#but also I wanted to do a window or maybe abandoned cages from the first idea but geometric stuff like that by hand is hard without a guide

[babykittenteach]

Turned that last artober into a full piece, calling it birds of a feather.

[scrimblescromble]

I know other people have done this but here's my very long rambling about how I'd improve the moonstone Cassandra arc, because I've been thinking so much about it recently. If someone else has said this, then great minds think alike, because I haven't actually watched or read anything about other people's opinions about it.

Most importantly, I do love Cassandra. What did they do to my girl type beat.

First, it's important to consider why Varian arguably works better as a villain:

Your honour he is a CHILD. He's 14, while Cassandra is like 23. While neither of their actions are good, and you can do stupid things as an adult, Varian was a child failed by the system.

Varian's arc is a sudden turn to villainy, but it still has backing. Not only does he go through a massive ordeal to try and get help for his dad, but he was turned away in the middle of a snowstorm for reasons that were not explained to him very well, and had a promise broken all at once. If it was just the issue of the promise, then it wouldn't be as solid of an arc; but we can see how it would develop to be a lot worse. His failure is also an ongoing sore spot for the character.

Cass' arc is supposed to be more slowburn, but it's still mostly heralded by remembering Gothel. It's meant to similarity compound her history of feeling snubbed and overlooked, but rings more hollow, as she targets the one person who doesn't do that. The issue isn't the turning point, it's that they treat the straw that broke the camel's back as the whole weight. Again, characters acting illogically is fine, but not when it's this extreme.

After being thrown out, no-one goes to check on Varian. This is critical, because I believe that if Rapunzel had turned up to Old Corona, he would have crumpled and not had a villain arc. Even if it didn't work. However, everyone treats him poorly after that, even wondering what he'll do with the withered remains of a healing flower??? Like, yes, you shouldn't kidnap a queen, but also maybe don't treat a hurt child like he's dangerous?

His big plan in Rapunzel's Return is also... to erase everyone's memories so they can be friends again. He doesn't want to kill anyone, doesn't even want to hurt everyone, even after having months to stew in his anger in prison.

Now, I don't hate Cass' arc, and I feel like all the pieces were there, and maybe not fit together quite in the right way. And I would like to say all the things I like about it, and why it works in the ways it does:

When she kidnaps Varian, she specifically says that she doesn't want to hurt him, and only cages him when he's talking sense into her. I think the main reason she shoves the cage away is so she doesn't have to listen anymore.

Obviously Once a Handmaiden is amazing at showing a Cass who wants to return to Rapunzel, one who understands her side of the story. And other moments throughout, when she questions, but Zhan Tiri pulls her back in.

Crossing the Line. Enough said.

What I would change/ didn't hit in the right way:

Cass quite clearly sets up motivations in Crossing the Line that really don't feel like they get brought up enough again. Especially the "I never got the chances you were given" idea. The main motive they seem to push is the Gothel line...

On that, the Gothel line of reasoning just doesn't make enough sense to me. Cass knows how much Rapunzel is haunted by being locked up, and probably knows the whole story (from her "was it your idea to push her out a window" line), and so she would know that Gothel never loved either of them. If she were a more emotional character, I would buy it, or even if they went more of just hurting from being abandoned instead of the victim-blamey route

Basically, I think that it should have been more of the whole "I worked hard for what I have, and it never takes me anywhere" idea expressed in Waiting in the Wings and Crossing the line. There's still ideas of it ("What I want, I'll take and keep"), but I actually think it could have been taken further. There's a lot of subtext about class in the show, and the power the royal family holds vs literally everyone else, even the Princess' best friend.

I would make Cass throughout the season seem more and more comfortable than she ever was in Corona, even compared to when we see her fight. In Corona, she was the Captain of the Guard's daughter, the Princess' handmaiden; always expected to behave properly and never quite allowed to unleash her full potential.

Maybe there's a part where she expresses that she might want to give up being a handmaiden and instead be something else; thus she argues with Rapunzel, who doesn't want to lose her best friend. That wouldn't be the angle Cass was going for, but she admits defeat in the fight.

Early on, we see she's having nightmares. Flashes of her life with Gothel, rigorous training in her teen years. They leave her haggard and snappy sometimes, but she wouldn't know where to begin if she wanted to explain it.

As their time on the road draws to a close, she knows that they're going back to Corona. She and Eugene worry about what will happen to Rapunzel when she touches the moonstone, but on a personal level, she knows she'll have to shut herself in again; and wonders if "alone but free" would be better.

Her decision to touch the moonstone isn't fully decided - but as she sees Rapunzel reach for it, she moved faster. We see her face, surprised at herself at first, but then determined, as she pulls it to her chest. Now, she's decided on this path.

At first, she doesn't actually intend to go back to Corona. This new life shouldn't be about Rapunzel; but Zhan Tiri convinces her to return, that taking the moonstone wasn't enough. Soon people will come after her for it, and besides, she's struggling to control the moonstone. Similar to the show, but with more of her pushing away the idea of seeing Rapunzel again at first. She tries to get back that spark she had on the road, but the rocks sometimes appear when she doesn't want them to, and it's not fun when everyone's scared of you.

"Be Very Afraid" has a good idea with Rapunzel sensing Cass' fear through the rocks, although I'd also add Cass sensing Rapunzel's fear of her losing herself, and of losing her. I would take out the fear about Cass destroying Corona. However, I would actually move it to after Cassandra's Revenge.

Islands Apart would be slightly modified. The Captain had previously, upon hearing about Cass' turn, leaves Corona to track her down. There's a hint of their encounter in a previous episode. Basically, instead of searching for Rapunzel and finding the island, he blindly believes he can bring Cass back, and turns to denial.

I feel like Cassandra's Revenge should be fine to be relatively untouched, although I'd add more moments of her seeming to be putting on bravado she doesn't actually feel. We get this with her not wanting to hurt Varian, and that is the feel of Nothing Left to Lose; but I want more when Rapunzel is there as well. Conflicted looks before sending "death" blows, even refusing to look when she squeezes Eugene with the rocks. More Zhan Tiri in her ear, constantly, nattering.

I'm not sure how I feel about the whole "making her tower out of the remains of Rapunzel's". Like, it fits the character, but it does harken back to the Gothel arc. I reckon it's fine honestly. Symbolism about how she has trapped herself in this situation

I need something more about class in there, and power dynamics. Rapunzel having to defend people who stand up to power. She reflects on the way she's been treated by those who have power over her, but now considering Cass, who's been through similar things: both raised by Mother Gothel, and then gaining overbearing dads.

Varian expresses sympathy with Cass, even after Cassandra's Revenge, and tells Rapunzel, because he's also been there. Eugene was literally about to be executed for being a thief, without a trial. He also admits the conversation him and Cass had, worrying about Rapunzel touching the moonstone. Maybe he says something like "if I knew for certain that touching that stone would have hurt you, I couldn't have promised not to take it myself".

They all reflect on how free and happy Cass seemed on the road, even in moments of danger. How unhappy she actually seems in her decision. "If you love it, let it go."

Back to Cass; after the newly moved events of Be Very Afraid, she worries she's losing control. First, the Moonstone chipped, she lost to Rapunzel, and now she knows that her mask is slipping. This is what motivates her search for the Mind Trap - she pretends that it's power, but really, all sense of safety has been lost to her.

Tale of Two Sisters does rub me slightly the wrong way. There's no way that Cass didn't know before this that Gothel was a piece of shit, and the one nice moment of the music box, even if Rapunzel had hid it, wouldn't have changed that she clearly didn't love Cass enough to not abandon her. I would still have the events happen, but when Rapunzel tries to talk sense into her about Gothel, she explodes about every other issue. "It was never about my mother! Are you selfish enough to think that everything's about you?"

In Once a Handmaiden, the catalyst for her abandoning Zhan Tiri would instead be more to do with her realising how pushy she was being about taking over Corona - which Cass never wanted. She wanted control over herself and freedom, not to rule. In her anger, she even breaks down her own tower, before returning to Corona.

The whole ordeal with Project Obsidian still happens, although that actually doesn't make her snap. She points her sword at Varian, but at his confusion and apologies, even dropping the weapon, she sighs. "Some things don't change, do they?"

Instead, what makes her snap is someone actually expressing that idea of "once a handmaiden". She realises that coming back to Corona means more restrictions, and even though she is a bit miserable like this, she doesn't want to lose that freedom. Maybe someone mutters something about "knowing her place", and she snaps - maybe the rocks at first react to her emotions. Although taking over Corona was never her goal, it clearly feels good to unleash her full power.

Plus et en Vous would also be pretty much the same, but Rapunzel would explain what she realised a while ago; that she doesn't need Cass to be her handmaiden again. In the same way Cass freed her from the confinement of being Princess, Rapunzel frees Cass from the responsibility she's held for so long. "I shouldn't have been blind to your happiness, Cass. I assumed if you were unhappy, you'd let me know... but when has life ever been that simple?"

Those are the main points I think, although another big change I'd make is her not suddenly talking with the Evil Voice. I know it's a kids show, but the outfit and pointy black rocks should show that she's the bad guy. And I know Varian also does it, but he's literally just in his edgy phase.

Also I know this isn't too different from her actual arc. One of the main issues is there's too many episodes where Cass just doesn't feature?

TLDR: Less Gothel, more class issues. The decision to take the moonstone was a little bit impulsive, but then she had to commit.

[silentmagi]

here's my AU idea of murder drones: uzi walks alone after leaving outpost three until she sees something in the distance. At first, she thinks it's a disassembly drone but discovers it's a new type of drone with animal features who kidnaps her and takes her to a large abandoned factory along with many kidnapped worker and disassembly drones. While being taken to the factory, she meets a kidnapped disassembly drone named N and after everyone is in the factory, a female animal drone who will be the main antagonist and is the leader of the new species of drones explains that both worker and disassembly drones will become evil by having a new system that will be downloaded into them and will do tests after and that the disassembly drones that are kidnapped don't kill anyone and if they refuse, they will be killed. After this speech, guards come in and put the worker and disassembly drones including uzi and N in cages and both uzi and N are put in the same cage until it is their time to be evil. While waiting for their turn, an escaped female worker drone frees uzi and N from their cell using the keys she stole from the guard. While helping them escape, the alarms begin to sound and the worker drone tells both uzi and N to run while she takes care of the new species of drones despite uzi telling her to come with them. After uzi and N run from the new species of drones, they come across one of broken windows of the factory and having no choice and seeing the new species of drones coming, they spread their wings and fly away with the new species of drones giving chase because they also have the ability to fly and they manage to lose them after flying through some buildings. After the chase, N tells uzi that the rest of his squad which are V and J are hiding somewhere and they must find and recruit them in order to defeat the new species of drones and save everyone. This AU will have 8 episodes like murder drones and will have khan, thad, lizzy, doll, (she will not be an antagonist) and tessa (the real tessa) as supporting characters. the pilot will have the same opening as in the actual pilot of murder drones before uzi is kidnapped. episode 2 will have uzi and N escape. episodes 3 to 6 will feature uzi and N looking for V and J before finding them and recruiting them as well as khan, thad, lizzy, and doll before tessa appears near the end of the episode to help them after landing her ship on copper 9. episodes 7 and 8 will be a two part season finale that will be 30 minutes long and will feature the characters infiltrating the factory in episode 7 while episode 8 will have a huge fight scene with the leader of the new species of drones and uzi, N, V, and J while khan, thad, lizzy, doll, and tessa save everyone and during the fight, uzi will have a new power and she and her friends will have the chance to defeat the leader. the last episode will end with everyone having an emotional goodbye with tessa and N, V, and J being accepted into the colony as thanks for saving everyone and a scene after the credits will have tessa taking off her helmet revealing her true identity without being blacked out before smiling. what do you think? :)

Thank you for submitting the idea, I can't exactly say this is my thing, but I'll give it a shot.

First, and this is more for the sake of the reader: Break it into paragraphs, please.

Moving onto what was submitted. Why is Uzi leaving the outpost? I'd say finding the power cell like in the pilot makes sense. She should be running if those are Disassembly Drones, but the animal feature drone is interesting. Immediately, I think of Alice, but maybe build this up a bit more?

You may want to rework the section about revealing the evil plot, expand on it and give the female animal drone more development. Also, good remembering that there are more than three DD's, even if they are clones of the same trio (possibly?). Not sure on them declaring that they're fully intending to make the captured drones evil.

Is this process like the roboticization of Sonic SatAM fame? What is their plan and process?

Does Uzi know the escaped drone? How did she get the keys and escape? The sacrificial martyr is not my thing, but can be good if done well. If Uzi has wings, why didn't she use Solver to escape?

How are the animal ones tracking them? How do they lose them? Given how willing V and J are to listen to him in the show, I think getting to the worker drones first would be easier. Or maybe having Tessa be the one he appeals to.

The break down of the episodes is nice, and I apologize, I have NEVER been able to stick to such a layout when writing. The addition of Tessa arriving as she does helps define why she wasn't in play earlier, however I think being ready to change things around will help it flow more naturally. Please also remember that Uzi had to have a life threatening/ending event happen before the solver manifested with the wings and such coming later.

The closing scene with Tessa is not bad.

Overall, I want to know why the animal ones are doing this, what they think is going to happen, why they were created etc.

I know that there's a lot of nitpicking questions, and challenges that I put into this, so I ask that you please understand I enjoyed the idea. I would just suggest maybe breaking away from canon a bit more in your development of this as I think it's limiting this story.

I hope that this helps, and would love to see you develop this more.

[loversgothic]

Maybe you've done it already and I missed it, but what would Gabriel's two-week-notice look like in the Ultradanse AU?

This has nothing to do with any other comments you have made about feral Gabriel or any other desire to see how he changes from The Gilded Nightingale to The Nightingale.

:3c. OOOHH. WELL

ive been really trying to think about that hard, since comparing the characters to those in fairytales and ballets tended to skew the story a bit.

and uh... my descriptions wont be the best.. im not the best at explaining things in ballet terms moreso just based on my perception of the art form and what i see in it through my eyes.

also im gonna go off of the concept that ultradanse is almost like a stage performance, a show

the most i can do to describe how it looks is to compare it to my vision for the first encounter with Odile/V1... because of the way i designed his lil costume he has a sort of princely look, and even though hes yknow. out to kill V1 because V1 traversed past his warnings, his dancing with V1 then is much more... poised. it might feel a bit distant, maybe it might even seem like hes unsatisfied doing it, as at the time there is no personal connection with V1, no love nor hatred. its not romantic, hardly so. i dont know if this is a good example, but i was thinking abt Prince Siegfried's dancing in Waltz: Tempo di valse...

once V1 is pretty much responsible for his 2-week notice, i like to think Nightingale/Gabriel starts to match V1's high energy, his grace is kinda going out the window... itd be much more intense. if its a pas de deux hes probably getting his fucking hands all over them like hes about to tear them apart. hes abandoning that princely facade. i feel like though in the second half a pas de deux between them would make them slow their pace. now that both of them are dancing together and able to match intensity, it starts to slow down into something more... romantic? yeah :3 i like to think this, this is where any romantic tension starts

now about how he changes from the gilded nightingale to the nightingale. you see... after their second encounter, Gabriel is convinced hes going to die, after all thats what he was told. once he returns from heaven, he seeks out V1 to ask of one final request. he doesn't want to die lonely, and asks V1 to dance with him until the final hour runs out. V1 has no reason to accept his request, other than something pulling at it do so and the possibility it could take a little bit more blood before he's gone. dancing together, progressively Gabriel becomes weaker and weaker.

i REALLY wanted to keep this secret for a scene i wanted to draw but honeeesttlyyyy i dont think its too bad if i share it. after all, im not sharing V1's feelings here. im sharing Gabriel's :3

i had this whole.. plan

my thing abt pas de deuxs is that. i like to find symbolism in the fact that traditionally, the male dancer is supposed to support the ballerina to be able to perform moves she typically wouldnt be able to on her own without someone holding her.

towards the end of their dance, V1 switches positions to hold and uplift Gabriel instead, who has this entire time been in the place of the male dancer. in his approaching final moments V1 lays him down on the ground. he's hardly moving, and V1 holds onto him, finding itself not wanting him to just... disappear.

now im still figuring out HOW i want this to work. but i thought abt V1 in desperation, grasping onto the sides of his helmet and ripping his helmet in half being the symbolic thing that sets him free. the thing about the gilded nightingale, is that the armor is the bird's cage. Gabriel's design in this AU only really has the helmet and no other armor, so it just... makes sense to me. this is what sets him free. how the transformation works though? i am.. still thinking about it. you might need to give me a bit to think about that

[kiphisme]

DAILY WRITING 28/02/2025

Prompt: Mental Health Day, Genre: Slice of Life, Word count: 1,228

The sky was grey and miserable. Rain gently poured over the city, cascading itself over the many tall skyscrapers and small gas stations placed underneath it. 

The news said to not go out. That the winds would rise and the rain would become lashing. Nothing really different. And yet for Lucielle it was the worst day imaginable for staying inside. She could feel that empty loneliness creep in from the depths of her heart and like a parasite, wiggle its way to the forefront of her mind.

Today was a miserable day.

Lucielle had lived alone for only a couple of months and yet throughout this time she never really stayed in her apartment alone. She was either always going out with friends or had friends over to drown away the silence that constantly occupied her living space. And today was the worst day for it to rain because now no one was coming over.

One by one she watched the texts come through into the group chat.

‘God, sorry I forgot we were doing that today.’

‘It’s lashing anyways so, I wouldn’t be able to come over regardless.’

‘Maybe we can wait it out? See what happens? If not, I’ll deffo see you tomorrow!’

Lucielle whined and gripped the blanket she had wrapped herself in tightly before falling over onto her side in a defeated manner. The thoughts and obsessions of her friends began to pour and spill out into her mind. She froze up and hastily hid herself fully into the white cavern, tears sprouting to the corner of her eyes as she began to try to fight the thought.

They hate you.

They’re not really worth it anyways. Think about it, remember when Ben…

Oh what does it matter? None of it ever mattered!

Boo hoo hoo! Cry me a fucking river! Are you gonna keep feeling sorry for yourself? You sad sack of…

“Stop it… Stop!” Lucielle pleaded with her mind, tossing and turning, tightening the blanket around herself as if to try and suffocate these thoughts out of her. But nothing worked. Nothing ever dispelled them. And from the moment she realized she was alone, they were born from the same aspect they were always born from: insecurity and abandonment. Born from the fears that riddled her bones. Fears that made her timid when she needed to be courageous. Fears that corrupted her relationships and made her afraid to feel. Fears that quite simply ruined her.

For the first half of the day, she cried. She cried, unmoving from her cocoon prison. A cage she deliberately made to keep her from doing anything, good or bad.

Then she felt her stomach growl with a similar intensity as to the wind going against her window. A harsh feeling only held back by a small barrier of strength. She frowned, still not wanting to move, until the little voice that always tried to guide her through the war-torn field of her thoughts would speak out.

We should order food. A Chinese would be nice. Or maybe a chipper?

Oh so you’re just gonna send someone out into the blistering cold? How rude!

No but they’re already delivering anyways. And we’ll give them a tip like we always do! Now come on, get up.

Lucielle weakly got up, feeling her mind swirl with negativity and a headache from crying. She slowly pulled her phone out, brushing past the texts she had yet to answer from all her friends. She didn’t really want to see what they were up to, she felt as though whatever it was seemed to clearly be more important than her.

Don’t think like that, now. Today will be a you day and it’ll be nice and warm and enjoyable, despite the loneliness.

Lucielle didn’t really believe the voice but she knew she didn’t want to keep crying all day. She also knew she couldn’t really knock away the negative feelings that were consuming her. She would just have to work away at them very slowly.

She soon decided to order some sushi. And when the food came she gave the delivery driver a large tip and told them “Stay safe! Thank you!”

As she placed the food on the table, her thoughts once again began to kick up a storm. Causing her to wince looking at the food.

All this for 60 quid? Waste of money.

All you ever do is overspend. For what? To have these treats? Childish behaviour.

We should have a bath.

The random, neutral thought caught her off guard. Despite being sad, she acknowledged it and went over to the bathroom, getting a nice hot bubble bath ready for her. And as an extra treat, she grabbed herself a glass of prosecco to have while she sat in the tub, soaking herself in the hot burning water.

The negative thoughts didn’t necessarily go away, they never did, but instead they grew silent and she was thinking more about how she’d spend the rest of her day. There was a show she was meaning to start when she had the time so she decided today was a perfect day to start it. 

Once her bath was finished, she set up her food on her little cutesy glass coffee table and sat down, turned on the TV and looked for the show she was thinking about. She then put it on and felt her mood brighten just a little bit by her decision to not stay in bed all day crying.

She ate and felt her negative thoughts wash away, being replaced by intrigued and questions. Lots and lots of questions.

Did she kill him?

Oh my gosh she did!

No way.

Guys we’re trying to watch.

Sorry sorry.

Finally, Lucielle decided to look at her phone and began answering messages from her friends. Updates on how their days were going. Ryan’s football was cancelled so he ended up playing video games all day: how classic.

Róisín had a couple customers still call her to see if they could get their nails done and being as business savvy as she was, still allowed them to come over. Lucielle couldn’t help but laugh and sent ‘Even in atrocious weather, grown out extensions are still the worst’. Róisín responded ‘Oh, absolutely!’

Lucielle continued to go through her DMs and the group chat, responding to everyone little by little. And then she got to Callum.

‘Hey, you okay?’

He had sent that earlier in the day, when she was still wasting away in bed. She frowned slightly, feeling guilty for leaving him to wait so long for a response. She knows he probably doesn’t care as much as she thinks he does but she can’t help but feel like she should’ve responded sooner.

‘Heya, I’m okay yeah. I had a rough day earlier but I got sushi so I’m doing a lot better!’

‘You and food lol, best friends.’

‘Says the workout Junkie’

‘No pain no gain.’ 

She laughed and sent a photo of the TV, showing what she was currently watching.

‘Ooh I love that show!’

‘I know, that’s why I’m watching it’

‘Haha sick, I’ll leave you alone then’

‘Okaayyy bye’

Lucielle smiled at her phone before looking back at the TV, snuggling herself into the couch.

For a bad day, this was one of the nicest bad days she’s had.

[yoooespinosa]

could you please write a draco x reader fic, where the reader is hopelessly in love with draco, and she's not afraid to show it. but draco doesn't feel the same. and draco being draco, he rejects the reader with no remorse. then when the reader finally comes to the realization that she deserves better, she started seeing new people (not necessarily dating, but more like talking), then that's when draco feels a bit jealous now that the reader isn't all over him anymore. the rest is up to you, love! just something really angsty, you could end it in any way you'd like.

also, sidenote. you're an amazing writer and i love you!!

a/n: Thank you for your request! ily <3

To say you had a crush on Draco Malfoy, was an understatement.

You couldn't help it, you couldn't just stop the feelings you developed every time he came around.

When he walked into the room it was butterflies breaking out of their cage, palms growing sweaty and your heart racing so fast you were scared you'd be able to see its indentions.

It was scary at first, to have such feelings at only thirteen years old. So you did your best to ignore them. You did your best to stay out of his way.

That only worked for so long.

When you are friends with Draco and the people that surround him, it becomes very hard to stay out of his path.

So it was only inevitable that your crush on him would become so much more. Especially as the years went on.

He hadn't made it much easier. Sometimes you felt as if, maybe, he returned your feelings. How could you think otherwise? With the way he walked with you to class, carried your books at times and spent time with you. Just you. Alone.

How could you not fall in love with him.

With all that simmering in you, you finally let it out. You made your affections obvious, not afraid to show Draco how you felt for him. You had thought it was welcomed. You thought that the feelings would be returned.

It seemed as though he could only tolerate you for so long. Yes, that was the right word for it, the only thing he had for you was toleration.

Your shoes sounded on the stone under you, on your way to the Slytherin common room. You had just got out of detention with professor Snape. You suppose it was well deserved, you had seen Draco almost put the wrong ingredient in his potion, so you being you had wandered to his table and helped him, much to Snapes dismay.

Whispering the password, you made your way through the dim passage. Chattering of people from all years and faint laughter was heard all around.

You spotted your friends right away, seated by the green flamed fireplace, as usual.

"She just can't take a hint." You heard Draco grumble, you paused your steps, you didn't mean to eavesdrop but it seemed as if your feet had a mind of its own.

"Wait," Blaise closes the book he had in his hold. "who are we talking about again?"

Pansy sighs, seeming they had been on the topic for some time. "We're talking about y/n."

Your brows furrow. Going back to the first thing you heard Draco say, she just can't take a hint, what was that supposed to mean. What hint?

"Why can't you just tell her how you feel?" Theo adds, his voice is laced with annoyance, maybe this isn't the first time they've talked about this.

"I thought how I felt would be obvious enough, without having to say anything." He huffs.

"Well," Theo sighs. "apparently not."

You were becoming anxious. What were they talking about and what exactly was Draco feeling? There was streak of hope in you, maybe he'd confess right here that he felt the same.

"What do you suggest I say then, oh-wise-one?" Draco asks teasingly.

"Easy, just say exactly what you tell us." He clears his throat dramatically, adopting a mock version of his voice, "Y/n, you have to be one of the most annoying girls, I have ever had the dissatisfaction of meeting. Please, oh please take the hint and leave me alone because these attempts at getting at me are getting more pathetic each time." He finishes with a clumsy curtsy.

The other Slytherins try to stifle their laughs.

You hadn't even noticed the gasp that escaped your throat until four heads turned to your direction.

"Y/n, I didn't kn-" You cut of Theo's words and apologetic stare.

"Is that true?" You ask Draco, your voice low, laced with hurt. Your nose was stinging and your bottom lip hung heavy, but you refused to cry in front of them. You wouldn't give them another weakness to laugh about.

Draco managed to keep his face blank, no emotions shining through. He shrugged, "Pretty much summed it up."

You almost flinched. He didn't even care about the hurt those words brought you.

You left without a look back. Leaving behind your friends call of your name. They weren't the ones you wanted an apology from. They had known how much you felt for him and didn't even bother telling you that it was definitely not mutual. They even laughed, like it was a joke, like your heart was a comedic topic.

The cold air hit your face, freezing against the tear stain tracks. You sat on a lone stone bench in the court yard, letting those tears make a home on your cheeks.

It wasn't obvious--his dislike to you. If it was, you would have gave up long ago. But a part of you felt that there was hope and you had chased after that.

Why couldn't he have just told you when you first let your affections known, it seemed that he had encouraged it back then, with lingering touches and soft smiles.

Looking back now, you notice that those advantages had slowly disappeared. You had been too caught up in his silky hair, those gray eyes filled with mirth and mischief, his angular face with high bones that no one could compare to, that you hadn't notice everything was unrequited.

A sick part of you even felt honored to have your heart broken in the hold of his beautiful hands, the part that saw him do no wrong.

Maybe that was the first problem, you put him on a pedestal, so high up you weren't able to see anything negative of him. You weren't able to see his cruel reality of his feelings towards you.

And he didn't even seem sorry. He didn't even look bothered by the damage of his words.

You were so nice and considerate to him. You would support him at every quidditch game, cheer the loudest even when he lost. You bought him presents for every one of his birthdays and even Christmas, each one sentimental and thoughtful. You had comforted him when he got those letters, that he despised, from his father. You had voiced encouragements when he showed a little tell sign of his insecurities. You had been there for him.

And he treats you like this, like you can be so easily dismissed. You didn't deserve that, you didn't deserve to be called pathetic for having normal feelings and then being laughed at for it.

The longer you sat on that cold bench, the angrier you got. A bitter feeling growing in your stomach, melting away those knots.

You wasted all this time and effort on some guy who didn't even deserve it, some guy who didn't appreciate you. It wasn't fair.

"Hey, you okay?" A familiar voice sounded through your revelations.

You looked up and met green eyes framed with circular glasses.

"Yeah. I was just thinking." You mumbled, the bitter taste was stuck on your tongue, you wanted rid of it.

"Mind if I sit and think with you?" Harry asked, he was nervously scratching the back of his neck, smiling warmly at you.

You offered him a smile, welcoming his genuineness. "Go ahead."

He sat there with you for hours. Surrounded by the sound of wind. It was nice and comfortable. The bitter feeling leaving you completely. You were content now, even if you could still feel the ache in your arms from holding onto Draco for so long.

Weeks had passed. Weeks of no signs of you. The first week Draco hadn't been worried, a little curious, but that was all. The longer it went on though, he became a little more than curious. Not because he cared, cause he didn't, just that if something happened to you, it would be his fault. His rejection was the reason you ran off like a fool to who knows where.

Which is the only reason he went looking for you. He already got a lot of shit from the others, he didn't need more problems stacking up.

He checked all of your favorite places. Starting with that tree down by the black lake that you enjoyed to lean on and watch the sun go down, the sunset wasn't near so he should've known you would not have been there.

He then went to the gardens, there was a bench there that was next to a small pond. It was filled with odd creatures and was home to your favorite flowers, lotus's. You weren't there either.

Lastly, he went to a certain abandoned hall. You had to be there. You went there to be alone with your thoughts, you had taken him with you there a few times. There was a big window there with a thick ledge, streams of sunlight beamed through and tiny rainbows would reflect on the opposite wall due to the cracks on said window.

He heard you before he saw you. A soft laugh reverberating through the empty hall, a laugh he had always found annoying. Hearing it now though, just made him want to get closer to you.

So he did, walking with light footsteps. He froze, you were not alone. Sitting there in the space he once accompanied, was Harry fucking Potter. What kind of sick joke was this?

Why were you sitting with him? And does that mean you just laughed at something he said?

Your laugh sounded through again, once piercing now melodic. It was a bitter feeling, Potter shouldn't have the honor of dragging that sound out of you, he shouldn't even witness it.

Draco left the hall before either of you saw him, he needed to get himself in check.

More weeks passed. Weeks of you hanging out with Potter. You were doing things with him that you had done with Draco.

It was on purpose, you had to be doing it on purpose. You were simply trying to make him jealous and it was annoyingly working.

But how could you be doing that when you didn't even look back to see a reaction.

Draco didn't know what to think. He didn't even know what to feel, or more like let himself feel. Something had changed in the weeks you were away from him.

A revelation of sorts. He missed you. Missed what you would do for him. He regretted what he said and what he never had the chance to say. Because maybe deep down those feelings had been returned, but he was just too stubborn to show.

And now he's seeing you realizing that you deserve more than blurred lines and assumptions. And he's realizing maybe Potter is that more that you deserve.

Draco doesn't like that one bit, he can't even stomach the thought. So he promises to himself that he will do everything in his power to win you back. Even if that means saying that he was sorry and admitting that he was in the wrong, something he's never had to do before.

But if that makes you his again and gets you away from Potter, then its worth it.

Part 2

[storiesforallfandoms]

how they react when you walk in covered in blood and carrying a gun ~ mcu

request?: no

warnings: swearing, mentions of guns and violence

masterlist (one, two)

*only using the og six plus bucky, wanda and loki because there’s way too many marvel characters rn; also based off of a tiktok by anniedvorak!*

BRUCE BANNER/HULK:

The last person you expected to see when you entered Thor’s room on Sakaar with the intentions of saving him was your boyfriend, Bruce. He had been lost for so long, you had let your heart let go of him. But there he was, stood with a cloth wrapped around his waist after having turned back from the Hulk.

You were tempted to walk back out. This wasn’t exactly how you wanted Bruce to see you - an alien gun in hand and blood splattered over your face and clothes. But it was too late, he was already looking at you with wide eyes.

“(Y/N),” he said, turning to approach you but stopping halfway. You weren’t sure if he had stopped because of the blood or because he was still technically naked. “What are you...what did you...?”

“I’m trying to save Thor,” you responded. “Listen, we don’t have much time. I can explain everything once all of us are off of this planet. Put some pants on, we’re getting out of here.”

~~~~~~

BUCKY BARNES/THE WINTER SOLDIER:

You walked in after a surprise run in with the Flag Smashers. Bucky already looked about ready to kill someone, but when you walked through the door of Zemo’s apartment, blood covering your face and your gun clutched tightly in your hand, his face turned red with anger.

“What the hell happened to you?” Sam asked.

“Flag Smashers,” you breathed in response.

“I’m gonna fucking kill them,” Bucky hissed, abandoning his drink on the counter and making his way to the door.

You put a hand up to stop him. “I think that ship has sailed. This isn’t all my blood.”

Bucky cupped your face in his hands, his face softening as he looked at you. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you insisted. “I just need a shower, and maybe a visit to a hospital or something. They hit me pretty hard, I think I have some bruised ribs or something.”

He kissed your forehead and took your gun from your still shaking hands. Once it was safely put aside, he brought you into the bathroom to help you bathe and to start dressing your wounds.

~~~~~~

CLINT BARTON/HAWEYE:

You were extremely lucky that Clint worked with someone like Natasha regularly, or else he would’ve been much more concerned when you arrived home from work covered in blood and still carrying you gun. He barley looked up from the TV as you walked through the door, immediately racing for your bedroom so you could shower and change.

“Hard day at work?” he called as you passed by.

“That last target they sent me after put up a hell of a fight,” you responded. “By the time I finally got him, I realized how late it was and rushed home immediately. I’m glad S.H.I.E.L.D issues those SUVs with the tinted windows or else I definitely would’ve been pulled over for suspicious activity.”

Clint chuckled and rose from his seat. He walked into your shared bedroom as you were pulling off you bloodstained clothes and throwing them into a pile to be tossed out eventually. His eyes raked over your body as you looked up at him.

“Red looks good on you,” he said, a teasing smirk pulling at his lips.

“That’s gross,” you teased. “You’re gross. Just for that, you can’t shower with me.”

He groaned as you walked into the bathroom and locked the door before he could follow you in. 

~~~~~~

LOKI:

The sly smirk on Loki’s face was enough to almost rid you of the annoyance you felt after what you just had to do. Almost.

You walked up to the panel that controlled his glass cage. You could’ve easily figured out how to deal with it, but instead you shot the control panel. Sparks flew from it before Loki’s prison sprung open.

“Seems like a bit of overkill,” he commented.

“Shut it,” you hissed. “You told me it was going to be easy to break you out. You failed to mention the entire team of guards that were watching this room, and, oh yeah, the team of super humans that were assembled to face you?!”

Loki walked free of his cage, taking a dramatic deep breath before smiling to himself. “Well, doesn’t seem like you had an issue with them, as I knew you wouldn’t.”

He approached you, arms out as if he were going to hug you and try to kiss you. You poked his stomach with the barrel of your gun, glaring up at him.

“Come one step closer and we see how much damage a mortal weapon can do to a God.”

Loki put his hands on your shoulders, keeping you a fair distance away to heed your warning. “I’m sorry for not giving you a proper warning. Thank you for freeing me, I do appreciate it.”

You allowed yourself to relax against his touch and smiled a little. “You’re welcome.”

“Now, let’s get out of here, shall we?”

“You’re doing all the work this time.”

~~~~~~

NATASHA ROMANOFF/BLACK WIDOW:

It probably wasn’t a good idea, but you didn’t know where else to go. Natasha had always warned you about the Red Room, and you were so stupid to not listen to her.

Now you were stood on her doorstep, covered in blood that wasn’t yours, your gun dangling from your hand as you wished to drop it but also too scared to let it go. It was what Natasha looked at first when she opened the door - the gun, then to your blood covered face.

“Put the gun down,” she said, her voice calmer than you expected.

You gratefully allowed her to take it from your hand as you felt tears starting to well in your eyes. She pulled you in for a hug, where you started to sob on her shoulder. She took a quick look around to make sure you weren’t followed before bringing you into her house.

“Go get cleaned up,” she told you. “We’ll figure out your next step together.”

~~~~~~

STEVE ROGERS/CAPTAIN AMERICA:

You showed up to Sam’s shortly after Steve had brought Natasha. You could barley keep yourself up, the fight had taken everything out of you. You were sure Sam was going to turn you away - you were a stranger showing up on his doorstep covered in blood with a gun in your hand. You were pleasantly shocked when he stepped aside and told you where to find Steve.

Poor Steve. He was already trying to help Natasha, who had been in the same situation as you just with a lot less blood. She was resting when you walked in, dazed and just wanting to also rest.

He was up in seconds, reaching out to wrap you in his arms despite the blood covering you.

“The Winter Soldier is one mean fucker,” you breathed, resting your head against Steve’s chest. “I think he finally got wore out and ran off. Unfortunately, I was wore out about an hour before he was, but I kept going.”

“You should’ve given up long ago, honey,” he said.

“I’m not a pussy,” you said with a slight laugh. “Although I am starting to succumb to the pain.”

He picked you up into his arms and carried you to the bathroom where he helped you to rinse the blood off of your body so you could finally rest.

~~~~~~

THOR:

It was a side of you that Thor had never seen before. He had lost you during the battle in Sokovia and was expecting the worst when he couldn’t get you over the coms. When you showed back up to jet, blood covering your tired looking face, he was overjoyed to see you were alright, but also a little shocked by your appearance.

“Those fuckers really thought they had me,” you said, a half laugh bubbling on your lips. “They were a little shocked when I got the upper hand on them. Even more shocked when I shot them dead.”

“I was worried for you, (Y/N),” Thor said, cupping your face in his hands as he approached you. “I truly thought they had taken you from me.”

You smirked up at him. “You really have no faith in me at all them, do you? Or you just underestimate me. I’m a little offended on both accounts, though.”

Thor smiled back at you. “Of course, I would never doubt you. Just a bit of fear is all.”

“When you two are done being gross,” came Tony’s voice from inside the jet, “we’d like to get back to the tower. I think (Y/N) needs a shower and a fresh change of clothes more than anything.”

~~~~~~

TONY STARK/IRON MAN:

“Miss (Y/L/N) incoming Mr. Stark.”

“Tell her to come back at another time, J.A.R.V.I.S, I’m busy right now.”

“I don’t think it can wait, sir.”

Tony looked up to see you walking through the door to his lab, your body trembling as you clutched the gun tightly in your hand. There was a splatter of blood over your shirt and some on your face. You looked up at him, looking like a helpless child.

He quickly walked over to you, his hand automatically reaching for the gun. You gladly let him take it, feeling like a weight had been lifted the moment the weapon was out of your hands.

“What happened?” he asked.

“I-I was attacked at-at home,” you stuttered. “I don’t know how they got in, I don’t know who they were. I walked into my house and was blindsided by these two men trying to attack me. I got the gun out of the hands of one of them and I...I...”

Your hands moved to mimic the action of shooting your attackers, but you couldn’t actually bring yourself to say you had done it. You didn’t want to admit to having shot anyone, even if it was in self defense.

Tony placed the gun aside and took you into his arms. You stopped fighting against the lump that had formed in your throat and began to sob into his chest. He ran a hand through your hair, calming you down.

“It’s okay,” he said, soothingly. “It’s alright. I got you now. I won’t let anyone else try to hurt you.”

~~~~~~

WANDA MAXIMOFF/SCARLETT WITCH:

You didn’t think of Tommy and Billy. You didn’t think about the perfect neighborhood Wanda had created. You didn’t even think about Vision, or the version of Vision she had created. Your only thoughts were getting to Wanda before Hayward and his people could.

She was horrified when she opened the door. Of course she was; you were stood at her doorstep, a ghost from the life she wanted to forget, holding a gun with blood splattered on your face.

“You have to get out of here,” you said before she could speak. “You have to break down that boarder and you need to get out of here now.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, her voice still in its sitcom mode. “Please leave before I call the police.”

You grabbed hold of her shoulders before she could walk away, startling her.

“Wanda, you have to listen to me. You know what’s happening here because you are controlling it all. I know that, everyone outside the Hex knows that. Including the S.W.O.R.D director Hayward, who is trying to break through your barrier right now to kill you. I know you don’t want to lose this perfect life you’ve made, but your are in real danger. You need to get out of here.”

It seemed like she was understanding. A hurt look passed over her face as she turned to look into the house where her perfect family was likely residing. She took a deep breath and turned back to you.

“Let’s go.”

[sukunarii]

i pray for the clichést of cliché scenarios filled with romance and fluff that makes your heart squeeze-- so what better than pen pals :) almost like online friends but they’re sending notes on a messenger bird and don’t know what the other looks like and they fall in love except he’s the king of curses the cruelest most feared curse alive and she’s a princess, who may also be worshipped but for very opposite reasons than him- but perhaps it’s an act and she can only be her true self in those letters?? oh my and when they meet KDBDJSJ oooh lovee, the remarried empress webtoon vibes (if you have webtoon i strongly suggest its very good-) uhm anyways....long live sukuna 🙏🏻 amen

Pairing: Sukuna x Reader

Theme: Historical AU!

Synopsis: You were the daughter of the most well-known priest in the lands. With great expectations that you will take after your father, you often felt like a trapped bird. The one person who understood you, was your penpal. One day, you decided to finally ask to meet him.

A/N: This was a really cute idea, haha plus some of my best friends are online friends that I've never met so I totally relate! Also I love the Remarried Empress, Navier is one of the best fem characters I've seen in manga/webtoons 💕💕

'Could I meet you?', you wrote down on the piece of paper.

Four words. Four simple words. Yet writing them down felt like it took tremendous courage.

With a leap of faith, you attached the message to the messenger bird and gently placed it near the window.

"Please bring the letter to him now," you whispered to the bird before the bird flew off.

You sighed, this was maybe the most ridiculous thing you have done since the first letter you sent.

You were the daughter of the most renowned Priest of the land. You were basically the princess. Yet with this came the responsibility. You were held to high expectations, expectations to learn the art of exorcism. To take your father's position and become the Shaman who protected these lands from the curses, especially the one known as Sukuna. You were a caged bird, forced upon a dream that you didn't want.

A few months ago, you decided to write your feelings into a letter. A letter dedicated to no one and a letter you didn't sign. You attached it to a messenger bird and sent it off. You didn't care where it went or who reads the message. You just wanted to pour your burdens somewhere. Yet to your surprise, your messenger bird returned a few days later with a message in response.

That marked the beginning of your exchanges with a mysterious penpal.

You spent the rest of the day waiting for the bird to return with a message. For reasons that you didn't want to admit, you've been fearing that your penpal would refuse. He was the only person that you could admit your feelings to because of the anonymity, but at the same time, through these exchanges, you've started to fall in love with him. He seems to understand you completely and would often give you advice or be the shoulder you could cry on despite being probably miles apart and not knowing his identity. You loved him so much that you just want to meet him.

Finally at last, some time in the late evening, your messenger bird reappeared at your window with a message that was brought back.

"In two nights, when the moon is high, I'll be waiting at the abandoned shrine atop the mountain."

You sighed in relief, feeling the uneasiness lift off of your shoulders.

Happily putting the letter in the drawer, you put on your nightgown and went to bed.

You pulled the hood of your cape lower in hopes that it will cover your face even more. At last it is the date of the meeting, you've silently sneaked out of your residence. It was not easy sneaking around of the guards, and you could only pray that none of the servants come to check on you at night or else they'll have a heart attack while searching for you.

You were almost at the abandoned shrine, you could feel your heart racing. A million thoughts raced across your mind, who was he. How would he look like. Is he real. Is he...

You were now at the entrance of the shrine. The glow of the moonlight dimly illuminating it's entrance. However inside, a long path of shadow stretches into what feels like an abyss. You could feel your stomach churn and a part of you wanted to run back. You took in a deep breath.

Here goes nothing, you thought and took a wide step into the shrine.

"Hello?", you called out.

Your voice echoed down the halls of the abandoned shrine. You watched your shadow that was stretched on the floor, it truly felt like you were alone. Perhaps, this was all just a sham.

You sighed again, feeling sad and disappointed, you were ready to turn around and go home when suddenly, the little illumination that was provided by the moonlight disappeared. A much larger shadow towered above you.

You gasped. He was right behind you, the recipients of your letter.

Slowly, you turned around.

Standing tall and intimidatingly behind you, was none other than your father's worst enemy. The most feared curse in the lands. Sukuna.

"I—No, this can't be...", you started

Sukuna seem to find amusement with your reaction as the ends of his lips curled ever so slightly.

Finally he announced, "You said you wanted to see me."

There was a hint of playfulness, a 'this is what you wanted, no?' undertone that you felt like it was mocking you.

"You're Sukuna....." you trailed off.

"Yes I am. And you are the daughter of that Shaman, (Lastname)."

An uncomfortable silence filled the air. You tried to regain your composure but it was hard. Was he the one that you were writing to? The one you pour all of your thoughts to, the one that you fell in love with.

"Were you just...using me?" you asked.

This was all that you wanted to know. The one person that you've opened up to and showed your most vulnerable side, you wanted to know that if it was all a lie. If he was going to betray you.

At your statement, Sukuna seemed displeased. He approached you, his lips pressed together in a tight line, "Do not say that my dear. This was not my intention."

"Then what?," you burst out. What else could he want to accomplish?

No words nor thoughts came into your mind as Sukuna held a hand up to your cheek and caressed it. He sighed. Then paused as if recollecting is thoughts. Then he said, "In the first letter you sent, I saw a bird locked up in a cage and I knew right away that you didn't belong in one.

Your eyebrows knitting together, you didn't understand what he was saying completely. The adrenaline rush was leaving you and you could feel yourself starting to calm down a little and letting your guards down.

"W-What do you mean?"

Sukuna chuckled a little, then continued, "I'm sure you knew that I too, was once a sorcerer. But what you probably don't know is why I decided to use my power for myself."

You shook your head.

Sukuna continued, "You see, I've come to realize that humans are selfish. They prey on people that are too kind, that are willing to sacrifice themselves for the greater good, and throw those people into danger. To protect others, to become renowned, to be celebrated or worshipped, these are all lies. Lies to manipulate people who fall for them...people like you my little bird."

You opened your mouth to protest, however, he held a finger up to your mouth to stop you.

His face was now incredibly close to yours that you could feel his warm breath on your skin.

"Before I let you talk, just answer me one question now, are you living for yourself?"

Seeing that you weren't answering, Sukuna finished, "That's right my little bird. I'll give you the choice. If you truly wish to be free, then come with me. I'll watch over you. Or you can go back to your cage, it's your choice I won't stop you."

With that, Sukuna turned around and retreated back outside of the abandoned shrine. His silhouette slowly disappearing into the night.

You stayed in your spot, not sure what to do. But with his silhouette slowly disappearing, you knew it was now or never.

With a deep breath and a leap of faith, you started after Sukuna.

[bored-storyteller]

@severnrose honey, I shouldn't have preferences but how could I wait to write for you and Xiao?

Dear Xiao, sweet Xiao, thank you for asking, I have good reasons to love you :3

60- Genshin Impact, Xiao x Reader (angst/comfort)

From the prompt list

17- "Am I the reason you cry every night?"

33- "Do you know how it feels to wish for death every day?"

For Xiao you are like a little sparrow, so fragile and so free at the same time. He never understood what bad star forced you to meet with him, it was something so unlikely that it might have seemed ironic, but still he never tried to put you in a cage. You didn't deserve it. Sure, you're an absurd being, sometimes annoying, sometimes inconsistent and stupid, but you're also something he never bothered to find, a free kindness and a relief he always knew he didn't deserve.

So he never wanted to condemn you to a relationship with someone like him.

For this reason, when the darkness inside him had become heavier, when he realized he had gone too far, he pushed your worried eyes away from him. It was his job to protect you too, and he hadn't noticed the wound he had inflicted on you.

He is never too kind with words, he doesn't talk much and when he does he is never able to sweeten his sentences. It has always gone well with you.

Yet this time something was different; maybe he had been worse without realizing it, or maybe you were more fragile than usual, but he immediately opened a cruel door in front of you and a wave of awareness hit you. Yes, you were nothing but a burden to him.

Xiao hadn't seen you since that day. Or rather, he had happened to see you around, as always, doing your chores, helping where there was need, but he had no longer had the opportunity to be with you, alone, as you used to do from time to time, maybe in the evening, under the stars.

Initially he hadn't done anything, he hadn't thought of anything either. You were simply too busy, as he was, on the other hand.

But one night, about to give way to the morning, while he was checking his wounds, your sobs had come to him, and so did the next night, and the one after that.

He found himself listening to your silent cry every night, and he watched over you, albeit from a distance. And when he reluctantly had to walk away, he cursed anyone who caused you that unspoken suffering. If only you wanted to tell him he would be ready to protect you, again. But again, you were a fragile, free little bird, and he wasn't enough for you, he wasn't enough to take the pain away from your heart. Someday in the near future that would pass, everything passes for mortals, and maybe he could see you smiling again under the stars. This was what he believed - or hoped for.

But in one of those dark moments, your call rang in his ears and vibrated in his bowels. Wherever he was, he recognized his name spoken by you, in the agony of your nights.

He had joined you immediately, he had immediately appeared there, standing at your bedside.

Your name had escaped his lips perhaps too quickly, and for a few seconds he waited for an answer that never came. In its place, your sobs continued soft and distressed, your body curled up under the pale sheets.

He should have sensed right away, that yours was just a moan in your sleep, but somehow it had been necessary for him to chase the chance to see you again. How long had he not seen you?

Your suffering face made his heart tremble; he would have devoured your nightmares if you asked him.

He again spoke your name, his hand shaking you slightly, trying to tear you out of your dream.

Your reaction had been more violent than he expected and had broken the composure of the Adeptus for a moment, making him move backwards, taken by surprise. However, he thought it was normal, given the sudden awakening.

"Xiao!" His name had been uttered by your voice in amazement, but it was soon abandoned as you took your eyes off his figure "What are you doing here?"

The delicate face of the millennial Yaksha frowned in perplexity. Even now that he was there in front of you, did you persist in hiding your torments from him?

"You called me." His response was swift and straightforward, as always.

"I'm sorry ... I didn't mean to, I'm really sorry." Your apologies were fragile and uncertain.

Xiao let out a slight sigh, while his dark lashes lowered to the precious gold irises.

"Why don't you tell me?" The question he asked you later was unexpected, and for a moment you shivered at the authority of his voice, but he didn't realize "What happened?"

"Nothing." You cut it short and it irritated him. You knew how to be so stubborn when you wanted to.

"I hear your sobs every night."

He didn't want to utter those words as an accusation, maybe he hadn't even done it, but suddenly you stiffened and bowed your head even more, guilty.

"I'm sorry…!" Now your voice was broken and desperate, and a doubt began to creep into Xiao's mind as slimy as a snake.

How long haven't you called him? Why weren't you looking at him? Why weren't you smiling at him anymore?

"Who ... has anyone hurt you?" Now it was he who had lost confidence in his voice.

"Nobody ... really." You had obviously made an effort to stay calm, and somehow reassure him. But even though he didn't really understand human emotions, even though he was a different and detached creature, he could sense you.

"It's me…?" He couldn't explain why, but he felt like he was hurting himself "Am I the reason you cry every night?"

Your silence was a new pain for him. You didn't dare look at him, because it was hard for you to admit how much his distance and his disappointment had upset you.

But behind his sweet stoic face he prayed to have your eyes on him, he prayed for you to remove that horrible, strange feeling that made its way inside him, at least until he was forced to turn his back on you.

Xiao is used to pain and suffering, but that time something had changed. It was something new, something he never wanted to try.

A fist clung to his chest, and he trembled. How long had his hands no longer been shaking?

He thought he was about to give in, he believed that finally his heart would break under the weight of the new, umpteenth, fault of him.

He felt the physical need to vent that sudden wave of suffering that had hit him. He wanted to cry, but Xiao didn't know what it meant to cry, so he didn't, and he just vanished, not even looking at you.

It was the only thing he could do to protect you, right? If he was the cause of your suffering, then he would no longer exist for you. It didn't matter what he did, he didn't even ask himself, he just knew he hurt you. After all, he must already know that this was his destiny.

...

You never called him again, and Xiao never showed up again. Yet, although he endured this condition with the same resignation with which he endured every painful task of him, he realized that the selfish desire he had for you had not ceased. He didn't know how to call it by name, he just knew that it was really selfish, on his part, to expect that a little bird like you at least a little bit remained attached to him.

However, even if you despised him, even if he could no longer hear your voice or your laugh even though you were still breathing, somehow at least he hoped to remain present in your memory.

So every morning a flower was placed on your window sill. He never brought you the same type of flower two consecutive days. He didn't admit it to himself, but he wanted at least in one corner of your mind the whole Liyue to remind you of him. The scent of its flora, its colors and the sweetness of it, he hoped that even if you didn't want those things would make you think of that cruel guardian. Not that Xiao dared compare himself to flowers, no, but certainly those flowers could be compared to you for him.

The Adeptus wasn't good with words, but he was capable of meaningful and powerful gestures - it was something you loved about him.

You didn't need to know that those flowers came from him - even if it was unlikely they were someone else's gifts - and he relied on your kindness to accept them with a smile.

For a while it had worked. Even though he could no longer see you and have you around, that little contact you maintained had given him a sense of peace. In evil it was that little drop of good that gave him the relief he needed.

But he couldn't deserve that either.

One morning, when the first rays of the sun began to paint the earth with the warm colors of dawn, he came to your window. The Glaze Lily he had plucked for you had remained clasped in his hands as his eyes painfully gazed upon the Qingxin he had given you the previous day, left to itself on the windowsill, away from your care.

It was so, even the thought of him you could no longer bear.

The flowers stopped coming and Xiao stopped hoping. He only prayed that Rex Lapis would see your sweetness and cherish it with love, without needing you to endure the protection of a cursed Adeptus.

...

Xiao wanted to see you again, but certainly not right now.

The first thing his mind thought was nothing, then immediately afterwards he wondered which Archon had to thank for not killing you during his battle, and then all that was important was that you were standing in front of him, and looking at him, even if from a distance.

His mask frees his face as soon as his eyes settle on you. How long had he not seen you? For a moment the pain disappears, a wonderful, ephemeral second of peace. And then again the weight of darkness falls upon him.

He should run away, run away from your sight, but like under a spell he is stuck in his place, and you still don't run away.

You are pale and scared, your eyes full of tears. How much have you seen? How long have you been there?

It doesn't matter if the blood that covers him is that of his enemies, of those who want to harm those like you, all that matters is how Xiao now appears before you: a figure disfigured by the red of shattered life, a devouring demon .

He should go, but you call him.

"Xiao ..." His name in your voice is a desperate breath as it is sweet, and you run to meet him in your anguish.

He can't look at you, not when he's like that. He looks at the ground covered in repulsive liquids, without having the courage to meet your judgment. He would have liked to see you again, but now he is ashamed of who he is, he is ashamed of being Alatus, of being the Conqueror of Demons and the Eater of Dreams, he is ashamed of being Xiao before your pure eyes.

Now you are a few steps away, he hears you, but you are afraid to approach. He wonders why you ever even wanted to come close to him again, was it your good heart that pushed you to do it?

"Do you know how it feels to wish for death every day?" He did not want to ask that question, yet he posed it in front of you limpid and clear, as his "no" always are.

If he could die he would no longer distress you, nor would he hurt you, nor would he make you cry. If he could die, all aeons of unspoken pain would disappear. If he couldn't exist, everything would be better. But he can't, he has to live.

"If we are such a heavy burden to you why do you continue to protect us?" Yours is not a nasty question asked, it is rather a sweet worry distorted by insecurity.

His golden eyes return to immerse themselves in yours by instinct, without really wanting to.

"It's my duty, it's my ..." Xiao realizes he can't speak "But you're not ..." he tries again, but he can't.

He can't explain that knot blocking his throat and voice, which he can't spit or swallow.

It is my duty, my contract. But you are not a burden, you will never be.

His eyelids drop again and his head bows in chagrin. You are everything in front of him, and he is nothing in front of you.

"Don't look at me ..." is all he can tell you "You don't have to see me like that."

He was convinced that you didn't want to see him anymore, he was convinced that you wanted to forget him, but then why did your trembling hands rest so lovingly on his face?

"You are so beautiful Xiao." Your broken voice was asking him desperately to believe you, and he in front of your face now so close to him has no way to escape.

The misunderstandings between you two, the pain and the fear, no longer mattered.

Your arms gently encircle his chest and your head rests on his shoulder, without asking for permission, but he won't be the one to walk away, not now that he's found you.

"I'll get you dirty." He murmurs.

"It does not matter." You answer him softly.

You have no respect for the ways of the Adepti, but that is precisely why he needs you.

"Please be happy to live, Xiao."

[jiminstonic]

Apothic | pjm

pairing: yandere!zombie!jimin + g/n reader

word count: 6.1k+

genre: thriller, fluff(?), mild angst

warnings: GORE, violence, puking, obsessive thoughts, death, zombie cannibalism, is it necrophilia when it’s a zombie?? (sorry if i forgot anything)

— synopsis: Ever since the apocalypse hit, it’s been kill or be killed. So, what are you to do when a ghoul would kill for you instead of kill you?

Fuck, no more canned ravioli. Chef Boyardee will be dearly missed.

You crack a smile at your own thoughts while scanning the supermarket aisle, a flickering fluorescent overhead. Dirt and various food wrappers litter the tiled floor that you tiptoe on with sock-covered feet, shoes in hand in order to make as little sound as possible. You’ve yet to see a ghoul in this supermarket, but better to be safe than sorry.

With every item you stuff in your bag, a small sigh of relief passes through your lips. Going nomad helps a lot with your need to be alone, but also comes with many cons. Sitting at the very top of the list is being cautious. If ambushed by a group of ghouls, you must find a way out all on your own. It’s a risk you’re willing to take. But you’re not stupid enough to be noisy, whether you’re really alone or not.

Maybe you’ll get a box of cereal this time. You just hope it won’t make too much noise while in your bag.

You make the round of a few more aisles, grabbing a new toothbrush and a few pens. Some rash cream too maybe, just in case. You start to mindlessly grab items that you might need until you end up in the candy aisle.

Gummy bears. It’s the first thing to grab your attention, better with the nearly vacant shelves, and you refuse to leave without it.

Carefully, you pinch the corner of the bag, gently pulling it from the rack it hangs on. It’s a slow process, and you’re on the verge of regretting it as a scraping starts to sound when you continue to tug. Finally, the rack comes to an end and the bag slips off with no more than a split second of a crinkle. That’s when you decide that you have enough for today’s supply, not wanting to risk much more than that. With a swift spin, you turn to head out, one socked-up foot in front of the other when you’re stopped dead in your tracks.

Right at the other end of the aisle, stands a ghoul. It’s as still as a statue, save for the twitch in its fingers.

The sight makes your heart drop and the bag of gummy bears slip from your grasp. The sound that emits when it hits the floor makes the ghoul jump, oddly enough, but it still doesn’t make a single move. It just stands there, watching you.

That’s when you finally snap out of it, stumbling backward and running as fast as you can to the back exit. Even with the machete strapped to your side, you like to avoid having to kill them because, once again, noise. It’s always noise. The same thing that caused a headache for you once upon a time, but is now sometimes caused by the lack thereof.

You can’t care enough to try slipping on your shoes, too busy running for your life down the road. Rocks jab at the bottom of your feet, but you can only tighten your jaw and force yourself to bear it. A bite hurts a lot worse, you remind yourself.

The entire road is bare, same as when you came and is the reason why you even went into the supermarket. No ghouls around. ‘Clear skies’, as you like to call it. So, why was it just that one ghoul there? And how did you not notice it before?

Your pants come out in a near wheeze as you push yourself through the heavy door. Once it’s shut behind you, you fall back onto it and slide down to the floor. The thick air of the high school locker room suddenly doesn’t seem so bad when you’re gasping for breath.

With one last deep breath, you push yourself up with a huff. You sling the bag from off of your shoulder and let it drop to the ground, not very worried about its contents. With a tug on the strap around your torso, the velcro pulls apart and you place it on a metal table sticking from the brick wall, the machete only making a small thud.

Your mattress is in the deeper corner of the locker room with the rest of your stuff. The lockers in that spot hold more than you should probably keep, but you’re not very worried about anyone raiding the place. As far as you know, this town is abandoned.

Your feet drag across the tile as you make your way toward the showers, flicking on every one of the battery operated fans as you pass by. You don’t know how or why, but there’s still running water coming into the locker room. You’ve always tried not to question it, afraid of jinxing it just for the water not to work anymore. And you’re worried for when winter comes, since the water can only run cold. But you’re grateful for it. There’s no way you can’t be.

Usually, you’d pick a cd out of your stash to put into the battery operated player, but you don’t want to waste any time in washing off the sweat that sticks to your skin. With your clothes thrown to the floor at your feet, you turn the nozzle and immediately feel the cool water rush against your skin. You’re quick to grab the bar of soap, one of the many you’ve made sure to collect, and rub it against your skin.

You wake up randomly, not bothering to sit up and separate yourself from the warmth of the blanket, even if it is just a fireproof blanket. But the grumble of your stomach forces you to change your mind. Eating something before crashing on the mattress would’ve been a smart decision.

With a kick, you fling the blanket from your body, setting your feet onto the floor. As you stand, the faint breeze from the fans hit you, waking you further. You rummage through the lockers containing food, not being able to see much of anything—it’s still dark out. The moon is high in the inky sky, a tell-tale sign of the night’s peak. It casts its glowing rays through the high windows to beam down in sections on the tile.

Your hand finds a pack of crackers that you settle for; it’s only a late night snack anyways. Shutting the locker door, you practically jump out of your skin at seeing the dark figure that stands there. A shriek escapes you, feeling your heart drop far into your chest as you drop the crackers in favor of clumsily shuffling backward into the corner of the lockers. You can’t afford to take your eyes off of the figure if they’re here to hurt you, take everything you have left.

You can’t even see their face yet, the moonlight only illuminating their torso. Looking at what you’re able to actually see, you notice that they’re holding a bag, quickly recognizing the gummy bear logo. Your brow shoots up in question.

It isn’t until you shift your eyes back to their shadowed face that you realize they’re getting closer, the moonlight racing up their body. You push yourself further into the lockers pressed against your back, not thinking it was even possible to be any closer. Your breaths come out quicker, nostrils flaring as you begin to panic with every step the stranger makes toward you. Looking past them, you catch sight of your machete that sits on the table, useless on the other side of the room.

Maybe you can side step them, make a narrow escape and grab the weapon, impaling them with it before they can blink twice.

But that plan bursts into flames as you feel their presence just inches from you. They’re eerily quiet, not even the sound of breathing could be heard from them, only you. You slowly look at their face, the moonlight finally bringing it to light, and you panic further upon the sight.

They’re a ghoul. The ghoul. It’s the same one that you ran from earlier today in the store. It’s pale and delicate face, devoid of life and showcasing veins here and there, is surprisingly unscathed. It-...he must’ve been a gorgeous man when he was alive. His blue-ish violet lips stand out the most, especially with the dried blood that stains them. His eyes are the most unique you’ve seen for a ghoul. Usually, a ghoul’s irises were clouded over in a deathly white mist, but he only has one eye like that. The other is perfectly normal, it’s deep brown holding a single sparkle from the light. It’s captivating, to say the least.

Not once has his eyes drifted from you, and it’s starting to make you worry even more. You can already feel the sting of an impending bite everywhere he looked on your skin. It was torture, and he kept getting closer and closer, making you shut your eyes in fearful expectation. Yet, a bite never came. He didn’t fiercely tear away at your flesh with his teeth, making you his late night snack just as you were fearing. Quite the contrary, in fact.

Instead of a painful bite, you felt cold skin pressed against your chest. It has you feeling your own rapid heartbeat against your rib cage. Slowly, you open your eyes to look down, only to see him leaning his forehead against your chest. You’re beyond confused, but you don’t push him away in fear that it may trigger him to actually kill you. And so, you stay impossibly still as he has his...moment?

You watch as he slowly moves his head, the tip of his nose brushing against your skin until you feel his slightly parted lips do the same. He stays there with the tip of his nose and lips lightly touching you, right over your pounding heart. You have no idea what he might be thinking—if he can think. If there’s more to ghouls than what people know, then you are just as clueless.

Suddenly, you feel—as well as hear—him take a deep inhale. It makes you clench your fists that are pressed against the lockers since you’re still too afraid to squirm away from him. His exhale comes out as a small, soft whine, almost as if he were in pain, but still content. You’ve never heard anything so smooth and airy come from a ghoul before, most of them wasting what’s left of their voice boxes by incoherently yelling. He presses his free hand rather harshly against the locker next to your side, emitting a bang that has you flinching. With the same arm, he pushes himself upright to meet your eyes. Once again, he lets out a soft hum while you keep eye contact, and if he were still alive, you would’ve melted at the sweet sound.

It’s not until you feel a nudge at your hip that you look down, seeing him pushing the bag of gummy bears toward you. Hesitant, you glance back up at him, gauging his intentions only to be met with the same stare. He was waiting, wanting you to take it. So you did. With a shaking hand, you take the bag from him, and his arm immediately falls limp at his side as if he were carrying a large weight this entire time.

As he steps back, you take the only chance you have and run past him while dropping the bag, the machete being your only priority. You grab it, spinning around with it already raised high in the air and pointing at the ghoul, ready to bring it down into his chest. But you stop halfway, the sight in front of you completely catching you off guard. His eyes are wide, scared even, hands held in front of him to shield himself from your attack. They shake with the effort he puts into holding them up, and you slowly start to break at the dawning realization. Your grip on the weapon’s handle immediately disappears, the blade dropping to the floor with a resounding clang.

“What am I even doing?” You whisper, appalled by the aggression you didn’t think twice about. That’s not like you, it never was like you. Even if the one standing in front of you is a being that can rip your flesh and devour your organs in an instant, you were still disgusted with yourself.

Sure, his actions were confusing and you’ve never seen a ghoul act so...human. But that definitely doesn’t mean you should put a blade in his skull without a second thought, all because he confused you.

On the other hand, you’ve lived with the apocalypse for half of your lifetime, only ever knowing to kill or be killed. There weren’t many times you had to kill a ghoul, but when you did, there was never the satisfaction that others talked about after taking one down. You never felt victorious or powerful. Only guilty and despondent. Even if it was their fate, a fate that could’ve never been reversed.

So you stand there, tears blurring your vision as you’re unable to meet the eyes of the ghoul in front of you. All of your thoughts are like knives spearing your heart, and you’re unable to focus on anything else around you. Shutting your eyes, the tears flow freely as a sob erupts from you. Maybe this has been building up for weeks, months even. Leaving your makeshift family to go nomad, adjusting to being on your own, jumping from place to place, and never knowing where is truly safe. It was all piled up stress, and this was the peak of it, your breaking point.

Lost in those thoughts, the sudden feel of lips on your cheek make you still and blink until your vision was no longer blurred. He was kissing your tears. You can feel how the ghoul’s lips were pressed ever so gently on the salty trail, and it only made you feel worse to know that he was trying to comfort you only seconds after you tried to end his afterlife.

“I’m so sorry... I don’t deserve that...” Placing your hands against the ghoul’s cold chest, you softly push him away and make a beeline for the mattress. You were no longer worried about the possibility of him eating you alive—he would’ve done that already. He would’ve done it instead of giving you the gummy bears you had wanted today, instead of kissing your tears away. What a complex, lovely ghoul.

You curl yourself into a ball once wrapped up in the blanket and lay with your back towards him, not yet having the heart to face him any longer.

As for the ghoul, he never thought he could once again feel his motionless heart constrict so much. The sight of your tears made an indescribable feeling dwell within him.

He sits on the ground, leaning back against the lockers as he watches your balled up form. Oh, how he wants to hold you right now, feel you in his arms, even if they are still weak.

When he stumbled upon you today, he knew he had to have you. You were glowing under the flickering fluorescents and he swore he felt butterflies. But he was a coward, standing there as you sped off in fear, slipping through his fingers. For that split second, he had forgotten what he really is. How foolish.

He doesn’t remember what exactly happened to him; all he knows is that he slowly turned into what he is now. He can’t quite recall his own name, although he knows for a fact that it starts with a J. He also knows for a fact that he is /not/ like all of the other ghouls. Yet, they all limp alongside him as if they see nothing wrong, because they can’t. He’s positive that maggots have eaten half of their brains already with the way they have no communication whatsoever, or sense of direction and coordination. Unless they’re after food, then it’s a one-track mind.

And he can’t lie, he’s done his fair share of flesh chewing, but he’s only ever felt as if he was going through the motions. It wasn’t as important to him as it was to the rest of the walking dead. He’s never tried talking, so he must’ve lost his voice from never using it, which explains why he had such a hard time speaking to you. That, and his body that never really decomposed, leaving him on the fence of death. He had tried so hard to tell you something, anything, but it just didn’t work out in his favor.

You also smell amazing. Your lingering scent was what led him to you, after all. If it wasn’t for the way you caught his attention, he might’ve taken a few bites of you. No doubt the urge is still there, but he doesn’t want to hurt you. He could never.

He can still feel the vibrations of your heartbeat, it’s calming sound that put him at ease. His lips still tingle with the warmth of your skin. Sure, it was a bold move on his part, but he doesn’t regret it one bit. He’d do it over and over again. Even if you ended up nearly bashing his head in for a second time.

His mind was running wild with the visions of you, your warmth that is so close now, yet still so far away. But his serenity was interrupted as a bang resounded. His head snapped in the direction it came from, sadly taking his eyes off of your now sleeping form. You must’ve cried yourself to sleep, he muses, wishing you would’ve used his shoulder to let out your pain.

He’s met with the darkness of the rest of the locker room, silence returning, but he can’t take any chances. Shakily, he pushes himself up, trying to take on a protective stance and shielding you with his body, but ultimately failing when his spine slacks under his own weight. The damn zombie body, he internally curses.

With dragging feet, he makes his way around the corner, only to be met with the silhouette of a ghoul standing in the doorway that he broke off himself in order to get to you. He must’ve been so consumed with tracking you down that he missed any sign of other ghouls around. Oh, how distracting you are to him.

It was obvious that the other can smell you, trying to make its way toward where you sleep while foolishly ignoring him. Without hesitation, he snarls, lunging at the intruding ghoul. There’s no way he’s letting it get anywhere near you. Not without ripping it to unidentifiable pieces, anyways. The anger quickly boiling up within gives him the strength to knock down the ghoul, letting the thought of you push him further, far beyond self-control.

You woke up slower than usual, the weight of the night before still heavy on your chest. He was on your mind right when your eyes opened to the morning light beaming into the locker room. Your dreams were even plagued with him—dreams that are rather compromising to have with a ghoul. You aren’t even sure if you really want to remember it. And it’s sad to say, but you didn’t feel so lonely.

Looking over to the lockers, you find the spot empty of his presence, making you jump up from the mattress. He couldn’t have just up and left, not after last night.

You nearly laugh at your own thoughts. Who are you to act that way toward a ghoul? It isn’t as if you slept with him. Not in reality, anyways; his little moment last night must’ve really gotten to you. It all makes your brow furrow, not understanding your own mind and feelings.

You walk around the corner of the lockers, picking up a foul stench that makes you immediately cover your nose and mouth. Whatever it could be, you know it isn’t good. But nothing could’ve prepared you for what you were met with at the door.

There you found him, sitting on the floor with his back turned to you, hunched over a mutilated body. Not any human body, but another ghoul, or what once was. Its head, torn off at the shoulders, lays a foot away from its body, unfortunately facing you. Its foggy eyes wide and seemingly staring into your soul. Its jaw is hanging by a thread, pulled apart with the stretched flesh hanging like strings. Whether it was always that way or not, you’d rather not know.

Both arms were ripped from its torso, one of them laying in tact, the other in pieces at each joint. Discolored blood is smeared on the floor, most likely from the gaping hole in the torso.

You try to suppress a gag—because of both the smell and sight—but it was futile. The sound alerts the other to your presence, making his head snap toward you. The same discolored blood from the floor is slathered on and around his mouth, dripping down his neck and staining his already dirty clothes. Something must’ve snapped him out of whatever mindset he was stuck in because upon seeing you standing there, visibly appalled, made his stomach churn. He pukes it all up right there, the disgusting taste of zombie organs finally registering with him.

You quickly look away, fighting off gags with your forearm pressed against your mouth. Never have you witnessed something like this. A ghoul eating another ghoul was just unheard of. It didn’t seem logical with what a ghoul’s diet really consists of: humans. He puked it all up as well, begging the question of whether he really wanted to or not. It would seem that way with how you walked up on him taking bites from the other’s intestines, but with him, you have to question everything you know.

Glancing back, you find him trying to wipe off the remnants of the other ghoul. He was struggling, even looked a little confused. So, you couldn’t help what you were about to do.

“Come on,” walking up to him, you hold your hand out toward him, “come with me.”

The look he gives you could’ve shattered your heart, his wide puppy-like eyes staring up at you coupled with the blood smeared on his face shouldn’t make you feel that way. It should make you feel disgusted, yet you only feel that way toward the mess and stench.

With a shaking, bloody hand, he takes yours, letting you lead him to wherever you were going. He wasn’t very focused on that, though. No, the sight of your hand grasping his is far too enthralling. The fact that you initiated it makes it feel even better.

Once at the showers, you pull him into the stall, making him stand just far enough to not be under the shower head. Letting go of his hand—much to his dismay—you reach past him and turn the nozzle, the sound of water smacking against the tiles echoing. You quickly take the opportunity to hold your hand under the water, washing off the blood that transferred onto your palm. You both watch as the dark substance flows on the floor and down the drain, getting stuck in creases along the way. He mimics your actions, surprising you when he skips waiting for the blood to wash off, immediately going to caress the lines of your palm.

“Why did you do it?”

Your voice is gentle to his ears, much like a soft caress. He did it for you. It was all for you. He would’ve killed anyone who walked through that door, not just a ghoul who wanted you for food. He could see no reason for anyone else to be in there anyways. He was protecting you. There’s no way he’d let anyone or anything touch you, not even come near you. He’d make sure of it even after you’re only his to keep. But he couldn’t tell you that. Not yet.

As for eating the other ghoul—that wasn’t planned. It was almost as if he blacked out. He can remember smelling you as he was ripping the limbs from the ghoul. It was too much to handle, so he bit into the ghouls thin, decaying flesh in an attempt to alleviate the hunger he felt for you.

He didn’t have the courage to confess it all to you, he didn’t want to scare you off. So, he ignored the question in favor of bringing your hand up to rest against his cheek.

“Please...”

His voice is unexpected, making you freeze completely and stare at him in shock. His eyes sparkle, staring at you pleadingly while you still try to comprehend the fact that he talked to you. There was a break in his voice that pulled at your heart, so you can’t stop yourself when you swipe your thumb across his cheek. His eyes flutter in bliss as you begin to wash the blood from his skin. The dark blood is like a waterfall on his skin, a contrast to his translucent and paling skin.

Your heart starts to beat faster as your fingers inch closer to his lips, yet they still dance across the bottom one ever so gently. He doesn’t hesitate to kiss your fingertips upon feeling them, gliding his hands up your arm to hold your wrist in place. You didn’t expect the first kiss, and you definitely don’t expect when he continues to kiss different spots on your hand. It’s almost as if he’s lost in what he’s doing, his eyes shut as he concentrates on pressing his lips to your skin over and over again. You can feel the heat that rises to the tips of your ears while you watch him.

But the moment is short lived when you gently push him back, leaving him standing under the water. Hurt flashes across his features, a look that you force yourself to ignore.

“I’ll, uh, leave you to wash up properly,” you’re unable to make eye contact with him, but you still hold your tingling hand to your chest. “...and I’ll get you my mouthwash. Must still have a bad taste in your mouth.”

He can only nod in agreement and watch you walk off, never sparing him a glance. His heart hurts, but swells simultaneously at you caring for him. You’re right, there’s still a bad taste in his mouth. And he highly doubts that you would’ve wanted his nasty throw up mouth on you. How inconsiderate of him, he scolds himself.

You do exactly as you told him you would, opening up your bag and grabbing the travel bottle of mouthwash. But you’re so caught up in your thoughts that you’re basically on autopilot. You’re well aware of your heart still going haywire in your chest. It’s a little embarrassing, a ghoul making you feel this way. Maybe if you could just get past that stigma...

No way. There’s no way you’re seriously contemplating being with a ghoul. But it’s so tempting when he’s so sweet to you, practically worshiping your body every chance he gets. It’s supposed to creep you out, scare you—you know that. Still, your thoughts are filled with what it might feel like to let yourself go to him. You just don’t think you could handle it if he went all ghoul-cannibal again.

Those thoughts come to a halt once you walk up to his stall. His bare back is turned to you, littered with dark veins that demand to be seen through his deathly skin. The dried blood in his light hair washes away as he holds his head under the water. He didn’t bother taking his pants off, something you’re not sure if you’re actually thankful for.

Stuck staring, you notice the marks on the back of his right bicep. A bite. The teeth marks are messy, but left visible holes in his skin nonetheless. That must be how he turned, you think, must be why the rest of his skin is barren of gashes and punctures. Black veins branch out from the old wound, leaving the surrounding skin dark. Though it makes you wonder...did he die alone? That possibility makes your heart fall.

“Hey...”

His voice pulls you from your melancholic reverie. It still surprises you, his small voice. It doesn’t waver this time though, most likely getting used to using his vocal chords. He’s turned to face you now, chest and stomach accentuating his lean stature. You force yourself to hand him the mouthwash before you get too lost while looking at him again.

“Hey. Here you go.”

He takes the bottle from you, trying to pull the cap off, ultimately cracking it. Bringing the rim up to his lips, he takes a swig, surprisingly not struggling to keep it all in his mouth as he swishes it around. He makes brief eye contact with you as he spits it out—well, more like letting it spill from his mouth, the minty liquid dripping from his bottom lip to flow into the drain. Eyes meeting once again, he stares at you with an almost menacing look while sloppily wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. The sight sends a shiver through you, not knowing if it’s from fear or excitement.

Still full of surprises, he drops both the bottle and cap, letting them bounce on the tile as he reaches for you. Panic shoots through you when he grasps your hips, pulling you into him and under the flow of water. Maybe this was his breaking point. Maybe he was finally going to kill you—eat you.

But he only wraps his arms around you, securing you in a tight embrace. His face fits perfectly in the crook of your neck, a fact that leaves him as elated as feeling you against his cold skin. He can hear the breaths you take right next to his ear, a sound that comes second to your heartbeat—his favorite. The pounding muscle, especially when it speeds up, sparks excitement within him. He can just imagine the rapid beating doubled with your quick breaths, how you would say his name...

Wait. His name.

In that split second, he remembers it perfectly. All it took was the thought of you. It’s always you. You are his complete motivation; he would do anything for you. Anything at all.

“Jimin...” He huffs out into your shoulder, still having a hard time getting any words out since he already doesn’t breathe. It’s the moment you realize that he’s just a human stuck in a ghoul’s body.

By now you can’t help but ghost your hands over his arms, your fingertips going against the water droplets gliding along his skin. You’re both soaked, but it’s the least of your worries when he speaks the single name to you.

“That’s your name...isn’t it?” You can feel him nod in affirmation, his cheek brushing against your shoulder almost in a shy manner. However, his brazen actions paint him as anything but shy.

“Mine’s ____,” you whisper directly into his ear, oblivious to the true effect it has on him. Your name is something that he will commit to the little memory he still has. He’ll chant it over and over again if that’s what it takes to never forget your name. Lifting his head up, he locks eyes with you. His hair, drenched with water dripping from the ends, almost covers his contrasting orbs. You feel his arms tighten around you with his next words.

“____...”—making your breath hitch—“say it...” You stare at him in confusion, not quite sure what he means. “Say my name.”

His once soft tone is suddenly demanding, throwing you off, but reeling you in all at once. You’re captivated, completely and utterly captivated by him.

“Jimin.”

And he doesn’t waste a second in connecting your lips, his hand holding you in place on the side of your neck. It surprises you, but you’re quick to melt into his lips. His grip borders on tight, and you’d be worried if you weren’t so focused on how his lips feel. Soft and plush against your own in a delicious dance. And now, you didn’t have to wonder anymore with his lips latched to yours.

Jimin turns you until your back is pushed against the stall, all while you feel his tongue peek out to graze your bottom lip. The action has you letting out a small gasp and he takes the chance to push his tongue into your mouth, leaving you even more breathless when you feel it glide against your own. You can feel his hand massaging and gripping your waist, in turn making you wrap your arms around his neck to pull him impossibly closer. With his body pressed against your own and his tongue feeling like heaven, your mind turns to mush. You’re putty in his icy hands.

Jimin detaches from your lips and you finally take a breath of air. His kisses move further down your neck, his tongue swirling on your skin with every few press of his addicting lips. You’re practically seeing stars already, eyes drooping in bliss. With him so close to your ear, you can hear each and every hum from him that has warmth spreading throughout your body. As his lips travel higher on your neck, you lean your head back, baring your throat to him. Jimin’s practically ravaging your skin, his kisses getting fervent, making you sigh as you card your fingers through his drenched hair.

And then suddenly, with his mouth opening wider, a searing pain sparks on your neck. Your eyes shoot open to be greeted with the molded ceiling that has you crashing back to reality. A pained sound escapes your open mouth as the realization dawns on you. Jimin is biting your neck. You can feel each and every puncture of his teeth into your skin, and he only bites down harder when you try to move. With all of the strength you can muster, you push him away harshly, finally getting him to stop sinking his teeth into you.

With foggy vision, you watch as he stumbles back, hitting the stall behind him. Your blood coats his lips and stain his teeth, and you can see it on his tongue when he licks his lips. All sound fades until there’s just a constant ringing.

Clutching your neck, you can feel the thick and slimy liquid that coats your skin. Even though you already know what it is, you can’t help but look at your shaking palm, caked and dripping with your own blood. Looking back up, you find Jimin nearing you once again. Hastily, you move backward until you’re cornered like you were before with your back against the stall. He gets closer and closer, watching you carefully, especially the blood that gushes from your neck. You sob when he brings a hand up to caress your cheek, not letting you jerk away.

“Beautiful...perfect...” And he means it. The thick red dripping along your body is a divine sight. He hates that you have to hurt for this to happen, and he’d be furious if it were anyone else that had done it, but it needed to be done. How else were you going to stay with him? Surely not as a human. Of course, he loved the beating of your heart and the warmth that you held, but he knew it would get in the way of making you his. This was inevitable.

His bite will stay there long after you’ve become undead, a fact that had him even more excited. His mark on your skin would be visible forever, a constant reminder of who you belong to—who made you. It was perfect.

Jimin watches you carefully, and it seems you’ve lost the will fight, though you never stopped glaring at him through your tears. You were already bitten, it was inescapable. But little did you know this was your fate from the moment you saw him in that abandoned store. You foolishly put hope into being with him, the deceiving ghoul that he truly is.

Your eyes start to roll back into your head, legs giving out with Jimin catching you before you can hit the hard floor. Picking you up, he leaves the running shower behind to carry you over to the mattress. Your body is limp in his arms, either passed out or already dead. After all, he picked the perfect spot to bite you. With the wound on your neck, it’ll take no time for the infection to make its way to your brain. He’ll have you quicker that way.

He sets your body on the mattress, blood quickly pooling on the fabric. Already, he can see the bite mark start to take effect, slowly starting to look just like his. It’s a gorgeous sight to him, and he can’t wait until you finally awaken. Then, he’ll be able to keep you forever.

© jiminstonic 2020

tag list: @jikooksgirl19 @sicnesa @buzzyourgirlfriendwoof @deepdarkdelights @iamnamjoonsbxtch @4evahevah @moon8child

[kaimelia]

there’s a place

TW: DEPRESSION AND SUICIDAL THOUGHTS

a/n: hi! first of all, this is very very heavy, so please take care of yourself and know that I am always here <3 second, this fic is scary to post as I’ve poured a lot of emotion into it, so yeah. also sorry if this does not! make much sense but emotions etc anyway I love you all <3

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Amelia stares up at the ceiling above her, her hands resting on her stomach and moving with each breath she took, a small reminder of the fact that she was still, in fact, breathing.

She doesn't stir until the door is pushed open, and Link walked through just for the grin on his face to fall immediately after seeing her on the floor.

"Amelia?"

His voice is soft, and it brings her a moment of comfort. Not because she finds it comforting, but because she once did.

Link walks over to her and cocks his head to the side, and Amelia's pretty sure he's speaking, but she can't hear anything besides her heartbeat pounding in her chest. She assumes he's asking what happened, because anytime she's upset, he's always keen to find the reason and fix whatever happened. But, sometimes, it can't be fixed, and he's never willing to accept that.

He's definitely asking what's wrong, and she wishes she had an answer.

She doesn't remember how she ended up on the floor, but she's there, now, and he's standing above her, staring at her as if she's an animal behind a cage in a zoo, like some foreign creature he doesn't understand.

Amelia realizes it's true, that he doesn't understand. And, he probably never will.

She realizes that she'll have to spend the rest of her life explaining how she loves him and their son with every last fiber of her being, but can barely get out of bed most mornings. How she can have everything she's ever dreamed of, yet end the day in tears more times than not.

She shouldn't be feeling this. She should be grateful. She has a healthy son who's passed all of his checkups with flying colors. She has a boyfriend who will lay on the floor beside her and hold her hand in silence. She has a successful career, a wonderful family, and a life she never thought she would live to see.

Because for so long, she fought.

She fought through addiction, grief, depression, through the days where she wanted nothing more than to crawl up into a ball and scream until her vocal cords shriveled up and blew away with her silent sobs.

And she's not quite sure she can fight for much longer.

"Amelia," Link whispers beside her, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. "Let me help you."

"No," she mutters almost inaudibly, but she knows Link heard from the expression on his face she can make out of the corner of her eye. Shock, disappointment, confusion, maybe even a hint of disgust as he attempts to help.

He's just trying to help, she tells herself. He's just trying to help. It's not his fault, and she should let him help.

"Amelia." His voice is stern, now, and her body tenses.

He's not doing anything wrong. She's the one lying on the floor and acting like a child throwing a tantrum. She's the one being ridiculous. She knows.

Amelia gulps.

"I'm taking you to bed now, okay?"

He wasn't really asking if it was okay; Amelia knows. He doesn't wait for a response before scooping her body up into his arms and holding her as if she were a blanket abandoned on the floor.

He thinks this will disappear. That she'll wake up in the morning as energized as ever with a smile as broad as his across her lips.

She won't. She never has. But, he hasn't noticed, and he never will.

To him, everything is shiny. Everything is shiny, and everyone is happy. He refuses to see a day where the sun doesn't rise all of the way, and he's left half in the dark. That day doesn't come.

She wishes she could think like that, because maybe that's the way her brain should work. She should be able to turn off the thoughts of jumping into a body of freezing cold water at the idea of taking her son to the park the next day. She shouldn't be staring out the window of their bedroom, wondering what would happen if she flung it open and jumped.

She didn't want to die, per se; she just wanted to feel something.

"Alright, I'm gonna grab you some pajamas."

He's helping, she reminds herself.

God, help hurts.

He's helping, she reminds herself as he dresses her like a child, muttering some hardly amusing story about his patient. He smiles at her for a minute, and she knows he's waiting for her to react. She doesn't.

It's not his fault. She hasn't told him what does help, and he's only doing his best.

It's better than being alone, she decides. Because, if she were alone, God knows what she would do. At least he's here to take care of her.

"Here, roll over," he muttered, holding the comforter up as he waits for her to move. She doesn't. "Amelia, please." He finally sighs in disappointment and places it over her. "If you need anything, just ask, okay?"

He stays there for another moment, or a few moments, and then walks away and lingers in the doorway. He closes the door, and he probably thinks she's fallen asleep.

She wishes she could.

He's still standing outside the door. And he's talking, now.

"Hey, Mer," he speaks softly, but Amelia can hear him as clear as day. "There's something wrong with Amelia."

There's something wrong with Amelia, there's something wrong with Amelia, she repeats to herself, gripping the comforter tightly.

Link walks away from the door, and she can't hear him any longer. Maybe she's grateful for that, because whatever he's saying, or whatever Meredith's saying surely isn't something she'll like.

The door opens some time later, and Link walks through with Scout in his arms, and Amelia cringes at the sound of his cries. Ear-piercing, loud enough to send a wave of tension through her chest.

"He's hungry," Link says, walking towards her, and Amelia tilts her head to the side. "I wasn't going to bring him in, but there's nothing in the fridge.

She silently curses herself for not pumping, for not thinking ahead, because as she takes Scout in her arms, she feels like the worst mother in the entire world.

He's staring at her as she feeds their son, cradling the small boy in her arms and holding him just close enough as necessary. Scout's tiny eyes are staring up at her with a particular adoration that she's spent hours obsessing over as the sight of it brought butterflies to her stomach. Now, she just bites her lip and looks away.

Eventually, she feels Scout being lifted from her arms, and she's alone in the dark bedroom again.

There's a sliver of moonlight seeping in through the curtains and illuminating a stripe across the floor. She pulls her knees up to her chest and traces her eyes down it, making out the outline of clothes thrown on the floor and pillows tossed off of the bed.

The door creaks open, and Link comes through again. He changes into his pajamas without speaking a word, only humming a soft melody she faintly recognizes. He doesn't say anything as he climbs into bed beside her and presses his lips against her temple, and quietly whispers, "I love you," before pulling away and tracing his hand down her back as he does so. He lays down, and sleep overtakes him so quickly that she's half tempted to wake him, just so that she's not suffering alone.

Maybe, if this were a few months ago, he would've stayed awake with her, sitting in silence just so that she wouldn't feel alone. But, he's pulled away from her, in the slightest of ways, so small that she barely noticed over time.

He's snoring gently, the way she always used to tease him about, but she can't stand it now. She gets up from the bed, hoping that Link doesn't hear her or follow her.

Before she knows it, she's throwing the front door open and running outside, her arms spread out and her face tilted up towards the sky. It's raining.

The rain is heavy and cold, and Amelia begins shivering almost immediately as raindrops fall down her face. But for once, she doesn't care. Because god, it feels good.

She relaxes her body and exhales heavily. And she's laughing, or some mix of a laugh and a cry, and then she's not sure if it's a conscious reaction, but she's grateful for the feeling.

She finally forgets about everything, about Link waiting inside with his perfect idea of how she should be, about everyone around her judging all of the time and not understanding.

Because, she's so tired, and all she's wanted is some sense of relief.

And, maybe, she's found it.

[spiltscribbles]

Im so excited!!!! Here’s a little “It’s always been you. You and only you.” sprinkled in with Green-Eyed Epiphany

~Notes: OMFG bubby!!!! You are so beyond adorable! Thank you So SO much for the sweetness!! I really hope you like this XS and fingers crossed  this fits the promptXS <3 <3 <3

.-

Prompt Smash Game  |  Send Me A Prompt💜   |  A Reblog Is Like A Huge, Warm Hug!!!

.-

~R: my mom’s working the night shift at the clinic👀👀

~S: Kinky😏

~S: I can be there in 15

~R: make it 20 and get Chinese x

~S: sometimes I think ur j using me for the food

~R: and bring henny😈

.-

It’s seventeen minutes since Remus sent the last text when the front door of his modest ranch house begins to thump with a familiar wrapping that’s three quick knocks followed by two slower ones, and he has to wrestle down the eager grin from his face when he swings it open to find one of his closest friends standing at the threshold in that customary  weathered, leather jacket that he found two summers ago when Remus had taken him thrifting for the first time, and an impish sort of smirk that definitely would look ridiculous on anyone else, but only makes Sirius all the more maddeningly attractive. 

“What took so long?” Remus asks mildly, pulling him indoors by the sleeve and gesturing for him to set the goods on the kitchen counter once they cross the small foyer.

“You wound me, Lupin.” Sirius retorts, quick-silver eyes flashing before he pins him against the island and puts his hands on either side of his waistline with more gentleness than Remus would’ve expected before they began this whole sorted affair— Okay, maybe that’s the wrong word for it?

It’s not an affair, or tryst, or carrying on or whatever the fuck else Lily says when she’s teetering on the wrong edge of tipsy and thinks it’s her right to call Remus out on his bullshit— on his stupid, beyond obvious crush he’s been fostering for one of his closest friends since junior high.

It’s none of those things— It’s not nearly as dramatic.

It’s just— Just that yes, Remus has been harboring a tiny infatuation  for Sirius ever since that first day of the seventh grade  when he had moved to this tiny, coastal town after his parents divorce. But how could he have not? Sirius is hilarious, and a genius, and so gorgeous that sometimes it feels like his insides are twisting up whenever he glances over at him. And on that first day, he had just caught Remus’s eyes from across the library shelves before classes begun, and smiled in that uniquely electric way of his, and asked if Remus could put slime in a very specific locker, (Snape’s), for a very specific reason, (Because he kept following Lily around like a creep), on account to no one suspecting the new kid. And yeah— Remus was lost on him an embarrassing amount from then on. 

Sure, it can be regarded as kinda pathetic on Remus’s end— kindling this nest of emotions so close to the chest— but also it’s not as if he’s been lovestruck by his crush, like it’s some sort of waterlogged scarf he’s got dragging him down. His attraction towards Sirius is like a soft melody that’s swelling in the backdrop of all their interactions, nothing overwhelming— not a flood plane, not yet at least. It’s warm, and it’s familiar, and it’s persistent like a flutter of a humming bird’s wings.  And Remus doesn’t mind pining over someone as fantastical as Sirius Fucking Black.

Graciously, in some strike of incredible luck, Sirius never caught on to Remus’s silly feelings, not until that night when they were watching an old movie in Remus’s basement while James and Lily were celebrating an entire year together— save for all their sudden stops and just as speedy starts— and Peter was visiting his grandmother in Tampa Bay. It was the first time they had been alone together since Remus broke up with Caradoc for the final time, and Sirius just looked so fucking good in that casual, white v-neck and his skinny jeans that make him look like some echo of James Dean on his best day. And Remus isn’t sure who exactly moved forwards first, or how the fuck Meg Ryan wandering the Seattle streets was some sort of aphrodisiac, or why Sirius— who could have any guy he would ever want— was actually humoring him, but one second they’re lying down on the sofa— Remus caged between Sirius’s expanse and the cushions behind them— and the next he’s tasting PBR on Sirius’s lips, and has got a fist full of his dark hair, and is thrilling at the feeling of Sirius’s thigh between his legs. And yeah— it just happened like those sort of things are want to do, and by the end of it they were sticky and breathless and diffident in ways they never been around one another, in ways Remus reckons Sirius has never been around anyone.

But the next weekend, when Sirius’s latest sorta— but not really— boyfriend had canceled on their dinner plans, Sirius wandered over to Remus’s bedroom window and it was another tumbling of frenzied hands and loosen buckles and thrusting hips. And then it just became an easy release— a sort of poetry, an understanding in all but name.

And that’s fine. They don’t have to talk about it. Remus knows that Sirius isn’t the type to settle down with a partner, to go bowling for a date, or texting countless messages that amount to nothing at all at the end of the conversation, or putting up with another dude’s parents taking photos of them before leaving to prom or homecoming or whatever the fuck else. And Remus is sorta sick of the idea of love, of trying so hard only to end up heartbroken and eating a gallon of Chubby Bunny in his favorite sweats and cursing John Hughes for pretending Hollywood romances can happen to ordinary high schoolers. 

So yeah— This thing they’ve fallen into with each other is good. They’re friends— best friends— and they have fun and they’re apparently really fucking good in bed together, and Sirius never looks at Remus with pity when he spots him gazing at his profile absentmindedly, and he doesn’t mind when Remus traces invisible designs against his skin when they’re soaking in the after glow, and he never treats him  any different. Sirius still slings his arm around Remus’s shoulders when they walk down the halls, and he still buys him his favorite chocolates when he feels poorly, and he still faces Dorcas's disapproving wrath when he drags Remus out of the library to have a little mischief— whether it’s smoking a blunt in the abandoned skatepark in town or playing some stupid prank on those assholes in their year. 

For all intent and purposes, they still behave the same they’ve always acted around one another, but just with the miraculous addition of mind-blowing and dulcetly ductile sex.

This is good, this is fun, this is completely untethered from the bull shit of romance.

And if Remus mouths against the juncture of Sirius’s neck a little too intensely— trying to pry off the memory of the hickey Sirius had been sporting after spending the weekend with Gideon Prewett— Well no one has to be any the wiser, and by the sound of Sirius’s hitched breaths, he seems not to mind even slightly.

“Except my apology?” Remus asks, more coy than he ordinarily acts as he drops his arms around Sirius’s neck, and leans on the balls of his feet to whisper against his temple.

“Oh, you’re such a bastard,” Sirius retorts, labored as all get out, kneading his fingers into Remus’s ass that’s only covered by the thin layer of his plaid pajama bottoms. “You are going to have to do a lot more for me to forgive the lip.”

Remus laughs in a stammering sort of way as Sirius tugs him along, walking backwards to his room that he’s become incredibly intimate with since the first time they did this three months ago. 

“Sirius, the spring rolls— they’re gross if we have to heat them up again.”

“I’ll postmate us knew ones,” Sirius insists, covering Remus’s mouth with his own with fervor. “C’mon babe, do not tease me like this.”

Sirius must’ve caught his mistake, because he suddenly goes as red as Remus feels— The pet name was to close for comfort considering their strictly friends with benefits nature, but Remus is already half hard, and he really does not want to end this, so with a sly wink, he returns to nipping at Sirius’s jawline, rutting against him in a very unambiguous way. “Fine, if you really don’t think you’ll need the nourishment for your stamina?”

The words have their intended effect, and Sirius makes a small growl deep in his throat before practically tearing off Remus’s shirt, and dipping beneath the waistline of his pants, scooping him up and racing to the bed.

And they get lost in one another beneath the pale glow of Remus’s lamplight and the moon spilling through the window, relearning each others every patch of skin for minutes on end that wax and wane like the delta of ocean waves, unspooling into something tangible and tantalizing with every kiss punctuated with teeth that Sirius trails across Remus’s collarbone, and the way Remus palms greedy hands up and down Sirius’s back until he gets the hint and undresses.

“Well come on, you’re not an invalid, Lupin.” Sirius jeers and Remus chuckles as he follows suit until they’re both finally, blessedly nude. And with an easy assurance of them having done this more than a dozen times now, Remus crawls into his lap and kisses him straight on the mouth, preening how Sirius moans against him— canting up wantonly and grabbing at his hips with a sort of intensity that will probably leave bruises in the shape of the pads of his fingers, and Remus absolutely adores the idea of that, feels something hot and needy and desperate unfurl in his gut as he presses their mouths more forcefully together, going buzzed when he gets to relish in the sensation of their tongues running against one another, and the taste of the ridges on the roof of Sirius’s mouth, and the slide of the soft skin of his inner cheek— gasping when Sirius pulls away abruptly, panting an almost reverent, “Mother of God, Remus,” and tackles him flat on his back before they commence, with the addition of both their hard,  leaking cocks thrusting against one another and Sirius’s hand in Remus’s hair pulling that bit more forcefully while his other one roams the dips and planes of his side— skirting against the divots of his stomach muscle before he wraps it around the pair of them and begins to pull in earnest, to the rhythm that Remus swears was strung from the heavens above.

“Oh— Oh, yeah— Sirius,” Remus breathes out in a haggard sort of way, words that he refuses to ever call a mewl even if they’re stretched out and crackle with emotion.

“Yes—, just say that again,” Sirius practically demands, his mouth completely covering his ear in a wet, hot heat— his teeth scraping against the soft shell. “Remus, baby, just say my name, tell me you want it.”

And God, Remus is feeling so heady— like he’s floating and he couldn’t possibly come back down— that he probably would’ve listened to anything Sirius asked of him, especially if he does that thing again, when he squeezes the slick length of them with a tad more force than they usually play at. “Sirius, Sirius. Sirius, please, I’m close,” Remus shrills in an unsteady staccato— his normally smooth tenner going pitchy and pleading, and he can feel his toes curling, can feel the eminent release coming— What he does not expect is to feel something poking at his entrance, didn’t expect to be struck dumb by the sensation of the tip of Sirius’s large, dry finger poking right there, right against the fluttering hole, while he’s still pumping them in tandem, and the second it hooks inside Remus goes a startling sort of static , sees blasts of white blotching his vision and his head thrown back and his dick spirting out heavily against Sirius’s deliciously defined torso.

And he’s just breathing heavily now, during the come down, can barely make out anything  through the heavy weight around him, the one  cushioning his head— but he does graciously feel Sirius’s cock fucking into his own hand against Remus’s thigh and then idly the feeling of his come splattering him, but then after that he can just barely hear the distant padding of feed against floorboards, followed by a wet washcloth being dabbed against his skin. So when he finally forces himself to focus, he sees Sirius cleaning himself off, wrapping it into the pair of joggers Remus was wearing earlier and tosses it to the corner of the room. 

“Rude,” he scolds with no heat, shuffling closer to him when Sirius lies down besides him once more and circles an arm around his torso.

“THat’s what you get when you’re acting like a lazy fuck,” Sirius counters, smug as all get out while he threads a hand in Remus’s hair.

“Hmm, didn’t see that in the papers recently. Is it a new law?”

“Yeah, actually just past on the senate floor.”

“Interesting… Well considering that only one of us has a senator for a father, I really have to ask to see the power-point you shared with him to get this bill through the stalemate,” Remus’s head bounces against Sirius’s chest from the force of his laughter at the barb.

“Oh, stuff it, Lupin.”

Hiding his smile into Sirius’s skin, Remus does as told, and they both just lie there, as if everything’s gone suspended just for the pair of them, just so Remus can count out the beats of Sirius’s heart pulsing against his sternum, and can feel the way their legs tie into one another, and can feel Sirius mouthing against his temple, blowing his curls with every exhale. 

And Remus thinks that he’d do anything to remember this exact moment for every single day from here on out.

But then the quiet is abruptly and permanently punctured by the sound of his phone chirping, and he has to breathe in deeply before separating from the warmth of Sirius, and fishes down for the device that’s still crammed into the side of his bed from where he had hidden it after that initial text.

“Is Dearborn still on your ass to try again?” Sirius asks, a bit stilted.

Remus wonders if he’s just imagining the tension twisted in the question, but reasons that Sirius’s never been Caradoc’s biggest fan, so he just shrugs it off— really doesn’t want to get into some stupid argument about his asshole of an ex when he’s still feeling so content. “Nah, ’s James. Still trying to force me to go to the homecoming dance with you guys.”

“Oh,” Sirius retorts, lips pinched while watching Remus redress. “You should go, Marls is pregaming and you know she always gets the good shit.”

Remus shakes his head while puttering over to find a new pair of sweats and a sweater. “Nah, just not feeling it this year— Erm, you’re taking Gid I assume.” He’s not sure why he asks it, supposes he’s always a glutton for some pain and shitty feelings to inspire his playlists habit, but also maybe it’s him trying to sober himself. Trying to remember that despite this— despite everything they just did and  how easy it’s always been for them to fall into step with one another— Remus isn’t good enough to be seen with Sirius in the light of day. He’s probably not handsome enough or cool enough or something else that makes Sirius absolutely revolted from the thought. Probably that he’s beyond bookish, and looks painfully virginal and isn’t nearly as sly or snarky as his other conquests.

Truly, Remus should just be thankful that Sirius wants this at all, he shouldn’t be so crazed over the why nots of the situation— it’ll only kill him trying to be something he never could actually affect with any credence.

Schooling his features to something passably indifferent, Remus pivots to face him again, is startled when he finds Sirius still naked and staring at him with a burning sort of intensity in his storm cloud eyes. 

“He hasn’t said anything, but I guess he’s assuming as much,” he finally says, running a hand through his overgrown fringe, that familiar twitch of the corner of his mouth grabbing Remus’s attention. The one that tells him Sirius is actually irritated about something he’s not letting himself say out loud. 

“Erm, good? Gid’s a decent guy.” Remus mutters, head ducked once it gets to a point that he can’t stand Sirius looking at him like that— Not after how blissed out and ferocious he had been groping every inch of Remus only moments ago. “You guys are nice together.”

And it’s like the breath before the worst of storms when his words collapse between them, making the pregnant silence go suddenly suffocating.

“Right,” Sirius intones once Remus levels their gazes, hurriedly standing and collecting his own clothes, fracturing the moment completely. “Right. Whatever, yeah. I’ll go to the fucking dance with fucking Gideon Prewett. That’s good.”

“Sir—“

“No, it’s fine. You can just stay home, and mourn over that douchebag Dearborn some more, even though you ending it with that dick was the best decision you could’ve made, Remus, and I’m not even saying it just because I’m petty. He is a prick, and you need to finally get a clue how much better you deserve, damn it!”

Remus’s head feels like it’s swimming. Why is Sirius so angry all of a sudden? Does he not like Gideon? Why can’t he just cut it off like so many times before? And why the hell is he petty over Caradoc? The entire situation feels like someone’s just handed him a wedge of Swiss cheese and told him to knit it back together. 

“What is up your ass?” He decides is an appropriate enough question for his floundering, and shutters back only slightly at how fuming Sirius looks when he rounds on him— clothes disheveled and fearsome glower heavy on his face. 

“Whatever Remus, if you can’t see that Dearborn is bad news—“

“I’m not pining for Dearborn,” Remus interjects, really doesn’t feel like listening to one of Sirius’s ridiculous diatribes about him, not now. Not when he’s still so bewildered by everything else. “Why would you think that?”

The fire in Sirius’s eyes vanishes as quickly as someone blowing on a candle, and it’s his turn to gawk, gaping at Remus, shoulders dragged down and eyes wide. “Wait— You’re not?”

“No…. I haven’t even thought about him for weeks.”

“Oh.” Sirius looks contemplative for a moment, before the righteous anger that only he could ever wear with such conviction, melts over him once more. “All right, then what the fuck is this?”

Remus stiffens, feels his veins lace with ice, an his breath catch somewhere in his throat, really does not think he’s ready for this conversation. “This?” 

“Yes, Remus, this!” Sirius demands, sounding harsh in comparison to the barely croak Remus had spoken with. “Listen I don’t care if you want me to wait some more, if you need to lick your wounds or whatever. But why are you like pushing me on other people? Why do you want me not to be around? why do you  want me to go out with other dudes?”

Remus lies back on the chest of drawers now, feels beyond dazed. “What the hell are you talking about, Sirius?”

Sirius clenches his teeth right then, the hinge of his jaw going taught 

before he skulks closer, not letting Remus drop his gaze. “Is it me? Is it that you just can’t see me that way? Are you just stringing me along or something? Because I really didn’t think that was your style, but if it’s that, then Remus—“

“Stringing you along?” Remus asks in a voice barely above a whisper, just needs to feel his lips forming the absolutely risible words, even if it makes it so something dark passes across Sirius’s beauteous features.

“Remus, I swear to God! Stop repeating everything I’m fucking saying!”

“Then start making  some damn sense!” Remus snaps, suddenly heated as he straightens and pins him with a proper scowl. “What in holy hell are you going on about?”

“God! Do I have to spell it out!” Sirius barks, cutting the final step dividing them and grabbing for Remus’s shoulders with a tight squeeze. “I know you just wanted to fuck around with someone after Dearborn showed his extreme dickitude, and listen, I was so fucking ecstatic that you wanted me for it. But I can’t do this in-between shit anymore! I’m sorry, but I can’t! And I get if this is annoying, but I’ve been crazy for you for so long. And I just can’t keep myself at an arms length anymore, not now that we’ve really had each other, not after you let me actually touch and taste and fuck you and— Damn it, this isn’t coming out the way I wanted, all right! Damn it, maybe Evans was right and I should’ve made queue cards like some dumb ass— But then James pointed out how unromantic that was, and Marlene said—“

Gently, Remus puts his shaking fingers against Sirius’s lips, effectively killing off anything else he’s about to say. And slowly, everything is beginning to slot into place, and he’s so spiteful over how they’ve been such idiots this entire time— swears to put salt into Lily’s coffee next time he sees her. 

“I didn’t know you actually were into me Sirius.”

Stunned, Sirius’s dark brows hike up to his hairline. “How the hell didn’t you know?” He demands against Remus’s fingers, thunderous and insulted looking.

“Because you never fucking said as much!” Remus defends himself, feels a mangled sort of laughter squirming out. “God, we’re idiots.”

“We’re?” Sirius asks, hesitant and red faced before Remus moves his hand to peck softly against his mouth. 

“I’ve been half in love with you for years you absolute ass-wipe, it’s always been you! You and always you.” Remus tells him breathily, still fighting down the last remnants of his actual, god forsaken giggle— like he’s thirteen again and getting buzzed off his mom’s peach wine coolers. “I only never said anything because I never thought I’d have a chance with someone like you— Someone so— so— Someone so amazing.”

The smile Sirius favors him with right then is something absolutely incandescent, and his eyes shimmer with a very distinct sort of joy that Remus wonders if anyone besides him has ever witnessed. “Then you’re definitely the biggest idiot between us, Lupin.” Sirius declares, knocking their foreheads together, and lacing his hand into Remus’s own before squeezing meaningfully.

“Fuck off,” Remus snorts, presses forwards for another languorous kiss, not feeling in danger of being swallowed whole any more— finally letting himself drown and knowing that Sirius will be there to pull him back up no matter what. 

“Oh, I could get used to this,” Sirius smirks, snakes his arms around Remus’s waste that bit tighter.

“Hmm, there is the problem that I usually don’t put out until at least the third or fourth date,” Remus says mildly.

“Pff, ‘s fine, Lupin,” Sirius insists, grinning beatifically. “I like you being a hussy for me!— Oof, careful with the merchandize, you were speaking some real exaltations about that part of my anatomy not too long ago.”

Moving his knee from the point at hand, Remus sticks out his tongue at him. “See if you ever get any ever again, Sirius Black.”

When Sirius laughs, it sounds like the strike of lightening against unmarked land, and the honey cloaked side of a knife’s edge, and like everything splendid Remus has ever known. And he thinks that yes, he could get used to this right back.

.-

[nohoney]

Hi hi! I love your Us series so much! It’s been a while since I came across it and I remembered how much I love it! 💕

2 questions I wanna ask about something’s I’m wondering about and your take on them.

Do you think there will come a time where MC comes to their senses and decides to leave? It doesn’t seem realistic for the series because they are so rooted there, I think it would be extremely hard to leave. They don’t treat them bad but they’re also not healthy for them.

What would happen or more like what would Keigo and Touya do if MC ever decides to leave?

Anyway, thank you for updating and taking the time to write. I really appreciate it 💕

Aw I’m glad you love it, it always gets me all flustered when the us series get appreciation 😖

So to answer...

1. the reader definitely has the sense in her that what she’s in is not exactly something completely ‘healthy’ and she knows when she’s in a particular situation it’s because of touya but then Keigo kinda swoops in to cover everything up until everything feels like it’s calmed down. as much as Touya is the source of her love & devotion, he is definitely the main stressor sometimes when she worries more about his reaction to things rather than her own well-being. And touya knows that he can only do so much to make her stay so having Keigo around offsets the chances of her leaving since he’s more sensitive & gentle with the reader. I think the chances of the reader leaving are very very low...

2. But on the off chance she reaches that small fraction where she does try to put her foot down to leave... i think we all know there’d probably be no way for the boys to accept the reader leaving. She hopes it could go down a peaceful way. So maybe... an honest face to face break up?

Scenario below the cut!

Warning: drug use/drugging, unhealthy relationship, codependence, manipulation, slight dubcon

You just have to be uncomfortable just for a moment while Keigo goes to fetch drinks from the kitchen. Touya keeps a straight face while you speak across from at the dining table, trying to reassure him that you don’t want to part on bad terms and that you just need to do what’s best for yourself, you’re talking about wanting to find your independence again and needing to figure things out on your own and all that stupid crap. Words of conviction that neither of them are going to accept from you, that you don’t know what you’re talking about and you need them.

They could tell immediately when you had started to try to pull away, could see that glazed off look in your eye as your mind wanders. Your smiles more reluctant, your affection waning, that sad look you had looking off into the distance, they thought it was depression at first. Keigo counts himself fortunate to have found you sitting with a friend a week ago on the patio dining of a restaurant, hiding himself just in time before you or your companion could see him. He had leaned in a little closer and his heart broke upon hearing you tell your friend, “I think I need to get away from them... Dabi and Keigo.”

Oh how Touya threw a fit when Keigo reported back to him, having the good sense to take him to an abandoned lot to tell him what he heard. Touya yelled, saying that he’s giving you everything he could give and you have the audacity, the motherfuckin’ audacity to think you could leave. His sanity is all on you and you leaving would make him lose his fucking mind. But Keigo was calm, he hushed Touya who damn near breaks down and is about to punch through the window of his car and tells him that he’s got it figured out.

“She’s ours, she just needs to be reminded.”

Your tolerance had gotten better with what you’re willing to take but that doesn’t mean that being careful is thrown out the window.

You’re banned from mixing ever since that first party where you locked yourself in a room with half a gram of coke and an ecstasy tablet, but Keigo is careful with you because he cares about you, he loves you. Just a sprinkle, like a pinch of salt, added to your drink and Keigo gives you a little extra pour of sweet syrup in your drink.

Ketamine which makes you trip and MDMA which makes you roll, and a trip plus a roll makes a flip. Your first flip ever was molly and coke and you don’t even know that you’re about to get your second; you’re about to have your first kitty flip.

Touya could have been mean and just gave you rohypnol but as angry as he was at you for wanting to break up, he still wanted you to feel good.

You finish half the drink when your eyes get the tranced over look and your voice drifts off, Touya reaching for your cup so that you don’t drink anymore. He drinks from his own cup, just the virgin version of what Keigo served you and he asks, “What were you talking about doll?”

“I uh... I don’t know what I...” you sway a little in your seat and you try to recall what was the subject you were speaking of a few minutes ago. “Touya... I don’t...”

They wait patiently as you struggle for your words.

And Keigo knows exactly what to do, gently cupping your cheek to direct you to look at him. You’re a helpless little doe at this moment and out there are the wolves wanting to feast on you, but not them, not Keigo or Touya... they’re not your predators.

They’re your protector.

“Pretty dove, do you love us?” Keigo asks you, watching carefully how you try to process his question.

“C-Course I do... never said tha’ I stopped, I just’ want...” you slur out as you reach one hand out to touch his cheek, trying to make sure he’s real. He wonders what you’re seeing right now and how he looks in your eyes. “Can I lie down?”

You collapse in Keigo’s arms, whining about some dress you should have bought at a boutique you visited not too long ago and then you stare at your own hands when Keigo lays you down on the floor, though you don’t bother to describe what exactly you’re seeing as you stare into your palms.

And Touya kisses you tenderly, just barely skims the tips of his fingers over your arm and you purr in pleasure. Unlike your first hallucinogenic trip which left you in an extremely anxious state, you seem to be perfectly balanced this time. Keigo is grateful that he mixed the right amount and you consumed not too much and not too little. You crawl to different areas of the room, muttering to yourself and can barely keep a conversation with either of the boys while they keep watch. But it’s not necessary for any conversation to be had, there’s no need for any talking because there’s nothing to talk about.

You ask for kisses, you ask to be touched, you ask if you’re loved, all requests that they’re willing to fulfill but on one condition: “You gonna stay with us (Name)?”

“Y-yeah, wanna stay with... be with ya, just c’mere... ‘M lonely.”

“Oh now you’re lonely? What happened to all that independent talk?”

“I don’t... Not s-sure, jus’ come here now.”

Needy little moans fall from your lips as they touch you, kisses to your neck and further down, despite your glazed eyes your fingers reach for one of the boys’ belts but they stop you. “You’re not getting fucked baby.”

“I want it!” You whine, almost ready to throw a tantrum but all it takes is just a hand in your hair, grabbing at the roots and slowly it clenches into a fist and tugs at the roots. A pleasant pull that makes your eyes roll to the back of your head and your back arches. Just a little hair pull and you’re so compliant. Your reaction is tempting but they know better than to fuck you when you won’t remember it the next day.

They would never.

All they want is for you to stay right where you are.

And you wake the next day in between Touya and Keigo, recognizing the symptoms of a come down but with no memory of the day before and you know that your memory loss has something to do with them. “What happened?”

Your body is exhausted, your brain is fried, you remember sitting down with the boys yesterday and talking about breaking up and then... nothing.

When you try to get out the bed, Touya’s hand reaches out to grab your arm and you’re pulled back down on the bed. He’s awake and making you lie back with them, his hand gentle as the pad of his thumb strokes your cheek so lovingly. Keigo nuzzles right next to you, a soft mumble of, “Stay baby bird...”

“You guys... what did you give-” you start to speak but Touya cuts you off.

“If it were anyone else, you probably would have woken up behind a dumpster ya know.”

Be grateful to us, we treat you better than anyone ever could.

You should be angry at them, furious that they’d violate your trust and lace your drink or food with whatever they gave you, that they gave you the ultimate reason to leave because if you love someone you don’t fucking drug them. And yet you know that whatever they gave you yesterday is a warning, probably the kindest warning you’ll ever get from them.

“Still love us?”

You play it over in your mind, that any other person probably would have taken advantage of your vulnerability but not them. Not Touya and Keigo who love you most ardently and have always looked out for you no matter what. There’s no talks of breaking up, there will be no talks of breaking up, they know you’re smart enough to understand the meaning behind their actions.

So you accept the cage they’ve put you in.

“Yeah... I love you.”

“We love you too.”

[tales-unique]

FAULTS OF THE HEART  II

Chapter 2

That night is, quite possibly, the worst night of your life, so far. No matter how you try to position yourself you manage to aggravate your wound, rendering any progress towards sleep null and void in a matter of seconds. You hiss in frustration, sitting up after what feels like hours of fighting, deciding that there was no sense in trying while you were so wound up.

You decide instead to sate your curiosity about the place you have been brought to, starting with the room you’re in. It’s bathed in iridescent moonlight, the fire having long since burnt out, which gives it an almost ethereal glow. In its prime it must have been such a beautiful place to read and study but now it sits abandoned, a sad echo of former glory. All the books, though dusty and stained with age, look to be in good condition and, despite your fatigue, you untangle yourself from your makeshift bed to peruse them. As you edge towards them the wood creaks beneath your feet and you freeze, listening for any signs of life other than yourself in the building. When you hear nothing you release the breath you had been holding, gazing in awe at all the different books before you. Some of the names you couldn’t even understand, their beautiful cursive calligraphy written in a language that was foreign to you. Perhaps the man of the house was an avid collector of interesting books? You gently trace your finger over the spines, ignoring the burn of protest in your shoulder as you move away towards an old desk that sits under the bare window. The wood is chipped and covered in a layer of dust just like the rest of the room, the items scattered about its surface also buried. Your hand disturbs a stack of papers, the paper parched from years of exposure to the sun, to see if there’s anything you can gleam from them, but the ink is so faded that you barely make out the words. You frown at the inkwell that sits near a stack of books, some of which look like writing journals, the quill stuck inside the dried up ink. The feathering had mostly vanished, decomposed until barely any were left to cling to the brittle spine. This was someone's private space once, but not any longer. All at once the feeling that you were an invader hits you like a tidal wave and, with one last somber look, you back away from the desk to look at the door. For all you knew the man could have locked you inside, to curb any possible excursions without him knowing. The thought sent a spark of fear shooting through your system and with a brisk pace you came face to face with the door. It’s old, just as the rest of the room is, and the ornate handle is a deep brass colour under the layer of dust and grime. You hesitate, your hand hovering over the handle, sucking in a deep breath to try and calm yourself. Quickly, you tell yourself, before your fear petrifies you. The grip you have on the door handle is so tight you barely register how your knuckles are turning white, or how your shoulder aches in protest at the awkward angle you're bending at, as you peek out into the dark hallway. After a cautious once over you tentatively step out, careful to tiptoe your way down the hallway so you wouldn’t alert anyone to your presence. But it was already too late for that. The man, the lone inhabitant of the abandoned place, was already awake and wandering himself when you decided to leave your room. He had been angsty knowing there was someone, a human no less, in his castle, and so, like you, sleep evaded him. Your movements were easy to trace, the vampiric blood that flowed through his veins heightening his senses to an alarming degree. Hidden in the looming shadows he follows you, all while you are unaware, to see just what it is you’re doing wandering around at such an hour. At the end of the hallway you find a grand staircase and a hazy memory clouds your mind. You remember being swept up these stairs in the arms of your nameless rescuer, the receding image of the almost comically tall doors receding as your vision grew darker, your consciousness slipping in and out. There was even a trail of drying blood leading up to where you had been left, noticed only now that you were actively looking at the floor beneath your feet. You grimace, making sure to descend on the other side of the stairs. Once at the bottom you come to stand in front of those large doors, ever imposing, and a sense of apprehension settles like a lead weight in the pit of your stomach. Although you had no idea where you were the danger of leaving while still injured with no means to protect yourself loomed threateningly, and that alone made you hesitant. Swallowing your fear you gingerly tread towards the doors, careful in opening them lest you further injure yourself. Whatever you had been expecting, or not , when you stepped out into the night, you could have said with certainty that it wouldn’t have been impaled corpses . You freeze, your blood like ice. Corpses. Impaled. On spikes . Any and all doubts you had about the dangers outside being greater than the ones inside were now none-existent. The man who lived here, the one who had saved your life , was the same man who had done this to these people. A rational person with a sane mind wouldn’t willingly do this to someone, right? No, which meant you had to leave, and quickly, or you could be next. But, oh God , how would you get past them? You barely had time to register that they were more mummified than fresh, having been there for a while, since you were back-peddling as quickly as your legs could take you. Until your back hits something solid and more alive than the doors. You let out a scream, partially from shock and from the pain sent rocketing through your arm, twisting sharply on your heel to see the doors cast open wide and none other than the man standing there, blocking your path. “You’re up late,” he speaks with a casualness that unnerves you more than anything, his gaze solemn. Your chest heaves as you stare at him with wide eyes, panic surging through your veins. Inside you're a mess of emotions that will not be tamed. Utter chaos and turmoil. When you don't respond he lets out a defeated sigh, a weary sound that betrays how worn down he has become. "If you wanted to leave you could have just said so," he muses, frowning when you recoil away from him when he moves to pass you. He stops to look at the corpses that frame the entrance but there's no feeling there. Not anymore. His hate and anger and pain has faded into nothingness, a void he had hoped he would never fall into. You watch him like a hawk the entire time, body tense. At any point he could turn on you and you had to be ready . But the moment doesn't come. There's just him, standing illuminated in the moonlight, broken. "Where would I even go, if I could leave?" The words are quiet but you can't stand the stifling silence any longer. "You could go anywhere," he answers easily, resolute. You scoff, brushing your fingertips over your bandaged wound. It stings and you wince with a hiss. "And do what? I have no money, my arm is useless right now. I'd be dead in a day or two. And that's if I don't get found by the Baron's men first." It's true that the Baron was still a threat to you, even more so now that his hunting party had been cut down, so blood would be demanded. Just not yours if you could help it. "Who are you, anyway?" You ask, changing the subject. There's so much you want to ignore at that moment so you focus on him. There's a moment of silence before he finally responds and his voice has an edge to it that you can’t quite place. You get the feeling that he’d much rather remain nameless to you, but out of politeness he must give in. How quaint. "Your people call me Alucard," he replies, turning to look at you expectantly. You quickly stumble out your name, suddenly feeling like a caged animal under the starkness of his golden gaze. They almost glow in the light, giving him a predatory air. "Well," you clear your throat, quickly stepping past the, ahem, decorations , to stand next to him at the top of the stone steps, "thank you, Alucard. I'd have died if you hadn't helped me." It's the truth; you owe him your life, and he knows it. "You are welcome," he responds slowly, awkwardly, glancing at you from the corner of his eyes before they turn heavenward. "A beautiful night, isn't it?" He's trying to ease the tension and even though it doesn't help much you appreciate the sentiment. "Yes, it's nice," you answer softly. Looking at him as he is in that moment you find that he doesn’t seem so intimidating as you had first thought and you feel ashamed for having judged him so harshly so quickly. Not that it doesn’t diminish what you have learnt from your little excursion outside the castle. After all, there were dead bodies on his front step. Maybe there was more to this than first met the eye, maybe not, but you were determined to discover the truth.

[yoooespinosa]

please do a part 2 for the draco fic where he rejects her i cant be left like that also would love for them to end up together

a/n: I feel like its rushed, idk. I didn't even like how the first part came out, so I had no motivation for this one. Im sorry, I tried lmao.

here’s part 1

"Y/l/n!" A voice just a few ways down the corridor called, the person you've been trying to avoid.

You increased your pace, dodging the people around you and their swinging bags they carried. You knew he called you out in the middle of a crowded corridor because it would be harder for you to get away, which only multiplied your irritation.

"Y/l/n!" He called louder, sounding closer, only making you walk away faster.

"Y/n." He latched onto your wrist, once you escaped the crowd of students, you groaned in frustration.

"What, Malfoy?" Turning to him and yanking your arm free.

He looked taken aback that you actually acknowledged him, unlike the incidents before. He sputtered, you almost laughed in his face-- because, Draco Malfoy, sputtering? You've never seen that before.

"If you're just going to gawk at me like a weirdo," Already turning away. "then I think I'll take my leave."

"No!" He said a little too loudly. Lower this time "No, look, can we talk."

You pursed your lips, masking your face with the indifference that he normally carried himself with. "We don't have anything to talk about."

Once again, you turned away, managing to get four steps in this time.

“Look, can i just-“ He cuts himself off when your steps don’t falter. “Y/n, please.”

You immediately pause mid-step. He sounded, desperate. You let out a silent sigh, slowly turning to face him, his eyes were burning into yours once you met them.

You stare at him until he casts his eyes downcast. “I’m sorry.” He mumbles.

“What?” Your eyebrows furrow, surely he doesn’t expect you to accept that pitiful apology. “I didn’t hear you.”

“I’m sorry, okay?” He snaps at you, meeting your gaze once again.

You raise you eyebrow at him, unamused.

“I’m sorry.” Once again, more sincere this time.

Yet, you couldn’t find it in yourself to forgive him, not right now at least. You didn’t care if it took a lot in him to pack up the courage and apologize, you refuse to let Draco Malfoy walk all over you again. He’ll have to earn your forgiveness.

You stare at him blankly for a few seconds, his cheeks flush and once again looks away from you.

“I bet you are.” A mumbled response as you walk away from him, just like you walked away from him on the night of his rejection, yet this time you didn’t carry the burden of a broken heart.

Lotus flowers. He somehow got you a bouquet of lotus flowers, your favorite. You’re not sure how he even managed to do that, with such flowers, but he did.

You couldn’t deny the way your heart fluttered when you looked up and met his grey eyes, shining with hopefulness, a few ways down the slytherin table in the great hall.

You hadn’t talked to him in a few days and he hadn’t seeked you out, a part of you was a little disappointed, but now that feeling disintegrated.

You actually haven’t talked to the three other slytherins sitting around him either. They apologized too and you reluctantly accepted, but still chose to surround yourself with other people, people who wouldn’t laugh at you behind your back.

“He’s really trying, isn’t he?” Tracey Davis chuckled softly from her place next you, gazing at the beautiful flowers you held in your hand.

“I guess.” You mumble, pursing your lips in thought.

“Well, are you going to forgive him or carry it out a little longer?” Milicent asks, with a smirk adorning her face, you already knew which choice she’d prefer.

You smirk back at her before swiftly casting an incendio to the beautiful flowers, you only regretted it a little, but it was all worth it once you saw the look on his face.

His mask crumbled. Good, i’ll incendio his flowers like he did my heart, you thought bitterly.

The next advance he made was when you were next to your favorite window, in the abandoned corridor. The sun was close to setting, making a beautiful orange tint cast across the corridor.

You heard footsteps, each once coming closer to you and you immediately knew it was him. You had felt him staring at you all day, each one getting harder to ignore. Especially the ones that were burning through your skull when you were around Harry.

But you never gave him the satisfaction of meeting his eye. You completely ignored him, as if he wasn’t there, as if you he was easily dismissible.

“Y/n.” He calls your name once he reached you, voice obviously trying to seem casual.

A noncommittal hum was your response, not bothering to look up from the book you had on your lap, still casually leaning against the wall, basking in the orange rays that hit you.

“Y/n.” His voice was softer this time, softer than you’ve ever heard before, making your head snap to his automatically.

In his arms were a bunch of your favorite sweets, you weren’t sure how he knew which you preferred. You raise your eyebrow in question.

“I know how you like to snack.” He mumbles, laying down the foods next to you, he rambles on. “I know you usually like to watch the sun go down by the black lake, but since it’s colder out i knew you’d be here. You were always the type that liked to snack a lot— i already said that, sorry...i brought your favorites.” He looked at you sheepishly.

You never seen him look so... shy. You were stumped, didn’t even know what to say. You just stared at the food next to you for a minute.

“Thanks,” You say slowly, still trying to process. “How did you know these were my favorites?”

He shrugged, half-heartedly. “I paid attention.”

You scoffed, that same bitter feeling washing over you for a second. “Honestly Malfoy, these attempts at getting at me are getting more pathetic each time.” You reused his words.

Regretting it immediately, when he flinched. Looking pained by it. You wanted to enjoy his pain, but nothing about it satisfied you, not anymore it seemed, not when he’s so clearly trying.

He gave you a washed-out smile, “I hope you enjoy them.” Then walked away, you listened till you could no longer hear his footsteps.

You were walking side by side with Harry, desperately trying to listen to the story he was telling you. His hands were whisking in the air, adding dramatics, and every so often he’d have to push his glasses up. You would usually find this amusing, but you were distracted.

Draco had been doing nice things for you all week. You were trying hard to hold this grudge you built, but with you each soft smile and saddened eyes he sent your way, your resolved crumbled.

The butterflies hesitantly coming out their cage.

And he did seem sorry, truly he did, you were so close to forgiving him. You don’t know what was holding you back anymore.

You met his eyes from across the corridor, his eyes softening once meeting yours, then hardening a second later when seeing who was next to you. Yet, he kept his path to you.

“May i talk to you?” He asked softly, not acknowledging Harry, who stopped his animated story.

You looked at the green eyed boy next to you, he took the hint and turned down the opposite corridor. “Yeah, sure.”

That familiar streak of hope flashes through his eyes as he led you down to the gardens to the bench that you loved to occupy.

“I wanted to say i’m sorry, again.” He said once you both were seated, your knees knocked against his when he turned his body towards you.

You nodded, signaling him to go on.

“It was wrong for me to treat you like that, to say those things.” He took a deep breath. “I was stupid, i took advantage of the best thing that ever happened to me. You were always so good to me, treating me with kindness that i didn’t deserve. Will never deserve.”

“Dra-“ He cut you off gently.

“No, just let me get this out first.” He placed his hand over yours timidly, when you didn’t pull away, he interlocked his fingers with yours. “You did things for me that no one else has ever done. I was flattered at first, when i first realized you liked me, i didn’t think you could ever like me. You’ve always been so beautiful, i never thought i would have a chance. But then i find out you liked me. I got the prettiest girl in Hogwarts to like me.” He shook his head, letting out a humorless laugh.

He continued on, “It got to my head obviously, i thought maybe if i shown my interest, you’d realize that i wasn’t as great as you thought me to be. It was so dumb of me, to act like i didn’t like you, i actually got myself to believe i didn’t.”

He moved closer to you, “I understand if you don’t forgive me, i don’t deserve it honestly. Fuck, i wouldn’t even forgive me. But, i would regret it if i didn’t at least try.”

He brought your interlocked hands closer to him, kissing the back of your hand, “So this is me, putting my heart out there, either for you to break or hold in your hands. Please forgive me and give me another chance, that i don’t deserve?”

You didn’t even know your eyes were tearing up until one slid down your cheek, before you could wipe it away, his thumb came up and did it for you.

You didn’t answer, you just placed your lips on his. Caressing his lips with your own, feverishly. Pouring out every emotion into him. He kissed you back with just the same passion. Bringing his hands to your face, caressing his thumbs on your flushing cheeks, tilting your head back as he controlled your lips. Bringing the kiss to a softer pace. Your hands played with the hair on his nape, until he pulled back.

“So, was that a yes?” He breathed a laugh, you could still see the vulnerability in his eyes.

“Yes, of course, you idiot.”

“Yeah?” He was smiling ear to ear.

“Yeah,” You kissed him breathless once more, then pulling back. “but first you have to get me another one of those bouquets.”

“Anything.” He states softly, placing his lips back on yours, as if he’s done it for years.

[coepiteamare]

nine thousand, seven hundred nineteen kilometers

pairing: yoongi x female!oc  genre: mild angst, it’s not fluff but it’s not angst, thieves oc & yoongi  warnings: mild angst, oc and yoongi are thieves (think ocean’s 8/11-13, pickpockets in this drabble), lapslock word count: 1.4k

summary: you find love somewhere in between los angeles and new york and lose your heart in between paris and tokyo. (alt. maybe he’s the compulsion you can’t seem to shake, the ache that doesn’t fade even nine thousand, seven hundred and nineteen kilometers away)

paris is much quieter than the places you’re used to, but it’s not a bad thing.

you like having coffees in cafes, settling in nooks, and drinking in the scenery spread outside the window. there’s a slight soreness in your arms from the aerial act last night that you remedy with macarons and the cafe cat that comes to sit in your lap, nuzzling its nose in your turtleneck. but the itch in your fingertips refuses to subside: a dull craving that refuses to be muffled no matter how many hobbies you pick up, how many characters you adapt and abandon, how many miles you put between yourself and los angeles. 

maybe you should move to amsterdam, you think as you thank the cafe owner. you contemplate luxembourg as you give the cat one last pet and leave behind a half eaten croissant. dubai is also pretty, you tell yourself as you bump into a youngman in a peacoat. hand into his pocket. you fall over, gripping on to his sleeve, as he reaches out to stabilize you. his prada wallet in your bag. you flash him a shy smile that could make the eiffel tower crumble. his watch on your wrist. you giggle an apology--i’m so sorry, i was distracted, i should have been paying more attention--and vanish into the crowd in a haze of vanilla and rose with his gucci tie clip in the pocket of your trench coat.

old habits die hard. 

maybe it’s not a habit you’re trying to get rid of, something whispers in the back of your head, or maybe you’re not trying at all. shut up, you whisper back.

you close the door quickly when you enter your flat, letting the fall chill know it’s an unwelcome guest before it can settle in. 

the apartment you live in is small, a little out of the way from central paris, but you like the trimmings on the cabinets and the colours of the wall. it feels lived in, less sterile than white walls, and it feels like what a home should feel like. there’s scratches on the countertop and smudges of the lives of tenants before you, and, really, you could do a lot better with the money from tokyo, but it was the first place that didn’t hiss at your insecurities in the sound of his voice. all the other ones you had seen had reminded you of him--walls painted with his laughter, banisters lined with the snap of his gloves, floors tiled in his stupid, ostentatious spending habits--and you had almost given up on paris, almost decided to live in the cheap motel with shitty coffee and questionable door locks because the first hotel you checked into had him written all over it (as did the next one and the next one and the next) until you found this apartment, cozy and in need of upkeep. i’m yours, it seemed to say; better yet, it said nothing at all. yours (whatever that meant). 

“you should get better locks,” his voice rings, and you drop your purse, items clattering to the floor. 

he looks just as you remember him: soft, wispy bangs against pale skin, dark eyes taking in more information than you could ever know, jaw and mouth sharp like he’d bite if you made the wrong move. the way the sun gently brushes him with a soft golden glow makes you wonder if he’s somehow conned the sun into working for him. (he’s always had a flair for dramatics, even if he claims there’s no room for theatrics in his plans.) you wrench your gaze away from him, your ribcage suddenly two sizes too tight for the thudding contraption it holds inside.

“have you ever thought locks were meant to keep people out, yoongi? that maybe people have locks to try and keep whatever’s inside them safe?” you pick up the items off the floor, carefully placing them back into your purse, trying to keep your voice steadier than your hands. 

“i have a proposition for you,” he says, without missing a beat, like nothing happened in tokyo. 

“would you have sought me out if you didn’t?” you mutter under your breath. you don’t like the bitterness that spreads through your mouth, the hurt that lingers like a bad aftertaste. “i’m retired,” you lean against the wall. you wonder if the scuff marks on the floor have been there a while. you try to look everywhere but him, but your training kicks in and you’re hypersensitive to everything he does: the way his shoulders are loose but his eyes are constantly moving, the way he still holds the tea cup like he did the first time he took you to a cafe 3 minutes after he met you, the way his left hand is still, unnatural, like he wants to drum them against the table or pick a lock, have something to do. 

he hums and sips the tea in front of him. “i would have been a little quicker with the wallet,” your head turns to him in shock, “but other than that, it was a pretty solid job.” of course he was watching. there was nothing yoongi missed, from the stutter in your heartbeat to the thrum of your fingers against the wall. he drops his smile and his gaze bores into yours, but you feel the smug satisfaction smothering you like his cologne that still permeates your dreams, six months later and six thousand miles away.  

“awareness of surroundings has gotten sloppy though.”

“fuck you.” 

his shoulders shake as he laughs, breath catching with every inhale. it takes him a minute to collect himself, but the smile doesn’t fall. “the crew misses you.”

“more like you couldn’t find another acrobat,” you scoff. everything about this is painfully familiar: the sharp rapport, the sparks, him. it’s too easy to settle back into habit, even if you’ve been burnt before. it feels like diving back under the covers, body aching to crawl back to what it knows. the words slide out of your mouth before you have a chance to think about them, bitter and acrid. “were you even trying?” 

“were you even trying? it’s like you wanted to get caught” he had scoffed, mouth acidic even at your tear stained face. “this isn’t a fucking performance you get to put on night after night. there is no safety net waiting to catch you. that-” he gestures at the wind, at the depository miles away from you, “whatever that was almost cost us this job.”

“i’ve missed you.” he smiles, and just like that, you hear the faint click, his words cracking the pin code on your ribcage and unlocking the heart you’ve tried so desperately to cage. you should have known better: there’s never been a lock yoongi couldn’t pick, a safe he couldn’t find his way into. nothing has been able to keep him out: not the gallery treasury in newport beach with its earthquake proof alarm system, not the cartier vault in new york city with its impressive randomized laser grid, and certainly not the flimsy, fickle alarm system of your heartbeat. 

“how did you find me?” your voice is too soft, muddled under memories buried six feet under.

“have you ever seen me fail to get what i want?” he makes his way to you and doesn’t stop until you’re pressed against the wall, the tips of his shoes against yours. sandalwood tickles your throat as you take a breath. his nose brushes against yours, pink lips mere centimeters away. 

“i meant what i said, your awareness of your surroundings needs work.” his breath fogs your clarity. “besides, if they wanted to keep things safe, maybe they should try a bit harder. i’m just here to prove that all things can be found.” he taps a finger against your nose lightly, mouth stretching into a smile before he makes his way towards the door with his hands in his pocket. he doesn’t turn back to look at you. “you know how to find me.”

you stand there, dazed, until the faint tap, tap, tap of the rain against your windowpane breaks the fog, sun submerged in velvet darkness. 

maybe he’s just as potent as a habit, just as hard to kill. 

you find a plane ticket to los angeles in your backpocket, a burner phone in your coat pocket. your safe door is wide open, contents untouched, with a post it note on top. 

it’s like you’re not even trying. p.s. did you miss me?

A/N:  a BIG thank you to hana @taestybae​ for reading this and telling me she loved it. i absolutely adore you. 

i’m going to work to expand on the universe (hopefully) and introduce the rest of the crew because words cannot describe how much i love this universe and these characters.