man, but a man nonetheless, he wasn’t invincible.

Forcing down the whimper that bubbled in his throat when Hanji moved against his shoulder, shifting the blade in his flesh, Erwin locked his eyes on the figure that was still watching them, the darkness of the alley covering any distinguishable features. The only thing Erwin was able to make out was that the figure looked smaller than he imagined. But the seasoned Commander wasn’t stupid enough to determine his threat level based on size, not when one of his best friends was Levi Ackerman, one of the shortest yet deadliest men alive.

The pair tensed when the figure suddenly started towards them, his arm reaching back to procure a wickedly sharp sword from underneath his black cloak. Erwin’s mind scrambled for a plan but he came up blank, his mind ceasing all thoughts when the figure suddenly charged them, sword held aloft.

Erwin and Hanji closed their eyes, clutching each other as the killer came for them, both of them waiting for the quick sting of pain before death, waiting for their remains to be scattered around the Underground like Easter eggs for their friends to find when they came back to their empty offices and cold beds.

Erwin sucked in a breath when he felt the cold, harsh tip of the sword touch his throat but slowly opened his eyes after a moment when the feeling stayed there, the blade hovering just above his delicate wind pipe.

From this distance, Erwin could tell that the assassin was wearing a mask in the shape of a wolf over his face, his body poised to strike as he hovered over the pair of senior officers, his breathing labored.

“Are you Commander Erwin?” The man suddenly asked, the voice deep and distorted thanks to the mask.

Erwin contemplated lying for a second, but knew he didn’t really have a choice in the matter when the man pressed the tip of their blade a little bit harder against his flesh, even causing a pinprick of blood to bubble up from under the steel point.

“Yes.”

The man hesitated for a moment. It was almost as if he were remembering something, Erwin’s name bringing up memories from another time. The Commander had no fucking clue what that could mean for them, but he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to find out.

The assassin opened his mouth to say something when all of a sudden, several ropes were thrown from the darkness, catching the killer by surprise. He leaped out of the way, dodging the ropes at a speed that could only be rivaled by Captain Levi, almost making it out onto the street before he ran headfirst into a trap of chains, the metal clinking as it wrapped around his lithe form and tightened, forcing his arms to snap to his sides and his legs to buckle.

Erwin and Hanji scrambled into a standing position and smiled in joyful surprise as a familiar Mike, Nanaba, and Moblit rounded the corner. Erwin sighed in relief and Hanji let loose a little cheer as the three other veteran officers surrounded their quarry. The pair had no idea how their friends had found them or even why they had thought to follow them, but neither cared as relief filled their systems.

The assassin snarled at them and continued to struggle against their bounds, his mask making the words coming from his mouth sound nearly animalistic in nature.

“Fuck you!” The assassin roared, somehow finding the energy to fight harder as the veterans leaned down to detain the criminal. The soldiers ignored the assassin as he continued spewing profanities while they made their way towards the stairs, their mission complete.

___________________________

Erwin blinked in utter shock as he stared at the assassin through the bars of the cell they had shoved him in underneath the Survey Corps HQ.

Only, it wasn’t a him.

Erwin could only gawk as the reality of the situation settled in, his eyes roving over the assassin’s (h/l) (h/c) hair, feminine curves, and beautifully angled face. The strongest assassin in the Underground, the one that had been dubbed The Angelus Mortis, The Angel of Death, was a woman.

He never doubted that women were strong, he trained and fought beside a whole legion of strong, battleworn women that could take down anyone in a heartbeat any day. But this woman had come from the Underground. While not impossible to gain strength in the Underground, most women, and many men for that matter, that lived in that cesspool merely ended up rotting away, their legs destroyed by the lack of sunlight and their bodies wracked with disease. Even if a woman managed to avoid the severe malnourishment, most of them were forced into brothels to be used by the wealthy merchants and nobles who decided to flaunt their wealth in the poorest part of their cities.

But this woman had fought. She had fought like an animal, a wolf, as her mask had suggested. She had used her impressive intelligence and strategic mind to avoid getting caught, all while clawing her way to the top of the food chain, making herself such a feared symbol that nobody would touch her. She was cold and vicious but not at all feral, her mind sharp and her eyes clear as she stared right back at the giant blonde Commander, her gaze never drifting from his.

Erwin leaned back as he appraised her. He could tell that despite her strength, her body was severely malnourished and neglected, the lack of proper food and water paired with the intense physical labor she pushed herself through every day, rendered her body weak and thin. Erwin could tell right away that if she were given the proper commodities and nursed back to health, she would be stunning and very powerful.

He had to think about this carefully. He had sent in an after action report to the MP’s telling them that the Survey Corps had done their dirty work for them, and they had already responded with a message telling him to bring her to one of their prison cells the next morning to be tortured to death for her crimes. He knew she probably deserved a punishment like that, she had killed a lot of soldiers, but he felt a strange tugging on his heart, like he knew, deep down, that there was more to her story, something that would make her worth much more than a street rat to be thrown to the dogs.

He had no idea why but he wanted her in the Survey Corps. He knew that she was dangerous, knew that most people would call her insane and then call him insane if he brought this up. But he felt something, like he knew that if he didn’t get her into the military, they would be losing something priceless.

“Are you going to keep staring at me like a perverted fuck or are you going to tell me when I’m being taken away?”

Erwin’s eyes snapped to hers from where they had drifted to her ribs, which were jutting out of her chest prominently. 

“I knew you were going to be testy, sassy even, maybe downright insane, but I didn’t expect someone so close to death to be so confident,” Erwin said, a smirk teasing the corner of his lips.

The assassin rolled her eyes.

“I’m from the Underground, idiot, death is always a constant companion on your shoulder. I’m not scared of death, scared of the torture before death, maybe, if I decide I care enough, but not of death.”

“Is that why you killed all of those people? Because death is your friend?” Erwin asked.

“Don’t be stupid.”

“That is what you said.”

“I only said it is something I am used to, the constant threat of death and suffering, not that I enjoy it. Death is not my friend,” She growled with a sharp glare in his direction.

“So why did you kill all of those soldiers? Besides being hired to, I mean. I’d understand your motivations a little more if you had started killing other people who lived in the Underground, to give yourself an advantage, but you chose soldiers.”

The assassin was silent for a minute, breaking his gaze for the first time since he had come down to see her. He could’ve sworn her gaze clouded over slightly, as if she were remembering painful memories, but the fog in her gaze was gone as quickly as it appeared, making Erwin question whether it was even there to begin with.

“That’s personal,” she said after a heavy pause.

“They didn’t compliment your outfit?” Erwin teased, flashing a smile in her direction when she snarled at him.

“Fuck you.”

“Alright fine,” Erwin said. “Why did you ask about me? About my name?”

“That’s personal too.”

“Well you’ve got to answer at least some of my questions.”

“Why should I care about you and your inquiries?” She asked, leaning against the wall and crossing her arms in a way that reminded Erwin so much of Levi he almost smiled.

“Because it might guarantee you your life,” Erwin said.

“Who says I care about living?”

Erwin was silent for a moment this time as he scanned her with his bright blue eyes again, really taking her in. She was something, he could say that. She was unlike anyone he had ever met before. Even Levi, with his similar distrusting nature and sharp, piercing gaze was never this witty, never this sassy.

“I say you do,” Erwin said.

“Oh really? And what makes you the authority on that?”

“Nothing. You are the authority on yourself, on your emotions and instincts. I am merely an observer in this matter. I can see it in your eyes, I can read it in your posture and spot it even in the methods of your actions. In why you became an assassin, and the best one at that.”

She stayed quiet, watching him.

“I know you want to live. I don’t know anything about the personal shit that went down between you and the Military Police but I’m assuming that whatever it was was crippling, which was why you went to such drastic measures to make it to the top, to do whatever it took to make them hurt and scream. Why you never even attempted to hide the bodies. I know some people claim it was because you are cocky or egotistical, but I know better.”

Erwin leaned forward, his eyes glinting in the dull golden light of the lantern hanging on the wall. The assassin again said nothing but she never stopped watching him, playing into this game they had started, dancing on hot coals.

“Just from the fact that you did all of that. That you chose to fight back against your grief rather than succumb to it, rotting away in a forgettable corner of the Underground, shows me that you want to live. That you want to give yourself a purpose to cover up whatever loss you have felt in the past, and use it to fuel your own future.”

The assassin’s eyes narrowed on him as she pushed away from the stone wall of the cell. “I’m impressed.”

“Not quite so much of an idiot anymore, right?”

She glared at him and the smirk that spread across his face.

“(Y/N).”

“What?”

“My name is (Y/N).”

[bex-la-get]

This Unpredictable World (Adam x f!Detective)

Book: The Wayhaven Chronicles

Pairing: Adam du Mortain x Alma Cunningham

Word count: 2808

Summary: “We’ve spent so long trying to protect her from our world, that we never once thought about protecting her from her own.” Adam grapples with the dangers of the human world when Alma is in an accident.

Author’s Note: So, I threw my back out last week (always warm up before working out kids; it’s not worth the injury) and I thought “Ooh, how would UB react if the detective was injured?” And this was supposed to be fluffy, I swear... but then it wasn’t and here we are. Sorry? 😅

TW: Car accident, drunk driving, mentions of blood and injury.

Laughter. That was the sound he missed most. 

Alma’s laugh had always been infectious. From the moment he met her, her laughter had drawn him in like a moth to a flame. He had resisted it, at first; fighting the urge to say things that might have elicited that laughter from her. But as time went on, he began to give in. He began to relish the sound of her laugh. The one that made her throw her head back and close her eyes as she reveled in the thing bringing her joy. The one that made his heart skip a beat every time he heard it. 

Now, he’d give anything to hear it again. To see that bright smile of hers and watch as her face lit up; to hear her laugh that always reminded him of windchimes echoing throughout the sky. All he wanted was to hear that laugh, to see her smile. If he could just have that, then he knew everything would be okay...

Instead, Adam was stuck staring at the walls of the facility common room, desperately waiting to hear something, anything. The lack of answers was slowly killing him. He needed to know she’d make it out of this. That she was going to live. 

Alma had been in a car accident; a bad one. She had been hit by a drunk driver causing her to skid off the road and crash into some nearby trees. She’d sustained some serious head trauma, several broken ribs, and internal bleeding in her lower abdomen. She had lost consciousness almost immediately but not before quickly calling her mother stating she was in trouble.

The Agency had moved fast; faster than normal emergency services would have been able to. One word from Agent Cunningham and several medical units were on their way to the crash site, Rebecca hot on their tail. Unit Bravo, having walked into the chaos that was surrounding the facility, barely had any idea of what was going on until Nate heard someone mention Alma’s name in the same sentence as “car crash.” 

Adam’s world had come to a standstill at the news, his heart pounding so hard, he thought it might burst. When he met Nate’s eyes, his old friend nodded once and the four vampires piled into the car, following the medical units to where Alma was. “We don’t know how bad it is, Adam,” Nate had said, attempting to soothe Adam’s nerves. “She could be completely fine for all we know.”

Adam had nodded, but he wasn’t convinced.

When they had arrived at the crash site, his stomach dropped. Alma’s car was crushed in on several sides, smoke emitting from the hood. He couldn’t see her but he could hear the medics attempting to talk to her as they wriggled the door open. He didn’t hear her respond to them.

With a grunt, the medics opened the battered car door and Adam had watched in horror as Alma’s body slumped, nearly falling out of the vehicle. The medics converged over her blocking his view and he moved to get closer. He had to see her up close, he had to know she was okay.

A hand on his shoulder had stopped him and he turned to find Mason looking at him, a look of distress on his face. “Adam, don’t; her blood’s too strong. I can smell it all the way over here.”

Adam looked back at Alma, now being moved onto a gurney, and realized how bloodied she was. He could smell her now too; the smell of her mutated blood reaching him even as he stood yards away. He turned around and took a few steps farther away in an attempt to get away from the overwhelming scent of her. He needed to keep a clear head and, as much as it pained him, the farther away he was from her at the moment, the easier that would be.

The sound of footsteps gained their attention and they turned to find Agent Cunningham walking towards them, her face sullen and pale. “Agent Cunningham,” Nate had said, “we came as soon as we heard. Is Alma going to be alright?”

Rebecca gave them a sad smile. “Thank you for coming; to answer your question, I don’t know. They’re going to rush her back to the facility and assess her injuries there. She might need surgery. I don’t know much beyond that right now.”

“Is there anything we can do to help?” Felix asked, his usual cheery demeanor replaced with worry.

Rebecca shook her head. “Thank you, but no. Unfortunately, all we can do right now is wait.”

And wait they would. After Alma had been rushed to the facility and the intoxicated driver taken into custody-- their injuries far less severe and life-threatening-- Unit Bravo returned to the facility, the air around them heavy as they waited for an update on their detective. Some time after their return, Agent Cunningham entered the room notifying the vampires that, as of right now, Alma would not need surgery, much to everyone’s relief. But she wasn’t out of the woods yet. “The doctors are keeping her under close monitoring for the next twenty-four hours; they think the internal bleeding will stop on its own but if it doesn’t, they’re going to take her into emergency surgery. Same with her head injury.”

“When is she expected to wake up?” Adam asked.

Rebecca shrugged, the gesture taking more effort than normal. “I don’t know; she’s currently under a lot of medication. She could be out for a few hours or a day.” She pinched the bridge of her nose and took a ragged breath. “I’m sorry, I wish I had more information.” It was unclear if she was speaking to Unit Bravo or herself.

Nate stepped forward and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “You have nothing to apologize for; we understand how difficult this must be for you.”

She looked at Nate sadly and nodded. “Thank you.” Her phone chirruped and she moved to exit, muttering a small “Excuse me,” as she left. Unit Bravo looked at each other, the same looks on all of their faces. Worry. Distress. Anxious.

Adam was the first to break away from the group, moving to a nearby sofa and dropping onto it heavily. He pulled a small photo-- the one he and Alma had taken when undercover at the carnival-- from his pocket and stared at it, his fingers running over the image of her. It had just been for show, he had told himself at the time; but the way she stared at him in this photo told him otherwise. It had never been for show for her. 

And, if he was honest, it had never been for show for him either.

“Are you alright?” a familiar voice asked from next to him. He hadn’t even noticed Nate had sat down with him.

Adam closed his eyes and folded the photo closed. “No.”

Nate rested a hand on his shoulder and Adam looked at him. “We have to believe she’s going to be okay, Adam. Entertaining any alternative isn’t going to help anyone.”

Adam dropped his shoulders. “I know.”

“But?”

Adam reopened the photo and looked down at it sadly. “We’ve spent so long trying to protect her from our world,” he began, “that we never once thought about protecting her from her own.”

“No one could have predicted this, Adam,” Nate reasoned. “Try as we might, we can’t protect her from everything.”

“It’s our job to protect her from everything,” Adam argued. “I-- we should have been there, with her. We could have--”

Nate tightened his hold on Adam’s shoulder. “It was an accident, Adam. A preventable one, yes, but an accident nonetheless. We’re not seers; we can’t predict what’s going to happen every time we walk out the front door. You can’t beat yourself up over that.” Adam sighed and said nothing but Nate knew he had heard him. He squeezed his shoulder once more then stood up. “She’s in the best care possible; and she’s strong. She’ll pull through.”

As Nate walked away, Adam returned his attention to the small photo, once again tracing Alma’s image. “She’ll pull through,” he repeated, in a whisper. “She has to.”

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

Twenty-four hours passed slowly. And with very little update.

Rebecca had been allowed into the room around the eight-hour mark and Unit Bravo had been allowed in a few hours later. If Adam had thought seeing the detective would ease his nerves, he had been wrong. Her blood had been long cleaned off and any open wounds had been cleaned and stitched but she still looked so small. So fragile.

Alma laid unconscious on the hospital bed, her arms and face covered with bruises and scratches. There was an IV attached to one arm while the heart monitor beeped consistently in the corner; not that it was necessary. Adam had been listening for her heartbeat ever since they had returned to the facility. He was reassured that it remained as steady and strong as always. Still, the current sight of her made his heart ache. 

He watched the rise and fall of her chest, her breathing steady, then looked over her face, eyes relaxed in sleep. He hoped she was having a good dream; she had mentioned once that she still had nightmares of Murphy. The idea that that monster still haunts her made Adam’s fists clench; he hoped, above all else, that she wasn’t dreaming of him at this time. May she never dream of him ever again.

As the hours ticked on, Unit Bravo began to retire to their rooms, after reassurances from the doctors that Alma wasn’t likely to wake until tomorrow. Even Rebecca eventually retired, emotionally drained from the day. Eventually, the only person to remain in the room was Adam.

When he was alone, Adam moved from his place in the corner to a nearby chair. He dragged it over until it was right next to Alma’s bedside and took a seat. For a long moment, he sat in silence, listening to the sound of Alma’s heartbeat and the quiet sounds of her breathing. Then, he reached for her hand and took it in both of his, his fingers resting on the pulse point on her wrist. It was one thing to hear it, but upon feeling her heartbeat, his shoulders dropped from their tense position and he released a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

“Come back, Alma,” he said, quietly. He was positive she couldn’t hear him but he still felt the need to say something. Anything, really. He just… needed to talk to her. “Come back to me. Please.” He clasped her hand in his and he placed a soft kiss to her knuckles. “We need you. I need you. Please.”

The night passed slowly, the hours feeling more like days. With the exception of the occasional check-up from Elidor, Adam remained Alma’s only visitor for the entirety of the night, his hand never leaving hers. He would occasionally talk to her, sharing mindless thoughts with her, ranging from a book he had recently read to Felix’s recent antics with Mason’s laundry. He had hoped that by talking to her, she might be able to hear him and know he was there. That he would always be there.

It was nearing sunrise now; the early hours were quiet and undisturbed. Adam’s hand still held Alma’s tightly as he watched her heart monitor, her heartbeat still strong and steady as it always was. A small smile on his lips, he became so focused on the monitor that he almost missed Alma’s hand tightening around his. Almost.

He looked down at their clasped hands before looking to her face to find her hazel eyes fluttering open. He sucked in a breath as her eyes adjusted to the bright lights of the hospital room before locking with his. “Adam?”

He released a sound that was a mix between a laugh and a sob and used his free hand to brush some stray strands of hair behind her ear. “Good morning.”

She leaned into his touch. “What happened?” she asked, her voice thick with sleep.

He frowned. “You were in an accident. You were--” he hesitated to speak his next words-- “you were hit by an intoxicated driver.”

Alma released a breath. “Shit. Are-- are they okay?”

There she went again, worrying about others before herself. Adam fought the urge to shake his head at her kindness; she was too good with people sometimes. “They do not deserve your concern; as far as I care, they’ve been arrested and incarcerated. That is all that matters.”

Alma frowned in disagreement but didn’t argue the point further. Instead, she tightened her grip on his hand. “Where’s everyone else? Mum?”

“They retired for the evening last night. I should alert them that you’re awake.” He began to slide his hand from hers as he shifted out of the chair but she held on tightly.

“Don’t go,” she whispered. “I-- I don’t really wanna be alone.”

His eyes met hers and a small smile settled onto his lips before sinking back into the chair. Instead, he pulled out his phone, sent off a quick text to the rest of Unit Bravo and Agent Cunningham, then returned his attention to Alma. She was studying his face, a thoughtful look on her face.

“What is it?” he asked.

Tentatively, she reached with her free hand and cupped his cheek. He leaned into her touch almost on instinct. “You look tired. Did you sleep?”

He chuckled dryly. “No. I don’t need to sleep, remember?”

“Adam--” she began, the sound of disapproval in her voice.

He shook his head. “I’m alright, Detective,” he told her, quietly. “I-- I didn’t want to miss an update on your condition. I--we were worried about you.”

She brushed her thumb across his cheek. “Thank you for staying.”

He closed his eyes and relished in the feel of her hand on his cheek. He covered her hand with his free one, as if holding it there. “I don’t know what I would have done if I had lost you, Alma,” he said, softly. It was so quiet Alma almost missed it; but she was grateful she hadn’t.

“I’m here now,” she reassured. “And I’m safe. That’s the important thing.”

He nodded. “That it is.” 

“Tu omnia,” she whispered.

He smiled. Then, acting off of instinct rather than logic, he removed his cheek from her hand only to turn his face and place a soft kiss on the inside of her wrist, right above her pulse point. Her pulse sped up at his gesture and he placed one more kiss higher up on her palm. “Tu omnia,” he repeated.

Just then, he could hear the sound of several sets of feet rushing their way towards the hospital room and he stood up from the chair, giving Alma’s fingers one last squeeze, then moved away to the corner of the room. Alma gazed at him confused but understanding soon flickered across her features when the door opened and her mother appeared.

“Alma!” Rebecca practically ran to her daughter’s bedside, pulling her into a tight hug as the rest of Unit Bravo trailed in after her. Alma returned her mother’s hug before looking to the rest of Unit Bravo and smiling. Within seconds, Felix and Nate had her wrapped in a bear hug, Mason standing nearby with his signature smirk, making Alma laugh in response. 

Adam’s heart skipped a beat. There was that laugh again; the one he had missed so much, the one he had craved to hear when she had been unconscious. Hearing it now was like hearing a beautiful piece of music for the first time after being unable to hear anything; his shoulders released their usual tension and he smiled softly.

“So, no one’s bothered to tell me what happened to my car,” Alma said, looking at her mother.

Rebecca grimaced. “Uh--”

“Your car’s totaled,” Mason interjected. “But on the plus side, the forest now has a nice shiny fender element to it.”

“Mason!” Nate reprimanded.

Alma shook her head, smiling. “I should’ve known.”

“You can use one of the Agency’s vehicles while we find you a replacement,” Rebecca offered.

“Preferably something that doesn’t look like it’ll break upon getting into it,” Mason muttered.

Nate groaned. “Mason!” 

Alma laughed again, making Adam’s heart swell at the sound. There were still some loose ends that needed tying up: Alma would still need time to fully recover and the intoxicated driver would need to be taken care of at some point. But for now, she was smiling and laughing and safe. For now, that was all that mattered.

Tag List: @sanguineverefae @little-flowers-on-heaven @mia143 @takemyopenheart​ @jamespotterthefirst

[rainbows-fanfics]

Our Nightmare (Chapter 12)

Summary: Sally moves in with the man of her screams. But there  is still so much she has to learn of Halloween Town, and what it’s like  living with The Pumpkin King.

A sequel to Two Dearest Friends,  where the Christmas incident never happens. But there are still many  ends that haven’t been met, and much for these two dreamers to learn as  they start to spend their deaths together.

Pairings: Jack Skellington/Sally, Dr Finklestein/Jewel

–

Note: This is a SEQUEL to my other story, TWO DEAREST FRIENDS. To read the original story, go here.

–

“Sally?” 

The name slips off his tongue as desperation lingers in his tone. His fiery pupils frantically search his proximity for the blue ragdoll, only to find no sight of her. This is when he drops his focus on scaring entirely. The flames and straw on his body vanish within thin air as he returns to his skeletal form. He rushes to the path where he last saw her, turning his skull quickly to search the area in despair. He’s using all of his senses at this point - intently listening for any sign of her. 

He is interrupted by the sudden sound of a whimper. Almost as if someone is crying. Cautiously, he approaches the direction it came from all while concealing himself from nearby humans. This is when he finds a figure hunched behind a tree, cradling themselves in a fetal position while hiding their face. It doesn’t take him long to recognize this as his dearest friend, from her auburn hair to her blue, stitched skin. She doesn’t notice him when he finds her. The stitched smile on his lips falls as she continues to cry. 

“...Sally?” 

She makes a startled noise and jumps from her position. He pauses for a second, thinking she is relieved to find him - but that’s far from it! At the sight of the skeleton, she starts scooting away from him on the grass. This gesture pains him more than anything else. He takes a step closer, only to find her getting further. He eventually stops attempting to advance and places a worrying hand on his hip, leaning down to meet at her eye level. His face is sympathetic. 

“What happened!? Are you alright? I thought I heard you scream, and I-”

“P-Pl-ease take me ba-ack….” 

Her voice cracks as the sobs leave her mouth. This is when he feels an unbearable cold sensation in his ribs. It almost pains him as he slowly stands up and offers her his hand. She is hesitant to take it, and only does so to help her to her feet. She withdrawals her hand right away and Jack suddenly feels like his phantom heart is split into two. He says nothing as he starts leading them to the graveyard they came from - worryingly eying his dearest friend as he does so. He wishes he knew what to say at this moment. 

“I…” He opens his mouth to say something but falls short. She doesn’t seem to be listening as it is, rubbing her arms constantly, looking everywhere else but him.

It isn’t long before they return to the Mayor’s currently unattended hearse. The ragdoll turns to him and mutters out her next words. “I-I think I need some time alone....” 

He doesn’t want to leave her, but it doesn’t look like he has much of a choice. “....If you say so…”

She turns sharply towards the hearse and lets herself into the passenger seat, concealing her face after rolling the window up. Jack watches her speechlessly, slowly coming to the door to press his skull against it and listen. He can hear the same small cries from before. He feels his bones throb in pain the longer it ensues. He thinks of opening it up and inviting himself in - wishing to speak with her, asking what is wrong…but he doesn’t want to invade her privacy, as much as it hurts him otherwise. He sighs in reluctance before removing himself from the door. 

He places a stressful hand on his head, beginning to pace in the graveyard. ‘She can’t take long…..I hope she doesn’t...I need to find out what’s going on…’

“Hey, Jack! How’s the scarin’ going?”

The Pumpkin King freezes into place after hearing a voice. He turns on his heel and finds other monsters approaching him with grins and howls. This is when he does something he’s become rather talented at - he puts up his usual front; the same one he used before, during stressful times like these. 

“Just horrible, my fine gentleman!” He replies through a forced smile. “You should have seen how many humans I've frightened tonight..! How is it going for you all?” 

“We’re having so much fun! Everyone’s on edge. It’s awful!” The Wolfman replies eagerly, smelling the fresh dirt in the air. 

“Say, wasn’t Sally with you?” A ghoul inquires as he steps forward, looking around for the ragdoll. “Did she go somewhere?” 

“Ah, yes -- she’s in the hearse, you see. She got tired from all the walking, so we headed in early. She needs to tighten her stitches, and all that.” He lies. 

“Oh. Well, I hope she had a terrible time!” Harlequin comments. “Everyone always has a blast when they get to see the Pumpkin King scare!” 

His lips twitch at that statement, realizing it was the opposite for her. They excuse themselves and leave the graveyard, disappearing back on the streets for another round of terror. The skeleton drops his act once they’re out of sight and bites his lip. His mind starts to fill with overwhelming thoughts - ones that bring anxiety to his bones, and an even worse feeling in his spine…he continues pacing in circles around the graves, much too disheartened at that moment. 

He thinks about their evening. He’s noticed the look on her face every now and then - one of uncertainty and even anxiety after scaring his victims. He feels terrible for not recognizing the look then. He should have known something was amiss when she seemed hesitant watching him scare. Could she have been... petrified ? From only watching him perform? He may have gotten carried away during his fun - wanting to show her his full potential; what he truly can do, as the ‘ Master of Fright ’. 

Now….he regrets ever doing it. 

This is the first time Jack Skellington has ever felt indifferent after terrifying humans on Halloween. He usually feels spirited and alive, in a sense - wishing to sing and dance the rest of the night away, to celebrate a successful night with his fellow monsters and creatures. He has never known a feeling of regret when it comes to what he does so well. And such a thing only occurred because he scared the woman closest to him - someone he wants to keep protected, and far from harm’s way. 

Is she afraid of him? 

His gaze comes back to the hearse, whose walls she is hiding in at that moment. Away from him . His skeletal hands come and rest on his chest, shutting his eye sockets tightly as he slumps against a grave. He wants to return to Halloween Town. To retreat to the Skellington Manor, where he can properly speak with Sally and comfort her. To apologize for his actions and show her that he isn’t a threat. How could he ever be, to the woman he’s fallen in love with..? 

He must have been sitting there for hours until he notices his residents arriving back. He puts on previous demeanor again to converse with them - leaving the impression that nothing is wrong. It feels unpleasant having to do this. It takes up so much of his energy, pretending to be happy around others...he isn’t proud to be doing this again. The skeleton sighs in relief when the Mayor finally makes his appearance, smiling proudly at the crowd before him. 

“Terrible night, folks! Are we all ready to head back, now?” 

He’s met with pleased nods and cheers. This is when he assembles everyone back in the hearse, guiding them inside while the Pumpkin King uncertainly approaches the passenger door. He taps on the window and patiently waits until it’s rolled down. Sally peers outside at him - wincing at his image, which emotionally takes another chunk out of his phantom heart. 

“We’re going to return, now.” He whispers to her. “I hope we can talk once we’re back?”

Her eyes look away from him and to the floor.

They’re interrupted when the Mayor comes in from his side, grinning at the two and starting the vehicle back up. The tall man removes himself and hangs tightly onto its side, a frown settling on his skull. He keeps his head away from the others during their ride back, wishing not to be met with any smiles at that moment. He feels like a heavy burden is back on his shoulders, and he can’t shrug it off no matter how hard he tries…

-----

  “Wheeee!” “What an AWFUL Halloween!” “How fun…!” “Can’t wait to do this again, Jack!” 

The creatures hop off of the car and scurry away to their homes and streets, waving to the politician and skeleton as they go. The Mayor looks proud as he holds onto the side of his hat. The skeleton is wearing a forced smile on his face as he bids farewell, clutching his other hand tightly behind his frame. His friend assumes nothing is amiss when he turns to him and grins. He comes to open the door for Sally and assists her out. 

Jack quickly arrives and offers her his arm. She takes it to help her down, but he notices her eyes are still elsewhere. He can feel her shaking when her body weight shifts onto him - her lip wobbling the longer they share contact. He excuses them from the Mayor, wishing him pleasant nightmares, before retreating to the Skellington Manor for the night. The moment they’re through the doors, he lets out an exhausted sigh. 

He takes off his coat and hangs it on the rack. He turns around expectantly to find his ragdoll by his side - but he doesn’t get that sight. Instead, he finds her picking up Ophelia from her bed and retreating to her room. He becomes flustered as he attempts to chase after her, and catches her only a second before she’s about to close the door to her room. He stops her by holding it with his hand. She appears shocked at this gesture.

“Sally, please talk to me….it’s tearing me apart not to hear from you…” 

She squeezes her eyes and the tears suddenly begin falling again. He goes to let himself in - wanting to open the door and sit on her bed, holding her tightly in his arms. But she fights back. This gesture surprises him so much that he lets go, and she takes this opportunity to close it. His jaw drops open as he stands there. He wastes no time trying for the doorknob again. It adds to his unfortunate luck that night that finds it locked. He knocks on the door a few times and places his hand on it firmly. He feels anguished and desperate as he attempts to get in, not wanting to be separated from her again. Not in any circumstance.  

“My dearest, please ...I did not mean to…” He mutters into the wood, shutting his own sockets and feeling a stinging sensation in them. “You know I would never scare you…” 

He hears her weeping from the other end of the door. Her voice weakly calls from the other side. “I’m sorry, Jack…go-good ni-night...” 

He struggles with the doorknob another time until he hears her whimper again. Trying to impose himself like this must be scaring her even worse…! He unwillingly tears himself away from the door and retreats to his den, where he sits on the cushions in a troubled manner. He hides his face in his hands until he starts to feel a slight moistness. When he pulls back, he finds a few tears of his have fallen onto his fingers.

He wipes them away, shaking his skull in disbelief several times. He can’t believe it. He shouldn’t be crying...he hasn’t cried in years ! Not after he met Sally. He’s had no reason to be upset….not until now. He made a mistake without even realizing it, and now he’s paying the price. 

He slumps back onto the couch and stares blankly at the unused hearth. His gaze comes to the walls - where he notices the photographs and pictures he has hanging in their frames. This is when a painful memory strikes him. That old photograph Sally once found….when she implored him about his scarecrow form - asking what it was, and wishing to know what it looked like….how he assured her then, that he would not impose any harm or fear to her. How he must have fallen back on his word since ….

He clenches his fists in his lap. He’s always been weary of this part of him...the true demon inside of himself - one granted with the ability of fire and true nightmares...he almost becomes a different person entirely on these nights, when he lets free the monster he turns into. In the past, he’s lost control and shook humans to their core - showing no mercy or hesitation in his screams. It thrives on the experience, the gratification of their fears….but even it couldn’t stop him from hearing Sally’s scream. He didn’t notice how far he went with his actions until they were looking right back at him in the face.

Would he have gone too far..? 

He holds his skull in his hands again. No . He wouldn’t have scared Sally. He wouldn’t have laid a finger on her in any way but care….but then he remembers the look on her face. The scared part of her eyes when she looked at his pumpkin in its sockets. She’s always been afraid of it, hasn’t she? He unleashed its power right in front of her - he couldn’t blame her, running away like that...

“I shouldn’t have let it slip,” He mutters to himself. “I shouldn’t have used it at all… ”

There are many other ways he can scare. Just his skeletal being is terrifying enough to scare humans all night…! He got too cocky, too eager to impress….he swears at himself many times in his head, disbelieving how careless he’s been, and how he will make this up to her once she’s willing to see him again…

He thinks of the pain; the numbness in his bones and the tears that have fallen...he can’t imagine hurting her. He’d use every ounce of his willpower from stopping such a thing from happening. Her safety is his priority, first and foremost. He has to show her properly...to become the protective man he’s shown for years now. He’ll have to do that whenever she decides to open up…

He glances at the closed door in the hallway and sighs. He stands and drags himself up the stairs to his bedroom, where he meets with the sleeping form of Zero. He doesn’t address the dog as he prepares for the night. He’s sure he won’t even get a moment’s worth of sleep, and will instead lay there for hours, worrying about the woman of his death…

----

  “JACK! What do you mean you’re not coming in? Today is the MOST important day of the year, besides * the * day!” 

“I’m aware, Mayor...I need to take a personal day. Just this once, this year. I promise you.” 

“But...BUT! How are we going to keep up, if you’re GONE? I’d have to spend my whole day covering your work, and-”

“-And I’m asking that as a favor, from my friend. I assure you, just this one time…” 

“... Hurm… ”

The other voice sounds hesitant before the line is abruptly dropped. The skeleton winces as he pulls down the receiver and returns it to its proper place. His attention is on the floor, staring at the socks on his feet in silence. He has to take a personal day today. He can’t just leave Sally here by herself, in her catatonic state...it would hurt him even worse to hear she’s suffered without him here - or properly comfort her once the time is right. And he is willing to wait for that as long as it takes. 

He glances at the door and finds it still closed from that night. He comes to it quietly and carefully tilts his skull on the surface. The room sounds completely silent. He fidgets with his shirt’s collar as he goes to the den once more, fetching a cup of his morning tea and sitting in his usual chair by the window. He glances outside and watches the skeletal birds go by, and his citizens walking through the plaza below. He feels peculiar not being out there by this time of day, but he pushes that concern aside as he firmly sits his pelvis down. He must wait for Sally. As long as it will take…! 

Zero hovers down the stairs and gives his master a greeting with the wag of his tail. He retreats to the rug in the room and circles on it, shoving his head in his sheet. The dog eventually falls asleep shortly afterwards. Jack watches him do this curiously. As if on cue, his eyelids start to feel heavy. He shakes his skull in an attempt to keep himself awake. He got little sleep last night, what with all the fretting he’d done for hours. And waiting like this makes him feel rather…. fatigued…

His figure loosens in the chair as he slumps back, resting his skull on its soft cushion. His eyes eventually close and his head hangs to the side. He enjoys the peaceful silence of the Manor, instead of the bustling noises of the town hall. Everything will be alright….he was sure of it…

 . . . 

 . . .

 . . .

  “Jack..?” 

 “Huh!” 

The King jolts himself awake when a voice startles him from his sleep. He’s surprised to see the figure of Sally standing before him, uncertainly eying his figure. He sits straight up in his seat and goes to stand - but she motions him back down with a hand on his shoulder. He slowly returns to his prior position and looks at her in concern. Zero floats in the air beside her head, weakly nuzzling the side of his muzzle on her shoulder. She smiles at the creature and lightly kisses his head - a fortunate sign to him, as well. 

“Sally..?” He mumbles as he wipes his socket. “You’re awake…and here…”

“Yes. I have a lot to apologize to you for…”

She stands there with little emotion, before completely scrunching up her face. Without warning, she reaches for him and leaps into his lap - holding him close and dangling her legs over the armrest. He doesn’t pause for a moment as he holds her by the waist and shoulders, to let her nestle her face into the crook of his neck. This moment is quiet, aside from the sounds of her soft cries. He pats her back repeatedly and brushes the strands of her yarn hair from her face. 

He sighs in relief. “You have no idea how good it feels to hold you again.” 

Her eyes shift downwards. “I missed you…I really wanted to be around you last night, but I-I just couldn’t…” 

“Were you scared?” He asks quietly. It’s the most apparent question he wants out of the way. There is a pause before she nods slightly.

“I was.” She confesses in a whisper. “Seeing you frighten all of those people...it was exciting at first, but...I’ve just had this terrible feeling in my stomach that entire night. Like I was getting an image of something unpleasant happening. I think it had something to do with that scarecrow.” 

“....”

“I used to read Finklestein’s books about premonitions. I never had one so strongly until that night. Just knowing what it can do...I felt scared. I shouldn’t have been, but-” 

“I told you I become a different person when I use it.” He interrupts in defeat. “You said you possibly couldn’t be afraid…”

“Jack, do you think something... bad would have happened..?” 

He falls silent at this question. After a few minutes, he hangs his skull low and averts his gaze. “I...didn’t realize it at first. Or at all, really. But I was starting to get in my own world - I didn’t realize how much I’d been scaring, or how intense it became. I used that scarecrow without thinking twice about it, and - I was very close to harming that man…” 

“Would you have lost yourself?” 

“I may just have, if you hadn’t stopped me in time.” He holds her tighter. Closer . “Thank you, Sally. I….I wouldn’t have hurt you. I’m sure of it.” 

“I saw you pounce on him. There was a different look about you that... frightened me. It wasn’t the same way you scared those others. I didn’t recognize you. So, I screamed and I ran, because that’s what I felt was safest to do…” 

Hearing this crushes him to his core. He’s holding onto her so tightly he can feel the pressure he’s applying on her seams. He loosens his grip to run a hand through her hair. This is when he begins to rock them both. Not only to calm her down, but himself as well…

“Sally, I am incredibly sorry you had to see me like that. I would never mean to do that. Sometimes I can’t control what I’m doing when I’m like that, and….it was rather irresponsible of me to put you in that position...” 

She inhales his scent and relaxes her frame. How badly she missed this last night...she’d have asked for his company if she just felt safe in time. It was distressing to lock herself in that room, away from her love as she listened to him pound on that door...she cried in her hands for a long time. For separating herself from him like this...she didn’t want to do it at all ..! But hearing how close he was to losing his composure, maybe it was for the best that she acted in time…Not that he would ever hurt her….she refused to believe it…

“At least I got to see the master of fright in action,” She comments, more to herself. “I wanted to watch you, Jack. Despite knowing what could’ve happened.” 

“That was a poor example. I should have never acted that way. Our rules -- we can’t hurt anyone, we’re not mean. And yet…” 

“There’s no need to fret.” She holds his skull in her hands, looking at him in the sockets. “We’re both safe. You didn’t harm that man. And I feel more comfortable right now…” 

He sighs once more, his breath warming her scalp. “Oh, Sally...I will never frighten you again. I won’t use that scarecrow for the rest of my death..! I swear by it!” 

She remains quiet, resting her head on his shoulder with her eyes closed. He takes this time to rub her arms and brush his fingertips over her face. Her breathing starts to slow after awhile and she slumps in his grip. He rests her properly in his lap and wraps his arms around her waist, leaning back in the chair to get comfortable. She must have not gotten much sleep either - as she’d fallen to fatigue quite easily. 

Jack relaxes as he rests with his love back in his arms again. He feels rather tired, too.

 ----

 The barks of Zero and mews of Ophelia wake the Skellington Manor residents from their slumber. The pets are playfully chasing each other around, wishing to obtain the ball of yarn they’re fighting over. Sally rubs her eyes as she removes herself from Jack’s lap. He stands to crack his back as well as the rest of his bones. The animals move their struggle into the other room while the ragdoll and skeleton head to the kitchen. They’re both parched and hungry after these events and decide to settle in for some brunch together, while it is still somewhat early in the day. 

Jack prepares their food and sits at the table, relaxing when he feels her small hand on his own. They eat their portion of eggs and drink from their glasses in comfortable silence. There’s plenty still on their minds, but they’re not fretting over it anymore. He’d rather move on from the unfortunate night and work on making things better. 

Something comes to his mind. He stands from his seat and pushes it in, giving her a grin. “There is still something we’ve neglected to do…!” 

“Oh?” She asks. 

“We need to find a proper spot for your trophy, my dear..!” 

With the same childish excitement, he rushes out of the room to grab her award from the safe spot he’s been keeping it in. He brushes off the slight dust collected on its rim before presenting it to Sally, who takes it uncertainly from his hands. Truth be told, where to put her trophy was the last thing on her mind lately….

“Where do you think it should go?” She asks him. He looks puzzled at this suggestion and tilts his head. 

“That would depend where you want it…!”

“Hmm.” 

She stares at her reflection in the cup and smiles when she reads her name on the placard. She still feels proud of an achievement like this. Just knowing it was from her friends and customers in town gave her butterflies in her stomach. She takes this moment to think before it dawns on her. 

“It belongs where I earned it.” She tells him. “I’ll present it somewhere in my sewing shop..where everyone can see it.”

“Splendid idea! Let me grab my suit before we head out…”

He dismisses himself from the room to get properly dressed. She holds her trophy proudly in her hands as she waits for him by the door. She would think holding this from such a terrifying night would give her unsettling memories...but it doesn’t. She feels proud and almost happy, remembering why she earned it. And she’s sure everyone else will, too, seeing their gift to her presented right in her sewing shop…

 ----

 Jack Skellington has a lot on his mind. 

Spending an entire day away from Halloween Planning would usually give him the liberty to work on his projects or read some books on his shelves...but instead, he spends his time with her . He assists Sally to her sewing shop and helps her pick a place to present her trophy. Then he spends his time looking at her creations and listening to her future plans and projects, all while supporting her and offering his assistance. She even takes her responsible duties as his tailor and finally fixes the ends of his pants - previously torn by the times he’s had to catch her from that window…

When all is said and done, they retreat back to the Skellington Manor, where they spend even more time together. Sally insists on looking through their library and helping him organize a bit - picking out books she’d like to read and swapping for the ones she’d already finished. Then she helps him clean up his study, which takes a substantial amount of time in the afternoon. This part is demanding for the two of them, and by the time they’re done, they’re exhausted right as dusk is about to fall on them. 

During the day, he can’t help but dwell over the other night. How she must have felt with what he put her through - and what’s come from that situation. Had he lost even an ounce of her trust after what he did..? She appears calm and comfortable in his presence again, but he still doubts himself. He wants to prove he can obtain her feelings in a more proper way - to make up for his irresponsibly putting her in potential danger. Someplace he can assure she’s safe, and the two of them can work on trusting each other…

 ...

 …

 After dinner, he thinks he knows the answer. 

It’s one that makes his mind go jumbled and gives his body the jitters. It isn’t a new thought that’s never come across to him; he’s mused about it before, but repeatedly denied such action considering his gentlemanly side. But now he wants nothing more than getting closer to Sally. And doing this will most certainly do that, in a way that puts him in a position of closeness and trust. And that’s what he wants to share with her, after scaring her so far away from him. 

She lounges in their den to let their supper digest. He opens a window to let in the cool, nightly air before joining her side. Zero and Ophelia observe the outside with curious eyes, resting on the window sill together. Jack presses his arm on the back of the couch as Sally closes in the space, resting her head on his chest and listening to the crickets and bats from outside. It’s a peaceful night compared to yesterday’s. 

He waits several moments before mentioning anything. He takes this time wondering how exactly to bring this up. Slowly but confidently, he calls for her name. “Sal…?” 

“Yes, Jack?” 

“I haven’t been the best with your trust lately, considering what I’ve done.” He sighs sadly. “I want to make it up to you in any possible way I can.” 

“Oh, but we’ve spent all day together..! You didn’t even work a minute today. Your attention is all I could ask for…” 

“Yes, but...I’ve been thinking about it  for an awfully long time, and - do you know the reason I gave you your own room?” 

“So I could have my own space to work on the things I want.” She repeats sweetly. He nods along to her words.

“Exactly. But now you’ve got your own sewing shop in town...all of your dresses are there, your machines - of course there’s a couple here for you to work on, but now you’ve got all that empty space in your closet…”

She lifts her head to listen to him intently. She never thought twice about the space now - she just assumed she’ll use it for future things. Regardless - she’s curious on where this is going. 

“Since there’s no need for such a big space anymore...why don’t you…” His words grow quiet. He grows frustrated at his own fumbling and has to force it out. “...Why don’t you share one with me?” 

Her silence throws him back. He grows anxious with the look on her face. “..Share a room with you?” She repeats.

“Not just the room...it would mean the bed, too.” He tugs at his collar, finding himself hot. “I have such a big mattress I sleep on every night. There would be plenty of room for you.” She looks surprised at this suggestion. He elaborates. “--I think it’s a great opportunity to get your trust again. I can be there for you every night, and we can share the space together…”

“...But you would see me in my pajamas?” She blushes. He finds her coquetry adorable. 

“I think that’s something we can get past together. You’ll see me in my own. That could even be tonight..! .” 

She’s growing as red as a cherry at the suggestion of sleeping with Jack...seeing him in such clothes no one else does, reserved only in the hours of the night...the idea is appealing to her. She can’t deny how lonely it feels some nights. Even though Ophelia recently joins her slumber, she’s always felt like she’s been missing something…or some one . She is enamored by the idea of waking up next to Jack, sharing their ‘ good mornings ’ and even ending the day together. It sounds romantic the more she thinks about it. 

‘This is the next step for couples, isn’t it?’ She blushes deeper at the thought. 

“Y-Yes, Jack...we can do that…even tonight ?” 

“I don’t see why not. There isn’t much to move from your room...we don’t even have to do that right now! We can worry about all that tomorrow, and sleep together now...” 

Even he is growing timid with his words, struggling to get them out. It’s always a difficult feat, being a gentleman and wanting such... amorous things. He will still be chivalrous, of course - she can still have the privacy of changing on her own and dressing herself...but he wants to share closeness with her longer - throughout the entire night, in the arms of one other as they fall asleep…the thought makes him giddy, and treasure her presence even more.

“Okay, Jack...I trust you...I know this is good for us.” She tells him shyly. He leans in and leaves a kiss on her forehead, sending delightful tingles on her skin. 

“-If you aren’t ready, Sally, just let me know...but I think, after all this time apart--”

“Of course I’m ready. I-I know about couples sleeping together...” She pokes her fingers together nervously. “I’ve always wanted to-to do that, with you...” 

His eyes widen in delight. “Have you, now?” 

She appears flustered and he chuckles, kissing her again before getting up and discarding their cups. She begins to panic wondering what it will be like to share a bed with Jack, and how his pajamas will look…and if hers will even compare…! Will she look ridiculous? Unattractive ? Sometimes her hair becomes a mess during the night, and she wakes up rather sluggish...that won’t deter him from his feelings for her, right?

She shakes her head realizing she’s overthinking it and takes a breath to calm herself down. He returns to the room after a minute, sitting next to her and wrapping his arm around her shoulders. She notices he brought a book with him, clenched tightly in his other hand. She reads the title and notices it’s a romance. She hums in curiosity, her previous thoughts forgotten from this distraction. 

“Why don’t we read a story together..?” He suggests, opening to the starting page with his free hand. She sits up from her seat in delight - enjoying this suggestion spectacularly. 

The man of her screams reads this story to her, about a young woman facing her fears and running away with a man she loves. His voice reads the text so soothingly, showing great emphasis and drama when needed. She melts at the sound the entire time, closing her eyes and picturing the story in her mind. She can’t ask for anything better but to be read to by her skeleton man, relaxing against his frame as the story goes on…

----

 “Take your time; I’ll be in the room whenever you’re ready!” 

His long hand cradles the side of her face as he leans in and leaves a kiss on her soft lips. She closes her eyes tightly and frowns when he pulls away. He gives her one last encouraging grin before disappearing into the room - closing the door slowly after him. She looks at the pajamas in her hands and chews on her lip. Now is the time. It’s finally happening…all she has to do is put on her clothes, and then follow him into the room…where she will be sleeping with him…

She feels herself shaking. She tries to stop herself. What does she have to be nervous about? He’s doing this to make it up to her - to make sure she feels safe and protected around him. She knows she will be; every time she’s in his embrace, she feels like she’s in a better world. He will always keep her close and loved - and she believes it. It’s not even the memory of the scarecrow that bothers her, but rather, the expectations she’s set in her mind....

Will she take up too much space? Wake too early? Or too late? She’ll have to try not to sleep with too many blankets. She doesn’t want to hog anything..! This is his space he's inviting her into, after all…! It sends her mind into a frenzy as she shuffles her feet, begrudgingly heading to the bathroom and dressing herself in there.  She gets this done in a hurry, taking off her dress and easily slipping into her clothes.

She observes herself in the mirror above the sink. She’s moved on from the patchwork dress she used to wear in Finklestein’s Tower - wearing her new creations and dresses instead. But this is the only outfit that reminds her of it. It’s her old nightclothes she used to wear in that tower, sewn from the most comfortable scraps she could find. The different color of browns and beige look almost off-putting on her colorful figure. She starts to play with her hair nervously, not particularly impressed by the image reflecting back to her. 

‘...I hope he doesn’t think less of me’.

 ---- 

  The tall figure uncomfortably shuffles himself in the bed, eyes locked on the currently closed door. He doesn't want to miss Sally's appearance, whenever she decides to come in. He's more than patient waiting for her, understanding this is a drastic change from their usual routine, and that both of them will have to adjust to it. Even he feels somewhat nervous as he sits there, unsure of what to expect, finally sleeping with a woman by his side. The thought alone makes his shirt feel tight.

He's in his own pajamas, a light beige button-up with long sleeves, and equally long pants. He normally wears a night cap to bed, but decides against it for this night in particular. He drums his phalanges on his knee as he tries to pass the time with his thoughts. He glances over and notices his dog fast asleep in his small bed, with Ophelia close by his side. They look comfortable and unbothered together, after such short time of knowing each other.

'If the two of them can do it, then surely, Sally and I can, too...'

He's interrupted by the sound of the doorknob twisting. He sits up attentively as the sight of his beloved slowly comes into view. She modestly steps into the room and closes it behind her, moving her hair behind her shoulders. He's almost awestruck at the sight. To see her in such clothing, her eyes blinking temptingly at his own. She clasps her hands together before shyly advancing forward. This is when he realizes his mouth is agape.

He shuts it and smiles apologetically. "My dear...you look lovely..."

She turns her head to the side, flushed at his words. "You think so..?"

"Absolutely! Why, I - I have never seen you like this...it is..." He struggles to think of a word. "It feels like a privilege..!"

Her eyes travel down to his own body and she hides her smile with her hand. She notices the empty spot on the mattress and assumes that's where she's wanted. She slowly makes her way around the bed and into the covers, all while avoiding Jack's face. When she's properly inside, there's only a few inches between her and the skeleton. This causes her phantom heart to thud rapidly, and a whole bunch of other thoughts come flooding into her mind.

"We'll start moving your things in here tomorrow. I'll clear some space in the morning," He continues casually.

She nods along with him - unsure of what to say or do. She's never shared a bed with anybody, nor does she know what's supposed to happen after this. Whatever it is, it makes her feel small and rather hot, bunching her legs together and watching him out of the corner of her eye. He leans forward to leave a kiss on her cheek, which calms her slightly.

"Are you comfortable?" He asks. She nods right away.

"Yes..! Your mattress is so soft, and the pillow is too. This blanket is warm and comfortable..."

"I'm glad you like it." He sounds relieved. "You can have as much space as you'd like...I don't take much room, as you can tell..."

She feels embarrassed for forgetting about his thin stature. So there is no way she can possibly hog the bed...That makes her feel better, at least. She tucks her hair out of the way as she looks around his bedroom. She notices how dark it is, only illuminated by a set of candles on his nightstand and moonlight from the only open window in the room. She can make out the silhouettes of a few dressers and closets, but nothing else at that moment.

"...Sorry if I seem... shy ." She finally confesses, tugging at her fingers. "I just feel a little insecure about my clothes..."

"If you feel that way, why haven't you made yourself some new ones?" He questions curiously. She looks down at her chest and sighs.

"I didn't think I would be sleeping with you...or anyone at all. I've been wearing these ever since I've been created. I never thought anyone would see me in them. But now that you have - I feel embarrassed..."

"-No reason to be, my love." He takes her hand and kisses it tenderly. "It doesn't matter what you wear - you're always going to be gorgeous in my eyes. Or lack thereof." He chuckles at that last sentence, and she smiles. "--Why, you look beautiful even wearing this..!"

She feels better and relaxes her posture. He motions for her to get comfortable and she does so, laying on her side of the bed and pulling the blanket over her figure. She watches as he blows out the candles, effectively darkening the room beyond the small portion of light coming from the window. He shuffles on the bed - finding the most comfortable position. She feels almost intimidated to move around, but she does so slightly, facing his direction.

It isn't long before she feels his arms come around her figure, holding her close to himself. She finds herself facing his chest and relaxes at the contact. It feels almost natural...being this close to him. It's the most relaxed she's ever felt. Sally eventually closes her eyes and steadies her breathing - falling fast asleep in the contact of her lover. Jack finds himself easily succumbing to his slumber as well - relishing this closeness with her, wanting to keep her safe.

[poormeowmeowcollector]

Trying To Balance With A Part Of Yourself Missing

Summary: Thor bargains with Odin on Loki's sentence, and he wins. Loki is moved with the Avengers to fix his past mistakes. But Odin's term changes everything, and Loki's foe is not their mistakes, but their self-image.

Warnings: each chapter has individual, the work in general is pretty dark

Notes: When a dialogue of Loki is in bold, he is speaking English. And when a line is in italics without a dialogue, it's an intrusive thought.

Chapter 5: The Doctor

Chapter summary: Banner takes Loki for the tests.

Warnings: Language, gender dysphoria, gender dysmorphia, internalized racism, intrusive thoughts, needles, blood, medical themes, mentions of child neglect [not on screen], mentions of self harm [not on screen]

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This time, Friday wakes them up, reminding them of the appointment with Banner. Loki groans and drags himself out of the bed and into the bathroom, it's better to get rid of that smell, at least for as long as it can hold.

At least Loki doesn't have to look at their body as they wash themselves, an advantage of blindness they didn't think of until now. Still, being forced to touch all the time is unpleasant and uncomfortable to no end. And trying to wash his hair without scratching his hands on the horns or his claws scratching his scalp is a task unimaginably difficult.

Loki now understands why Jötnar run around naked, wearing a shirt with these horns is almost impossible. But, they must hide the chest plate, at least from everyone but Thor. And Banner, after the examination. And, shit, he probably has to take breakfast with them…

They sigh and glance at the mirror, only to make sure they don't look so much for a mess. His appearance is acceptable, so he takes the now charged earpiece and walks away, wearing it as Friday starts instructing.

A hand touches their shoulder, making them flinch away. Thor, the owner of the hand, mutters something, probably an apology, but he can't hear it thanks to Friday. They take a breath out and smile at Thor, muttering a good morning. Thankfully, Friday stops talking.

"How are you feeling? You look…" Thor trails off, trying to appear as polite as possible.

"F-f-feverish? It's fi-fine, just-just a b-bad day," he brushes off, suddenly glad that he doesn't need Friday's translations.

"But, you're ill," Thor argues, making Loki sigh.

"I'm not-not, it's a bad d-day," they answer.

"Loki, you can't fool me. You're unwell, why don't you admit it?" he groans. Truth be told, Loki rarely admits any weakness with ease. As long as one can walk, there's no need for whining, Odin had said countless times and Loki never stopped obeying.

"I d-d-do. It's a b-bad da-day," he speaks slowly and as clearly as possible.

"Loki, you're having a fever. It's not just a bad day, and you are allowed to admit that you're ill. Please," Thor begs, actually begs. If Loki wasn't so pissed off, they'd be touched.

He pulls Thor closer, mostly to maintain some secrecy. "I am on m-m-my pe-pe-period," they hiss, watching as Thor's last brain cell comes to life.

"Oh… well, this explains the irritability of yours, brother. You know your patience always runs low these days," Thor nods, all matter-of-factly. Loki has to take deep breaths and remind themselves again and again that murder is a convicted crime, and they should not get locked up in a Midgardian prison. Or any prison, anytime soon.

Luckily, Thor remains silent after that. The only one who breaks the silence is Friday, reminding Loki that he can't eat before a blood test, or the results will not be accurate. Fine, they didn't really feel hungry anyway.

Perhaps, if you skip today's food entirely, you'll lose that disgusting bloating of yours. He tries hard to not grimace at the thought. No, they have to remind themselves, it will leave after a few days, it always does. Just do the damn tests and then eat, it's not that hard.

When they reach the kitchen, Loki can feel eyes on him and a mix of confusion and irritation in the air. Alright, just stay quiet and it will pass.

Wanda mutters a good morning, her magic swirling around her like some form of shield or blanket. Loki repeats the wish, forcing a smile. They don’t know which is worse, the jealousy building up or the guilt over the last time they listened to that feeling.

Thor helps him find a chair in the bright chaos, and even pulls it. For fucks sake, they're not unable to sit on a fucking chair! He tries to prove it by being the one who adjusts it on the table.

"Morning, dude. How're you feeling?" a man asks, Wilson. Just by his voice, he sounds kind, less judgemental.

"Fine, thank you for asking," they answer, plastering another fake smile (one of the best skills being a prince has given them).

Still, Wanda is seeing through it and attempts to find out, by using a simple mind invading spell. One that makes the base of Loki's skull feel ablaze. As loud as he can, he thinks of the word stop, making Wanda pause and retreat, her curiosity replaced with shame.

Then, a conversation occurs. Loki doesn't want to take part, but the combination of the voices and Friday's translations is overwhelming, making his head pound. Friday catches the message and stops translating, but the voices are still too fucking loud. Loki sighs and decides to just take a sip of water, and see if it'll help, but it turns to ice before it touches their lips. But fuck, he's thirsty and in pain.

A hand touches their shoulder, and they jump up, turning around to see a short person dressed in purple. "Are you ready for the tests?" He asks, Banner. Loki nods and gets up, pardoning himself before walking away.

"Are you okay?" he asks, making Loki groan.

"Wh-wh-wh-why does e-e-everyone ask me-me if I'm okay? I'm f-f-fine!" they snap, stopping only after feeling Banner freeze.

"I asked because you looked like you were about to start crying over there. No offence, they can be loud sometimes, but you didn't seem like you were taking it well," he answers, half expecting his skull to be crushed. But Loki is just ashamed he didn't hide the pain better.

"N-n-n-none t-taken. Noise is not exactly we-we-we-welcome, and I used to to-to-tone it down w-w-with spells. Now, I c-c-c-can't," they explain, just beginning to collect themselves.

"You know, you can ask Friday to deafen, if you use the earpieces. It helps," he suggests. Loki nods, happy with the silence that they fall into. At least Banner doesn't feel like he has to talk all the time, even though he's nervous. He's still afraid of him, even though it's not necessary any more.

The lab is a fucking bright room, Loki has to cover their eyes and let Banner navigate them, after lowering the lights.

During the examination, Loki comes to realize that Asgard and Midgard are opposite when it comes to healing. First, Banner promises secrecy, any information stays private until Loki asks for a leak, or in a life or death situation. And then, he just asks about everything and listens to the answer. No doubt, no comments and no painful examinations with leeches or smelly potions that make people’s skin pink. Well, the examination on light sensitivity was painful, and Loki swears to piss on the grave of whoever thought a flashlight in the eyes is a good idea, but the rest were fine.

When he was young, Odin would not easily believe Loki, no matter what. The times when they were forced in hunts that were leaving them in the healing wing for weeks or feasts until they faint on their plate due to fever are uncountable. The show would usually begin with Loki faking the illness because he’s lazy, come to its climax when Loki would be deemed delicate and weak while being tossed in the healing wing and the parade of hypocrisy would end after Loki returns to his chamber only to be forgotten there. Loki learned two lessons from this. One, if they can stand up, they're not ill, and they shouldn't bother other people with whining. And two, if he's truly ill, it's wiser to deal with it on his own than let others draw conclusions.

The change feels so odd, yet it’s so welcome.

Until the time for the blood test.

"Just follow my instructions, I'll make it as painless as I can," he promises, and then instructs Loki to lift their sleeve and show the armpit, the non-dominant one. Loki doesn't show his nervousness, and tries to appear as cold as possible when he reveals the hand, and everything he's done to it. Banner doesn't comment and doesn't show pity, but his skin grows just green enough for Loki's eyes to notice.

The other instructions were easy. Clench the fist, breathe in, breathe out and relax the hand. Banner is surprised to say the least when he sees the tube filling with blue liquid instead of red, but doesn't comment.

Do you think he could bleed you dry and be done with this shit show? Loki hitches a breath and clinches their stomach, stopping when the sound of something breaking and a hot pain blooms in their arm. Did he freeze the tube and break the needle?

Banner fetches something from a table and grabs Loki's hand, muttering something about getting the needle out. Loki hisses from the pain, and manages to freeze Banner's glove, but he still covers their hand with gauzes. The white starts turning blue and freezing in some parts, Banner is about to do something about it but Loki hums a no.

"Do you want to try again?" he asks, Loki could feel how he was expecting a negative answer. But he nods a yes and covers his right hand, so he’ll uncover the left one and clench. This time, they don't dare looking at the needle and mentally play some random songs for a distraction. Banner tells him to clench again, and then gives him some cotton to press in the hole before he vanishes behind some machine.

"What were you humming?" Banner asks, making Loki's face go ablaze.

"I… em… a song," they mutter, and mentally berate themselves for the lack of words. Banner laughs, but not out of malice. And he hands over a paper box and a bag. Loki stares at him and tilts his head, but Banner tries to brush it off as "something that's always done when someone gets a blood test". As if Loki is also a fool, apart from blind.

They're about to get dismissed and leave when Friday tell them via the earpiece that Banner will ask questions when he sees the test results. Loki sighs, it's better to be the one who tells him, right?

"Ba-banner, about th-th-the te-te-te-test, y-you may so-see some… abnormalities in th-th-the tests. It's n-normal, yet-yet-yet uncomfortable," they trail off, feeling confusion on Banner's side instead of clarity.

"Would you mind being more specific? I need to know what to ignore,"

"Hormonal, m-mostly… on, em…" he groans in frustration, feeling like an absolute fool, "on me-me-menstruation hormones… and y-y-yes, I kn-know wh-what it implies. B-but, d-don't tell anyone, only Th-th-th-thor knows," they get it out, waiting for a myriad of feeling emit from Banner. But he just makes a small oh sound and hands over another paper package.

"I guess you'll find them easier than tampons. If you finish them, just come to me. Don't try to steal Nat's, you'll be disappointed, and possibly earn a chinned tooth," he smiles, but Loki can sense the warmth from saying Romanov's name. Love, he concludes, what a complication when towards your co-worker, from what he's heard.

"W-w-w-we're done?" they raise an eyebrow and look down at Banner, glad he doesn't look afraid. Interesting, just enough inspection, and he isn't afraid any more. What a gullible scientist.

"Friday will find anything we missed, and she can help Tony make you some glasses, if you decide you want them, or inspect the brain damage from the other guy," he answers. Loki nods and is about to turn around, before thinking twice about the answer he got.

"W-w-wait, wh-wh-wh-what brain d-damage?" they blink. Apart from the nightmares, thoughts, flashbacks, headaches and general fuckery, his brain works perfectly. Well, perfectly might be an exaggeration, but the Hulk hasn’t done anything.

"You're telling me you walked around with a dead ear since the Attack and didn't notice?" Banner is now the one to raise an eyebrow.

"I w-w-was in so-so-solitary c-c-confinement until y-y-yesterday. Not much to h-h-h-hear," they explain. But… he should have heard Thor coming today in the corridor…

"Yeah, your left ear is dead, or the nerves getting messages from there to your brain. You can thank the other guy, and there's nothing to be done," he isn't exactly mild on announcing another damage on this throughout fucked up body, but it doesn't exactly matter. So, they just nod and go back to hiding under their sheets, but this time they make Friday play some music, just to cover up the silence.

~~~~~~

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