#had me sweating bullets and clutching the table for dear life

[fingertipsmp3]

Everybody: physical therapy hurts! You’re going to feel like you’ve been beaten up after you get out

Me: yep okay

Me when the physical therapy hurts:

[tomsrebeleyebrow]

attraction |  hs vampire au

moodboard made by me so don’t use pls

Pairing: Vampire!Harry x NewbornVampire!Reader

Warnings: major mention of blood, basically a slow burn with sexual tension/teasing, SMUT including unprotected sex (wrap it up before ya tap it), kids), voyeurism, oral (f receiving) and so much more, fluff and a tiny bit of angst

Word count: 10.9k (oops)

A/N: well... hi again? i guess?? 🙃 back from the dead agaaaain 🙌🏻 okay but i had a major writer block since my last one shot and oof, was it tough... but now i’m back! more relax and feeling inspired for halloween? so hope you will enjoy this special oneshot about one of my fav brit boys ❤️💞

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Somewhere near London, UK – year unknown.

Tonight was probably the worst one you ever experienced in your life – well, afterlife –, aside from being turned into a monstrous blood creature against your will just a few months ago. Despite your new inhuman abilities, the mob running and screaming after you still gains ground since you’re leaving a most vivid trail for them to follow.

Though your heart no longer has a normal pulse it feels as if each thump is excruciating pain. The obvious reason might be because you haven't been able to feed yourself properly since you've been... reborn. And so very little human blood was running through your veins because you couldn’t seem to control the hypnosis power. That’s why you’ve been sticking to animal blood but if you were honest, it didn’t give your body the same strength.

Now your body starts to grow heavier by the minute, along with a most painful throb to your fangs that threatens to turn you into a mindless monster that will slaughter aimlessly just to get fed. But that's not what you want. No. No. It may have been four or maybe five months since you could no longer be considered as normal, but still you thought of yourself as a human. And hurting any human was just not conceivable at all for you. You just couldn’t... But sometimes, even the biggest will in the world wasn’t enough anymore.

I feel so sick, I can't go on much longer...

If only these damn hunters knew I wasn't going to kill anyone...

All I wanted was some of her blood because she was alone... just a little bit...

Tears form in the corner of your eyes, feeling like a lost and hopeless child despite being in your twenties. Though you suppose you won’t age anymore now? Or maybe age in such a slow manor you will not be able to see the changes until dozens of years pass. You have no idea at all. The person whom turned you didn't even care to explain a damn thing and just left saying it would be “quite amusing to watch you struggle”.

Your fangs grit in anger just by remembering all this, remembering how and why you could have been so naive – stupid being the right word actually. Willing the tears away you jump into the nearest centenary oak on the side and climb as high as you possibly can. The leaves and branches obscure most of your body, making it easier to hide yourself as you wait in breathless silence for several long minutes. The humans bellow carry guns and crossbows, even torches with blistering fires waving in the cool British wind so hiding from them is definitely the best solution here.

They seem confuse at losing sight of you and your tracks, but the conversation you pick up with your improved hearing foretells how they believe you're still in the area. A tall man with a buff body and dirty blond hair seems the most knowledgeable and well prepared as he dictates how everyone should fan out to cover more space.

Sweat is now dripping all over your body in a way that lets you know your consciousness is going to fade if you don't feed yourself soon. So you use the little strength you have left to escape their sight, silently crawling from a branch to another to reach the next tree. Your senses are becoming dull as well and you know by now you’ll never be able to put up much of a fight if they spot you.

Since there is no one around right now, you decide it may be the best opportunity to climb down and try to get further away into the forest. However, you barely make it to the ground, crunching some leaves beneath your feet before a bullet was fired directly at you. With the quickest slam of your body to the ground, you avoid being hit. For the moment, at least.

“Don't let her get away!”

“Shoot her down! She's weak now!”

Your head shakes, body shivering in a sense of mixed cold and fear, hearing dozens of weapons getting loaded before bullets and arrows start whizzing your way, thanks the lords most of them missing you due to your astute senses. Like blondie said, you are now really weak and can’t help but fail to avoid all of them as one wooden arrow pierces through your shoulder, sending you tumbling to the floor with a screech of pain.

It hurts more than you expected it to, but you grit your teeth and yank it from your skin in one motion. The wound may not be that deep but you can feel blood oozing down your back, staining the fabric of your long dress. After forcing yourself to stand you try to keep running, but after a few steps your body succumbs to your fatigue and falls, noticing the humans have now formed a pretty wide circle around you to cut off every single path possible to escape.

If you weren't this weak and starving for blood, you could fight them off and get away but at this moment, that’s completely impossible. A man with long black hair approaches, extending his hand forward as he’s holding out a wooden cross. The closer he gets the more a headache pounds inside your head, causing you to hiss in agony, tears swelling in your eyes and claws scratching the muddy ground.

Is this the end?

I never got to really live...

I never got to properly love... Love in a way that was true and fulfilling.

A tear slides down your cheek but it's too late. Everyone readies their crossbows and guns to fire at the behest of the long raven haired man. Both of your eyes immediately clench shut, preparing for your upcoming death...

But it never came.

Suddenly, screams and several wet crunches invade your ears while your eyelids slide open the moment you feel an imposing shadow looming over your body. A broad but not too bulky back comes into view as you note a peculiar style of clothing, the vivid red suit they wear contrasting with the dark surrounding of the London outskirt. However the smell of fresh blood rushes through your nostrils, causing your eyes to pulsate and your fangs to throb hungrily.

“How dare you filthy humans attack one of my kind.”

A deep unfamiliar voice penetrates your skull, making you lift your head and discover a tall man with dark wavy hair. He slightly turns towards you, sending you a stoic yet piercing type of glare with intense scarlet pupils that causes goosebumps to bubble all over your body. You have no idea who he is but you can feel in your guts that not only he is indeed a vampire as well but that he's extremely powerful, as demonstrated from the way he dismembers two humans with the vicious dart forward and jerk of his hands. The corpses join the other four on the floor who you discover have their heads decapitated in a clean swipe, no jagged edging to the flesh around their torsos.

The imagery is whiteout a doubt disgusting to even look at, but it's even more appalling that all you can think about is how delicious all this river of bloody disaster smells and how exquisite it would be sliding down you throat. You start to salivate heavily with the madness of hunger, the extreme sensation almost completely overwhelming you but you try your best to hold yourself at bay.

“I didn't expect to see ya again thi' soon, Harry...” your blonde pursuer sighs, his facial expression clearly showing that now, tables have turned.

“I don't want to hear it" interrupts your saviour (at least you hope he is?), his intimidating hoarse voice bringing chills to everyone – you included – while still in front of you. “Leave right now, Niall or I won’t hesitate to rip off y’head too.”

The man named Harry flares all ten of his claws to life, also baring his fangs to definitely reveal that nothing of this was just for show. “'m sick of you killing my people. If they're slaughtering the humans, it would be different but this one–” He turns pointing his finger at you, “this girl hasn't killed anyone. I can smell it... You're chasin' her down for no reason.”

“T-That's not– she was attacking someone, dat's why she got caught–”

"If you speak one more word to me that isn't beggin' for your life followed by leaving, I'll rip all of your limbs before I even go for y’head.”

Harry and Niall stare each other down, the tension as shape as a knife. The human may know how to counter his vampire foe but in all likelihood with most of their numbers dead or bleeding to death, he's aware that right now he has not a single chance. And once again, cohabitation seems the only way to get out of here in one piece (hopefully).

“Fine... we'll be goin'. I know thi’ is yar territory mate, we crossed da border” Niall apologises, a hand over his chest and a small bow before telling his fellow hunters to retreat back to the city.

Though Harry isn't usually happy about letting humans go his posture is finally relaxing a bit, claws retracting as he death glares everyone down until they are no longer insight.

With a long and heaved sigh he fully turns around, finding you holding your head and gritting your fangs in disarray. It's quite clear you are probably not even aware of your surroundings, the blood shot vessels in your eyes telling the brunette your current state of hungriness. As soon as he's by your side in a blink of an eye, he bends down on his knees in front of you, pushing your own hands away so he can clutch your cheeks.

“Calm down, dear, relax your mind. Open your mouth and let me see your fangs, please.”

Though you whimper in uncertainty, that man in front of you is after all the vampire that slaughtered those humans to save you. So you still let him give a look at your small white fangs, your whole jawbone hurting as if you just got punched right in the face.

“I see they haven't grown completely... You must’ve been turned recently, am I right?”

Harry seems slightly angry, though you're not entirely sure it's directed at you but more at his findings. When he pulls back, you follow his body as he grabs a nearby severed arm and brings it back to you. His brows raise in surprise, not expecting this reaction when you whine and push it away, clearly disgusted by it.

“There’s no time to be picky anymore, darling. Y'need to stop thinkin' you're still human, so drink the blood.”

Your head slowly raises, panting as you stare right into his most mesmerising green eyes, some scarlet red from before still outlining his pupils, with your own sorrow filled orbs. Though Harry knows what that look represents, he could hold no sympathy for your lost humanity as he delicately brushes his hand through your hair before pushing the flesh into your mouth for your own good.

It only takes a second for your fight to disappear, the taste of blood that your veins and taste buds have longed for these last weeks finally flowing in your system. Like a wild beast your fangs sink deeper into the arms flesh, sucking and gulping greedily until it's nothing but a shrivelled and discolored severed limb.

The older vampire watches your irises glow with the brightness of your eye colour. In like a snap the strained vessels inside your sclera dissipate bits by bits, assuring that the wound on your back would heal after some minutes as well. Harry expected it when you flicker with your new found strength over to one of the corpses and starts bleeding it dry.

He stands here, crossing his arms over his classy red velvet suit while watching over you. Once he judges you had enough and didn't want you to become addicted in a way that would drive you insane, he carefully but still kind of strongly grab your wrist. You let a little hiss at him, defiantly, which makes him smirk in a way that lets admire his now noticeable dimples and handsome features. Within a few seconds you calm down but Harry is now holding both of your wrists in his grip

“Stay still, dear” was his command, simple yet strict so it feels like you have no choice but to obey.

After letting go of both of your hands once you calmed down, Harry cups your chin with his thumb and index finger, gently turning your head back and forth. You are not sure what the brunette is doing until he finds feint punctures on the side pale skin of you neck. The wound itself seems healed but you still have little small bruises.

“How long ago were you turned and who was it? Why are they not here watchin' over you?”

His array of questions makes you frown, wiggling free of his grasp just so you can huddle your hands around your trembling sorrow body, memories getting their way back into your brain. Memories you consider more as nightmares that keeps hunting you like a damn curse, only to remind you at each breath you take that nothing will be like it was before.

“He was... s-someone I cared about. We'd been seeing each other for a while, and then one day... H-he bit me... a-and forced his blood down my throat.” Telling the story doesn’t really make you feel any better, specially when you let Harry know that the man you trusted only wanted to watch you suffer for his own pleasure.

Seeing a newborn vampire like yourself, looking as lost and fragile as a deer into the wildness, really gets to him. Harry lived for countless centuries he forgot the exact number, but he definitely knows since day one that turning people was against the rules for the most part. At least turning someone and not helping them come into their new desires, powers and hunger. Honestly he is quite impressed you lasted so long on your own when he heard you say it has been nearly five months.

“Come this way, darlin'. The air reeks of human filth out her’.”

With a sudden but graceful turn the vampire starts walking away and finds it amusing how you scamper behind him like a lost puppy. Even your hand grabs the back of his velvety suit, like you dread the feeling of being alone. His comparison to you as newborn is not to be mean or even condescending. You are just so new to your turning that it is perfectly plausible to be scared and anxious about literally anything in your surrounding.

Harry doesn’t mind at all and pretty soon, you both are stepping deeper into the forest your attack happened for a good twenty minutes if not more. Then in front of you slowly appears what looks like a field, a large meadow embraced by the night and in its middle a quint little cottage. It looks nice and homey, but not what you first expected from a fearful creature like him.

“It's not a castle...”

The older vampire sneers at your remark and then turns to you, showing a surprisingly charming grin before pointing to the east. “My real home's far away from here, that's where the castle of y’stories will be. It's vast an' much larger than y'could possibly think, but I don't really fancy it.”

Your eyes blink curiously at him before gasping and pointing your finger in disbelief, a sudden realisation sticking your mind.

“O-Oh my god– are you from r-ro-royalty?!”

“You could say that” the brunette grins while pushing some curly locks back from his forehead. “Lord Harold Edward Styles, is what they call me. Harry for short.”

He merely cackles when your eyes start to swirl in confusion, before babbling nonstop that you didn't know and hope in the same breath with fearful eyes that he won’t kill you. Harry can’t help but frown at this, letting out a sigh.

“Come 'ere and tell me your name, dear. I have no reason to kill ya.”

For some reason, the peaceful and serious expression on his face feel trustworthy, offering his hand like a safety net he knows you need to feel secure. So after a small nibble of your bottom lip, you slowly place your petite hand in his and let him pull you inside his home.

“My name is (Y/N)... Thank you for saving me, my Lord.”

It honestly feels awkward to refer to him like that but maybe was it his rightful term? Being now a vampire yourself, you assume your “rank” is probably way lower than his so “serving” him seems... obvious, right? Yet anything that was happening since you began this new life was a matter of pure confusion to you, even more now since your new encounter with this vampire from royalty.

“You wanted to know who turned me... well, his name was Nick. I don't know if he's still around here, I'm sorry–”

“Just call me Harry, darlin’. I don't care at all for useless formalities unless y’break the rules or try to attack me.”

You viciously nod your head. Never would you do that, you still feel incredibly grateful and intimated by just being in his presence.

“The name sounds familiar as well. A fugitive whose turns 'umans against their will for dozens of years...” Harry mutters to himself, looking pissed that the enforcers in charge of catching people like that still haven't.

And so over the next few days, you learned about your new species in details and got a low down on all the rules you must do your best to follow at all costs. Harry even began to teach you about your abilities and how to tame your appetite for blood, though he commented once again that you were handling yourself well from the beginning.

Harry is for sure a mysterious man and doesn’t honestly act like someone whom is probably rightful King to the vampire’s world. It’s pretty clear he lived a long life while yours had just started. He appears to you as a ray of hopeful guidance in a world that becomes murky and malleable.

“(Y/N), dear, come 'ere.”

At his beckoning call, you place down the book you're reading and come to sit down next to him on the couch. At this point you've been staying with him in the cottage for a few months and knew what to expect when his hands approach your visage to cup your cheeks. Though it’s still a little embarrassing, but still you part your lips and let him examine your fangs like he has many times before ever since you met.

“They're just 'bout fully grown, since you've been fed regularly.”

Your head nod as his hands delicately slide away. It looks like there is something going on his mind, an internal struggle based on his body language that you get used to understand by now.

“Are you still havin' headaches and painful pulses?”

Honestly you wish to say no so he wouldn't worry. But the man likes the truth and only the truth as if the word is his middle name, and you own him that.

“Sometimes... but I'm fine right now. I thought it might be a form of withdraw?”

“You're not too far off. That piece of– person who turned ya didn't give you enough blood. Your human cells an' new vampire ones were basically fighting for dominance at the beginning, but it's clear which one will win in the end.”

Lifting his hand he uses the sharp claw of his index to slice a gash across his palm. Instantly his dark red blood pools in his grasp, before holding it out towards you.

“Drink.”

“I... c-can't?” It comes out as a question because you are indeed confused. “I mean– am I even allowed to? You're the vampire Lord after all... I–I don't want you to get in trouble–”

Harry chuckles immediately, like there isn’t a being alive that could punish him for breaking the rules. With a lift of his unharmed hand looping around your hip, he has you feeling all kind of dizzy when he clenches his fist and dripped his blood onto your plump pink lips.

“Just drink, dear. Maybe I need to start teachin' ya not to question my decisions, mmh?”

His words and your newfound position that has you sitting in his lap makes you feel bashful. You barely begin to lick your lips when the brunette lets you grab his hand to hold it up against your mouth. He feels your warm tongue lap lightly at first along his cold skin, before pursing against the wound and slowly starting to suck.

“That's it... You can sink y'fangs in if you want. The wound will heal faster than you think.”

You blink your big doe eyes at him, your face wondering without a word if all this is alright but you know Harry doesn’t want you to doubt him. Pulling back for just a second you take a breath and bare you fangs again, gently pressing into his skin enough to gulp a little more of his blood. As soon as he decides you had enough Harry pulls back and to your surprise, his wound and marks of your fangs both disappear within a few seconds.

The corners of his pale lips edge up, amused by your astonishment but he startles you with a reposition of your body before you can even realise anything. Now your legs are suddenly straddling either side of his hips, both of your hands pressing timidly at the turquoise suit covering his shoulders with confusion and shyness as the vampire brushes back your hair and leans down to your neck.

“My turn, now” his voice enticingly rasps against your skin. “We can replenish each other thi' way... though my blood is more to stabilise your vampire genes.”

Harry aires the hottest breath along your neck as he then bares his long fangs and sinks deeply into your flesh. You can’t help but gasp, but it sounds more like a moan that you aren’t completely aware of as he starts sucking your warm liquid.

“O-oh Harry–”

He smirks at your honesty, looping both of his hands around your backside. Within seconds he feels your own unsure sway, with the slow pet up against the back of his dark curls. It's been awhile since the brunette had a woman in his arms so his instincts and desires are telling him to take advantage of it.

But in the end Harry resolves against himself as you are still new to his world, and just wants to help you without adding strings. After a handful of seconds and a gulp or two of your sweet wine he pulls back, tenderly lapping up and down the holes until they heal properly and then help you sliding off his lap to make you sit next to him, catching sight of a shy blush of your cheeks and slightly faze expression.

“You shouldn't experience headaches anymore, darlin'” he begins almost too indifferently, “just don't do anything futile an' you’ll get used to bein' a vampire in no time.”

Next Harry sits up more comfortably, flattening his cream oversize pantsuits over his thighs as he side-eyes your cute expression – though is kind of displeased that you’re not looking at him anymore. But he does have to admit that teasing someone was such a nice sensation.

"I’m goin’ to make us some food, so relax in the meantime.”

You simply nod as an answer, definitely not trusting your voice since only stutters would come out if you try. But Harry doesn’t seem to pay attention to your lack of vocal answer, a satisfied expression on his face since he keeps enjoying the reactions you get over anything he does. And as much as he could simply use pressure to dominate and have you sweating in fear, all the man wants is a companion that won’t mind being at his side for awhile.

And so that's exactly who you became to the vampire.

Even after a few months and display that you were functioning perfectly as a vampire and could live on your own without trouble if you desired, you stayed. But the disheartened expression you showed him when Harry said you could leave struck a chord inside his chest. It was clear you thought he’s got tired of you or that you weren't allowed to stay with someone like him for very long because of his status.

Instantly the older vampire put a stop to any of those thoughts by saying that if you wanted to stay, you could. He wasn't kicking you out, he was only giving you the opportunity to leave and see the world by yourself. You were still a young and inexperienced vampire after all. Though the thought of traveling didn't sound like a bad idea, the year you spent with Harry up to this point had been very enjoyable. He held a most gentle yet imposing aura, which was only right since he was not just Lord in name but mostly in power. However that wasn't why you wanted to stay.

Harry had taken care of you and made you feel safe. The feeling you began to experience for him was new but somehow, you wanted to nurture the desire to be with him and make him happy if possible. The way he talked, teased, touched, held you in his grasp and let you feed off of him felt so intimate and somehow romantic.

In this respect time flew by and in a way felt like it had frozen since neither of you would show any signs of ageing. Both of you grew closer and found out that Harry was (surprisingly) a great cook, received visitors from the castle he told you about almost all the time and had a soft spot for the graceful beauty of nature. It was not that hard to tell because the brunette admitted right away that he enjoyed wandering outside the cottage, might be only to walk around or appreciate the first rays of dawn or sunset. And you could tell he took care to not trample the flowers under his steps and sometimes, you saw him watering the ones around his front porch. Some days you would even notice a new bouquet freshly gathered, settled in a Victorian style vase on the living room table. It was a small most insignificant trait, but you adored finding out those types of mannerisms.

“Harry?” you call softly with a thoughtful finger under your chin. At first you thought he was reading in his study since he had a nice little library, but the room was empty. Turning back, you check the living room and kitchen but they are both empty as well.

For a moment you wonder if he stepped out without saying – he's done it multiple times before. However you stop in front of his bedroom and get the feeling he might be taking a nap, another thing that isn’t uncommon. If he indeed is resting you don’t want to disturb him but after a small knock, you peak your head inside the room.

Low and behold there the brunette vampire is laying sprawled out on his bed, the silly thought that it should have been a coffin makes you giggle but you learned with him that many stereotypical aspects of vampires are so wrong – though it's true you can't walk in the sunlight, that crosses can cause pain and any significant damage to your body will kill you.

Now that you know he's asleep, you can't ask him what you wanted. Without getting too close you watch him sleep for a second and find his peaceful expression alleviating. Every now and then, you get the feeling the weight of the world was on his shoulders. And inside your heart, you know he was such a good man. After maybe a minute you turn back, ready to head out the room but his low and raspy voice calls out to you in a way that has you tripping over your own feet, bumping into the nearby wall.

“What is it, (Y/N)? Aren’t ya a bit clumsy, dear?” Harry snickers while sitting up, watching you rub your shoulder with a flustered expression.

From the look on your face and the way you avoid eye contact, he can clearly guess what you are bashfully unsure of if it's alright to ask of him.

“If you want to be fed, come ‘ere.”

The fact that Harry always knows what's on your mind is a little scary and reassuring at the same time because he has never used any of his power to harm you. With soft eyes, you step over to the right side of his bed and watch as he unbuttons the first few around the collar of his extravagant flowing shirt. As soon as his neck is exposed from the lacy collar, the vampire leans to the side beckoning you to take what you want without a word.

A gulp slides down your throat as you sit down on the edge of the bed. With the lift of your hands, you slowly push his pearly necklace up then press them on each of his shoulders before brushing your nose along his neck, fanning an ever soft breath against his skin with the bare of your fangs.

“I really like your personality, Harry... I-I’ve never met anyone like you.”

Your tender confession catches him off guard more than the actual prick of your fangs, not that any bite you'd already given him comes with very much force. The brunette can feel himself enjoying the way you suck his blood out of his system. It’s definitely a hard thing to play off for him right now, and it has actually been every single day you shared with him.

When you had a gulp or two you then part a little and tenderly kitten-like lap at your punctures, speeding up the healing process for him.

“... do you want to bite me as well?”

Though your cheeks are a little warm you show a most candid smile, brushing back your hair to display your neck for him just as he has done for you.

“I do, but... I'll decide where I want to bite ya. Just relax, darlin'.”

Despite a little confusion, you don’t mind the tug of your body closer to his own. Both of his unblinking emerald orbs glanced your body up and down in a way that makes you feel embarrassed. If he’s not going to bite your neck, where else is he going to sink his fangs?

The dress you have on is a simple long white off the shoulder variety that honestly displays some of your skin while still letting you look sweet and innocent. Honestly Harry likes it a lot – maybe a bit too much actually – just because he would wickedly enjoy defiling that imagery in his mind. You are a kind and sweet woman, a total sweetheart indeed, but the man already found out vividly that you liked pleasure just as much as anyone else does.

Without thinking very much his cold hand raises up against your right knee, the tail of your outfit covering it. The way you shyly bite your bottom lip with your fangs is a hell of a nice image. Harry only caresses a little bit along your inner thigh before sliding his hand under the fabric, and then rest it directly on your skin. Edging his head forward he startles you with the way he tugs down the middle of you dress with his fangs, until he can see perfectly between your cleavage.

The location Harry chose is so confusing that your frame jolts the moment the vampire sinks into your flesh. Both his hands are against your body, enjoying its shape as he gulps your sweet nectar greedily. He savours your startled grasp on his shirt but the uneven pulse he feels beneath your flesh encourages him to keep going, his now scarlet orbs flickering with heavier desire.

All it takes is another small tug to reveal your bare breasts to his lidded sight. By time you realise his lips are already pursed around the closest nipple, warmly lapping the flat of his tongue in a way that feels exquisite. Like the male vampire you quickly get caught up in the moment, leaning your head back to moan and enjoy the added fray of his hand squeezing the other breast.

For a moment, you briefly thinks about how his saliva and tongue are both so warm as they suckle and lick your skin, when his flesh is cold and pale like your own. The answer doesn’t matter specially as his fangs tease your little nub. It’s clear Harry can’t hold back no more, now sunking savagely into your mound.

“O-oh my–!”

A ripple of pure ecstasy slides all over your body, causing you to moan Harry’s name not just once but a couple of times. The pleasure is so unexpected yet your arms circle around his shoulders, curving along his fine muscles but that’s when he realises how he’s letting his lust for you take over him.

Abruptly the brunette detaches from you, a small pop making you gasp but for the most part your hazy expression questions him with such want that he has to look away for his own sanity. The unhindered view of your breasts really dulls all of his develop senses. It had been awhile since he felt such powerful sexual desire for a woman, definitely way too long since his body was apparently getting out of control and a mind of its own. 

“Get out” Harry suddenly growls, making you frown and wonder what you’ve done wrong. “I didn't mean to do that– I just got caught up in trying to tease ya. If you're still hungry, go find a human.” When you don’t seem to move, still shocked at his harsh way of talking that rarely happen (in fact it never happens with you), the vampire turns his head back while flaring his menacing dark embers at you in a way that makes you tremble.

With a hurt expression you quickly cover your chest, trying to fix your dress the best you can before apologising like a hurt puppy and simply scamper at the speed of the light out of the room. Once alone, a now heavy silence settled in, Harry’s fists bowl-clawing his palms but it was the least he cared about. He didn’t mean to scare you, in fact he's been trying so hard not to use any of his powers on you.

The man is centuries older than you and shouldn't care about trivial feelings you may have, but both of you had such a good relationship since now and a part of him doesn’t want it to change... though Harry has always seen you as a beautiful woman. It’s not like he can’t admit that much at last, the man was kind of bad at expressing himself out loud most of the time. What he was most unsure about is if you really wanted him or if it was your vampire senses that tells you to submit to him like that.

With a heavy sigh he buttons his white shirt half way up, arranging his long and floating sleeves while deciding he should at least check on you. After all Harry won’t blame you for leaving if you want to create space between you two. Because now that he thinks about it, never did he ever speak to you like he did five minutes ago, and repeatedly calls himself a douche for that. 

The thought quickly – and thankfully – dissipates the moment he steps into the hall and hears the running water from the shower inside your bedroom. A relived expression formed on his face, glad that you didn’t leave. Abandonment was something he was used to over the centuries and had lived through many times. It’s honestly a miracle it had been about three years at this point and you maintained a good playful relationship with each other – well, until a few moments ago.

Soundlessly, Harry edges down the hall and notices the door of your bedroom open. As he approaches towards it, he finds himself inside the room before advancing to the closed bathroom door. Now in front of it he closes his eyes and place his hand on the wooden doorframe. His senses are far more astute than your own so every subtle breath you take, movements through the water or flex of your hands as they rubbed soap against your pale body... he could picture it pretty vividly. Just imagining the curves of your body is turning him on, specially thanks to the welcomed sneak peak at your chest from earlier. His fingers silently curl around the door knob, a light voice in his head reminding him once again he should stop before reaching the point of no return, that he should leave you in peace to wash up and later and offer you a nice meal as an apology for being a complete jackass earlier.

However, he can't. His senses twinge with the soothing aroma of lavender tickling his nostrils, knowing that's the soap he got you some weeks ago. With the slowest of movement that you won’t hear nor sense if you don't focus on it, the brunette opens the door wide enough to allow him a peak through the crack.

The first thing his eyes drag over is your long dress crumpled on the floor along with a soft cotton pair of light blue panties. Without waiting a second longer he tilts up and gets a completely unhindered view of your backside. His eyes follow the dip of your spine to the soft plush curve of your ass and long legs. Just observing this much of you has him gulping down hungrily but the moment you turn, using both hands to accentuate your breasts and stomach, there is no path to return to. All Harry can do is pant an uneven breath as you sway the water over your womanly shapes, washing away the soapy sheen of bubbles and suds.

The content and relaxed hum you air echoes inside the small space of the glass shower, bringing the man goosebumps of delight like a moan without sexual inclination. The more he watches your body and the subtle move of your fingers, the more Harry can't stop his own from unzipping his pantsuit to free his cock. His strong fingers curl around his girth, slowly pumping himself up and down as he watches you bend over just a bit to let water cascade down your back. An instant burn of want invades his entire body, the desire to squeeze those fine cheeks or even offer you a naughty little spank not leaving his mind.

Harry watches your hands do exactly what he desires when they pet down your hips and accentuate the shape of your bottom, like the water feels particularly nice cascading against it. Honestly, the smirk can’t leave his face. You're incredibly and undeniably sexy in a most natural way, so why holding back? His palm squeezes the tip of his manhood with excited fervor, still watching you smile shyly at the barely noticeable bite marks on your chest. You like to an extreme when the brunette vampire bites you, there’s no denying this fact as you moaned it to him many times. And Harry has a feeling you would have let him go further if he didn’t get confused about his fantasies.

The claws of his other hand dig into the frame of the door, scratching it all up as he pumps himself with the unbearable desire he has inside his guts for you to touch him. It doesn't even have to be his cock, he'd be fine with you admiring his body like you have before or stroking through his hair with that soft content smile on your delicate pink lips.

Thoughts inside his head become more erotic when he looks up at the sound of your soft voice humming a little tune. Both of his now dark scarlet eyes end up focusing on your mouth and gritting his teeth in a haze of wanting to feel those plump appendages against his girth. The movement of your tongue and warmth of your throat he can picture so vividly bring him closer and closer to the edge with each squeeze along his base and tip.

He even finds the way you rinse your hair to be erotic because you look so whimsical. A thought of wanting to devour you in every single way possible is what officially sends him over the edge, causing him to grind his teeth and grunt your name as he comes all over his hand.

His mind is so cloudy and hazy he doesn't even care that you’ve finally noticed him. Your eyes widen in total surprise, but your complexion darkens at the lewd sight of his arousal dripping from his fingers. Your head turns away before you can implode from embarrassment, hot water still running along your naked skin. You can’t help the deepest thoughts running wild and wondering if Harry was watching you shower to eventually pleasure himself to your body while doing so.

“Don't act shy now, my dear. I'm about to join you.”

At first you blink in confusion, glancing back in his direction to watch as he shuts the bathroom door to be inside the room with you. This signature showing-dimples grin enlightens his face in a way that reveals his pearly white fangs, before letting his already oversize black pantsuits fall to the floor. Harry is pretty quick to unbutton his shirt again, the soft and almost see-through fabric sliding off his shoulder to cascade on the floor soon followed by his trousers and underpants, leaving him absolutely naked for your eyes only.

Harry is the most attractive man you've ever laid your eyes on. A tall and sculptured vampiric body that probably hasn't changed for hundreds of years. With a few steps forward the brunette is on the other side of the shower glass door and wraps his fingers around the handle, ready to erase any distance separating you both. He pauses his movement for a few seconds, letting both of you take in each other’s new found appearance and what might be about to happen.

“If I join you, (Y/N)” begins Harry almost in a whisper, his eyes never leaving yours, “... I won’t ever be able to leave ya alone.”

Your eyes rise in surprise, his expression reflective of how serious he was being. For a second or two you turn away, your hands covering your face which is giving him the impression you might be having second thoughts. Though the croak of your voice and the tender expression you offer when you slowly spin back proves how you've been able to constantly surprise him these past years.

“Is that a promise?"

Without a second thought Harry is right by your side and looming over you in a possessive dominating way. Both of his hands pet along the warm and wet edge of your stomach, before gripping your hips and tugging you completely into his body. Without pretence his expression represents just how much he enjoys your whole and can’t wait but brush some of your hair sticked on your face, assuring you he can't wait another second to kiss you.

The distance between you both closes with the warmest capture of your lips that quickly becomes some passionate tongue action. It honestly feels that divine you couldn't stop yourself from moaning into the kiss. The warmth of the water doubles nicely the little fire forming inside your guts, in a way that affirms you’ve never felt such a discombobulating kiss before.

Right away Harry greedily begins stroking, groping and petting every single supple curve your body has to offer. Even your own hands note the nice shape of his back and every defined dreamy muscle. His lips curve up as he tugs playfully at your bottom lip, the gentle way you appreciate his shape really has him feeling some type of way.

“Give yourself to me, darlin’, this time I won’t be holdin’ back.” 

The air of his wanting rasp meets the underside of your chin, of which Harry is currently kissing his way down. With a press of both his hands on your lower back he has you arching and moaning as he licks between your breasts. When the vampire starts to nip at your plush skin, it’s even more overwhelming because not only is he pursing his lips but his tongue is gliding all over you. The flat of his wet muscle makes sure to whirl around the ridge of your nipple, assuring it’s perfectly erect before nibbling on it with his fangs.

“Oh Harry, that feels so good...” 

Hearing your honest pleasure encourages him to absolutely cover your breasts in love bites both a literal and physical way, each mark more blissful than the next. Your mind becomes so consumed you don’t even know Harry is backing you up until you meet with the wet and slightly cold tiles.

Just looking up to admire the shower water perfectly cascading over his rippling muscles – his weirdly yet attractive inked skin on full display and usual necklaces in place – is the most blessed image you could wish for. This Adonis of a man looks so perfect that you lean up to offer him your own slow and sensual desire filled kiss. Little do you know he enjoys your initiative, specially since you’re kitty licking around his tongue.

Slowly Harry begins to take over such as his more dominate nature, but you oh so don’t mind. In fact you’re getting lost in the way his strong hands fondle and squish your chest. The thumb of his left hand even circled around the perky tip, while his middle and index on his other give you some slow pinches like he’s determined to have you mewling into his mouth.

“I must ‘ave been out of my mind to wait three fuckin’ years to ‘ave you...” Harry growls while baring his fangs, pressing into the top area of your shoulder. The bite he gives isn’t even painful since the puncture is slow and the suckle he drinks your blood feels so pleasurable.

“H-Harry, I’ve never felt any pain w-when you bite me” you start, stuttering from all his attention on you. “I-I thought I was weird, b-but I can't help but want so much more...”

Harry’s lips curve up against your skin as you let a louder and more frequent moan, not only because the vampire leaves deep red hickeys on your neck and collarbones, but because his hand slides down to rest between your legs.

The moment you sense it outlining your womanhood, you arch your back while clutching your hands tightly around his shoulders. Without waiting his index and middle finger caress your lower lips for just a second or two, before encouraging your legs to spread further apart so Harry can thrust them effortlessly into your core.

“A-ah– feels so good!”

Enraptured by your praise, Harry increases his rhythm and feels the thump of your slow heartbeat. His own is probably pulsing in the same way, it's been so long since the man felt this exhilarated. With a caress at your hip for you to steady, the wobble your legs frays at his kisses all over your breasts and even a slippery curl with his tongue down to your belly button.

By the time you try to follow what’s happening, the brunette is already on his knees between your legs, kissing nonstop at your inner thighs. Out of the corner of his eye you can tell Harry is actually watching himself glide his fingers in and out of your slippery folds. It should be embarrassing, but you find that more thrilling than anything else. He’s so passionate as a lover, the attention he gives being excruciatingly euphoric whatever he does.

“Earlier” his raspy voice mumbles against your thigh before he proceeds, “I was so tempted to push y'down an’ bite your thigh...”

As he licks hungrily at your skin, you recall how he caressed up your upper leg earlier, the touch offered when you woke him up was oddly intimate. It made you bashful since it was so sudden, but if he had done as he wanted you wouldn't have stopped him.

“Now I’ve a second chance... so don't mind if I do, darlin’.”

Your chest heaves with the warmth bubbling all over your skin as you watch the bare of his pointy sharp fangs and the immediate pierce into your inner thigh. A loud moan echoes around the shower, the vibrations prickling Harry’s ears and assuring he won’t part from your delectable flesh until he gives you his most vivid love bite.

Your head shakes at how all consuming the pleasure you’re gladly receiving feels. And as he sucks the sweet blood from your thigh, he doesn’t hesitate to add a third finger into your fold, now working a pace that lets you know in accurate detail that you're indeed incredibly wet. It’s not just the shower anymore, both of you know this for a fact. By now you have no problem admitting you’re turned on like a thousand lightbulbs.

“Your smell’s drivin’ me insane...!” came his lidded snarl, some little blood dripping down his chin but quickly washed away by the shower. Harry is darting for your womanhood like a famished animal, the instant curl of his fingers along your slit having you whimpering and yanking at his wet hair a bit too hard.

“F-fuck– I’m sorry Harry” you whimper out your sincere apologise along with a moan, the back of your head bumping on the tile wall as if the king of vampires like the one kneeling between your legs could get hurt from such a small type of friction. “It feels like I-I can't breath– feels so good!” 

"If you're that out of it, y'can be rougher...”

His warm breath hazes over the sensitive bead of your clit, making you convulse in pleasurable disarray. With his hands taking a fist full of your ass, Harry pushes you deeper against his tongue to then curl it up and down. The sensation of him lapping against your slick inner walls has you seeing stars, knowing a man has never eaten you out so hungrily before.

With the constant pant of your moans filling the primal space inside his head, there is only one and simple desire he has: to make you cum on his tongue and no matter what, he will not pull away until you do. It’s more rewarding than you'll ever know to have your writhing body in his grasp, not just your trembling legs when he had the chance to have you innocently straddle him, but the arousal coating his lips and the subtle desire filled push of your hands that want him even deeper inside you were exciting in a maddening way.

“A-ah please Harry, I c-can't–!” 

You are barely able to tell him how close you’re feeling right now, as drool ebbs heavily down your lips. Harry is already aware though because of the curl of your fingers, each tugging at his hair in your peak of utmost disorienting pleasure.

With a gentle pat over your soft wet body, he squishes both of your breasts and thrusts his red muscle in a most detail oriented type of way. Your praises grow in frequency as well, telling him how utterly euphoric you feels and how hot the knot in your stomach makes your skin burn, bringing you closer to your end. Everything kinda rushes to the tipping point with a pinch to your buds, causing the instant convulse of your folds and drench of your fluids flow down his chin, assuring the fangs in his mouth are vividly pulsating.

It takes everything not to sink in to your most sensitive body part. Harry manages to calm himself down with the caress of your hands falling limp, feeling one curve around his ear to hold him gently where he is. With the thought of how much he needs to claim you, the brunette gulps down your nectar and even laps the slippery sheen coating your slit.

As he raises back up to stand, all it takes is a small hazy blink for you to miss completely the way Harry yanks up both of your legs and positioned you right against his cock. “’m gonna take you hard an' fast– can't wait another second to make y'mine.”

Your lips part but all you’re able to say is a pant of his name, while coiling tightly around his neck and nodding your head.

“Have all of me, take me Harry–”

The vampire most certainly doesn’t have to be told twice, so without hesitation he thrusts deeply into your slippery folds. His speed is just as instantaneous as the pleasure you start to drown in. You never knew your voice could go so loud and high pitched until a man with much vigour and strength named Harry came along, thrusting his hips in a way that fills you to the brim with every movement he makes.

“S-Shit you're so fuckin' wet– so tight ‘round me, only for me–”

His fangs are on domineering display, getting off on your pleasurable honesty just as much as the throb of your tight folds. You don’t get to see his expression though as you leaned your head back again but this time caused by a every aggressive slam of your ass on his thighs. That gives him the perfect opportunity to enjoy your neck, so the vampire doesn’t mind.

Each electrifying kiss left on your skin feels exceptional, every sway of his hips lets you know he’s a well endowed man and quite honestly just being in his arms has you feeling this way. This man didn't have to save you or take you in and just could have gotten rid of your at any time. But the instant he's allowed you to stay and gave you a comforting space to get used to your knew desires and vampiric body.

There is a part of you that wishes you still has a conventional heartbeat just so you could feel how erratic it could be thundering against your ribcage. However, even without a human heartbeat you still knew you were excited beyond all belief. Just being able to run your hands along his shoulders, maybe even brush up against the back of his head has you feel like his long time lover.

“Fuck, I can't get enough of ya” Harry suddenly growls in madness, dropping one of your legs back against the floor while he pulled the other higher up and hold your thigh, basically watching himself rammed his thick cock into your body. There’re not a single word forming on the tip of your tongue other than whimpers and mewls of ecstasy.

His speed and precision to hit your most sensitive spots are probably only possible due to his improved senses and longevity. No doubt in your mind Harry probably had many past lovers before you but you don’t really care. He always tells you to live in the moment and not muddle through just because of your past.

“You're now a vampire, (Y/N). Act like one for your own sake.”

These are the words he told you over the past shared years together, which became your mantra to feel validated in your new life. Speaking of your new desires, your fangs are constantly throbbing and pulsating for the past minute, reason why your eyes have been glued to his neck and shoulder ever since. The need to bite him is so overwhelming that you simply don’t care to ask before diving forward to sink deeply into the space right bellow his ear.

“H-hah, y'little vixen– that feels so damn good, have your fill” the brunette encourages you with no malice but utter pleasure.

In fact he’s enjoying the twinge of your fangs so much his fervour keeps increasing. His hips edge even closer while his clawed hand takes a hold of your waist and starts slapping at your inner thighs in a way that have your arousal dripping profusely onto the shower floor.

You can’t stop yourself from moaning against his skin or salivating heavily as you absorb down his delectable blood. You swear his nectar tastes even more delicious then it ever has before, like the most finest aged wine. It's a thought you can barely focus on as you suddenly toss your head back, feeling yourself reach a most blissful end.

The moment Harry senses your insides clench repeatedly, he shoves his tongue down your throat and becomes enraptured in the way you meet his every slapping movements. Heavy saliva from both of you mixes together, dripping profusely down your chin as soon as you feels the deeply penetrating thrust of his cock slam into your womb. His arousal fills you to the brim in a way that makes you drift through euphoria.

After some time the brunette parts from your kissed swollen lips, a thin sheen of saliva still connects you together before quickly breaking when he licks his fine pale lips. The vampire smirks at you in complete satisfaction while ever slowly edging his girth away from your wall, not without admiring how thickly coated in your juices his manhood is. Maybe Harry even salaciously admires the dribble of your combined arousal from your slit, but it’s clear you are feeling utterly spent and can only keep yourself up by pressing a bit at his chest and shoulders, leaning your back against the tiles behind you.

With a soft expression that suits him so heavenly, Harry tenderly strokes his hands up your body while admiring once again the plush shape of your stomach, breasts and the slender trail up your neck to cup your soft cheeks. The smile you give him proves he’s offering all the affection he is able of with the sensual touch of your lips with his. This kiss is the slowest and most romantic you ever felt from him yet, while the brunette lifts you in his arms properly again before pulling away from the kiss.

“I'll help you dry off, dear. ‘think we've soaked in the shower long enough.”

“Thank you Harry” you thank him with a slight smile, your cheeks nuzzled into his wet chest before placing a kiss there that has him avoiding your gaze and wondering where a romance like this has been all his long life. 

You sit still once he settles you on the sink counter, wiggling cutely as he dries you off with purposeful caresses of your more intimate body parts. When he also dries himself both of you get dressed – you into the long nightdress you took before your shower and him back in his oversized pantsuits only. Afterwards, you take his hand as Harry walks you both out of your bathroom. It’s clear you wish for him to lay with you in your nearby bed but he hesitates at the edge of it, looking towards your still wide open door. It seems like Harry wants to escape but that’s not it at all. He is looking towards his study at the other side of the hallway where an item he had hidden was secretly and well kept.

“I'll be right back– hey, don't make that face, darlin’... I'll lay with ya when I come back.”

You lean into the palm of his warm hand that softly strokes your cheek, adding a hopeful nod. Your soft eyes trail behind his tall figure as Harry steps out into the hall, leaving your door cracked open behind him. With a little doubt forming in your heart you lay on the silk mattress of your bed and turn, rolling back and forth like a restless child waiting for time to fly as fast as possible.

It took him longer than he wanted as he struggled with whether this was the right thing to do or completely the opposite, tons of questions invading his mind: did you want him as much as he wanted you, and so should he trust you with a secret only a handful of the Royal vampires know? His hundreds of years differs so greatly from your barely twenty-five-ish ones. The brunette keeps rushing his thoughts because first, he wants you to be happy and second, he doesn’t want to be alone anymore.

With the item in his hands, Harry clenches his fingers tightly around it and makes his way back to your side. As he enters the silent room, smelling some faint aroma of lavender from your previous shared (hot) shower, you’re actually snoring softly while sprawled out in a way that takes up nearly the entire bed, which makes the brunette slightly chuckles at how silly yet adorable you are. He shakes his head with the soft expression you love so much on him, effortlessly scooting you further to one side before climbing in next to you.

For a couple of minutes Harry strokes your hair and caresses your skin, before taking your right hand and placing on your fourth finger a gold ring with a glimmering ruby jewel in its middle. Your eyes flicker open at the feeling, followed by a small yawn while watching the careful placement of your new jewellery with a bashful smile.

“... Are you asking me to marry you, Harry?”

His emerald eyes open wide in shock, skin darkening more than you thought a creature like him was capable of. Instantly the brunette uses your palm to cover his face and slowly shakes his head, the white pearl of his necklace softly jiggling around his neck at this. The breath from his parted lips tickles your skin and honestly makes you fall at peace.

“N-no– well n-not yet at least, uh–” Harry stutters, still hiding his face with your hand. He clears his throat before continuing “though this is my gift to you, love.” 

You can’t see the way he actually bites his bottom lip, but your eyes notice both his hands covered in rings that he always wears. And one catches your attention, the one with a similar ruby jewel in the middle yet of a different shape.

“This will allow ya to walk 'round in the sunlight, this way it will no longer cause you any harm, my dear.”

“Really? But you said that it would always hurt...?”

“Without an amulet blessed an’ enchanted by a powerful witch, the sunlight will cause us vampires harm. That’s why you must always wear it.”

Harry lowers your combined hands so you’re finally able to see the serious expression on his face. “You must never tell anyone abou' this. Not a single soul, vampire or human alike, my dear. No one.”

“I would never cause you trouble, Harry. And I promise I'll take this secret to my grave” you respond back, arms sliding around his hips like a silent wish to lay your head against his bare torso, a motion which your lover gladly welcomes by sliding his fingers through your hair. 

With a thankful smile you get comfortable, closing your eyes in hopes to snuggle with him while you sleep.

“People will not question it if y’tell them you were sired by me” proceeds the brunette vampire abasing your hair, fingers still entangled in your soft locks to massage your scalp. “It's a misconception tha' pure royal vampires are born immune to the hurtful rays of sunlight... Most of our kind think a person turned by us will also be immune.”

“I wish... I had been turned by you” you let out in a whisper while keeping your face nuzzle against Harry’s chest. “I want to be with you for as long as I'm able to.”

The vampire can’t resist but leave feather-like kisses on your forehead and hairline, your confession definitely making him feel... alive. His hot breath hitting your skin gently soothe you and so are his kisses, the sudden brush of his nose against your face bringing a delightful giggle out of you which Harry would never get tired of.

“Maybe I'll be the one to ask you to marry me, who knows...” you add, your index finger sliding over his pearl necklace with a define grin on your face. 

No words could describe how you make Harry feel. Never has he been more grateful for the quick way you fall asleep just so he could hug you tightly against him. Maybe later, he will be able to tell you that, as surprising as that may sound, the man has never been married in his long life either. There has never been someone this special to him to go for it. It's indeed hard to say if Harry wants to make that commitment with you at this point either the thing he’s sure of is his wish - no, his desire to be with you. Forever. 

“Good night, my love... Maybe tomorrow I’ll take ya to the castle y’ask me about all the time.”

* * * 

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[chaseatinydream]

pirate king (83) || atz

The blade seems to sing in the ghostly light of the half moon as you take one step, then another, down the length of the ship. The deck seems to have been vacated, silent and empty, but you’re screaming inside your mind for someone, anyone, to step out and see what you’re doing - to stop you from what you’re about to do.

No one does. All you hear is the sound of the sea, waves lapping against the shore, pulling your mind into a trance like quicksand, impossible to escape from. You take another step forward, and just like that, and you’re at the door to the captain’s cabin - the light from the lamps inside flickering across your face.

One step away from committing an unforgivable sin.

You raise your hand to the door, knocking three times, the other clutching the blade behind your back.

Please don’t respond, you beg, screaming through the haze of your mind. You feel like you’re merely watching your actions play out in front of you, completely unable to control your body in the least. Keep seeing me as a monster, be afraid of me. Don’t open the door!

The door swings open.

There he stands in the doorway, eyes tired, but a gentle smile on his face. You would rather it be twisted with wariness, with hate, with anything but that guileless expression. Your fingers tighten around the handle, the carved decorations carved into steel digging into your skin.

“Kill the human captain, and return to whence you came.”

When he sees you, he steps back, holding the door open a little wider so that you can come in. You curse yourself, desperately trying to resist the powerful magic of the reflection in the water, but your feet start to move forward of their own accord.

“Yeosang decided to bed down with Wooyoung in the hammocks tonight, to give me some time alone to think.” Hongjoong says, closing the door behind the two of you as you turn around to face him, effectively hiding the blade with your body. “I just... It’s good that you came. There’s much...” He hesitates, taking you in with his one good eye, unfathomable sorrow flickering in its depths. “There’s much that we need to talk about.”

You don’t say a word, lips clamped firmly shut. Your mind, however, screams with the effort to move your mouth, a warning, a cry, something!

“About what we were saying earlier, I’m sorry about it.” Hongjoong’s words are low, regretful as he leans against the table in the middle of the room. Too far for you to stab without alerting him, the dark voice in you whispers. A tiny fraction of relief spills across you. “Jongho doesn’t mean any ill will, he was just being cautionary, and-”

“He’s not wrong.” The words escape your mouth without your permission. “I almost killed someone. It’s right for you to be cautious of me.”

Hongjoong nods, looking relieved that you understand. It’s not me, you want to cry. Get away from me, as fast as you can! “So, what are you going to do about the Royal Navy?”

Hongjoong gives you a faint, little smile. “Well, it might be the last battle that the Treasure will see.” He says softly, and you have to strain your ears to catch his words. “There’s no other way but to fight, after all.”

Dread wells up inside of you. Is there truly no way to save the Treasure? In the end, it’s all because of you that the Treasure has gotten mixed up with the Royal Navy in the first place, so what if they could just...

You have no soul, so if the heart of the sea were to be robbed from you, you would cease to exist. All traces of your existence would be wiped from this earth like a blank slate. None of your so called family would be able to remember you, much less your existence nor sacrifice.

Your breath catches in your throat.

But... they won’t even remember you.

All the memories you’ve made with them, the first time you had gone drinking with them in the tavern, to learning how to use a sword with Jongho and Yunho, from the time Hongjoong had journeyed with you through the sea witch’s lair, to sitting on the pink beaches of Eleuthera with Mingi. Learning how to cook with Seonghwa and Yeosang saving you from a bullet. Embracing in the darkness of nightmares with San and sitting on the masts with Wooyoung to watch the sunrise.

They’re all going to be erased.

All gone.

This entire life would have been worth for nothing.

“But I have a plan.”

Your eyes widen at the news, and you look up to see your captain with a shadowed, pensive expression on his face. “Earlier today, while you were still unconscious, an envoy from the Royal Navy approached us. He said that the commander-” you catch the almost imperceptible grit of his teeth, “-would be willing to speak to us on a small island somewhere between where the two of us are now. A no man’s land, if you will. To, well, negotiate.”

That can’t be right, you think, confused. The Royal Navy clearly has the upper hand in this situation, so why would they be willing to negotiate?

“Of course I know it could be a trap.” Hongjoong’s sigh breaks your train of thought, and you look up to see him running a hand through his hair. “But it’s the best option that we have now. Wooyoung, Yeosang and I will be going tomorrow while the rest of the crew will be targeting the command ship, so I want you to stay with San - safe and out of sight.”

You want to argue. It’s got to be a trap, you can’t just go blindly walking into it like that! But you only nod, quiet and accepting, eyes downcast. The sides of Hongjoong’s mouth turns up in a sad smile.

“Good girl.” He exhales, breath a little shaky - he must be afraid, too. “We’ll come back to you, alright? Since you promised me that you’d stay alive, I need to do so too, am I right?”

If you were in control of your own body right now, you would have burst into tears at his words. The weight of the dagger is heavy in your had, yet you can’t let go of it, metal seared to your skin. Hongjoong rises to his feet, turning away from you to look over the map spread out over his table. “If it all goes according to plan tomorrow, we’ll be able to escape.”

His back is turned to you.

You frantically try to scream, to make him turn around, to warn him somehow, but your body refuses to listen to you. You rise from the bed, dagger clutched in hand, taking slow, measured steps towards him.

No!

“It’ll be a narrow chance, of course, but it’s still better than giving you up to the Royal Navy.” Hongjoong continues to speak, tracing the map with a finger. Your hand is trembling, as you desperately attempt to wrench your hand away from its intended path - you won’t let yourself hurt your captain, not now, not ever.

Don’t do it, you beg yourself. Please, don’t make me do this. I’d rather die than hurt him like this-

Despite your best efforts, however, your arm raises the blade high into the air, your eyes fixed firmly on the side of his neck, where warm lifeblood flows the strongest. Just one slash, quick and clean, and you’ll be free once again-

All of a sudden, there’s a wicked fast flash of silver, and the point of something cold presses to the tip of your throat.

You find yourself staring down a long silver blade, a single cold, green eye reflected in vicious steel. A bead of cold sweat trickles down the back of your neck as you look up to see the man in front of you.

Hongjoong looks terrifying.

Fear, nauseating and dizzying, gnaws at the pit of your belly as you freeze, too scared to move an inch. You’ve seen him give enemies this stare many times, but it’s never once been directed at you, and you’re so, so afraid.

“You’re not Chin Hae.” Hongjoong’s voice is cold, measured. His blade doesn’t waver in the least as he stares you down, fearless light in his eyes identical to the ones that burn when he faces down insurmountable waves and impossible odds. “What are you?”

Your body doesn’t react for a moment, before a high, cold laugh suddenly spills forth from your lips. “So, you know her far better than I thought you would. How did you tell?”

Hongjoong lets a snort escape him, not amused in the least. “From the very second you stepped into the room. The last thing Chin Hae saw before she fainted was her patient being shot. Knowing her, he would have been the first thing she asked after.”

Your heart clenches. He knows.

“Secondly, when I told you about my plan to take the commander of the Royal navy hostage, you didn’t argue.” Hongjoong continues, grip on his sword cutlass tightening. “The real Chin Hae would have protested, asked me to give her up to the Royal Navy instead, because she’s selfless like that. You’re not her.”

“So, you’re observant.” Your tongue flicks out to swipe at your lips, head tilting to the side, uncaring in the least of the blade at your throat. “That is truly a pain to deal with.”

“Get out of her body.” Hongjoong’s lips curl back into a snarl. “I don’t care who or what you are. Leave Chin Hae alone.”

Your voice leaves you in a mocking hum. “You mean, leave her to die in your arms, human captain?”

At the words that your mouth utters, Hongjoong stills, his eye going wide with shock. Your heart plummets into the pit of your stomach, horror spiking through you. Silence looms heavy and oppressive over the two of you.

He looks terrified.

“What?” He finally utters, voice cracking with what you know as fear. Another laugh escapes your mouth, mocking him, taunting him. “Oh dear... seems like the two of you weren’t quite as close as you wish you were, captain... she must not have told you.”

That’s not it! You scream into the dark recesses of your mind. I just... I just didn’t want you to worry, I just couldn’t bear to see you hurt. Hongjoong, please, don’t think that way...

You remember the last time he had clung to you, like you were the only anchor in the middle of his storm. The way he had broken down in your arms, had wept for you and the crew is still fresh in your mind.

While Hongjoong is distracted, your body takes the opportunity to strike. Lashing out with the blade, your hand curves down in a sweeping arc, aiming straight for the jugular at his neck. He barely manages to react in time, diving out of the way before the blade sinks into the wood of the table, splitting it clean down the middle in a show of strength you’ve only witnessed once in your life.

“Perhaps she thought of you as unreliable to trust.” Your voice coos, voice sickly sweet with false sympathy as you raise the blade again. Raising the blade once again, you swing at him faster than you’ve ever moved before.

Hongjoong curses, dodging to the side and the blade narrowly shaves off a few strands of hair from the back of his head. They go fluttering in the air, but before they can even reach the ground, you’re already lunging for him once again in a jab to the throat.

Your captain, unable to react in time, grabs the blade by the hand, stopping it right before it can pierce his neck. Hot, red blood, however, flows crimson down his palm and onto the ground, staining the blade of the knife. Horror lurches in your chest.

He’s hurt!

Ducking around you so swiftly that you can barely follow his movements with your eyes, Hongjoong pulls on you hard, arms wrapping around you and yanking you into his chest. “Stop fighting!”

Your body lashes out with inhumane strength, and Hongjoong is flung into one of the bookshelves lining the walls. Books fall all around him, scattered on the ground, and Hongjoong lets out a moan of pain that tugs at your heartstrings - you hurt him.

A sob almost leaves you. You hurt him. He was just trying to protect you, and you hurt him like that with your own hands.

“You’re remarkably curious, human captain. It’s rather entertaining to see what that bloodied boy on the beach has grown up into.” At your words, a low growl leaves Hongjoong’s lips, more animal than human. “In your hand there is a drawn sword, yet you have not used it. Are you truly afraid that you might hurt her?”

Your heart breaks as Hongjoong struggles to his feet, using his sword to prop himself up. One of his hands are pressed against his side, possibly a broken rib, you realise. And yet, he’s still wearing that indomitable expression on his face, unwilling to give up.

“You’re still standing? You humans are really so interesting.” Your voice is teasing, the dagger in your hand raised once again. “Human captain, since you’ve impressed me, let me tell you something. Did you know that killing you will save Chin Hae’s life?”

Hongjoong’s uncovered eye flies open in shock, and he blinks at you, unable to speak. “Wha-” Instantly, you’re terrified. he had said once before that he would rather willingly take on all the pain alone than see any of you suffer, so what if he... no, you don’t dare to so much as think about it, but...

“Only killing you will be able to save her, human.” Your mouth moves on its own, without your permission. “If you truly care about her, you’d die for her, wouldn’t you?”

Terror immediately floods through you, so acute that you feel like you’re falling apart, piece by piece. She’s lying, you want to say, even though you know she’s not. Anything to stop that sudden hopeful light in his eyes, the way his eyes fix on the knife in your hand as if that’s the only thing they see. “That’s all? Just my life?”

Just his life? Ache wells up in you, so fierce it hurts you from deep within. What does he mean, just his life? Does he really intend to die for you, just like that?

“You can tell I’m not lying, human.” Your voice sinks into a dark, enchanting purr, almost hypnotic. You take one step forward, another and another until you’re crouched in front of him, blade in hand. The expression on Hongjoong’s face could break your heart clean in two. His eyes search yours, a pained smile on painted on his lips.

I’m sorry.

Your hand raises the blade into the air.

“I’ll make it quick for you, favored one.”

A silver crescent cuts across the air.

The blade comes down.

[evermorehaikyuu]

~[Congratulations]~

Song: Congratulations from the Hamilton soundtrack

Word Count: 1799

Warnings: Cheating

A/N: I wanted angst. This has been in my drafts for the longest time and then inspiration flashed out of nowhere. For some reason, I was reminded of my own sister, that’s probably why I wrote this. Watch me do Kuguri next or something. 

~

"The charge against me was a connection with one Oikawa Tooru for purposes of improper speculation. My real crime was an amorous connection to his wife for a considerable time with his knowing consent. I had fluent meetings with her, most of them at my own house. Mrs. Tsukishima, with our children, being absent on a visit to her father…"

Tsukishima Kei was staring at the pamphlet he had written. Why had he done this? Why was he so stupid as to believe that with a few words everything would be normal again? Everything he had done, everything he had worked for all came down to a single option: yes or no. And he didn’t say no.

All he could do was stay in his office in shame, knowing that once his wife came back from her respite, he would not bear to live any longer. Just to see the pain in her eyes--

The door to his office slammed open. There she was, the sister of the wife he held near and dear to his heart even though he broke hers, Y/N L/N. 

“Y/N.” Tsukishima stood up to walk over to her and take her hand, but Y/N ripped her hand out of his grip. “Tsukishima. Congratulations.” 

If he was scared of his wife’s reaction, he was even more terrified of Y/N’s ripostes. An intelligent woman with fidelity to her younger sisters and her sisters’ partners and the richest man in the city as her father, she was a force to be reckoned with. The first thought that came to his head was, I messed up. Horribly. 

Y/N had a smile on her face, but it wasn’t the smile that you would give a friend. It was the smile that held so much rage behind it, it would be a miracle if she didn’t explode. “You have created a new kind of stupid, a damage you can never undo kind of stupid, an ‘open all the cages in the zoo’ kind of stupid.” She turned around to look at him, grinning maniacally before letting out a laugh that was terrifying to hear. “‘Truly, you didn’t think this through?’ kind of stupid.” 

All he could do was not stare at her for fear that if he dared look into her eyes, she’d be Medusa and turn him into stone. Tsukishima looked down at the floor, a sheet of sweat starting to form on his forehead. He may have been taller, but at that point, he felt like the underdog, the shorter person.

Y/N strode over to him and stayed a foot away from him, crossing her arms. Usually, someone crossing their arms meant that they were taking a defensive stance. Not Y/N. It seemed as if she was taking an offense. “Let’s review.” She closed her eyes and put her hand on her forehead. “You took a rumor, a few, maybe two people knew and refuted an affair of which no one has accused you.”

The pamphlet was in Y/N’s sight and range, making her fire up and put more venom behind her words as she grabbed the object that destroyed Tsukishima completely. She shoved it into his arms and spit, “I begged you to take a break, you refused to.” 

Her maniacal expression was back as she extended her arms as if asking for a hug. Tsukishima stared at the pamphlet in his hands before looking at her face for any contrition. There was none. She was more loyal to her sister than anyone else. “So scared of what your enemy will do to you.” She jammed her finger in his chest, making him take a step back. “But you’re the only enemy you ever seem to lose to.”

She was right. Tsukishima had always found a new enemy, a new rival to step on to get to the highest point in his life but there was always one enemy that he couldn’t defeat: himself. Y/N was standing by the window, looking outside as if waiting for someone or something. “You know why Kageyama can do what he wants?” She ripped the curtains closed and whipped around to glare at him. “He doesn’t dignify schoolyard taunts with a response!” 

Kageyama was not the smartest man in the universe, according to Tsukishima. But he did know how to handle taunts and that was by ignoring them. Meanwhile, Tsukishima went through a whole process in order to ruin the person who dared sneer at him. It was exhausting and yet he never stopped.

Y/N laughed at his facial expression and walked behind him, staring at the back of his head. “So yeah, congratulations!”

Tsukishima’s head hung again as he tried to think of a reason why he had an affair. “Y/N…”

She cut him off again, determined to ruin him. “You’ve redefined your legacy! Congratulations!”

That’s when he snapped. He worked every single day and night to perfect his legacy to pass on to his children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren. As intimidated as he was by Y/N, there was no way he would let her say something bad about something he had tried to do all of his life and destroyed people just to get it. He whipped around and snarled, “It was an act of political sacrifice!” 

The look in Y/N’s eyes made him falter. He had not expected for this to happen, she had always seemed so tough but right now, her armor was down. “Sacrifice?” No, it wasn’t down. Something had happened to her and Tsukishima was careless enough to start her down that path.

Y/N slowly walked over to his desk and ran her finger along the table. “I languished in a loveless marriage in London, I lived only to read your letters.”

That came as a shock to him. Why would she marry someone she didn’t love? Then it clicked. She loved her sister more than anything and would do anything to keep her happy, something Tsukishima himself couldn’t do at all. “I look at you and think, ‘God, what have we done with our lives and what did it get us?’” 

Oh. Tsukishima hesitated as the realization sank in. Y/N had been in love with him. She had been in love with him and yet, even then, she had decided to do something for her sister that she could never unravel. “That doesn’t wipe the tears or the years away but I’m back in the city and I’m here to stay.” 

She got closer to him, looking up at him with a tender look in her eyes. If he hadn’t known better, Y/N would’ve kissed him. “You know what I’m here to do?”

“Y/N…” He tried to reach for her hand for the second time, but she strode backwards from him, glowering at him.

“I’m not here for you.” That’s what pained Tsukishima more than anything. Y/N had always been there for him. The letters they exchanged always had some sort of an inside joke or the start of a discussion and he thought that she would always be there for him, no matter what. Tsukishima had forgotten that her loyalty lay more with her family than for him.

Y/N turned to look at him, a new spark in her eyes. “I know my sister like I know my own mind, you will never find anyone as trusting or as kind. And a million years ago, she said to me--” Y/N hugged herself, as if to give herself the comfort no one had ever given her. “‘This one’s mine.’ So I stood by.” She rose to her full height again, anger laced in her words. “Do you know why?!”

Tsukishima had messed up horribly and he knew it. Now, as he faced a furious older sister, he tried to go back to the time where he could’ve said no. It was his fault. Every single time he hurt Y/N’s little sister, it wasn’t because of her or because of politics, it was because of him.

Y/N grabbed his wrist roughly, making him stop in his tracks. With tears in her eyes, she snapped, “I love my sister more than anything in this life! I will choose her happiness over mine every time! S/N is the best thing in this life!” Her fingernails were digging into his skin, hurting him. The physical pain was so much better than the emotional pain S/N was going through, he decided. He deserved it. “So never lose sight of the fact that you have been blessed with the best wife!”

She let go of him and he stared at her. What would’ve been different if Tsukishima had married Y/N instead of S/N? He reacted too slow and Y/N had grabbed his collar with both hands. Her tears were running freely down her face and they were not of sadness. They were of desperation, of guilt, but most of all, indignation. “Congratulations!” 

Tsukishima had pulled himself away from her in a panic and his back hit the wall. Y/N didn’t go after him. “For the rest of your life, every sacrifice you make is for my sister, give her the best life!” She walked towards the door and looked at his petrified figure. “Congratulations!” She slammed the door shut on her way out.

What have I done? If Y/N was that pissed off with him, he couldn’t imagine the hurt in S/N’s eyes. It all hurt him more than he thought and he was clutching his chest as he slowly fell onto his knees. Panic started attacking him like bullets at the thought of confrontation. His eyes welled up with tears as he started gasping for air. 

The door opened and he glanced at the person opening the door. It was his son. “Dad?”

Shit. If his son was here, that meant--

“Aito? Where are you? There you ar--” S/N, the wife he had promised to take care of for the rest of his life, the wife he had cared deeply for, the wife whose heart he had broken, saw him on the floor. If he was panicking before, hysteria was rising up as he saw her.

S/N only looked at him before saying, “Aito. Go play with your sister.” Aito left and S/N stared at the man she had previously loved. With coldness in her voice, she said, “This was a mistake. We were a mistake.”

She closed the door and somehow, that hurt more than Y/N slamming the door shut. Tsukishima let his tears fall, regretting everything.

He couldn’t fix it. He swore to love her and yet he couldn’t do that.

Everything was cracking.

[bbrandy2002]

My Love

 Chapter 11

Pairing: Liam x Riley

Book: TRH

Warning: Gun violence and gun death mentioned.

@emceesynonymroll @romanticatheart-posts @burnsoslow @dcbbw @ao719 @jessiembruno @hopefulmoonobject @texaskitten30 @drakesensworld @janezillow @merridithsmiscellany-blog @mskaneko @loveellamae @queenjilian @sirbeepsalot @pedudley @caroldxnvxrs @jovialyouthmusic @forthebrokenheartedthings-blog @desireepow-1986 @bebepac @patriciaanchrist2019 @kingliam2019​ @marshmallowsaremyfavorite​ @olympianpantsuit​ @msjr0119​ @lodberg​ @cordonianroyalty​ @princess-geek​ @sparklinglilac​ @annekebbphotography​ @twinkle-320​ @ladyangel70​ @rainbowsinthestorm​ @innerpostmentality​ @cordonia-gothqueen​ @flutistbyday2020​ @marvelandchoices 

__________________________

He lifted his mask to reveal himself. Riley’s dark eyes creased into slits as she gritted her teeth. “Neville! What the hell is wrong with you? Get out!”

With sweat beading along his brows, Neville slipped a gun from his suit pocket and aimed it directly at her. “Oh, I’m not going anywhere. I believe we have some business to discuss.”

Riley’s eyes widened, and she felt her heart leap from her chest. With his arm outstretched and the shiny metal of the pistol projecting a glare onto its intended target, she took several panicked steps back until her rear side bumped off the wall. She wanted to scream for help, but her throat constricted tightly around her vocal cords. Her mind was racing between thoughts of how to save herself and why the most self-centered noble in Cordonia would dare to threaten the Queen. 

Except she wasn’t the Queen. Not to him.

In a frightened state, it dawned on Riley that there must be a connection between the woman who had killed her and the arrogant bastard standing before her. 

She swallowed hard. “What do you want with me?”

Neville’s face wrinkled up into a devilish smirk, and he inched closer to her. “Amanda, Amanda.” He wagged his finger and pressed the gun under her chin until her head tilted against the wall. “I’m quite displeased with your ignorance, my dear. Though it’s not all that surprising coming from you … a common street whore with no principles and even fewer brains." 

He twisted the pistol harder into her reddened jaw. "Tell me, did you really believe I wouldn’t come looking for you. That I would simply disregard the fact that you made a fool of me?”

Riley held her breath and dug her fingernails into the ornate plaster panels behind her.

She had no idea what the hell he was talking about, but why would she?  There was only one way to find out.

“You’ll have to forgive me, sir.” she finally breathed through a whimper. “My memory isn’t as sharp as it once was.” Her probing eyes met his, and she quirked her brow. “Did we know each other?”

Neville let out a small chuckle; the smell of epoisses and cognac emanating from his breath made her stomach even sourer. “You appeared to know precisely who I was when I entered. You referred to me by name, did you not?”

“I … I did,” Riley’s voice stammered. “It’s just that … you are one of the more, uh …  dignified and well-known members of the court,” she lied. "Obviously, I would know who you are.”

Neville guffawed in response to her answer. “Flattery? I like it. Perhaps that little blow to your skull knocked some sense into you after all. It’s too bad I’m not buying it.”

Riley glared at him piercingly. “How did you know about that? What happened was never made known to the pub … lic …” she trailed off and instinctively placed a hand lightly over her mouth. Riley drew in a sharp breath. “It was you. You’re the one who attacked Aman – me – in the park that day." 

A self-satisfied smile dangled from the corner of his lips as he shrugged smugly in return; his grimy eyes flitted with arrogance.

"Oh my god! Oh my god! You did do it … and you don’t even care!”

“I did … And I don’t.” Neville maintained while he caressed the gun along the side of her cheek, causing her to recoil away from it. Angered by her insolence, he grabbed her chin with his free hand and squeezed tightly, jerking her head to face him again. “Now you listen here, I did what needed to done, you foolish bitch! You refused to follow orders then, and you continue to do so now. The only thing you’ve ever been good for to me was killing that simpleton commoner Queen and a quick fuck. And I had to twist your arm to do both.”

It was like the earth and time stood completely still as Riley processed the words he had just spoken to her. Neville had just confessed his part in her murder.

He had taken her life. 

He had taken her from Liam and Ellie. 

And in all of that reveal, there was neither remorse nor sympathy. Just an annoyance that his accomplice hadn’t completed the job to his satisfaction.

Tears stung behind her red-rimmed eyes, and it felt like the ground collapsed under her. Riley felt a twinge in her heart, knowing he had caused so much pain without as much as a second thought. 

She arched her neck and spat in his face. “You coldhearted son-of-a-bitch! I had a life, damn you!”

Feeling a charge and rush of adrenaline, fueled by anger, Riley heaved a hard and swift knee blow to the groin that caused Neville to groan loudly and double over.  

Riley reached for the gun that was still clasped firmly in his hand and spun her body around so that her back was facing him. She hiked one leg and repeatedly plowed her small heeled shoes into his Venetian loafers while struggling to keep the gun pointed away from her. All of her self-defense training kicked in, and now she was fighting for the survival she didn’t have the luxury of when she died nearly three months ago. She would be damned if Neville Vancoeur would take her down again.

Neither was prepared to lose this battle. 

She had fire coursing through her veins and a belly full of vengeance. 

He had his arrogant pride, a reputation to uphold, and the ire of the Queen of Monterisso. 

As they bounced and fought along the edges of the wall, Riley thrust a sharp elbow to his face. The sound of his nose cracking wasn’t enough to slow him. It was only the impetus for him to fight back harder. 

With blood splattered on his hand, he reached out and grabbed a fist full of her long brown hair, and hurled her to the floor. Her grip on the gun was all but lost to soften the blow of her fall. Somehow her head still hit the ground with a jarring thud. 

Riley could feel the room spinning around her as Neville straddled over her midsection. His nose continued to drain blood like rivulets down his splintered face that seeped into the fabric of her dress.  

Her vision became blurry, and she could hear nothing over the ringing in her ears. As she gasped what she believed to be her final breaths, having felt the cold, hard metal pressed against her throat, Riley prepared for her ending. 

In a split second, it felt like a boulder crashed on top of her when Neville’s upper body collapsed across hers. Riley could barely make out a woman’s voice, and Neville’s haughty cries were whirling next to her ear. Her eyes fluttered with each passing moment to gain a clearer picture of the thin silhouette in red that now engaged with her capturer for the gun. 

Olivia.

With a small blade protruding from his shoulder, Neville and the Duchess battled it out for the upper hand, but he still had the gun.

A loud blast erupted.

The first shot had been fired.

In the small confines of the room, the putrid scent of sulfur and charcoal infiltrated throughout. The echo of the gunfire reverberated into the abysses of Riley’s bones, as well as the abrupt howls of distress. 

Olivia fell to her knees, her hand clutching her side, and collided face down with the ground next to Riley.

A myriad of panic spread across his face.

Neville intended to force Amanda out of the Palace so he could kill her inconspicuously. 

Now, he had shot the Duchess of Lythikos. It would only be mere seconds before the King’s Guard came rushing in.

Everything was starting to fall apart.

The gun was loosely hanging from his hands as he panted for air and stumbled backward into the muscular arms of another. 

Alarmed, Neville whipped his head around to find the commoner whom he despised – Drake Walker.

Time was running out. The sounds of onlooker screams and the clashing of boots and drawn weapons were heard from afar. He needed to escape quickly.

Neville’s finger hooked around the trigger. His arm coiled around his side, ready for the kill shot. If he missed, it was game over for the Lord of Cormery Isle. He would no doubt be arrested and tried for the crimes he had committed this evening. And with that bitch, Amanda still alive, knowing all of his secrets, he thought, she would definitely betray him to reveal his part in killing the late Queen.

If he were to hit Drake with a bullet, he had what he felt was a chance to escape, to make a run for it. 

With one last desperate move, Neville pulled the trigger.

In the ballroom, chaos began to unfold when several guests who had been in the hallway and away from the noise inside, reported hearing a gunshot. As the rumor spread near instantaneously, Liam, who was engaged in conversation with a suitor, was caught off guard when Bastien pulled him away. Two more guards surrounded him as they weaved and dodged around tables, making their way to the kitchen. 

Liam had been through enough assassination attempts to recognize there must have been a dire situation within the Palace taking place at that moment. With Bastien and the guards pushing him through the crowd, he twisted his head around and began to resist their shoves. “Ellie! Riley!”

Unable to counter his guards, he was thrust through the double doors of the kitchen, still struggling to get away to find his baby and wife. A heavy feeling grew in his chest, fearing the worst. He couldn’t help but think about how Riley would have to leave again. No one knew how or when she would have to go back and having not seen her since they danced together, he couldn’t get over this sinking feeling something had happened to her. Amanda had her enemies, which was made clear by the letter Riley opened three weeks ago and the package that accompanied it. And knowing that Amanda was the one who killed Riley, it was reasonable to believe she had an accessory to carry out such a tremendous task. 

Whipping around the corner in the rear of the kitchen and through another set of double swinging doors, Liam took what felt like his first breath in hours. In the corner, he caught a glimpse of Maxwell standing with two guards, and Ellie’s head cradled in the crook of his neck. Pushing his way through them, he gently lifted the sleeping baby from Maxwell and held her to his chest, breathing a sigh of relief.

Placing tiny kisses on the top of her head, he glanced back to Bastien. There would have been no reason for the palace guards to protect Riley, but he hoped that at the very least, she was with Drake or Hana. He needed even the smallest reassurance that she was safe, yet he still wasn’t clear what transpired to cause the abrupt disruption from the ball. “Bastien, what happened?”

Bastien had a finger pressed into his earpiece while he received muffled messages from different sources he had in the vicinity. He lowered his hand and turned to Liam. “Sir, there were gunshots in the ladies’ restroom just outside of the ballroom. Our guards have apprehended the gunman, but there are casualties and at least one deceased … hold that thought, sir.” Bastien placed his finger back into his earpiece, listening as more information came through. He shook his head, inhaled a deep breath and blew out slowly. “I’m not quite sure of what to make of this yet, but it seems the identity of our gunman is … Lord Vancouer.”

Unsure whether he heard correctly, Liam slammed his eyes shut with a gaping mouth. “Vancouer? As in, Neville Vancouer?”

Bastien nodded. “Yes, sir.  He has some wounds that will need to be tended to, however, our guards were very explicit in their identification. They’re transferring him to the cells as we speak.”

Liam pinched the bridge of his nose. “What the hell is going on?” He muttered under his breath. He turned back to face Maxwell. “Do you know where Riley was?” He asked in a hushed tone.

Maxwell lifted his shoulders in a half-shrug. “Not really. Drake mentioned seeing her run out of the ballroom and he was going to go check on her. Asked if I would take Ellie. You don’t think she could have been there, do you?”

Liam brandished a fist. “Fuck! I don’t even know,” he roared, causing Ellie to stir and squirm in his arms. He bounced and caressed her back, attempting to lull her back to sleep. Worry had blanched his face, and it was apparent he was trying to keep himself together for his daughter. That same bad feeling he had moments ago continued to increase now, knowing she was likely near the shooting.

Maxwell reached out and took Ellie from Liam. “Here, Liam, I’ll take her. Go find Riley.”

Without hesitation, Liam nodded. “Thank you, Maxwell!" 

He ordered the guards who were standing watch over Ellie, to not leave her unattended under any circumstances, and took off with Bastien following closely behind. 

"Sir, we haven’t cleared the threat to you yet!”

Liam slammed through the double doors, retracing his steps back through the ballroom kitchen. “That’s why I have you. Clear the threats, Bastien.”

The scene just outside the ballroom in the hallway was packed with guards, medics, and a handful of elder noble onlookers. Liam hurriedly pushed through the masses, his heart racing, and stopped just short of a medic who had just laid a white sheet over a body.

Bastien stood next to him and placed a grip on his shoulder. Since who he thought of as Amanda was released from custody several weeks ago, Bastien had noticed a particular closeness between her and Liam. It wasn’t his place to ask questions, yet he had a sense there was something more to their relationship than just Amanda being his child’s nanny. “Your Majesty, would you like for me to look?" 

Liam couldn’t move, he couldn’t think, and words were not something he was able to even speak at that moment. There had only been one confirmed dead, and the thought of it being Riley or Drake was not something he would ever be able to prepare himself for. He nodded slightly to his head guard.

Bastien stepped forward and crouched down beside the sheet. Taking the corner, he lifted it, peeked under, and lowered it back. He motioned for Liam to come closer and rose again to his feet. 

Fidgeting with his wedding band, he reluctantly approached Bastien, who then leaned in to whisper to him. "It appears to be one of your suitors, sir.”

Before Liam could ask which one, the sound of a stretcher wheeling out the room and the urgent shouts of medics caught his attention. Liam stiffened his posture and watched curiously while his heart continued to thunder in his chest. Bastien pulled him back to make room for the emergency crew to pass by with their victim. A quick glimpse of red hair, still almost flawlessly styled, was the only part of her that could be seen as they rushed by him.

Liam placed both hands on his head, wholly stunned to see her almost lifeless. “Olivia?" 

"Liam,” a tiny voice called behind him.

He recognized her voice immediately and whipped around to find Riley standing there with Drake holding an ice pack to the back of her head. With his whole body trembling and tears piercing his eyes, he rushed to her and pulled her as close to his body as he could. She too wrapped her arms tightly around him, feeling safer than she had all night. 

Liam’s hands instinctively went to her cheeks and placed several soft pecks to her waiting lips. He rested his forehead on hers. “I thought I lost you again, Ri. I thought you were gone, and I … I,” his voice cracked with each word, tears continuing to fall at his relief over seeing her there and appearing to be okay.

Riley cupped his cheeks, sniffling through her own tears. “Shhh. I’m okay … I’m still here … Look at me, Liam … I’m still here.”

He shook his head, trying to make himself believe that she genuinely was okay; that she was still with him.

“Hey, guys. I hate to interrupt, but you have some curious eyes watching you both right now.” Drake motioned to a small group of nobles, gawking and whispering amongst themselves.

Liam turned to see the scowling faces staring back at him, each of them making their assumptions. He placed a hand on Riley’s upper back. “Right. Let’s take this back to our quarters.”

The three of them returned to Liam’s quarters. Maxwell returned with Ellie several minutes later after being escorted by the guards, with Hana joining them not too long after that. 

With the baby sleeping soundly in the nursery, they sat in the living room, trying to regroup after the events of the evening. Hana had made coffee while Riley changed and cleaned up. Liam called the hospital to check on Olivia, who was still in surgery to remove the bullet she took on her right side. She was still in very serious condition, and he was assured they would follow up with any changes.

Riley laid with her legs across the sofa and her back resting against Liam, who had his arms wrapped protectively around her. Drake handed her an aspirin and glass water to help with the headache she had since Neville threw her to the floor.

The four of them listened as Riley recounted how Neville had confronted her with a gun, thinking she was Amanda. She told them how it was clear there was a connection between him and Amanda and that she played into it to find out what it was. As they listened, each one shocked to hear that Neville had confessed to her his part in not only his role in Amanda’s death but her murder as well. Through tears, she described how she fought him for the gun, how he had her on the ground prepared to shoot her, and how Olivia managed to get in just in time before he was able to.  

Liam felt the heat rising in his face and his body brimming with fury, knowing that bastard was part of orchestrating Riley’s murder and trying to kill her earlier. As Drake explained to them how he tackled Neville to the ground after the second shot that killed the suitor, the only thing on Liam’s mind at that point was how to make Neville pay for everything he had done. This was no ordinary crime – it was treason, it was betrayal, and it was very personal. He had wanted someone to pay for taking the love of his life and the mother of his child away from him, and now he had his culprit. As the others continued to discuss what happened, he mulled over how he wanted to deal with this situation. 

Liam wanted revenge so bad he could taste it. With his position as King making him the judge and jury, this was his opportunity to see fit that at least one person would pay the ultimate price for destroying his family.  When an idea finally struck him, he contemplated whether or not he had it in him to actually carry out such a sentence. After everything he had been through the past several months with her death, Neville’s betrayal at the council meeting, his mental breakdown, and what took place during tonight’s ball, it was a chance he was willing to find out.

Drake let out a loud yawn and stretched, rising from his chair. “I think I’ve had enough damn excitement for the night. I’m gonna go throw back a couple of shots and hit the hay.”

Maxwell helped Hana put on her jacket, both exchanging hugs and promises they would call and check on Riley first thing in the morning. Riley followed the trio to the foyer to see them out while Liam remained behind. When the four of them had left the room, he walked over to the fireplace and pulled his cellphone from his pocket. His hand shook as he hesitated to type out the message to his head guard. He couldn’t stop his conscience from taking over, questioning whether he had it in him to carry out this plan on his own. 

Liam’s finger hovered over his phone as he kept talking himself out of it. It went against everything he believed in, but the truth was, he didn’t want to be talked out of it. Images of his wife’s lifeless body lying in their bed while his guards worked to revive her played over and over in his mind. Holding her body in his arms after she had been pronounced dead at the hospital. The days that followed where every part of his body hurt missing her, wanting her, needing her. The funeral. The burial. His infant daughters cries for her mother. 

“Liam?” He jerked when Riley called out to him. “Are you okay?”

He smiled back at her and held his phone up. “I’m fine, love. I just have a few things to take care of first. A lot happened tonight and I …I just want to make sure everything is dealt with exactly as it should be.”

She quirked her brow. “Are you sure?”

Liam crossed the room, flipping the light switch, then wrapping his arms around her. “I’m positive.” He leaned down to kiss her, running his hands through her flowing hair. “I don’t want you to worry about me. You’ve been through quite an ordeal today, and I want you to try to get some sleep. I’ll be up in a little bit, I promise.”

Riley smiled back at him and nodded before they kissed goodnight, and she headed for the stairs. In the back of her mind, she too had a lot to think about. In a way, she was relieved to have a moment to herself before Liam came to bed. Riley was utterly exhausted, yet she wasn’t sure if sleep would even be possible with everything that took place this evening. There was still one lingering question she needed to be answered before her head hit the pillow. She took a deep breath, feeling that same queasiness that sent her running from the ballroom earlier.

Liam typed out his instructions to Bastien and hit send. He removed his outer coat and the regalia that was attached to his collar. After slipping off his vest and ribbon and tossing them over an armchair, he rolled his sleeves up to his elbows. Walking into the foyer, Liam stopped when he noticed his reflection in the large hanging mirror. Sweat beaded along his forehead, his face was flushed, and his breathing was becoming more onerous. He could feel his heart pounding. Placing both hands on the table below the mirror, Liam hung his head, trying to calm his nerves and slow down his breathing. He glanced back at the reflection in the mirror, that same fury and longing for revenge building up once more. With his eyes widened and jaw tensed, he decided to give himself parting words. 

“This is for Riley.”

He clapped the top of the table and exited his quarters.

Riley went straight to her bedroom then into the bathroom. She swung open the closet door and started rummaging through personal care items and hygiene products. Bottles of shampoo and soaps fell off shelves and rolled across the floor. She pushed aside boxes of tampons that hadn’t been used since she came back.

Confident she still had a few unopened boxes leftover from when she and Liam were trying to conceive Ellie, she crouched down. Her eyes lit up when on the bottom shelf, behind her hand lotions, there were still two boxes of pregnancy tests.

Riley grabbed one and squinted as she checked the expiration date on the side, relieved to find it was still good. She kicked a bottle of body wash to the side while ripping open the packaging and removing the wand.

After following the instructions, she placed the cap back on it and set it flat on the counter top. Riley stepped into her bedroom and checked the clock. She paced and twisted her hair around her finger, waiting nervously for the unknown. If it was positive, what would this mean? She would have to go back at some point. 

If this were under different circumstances, there would be anticipation over having another baby. Even though Ellie was only three months old, she imagined her daughter and a new baby, being so close in age, would grow up with an inseparable bond. Liam would most likely be over the moon to have another child; he was such a good father, and in love with his daughter, there would be no question about his elation.

This wasn’t a typical situation, though. Her time was limited and when she returned, any child they may have conceived while she was here would inevitably return with her. Liam was already heartbroken over her leaving again; an unborn baby that he would have no possibility of seeing would be so much harder on him. Why they hadn’t thought to use protection boggled her mind.

Then thoughts of if the test were negative began to plague her. Was this nausea and exhaustion she was feeling part of something more? Was she getting sick in order for her to pass again and return back? She came to help Liam, and she had prepared herself to do that for a short time, but now that she was here with him and Ellie, she didn’t want to go back. At least not yet.

Riley glanced at the clock, and the time to check was ready. She inhaled deeply and made her way back into the bathroom. Her stomach was in knots as she tried to steady her nerves. She closed her eyes and leaned over the counter, directly above where this little stick that held so many answers set.

Slowly, Riley opened her eyes; catching sight of the results, she immediately blinked back tears. Both hands clasped over her mouth, and she shook her head vigorously. There were no doubts as to the results as two bright pink lines were shown prominently in the translucent window.

“No.”

[la-fille-en-aiguilles]

The Bucket List or “Oh my Dear Lord”

Matt Murdock x Female Reader 

Request: AH I SAW U WERE TAKING REQUESTS FOR MY BOI MATT AND I HAD TO DO ONE! so what about “Well, looks like I can scratch that from my bucket list” - “Who the hell puts getting arrested on a bucket list?!” and like he’s the (female)reader’s defense attorney but they already know each other? idk lol but tysm in advance, i hope this helps your writers block

A/N: Thank you SO MUCH for your request, sweetheart! Here’s some Matt Murdock for you, involving some blood and sexual tension 😈  I’m so very sorry it took me forever. I got a bit carried away there, but I hope this piece lives up to your expectations! Also, look at me, using two prompts from the list, bam bam!  The reader’s family name / surname is given in this story ;)

(May contain mistakes, author’s not a native speaker)

Foggy!… Foggy!… Foggy!… Foggy!…

The pain was unbearable, striking hard and deep, and everywhere at once. Bitter blasts cut through his bones as he tried to focus on finding the wound. Not with his hands - those would not obey, completely numb and useless. 

It must have been his shoulder, he realised, closing his eyes. He couldn’t keep them shut for long, though - his head was spinning, so much worse than after a dozen shots of that eel booze of Josie’s. 

He opened his eyes and managed to slightly turn his head to the left. The pungent smell of blood left him wincing and swearing under his breath.

It was his goddamn shoulder alright, a jugged piece of glass sticking from right below his collarbone. The ragged tissue around the wound burned, and as seconds passed, the pain amplified, jarring and brutal. Blood oozed down his chest almost lazily, his Daredevil costume soaking it up.

Foggy!… Foggy!…

Matt spit out a curse, feeling the taste of blood on his lips. Excruciating pain shoot through his chest as he tore his phone out of a thigh pocket, hitting the green answer button with his thumb.  

“Now is really not a good time, Foggy,” he huffed, trying to prop himself higher against the cold metal door, leading back inside the building. The sky and the ground changed places as he tried to inhale deeper… He only hoped his lung wasn’t punctured.

“Matt, you need to get to the station. Like right now.”

The panic in Foggy’s voice made Matt’s insides turn clockwise. A lump rose in his throat, urging him to get rid of whatever he ate for dinner earlier. 

“What…?” he forced himself to speak, but only ended up coughing hoarsely, blood rolling over the edge of his lips and dripping down his chin. 

“They’ve got their hands on Woods,” Foggy whispered, dread choking him. “She’s under arrest”. 

Greeting his teeth, Matt growled as he stood up, using his free hand for balance. Unsteady on his feet, still leaning on the door, he gripped that piece of glass and tore it from his body. It fell on the ground with a muffled cry, shattering in pieces. Matt bit down on his lips, keeping the involuntary scream in, hissing in pain. He pressed his free hand to the wound, blood pumping out through his fingers, painting them stark red.

“I’ll get there as fast as I can”, he rasped. “Don’t let her speak with anybody until then. Not a goddamn soul”. 

“Understood,” Foggy swallowed frantically, as if he were drowning. “Please, hurry!…”

Dropping the call, Matt kicked the door with all the force that was left in him, pain and rage sending his heart and brain in the overdrive. The sound of his boot hitting the metal resonated in his head like a bell’s tolling in an empty church. 

…Goddammit, Y/N! He told you to run!

†††

The smell of barbecue chips and cigarette smoke intensified as soon as he stepped into the precinct. Gripping his cane so hard his fingers hurt, Matt made his way down to the reception desk, his stroll a little too quick and confident for a blind guy. He turned a couple of heads on his way, but it came to show that a hard expression of silent, barely contained fury was the best deterrent to stupid questions. 

As soon as he spotted Murdock, Brett sighed and pushed his way towards him through the crowded corridor. 

“Why, dear Lord, why when something happens, you three are always involved?” Brett grumbled, planting himself in Matt’s way. 

Should this have been another time and setting, Matt would probably choke out a muffled laugh; but all he could think of right now was getting to the interrogation room, and seeing with his own eyes that Y/N was unharmed.

“Where is she?” he cut to the chase unceremoniously, cocking his head to a side. 

Brett raised his eyebrows at his tone, but refrained from commenting it. 

“Don’t bullshit me,” he muttered, his hands diving in the pockets of his uniform. “You and Nelson are here so much, you probably know the entire place like the back of your hand by now”, he stepped aside, clearing the way down the corridor. “I told Hoffman he won’t get a word out of Y/N Woodsley’s mouth as long as her usual pair of lawyers is involved”. 

Matt gritted his teeth, but said nothing, hurrying down the dim corridor instead.   

“…Are you insane?!” He had heard the indistinct screaming from outside the station, but only now, up close, it seemed to really speak to the thunderstorm raging inside of his chest. “You could’ve gotten yourself killed!…”

“Well I couldn’t just stand there, Foggy, could I? That psycho with a badge has almost put a hole through his head!…”

Anger rang through Y/N’s voice like bullets falling on the ground. Matt could hear her heart beating double time, sensed the faint aroma of her sweat, mixed with blood and the remnants of her neroli perfume. She wasn’t afraid. She was pissed, mad out of her mind, as she slapped her hand against the entrance door, before pressing her forehead against it. 

“Whoever that guy is, he saved Karen’s life!…” she murmured. “I don’t regret shit, and I’d do it all over again”. 

As soon as Matt heard her move sufficiently far from the entrance, he inhaled deeply, the inside of his chest burning up like a fuming volcano. All he wanted to do was scream, but he was pretty sure he’d end up vomiting all over the place because of the escalating pain, hitting his body in waves. 

As soon as he opened the door, the room fell scary silent. Foggy’s rugged, infuriated breathing and a small drop of sweat rolling in between Y/N’s breasts was all he was able to catch, before her quiet voice filled his ears. 

“I swear, Matt, I can explain.”

His lips stretched out into a thin line, he made his way to the chair next to Foggy’s.

“…if I had a dime every time I heard that”, he whispered, disappointment lacing every word. He sank down into the uncomfortable chair, painfully slow and careful. He could hear - more like sense, really - Y/N bit on her bottom lip nervously, and Matt knew her eyes were glowing with guilt. 

While all he could think of was she could have been dead right now, and it would have been all my fault. 

“I was out with Karen and my good friend Jessica - we were at Josie’s to down a couple of beers.. Argh!…” submerged by the need to hide her face, Y/N rubbed her hands on her forehead, leaning down on the table with her elbows. Her nail must have scratched a cut that went from her temple to her eyebrow, a sharp breath escaping her lips. “I was tired and a little pissed at my editor for blacklisting my article on the Russians, and I wasn’t having fun. Felt like peeing on everyone’s parade, so when the clock struck midnight I decided to call it a night”.

She paused, trying to search her best friends’ faces, staring sternly at her. Rolling her eyes at their judging you expressions, she combed her fingers through her hair, pushing those messy strands to a side.

“I took the corner of 51th and 11th, when I heard some commotion at the docks. I marched straight towards Hudson… The alcohol making me fearless, I don’t know… I spotted three police cars outside that whitewashed building at the Piers 92/94, the old industrial glass warehouse, you know?… Everything seemed calm, and I felt stupid just standing there in the middle of the road, so I turned around and stumbled towards the park… But then I heard a window shattering. It was…” 

She paused, swallowing, trying to keep the undertones of awe and excitement in her voice at bay.  The notes that Matt hated with every fiber of his beaten and bruised body. 

“It was the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen, Matt. He just jumped through the window on the second floor, landed on his goddamn feet like a cheetah, bullets wheezing all around him, like some kind of a deadly rainstorm… I just…” she stuttered. “I just couldn’t look away.”

“Gooddamn it, Woods…” Foggy groaned, burying his face in his hands in a fit of despair. “Sorry, Matt”, he peaked at Murdock through his fingers.

“Can you imagine the kind of story that could be?” Y/N brushed his exclamation away impatiently. “I was close enough to take photos, I could have caught the Devil in action, it could be all over the news the next day, especially if I pulled all the information I collected on that shady warehouse in these past few weeks!” As Y/N’s confidence grew, Matt’s heart was shrinking into a tiny nubbin. “This could be my chance to prove that the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen was on our side all along!…”

“What happened next?” Murdock interrupted drily, clutching his fists under the table.

Y/N sighed, her puffed-out chest falling down. She shot a glance at the camera in the right corner of the room.

“It’s okay, Woods, it’s off”, Murdock spoke a little impatiently, sensing her discomfort. “Please, go on”.

Y/N just stared at him in disbelief for a moment, probably thinking something along the lines of well damn, Murdock, for a blind guy you sure are insightful. 

He almost chuckled. If only you knew, princess. 

“Not what, who,” she growled quietly, suppressing her anger, seeping through the pores of her soft skin. “Detective Hoffman happened. He dashed out of the building like the goddamn place was on fire… He stopped by the cars, his gun loaded and ready. He didn’t shoot to stop or injure, he shot to kill, I know what I saw. It was a miracle the Devil actually managed to dodge his goddamn bullets!”

“No kidding,” Foggy snapped, and Matt instantly felt his gaze, burning holes in his head. “And then what? You just thought, hey, I better join the party before they run out of ammunition! Wouldn’t want to miss all the fun!”

“No,” Y/N challenged, the waves of anger she emanated hitting Matt like an avalanche. “I watched for as long as I could, until eight more dirty cops emerged from the building, attacking the Devil like a bunch of hell hounds! I had to do something before they made sure the man could never walk the Earth again! He put up quite a fight there, but when I saw Hoffman thrust a goddamn shard of glass the size of my arm through his chest…”

“Say what?!” Foggy boomed, nothing short of a nuclear bomb. He stared at Matt open-mouthed. “Jesus Christ! But how the fudge…?”

“What Foggy is trying to say here,” Matt cut in, kicking his best friend under the table to shut him up - Nelson gasped at the impact. “Is how the fudge did you think you could help him?… You could have ended up in a body bag, Woods, not in this interrogation room!…”

All-consuming silence settled over the three of them - Foggy was still nursing his leg, while Matt found himself involuntary soaking up the desperation with which Y/N was defending him, the Daredevil, without knowing who he was. He would rather die of glass and bullets than put her in danger, and he hated himself for having had involved her in this. 

And at the same time, sensing her warmth, her resolute desire to make Foggy and him understand that she cared for the Devil, and that they ought to, too, all he wanted to do was to just let go. To stop hating himself because of what he wanted. To absorb her determination, to accept her care, to savour it!… 

Nothing so wrong had ever felt so right, and his thoughts… They were tearing him apart.

“I fired a warning shot at Hoffman,” Y/N murmured, her lips barely moving. “The bullet must have scratched his thigh… Distracted him for long enough, so that the Devil could take the upper hand…”

Matt heard Y/N heartbeat, loud and clear. Nice and slow, it showed that she wasn’t afraid. His own heart, however… Murdock felt it bash against the walls of his ribcage so loud, he was sure both Foggy and Y/N could hear.

“He screamed at me to run, when he saw me… He was furious - not that someone decided to interrupt his little kick-ass session, but because it was me.”

“That’s bull, Woods!” Foggy exclaimed, sounding like a man desperately catching at straws. “Just listen to yourself! How would the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen know who you are?…”

Unblinking, Y/N stared at him for a solid minute, crossing her hands on her chest. Blood thumped in Murdock’s ears, his forehead dotted with crystal beads of sweat - the pain in the shoulder never ceased, and just when he thought he could handle no more, Y/N’s lips slowly parted, releasing, it seemed, his greatest fear. 

“He called me by my name, Foggy.”

As soon as the words filled the air around the three of them, like bonfire smoke, the time seemed to dissolve into itself, shapeless and inconsequential. Matt lost his breath, the realisation brought to light suffocating him.

“He must have recognised you from the Bulletin or something,” Foggy muttered in response to Y/N’s confession, throwing Murdock a lifeline. Matt nodded at him gratefully, his throat tight. “Now, if you ran just like he told you to, why the hell are we here? How did you end up in police custody?…”

Y/N let out a deep sigh, dropping her head in between her hands on the table. 

“They caught up with me on the corner of 12th and 46th”, she said. “And no, before you ask, I didn’t have that gun on me,” watching the question forming itself on Matt’s and Foggy’s faces, she beat them to it. “I… discarded it”. 

Chewing on his bottom lip, Matt considered the situation for a moment. Hoffman, or one of his lapdogs must have seen her run; it did not help that he willingly gave them her name, in his outburst of anger and panic. But unless they had tangible proof that she was the one firing that warning shot, they didn’t have jack on her. Even a testimony of an eyewitness would not be enough to prove she was involved in that mess he so carelessly created. 

It was all his goddamn fault!…

“Okay…” Foggy drawled out, thinking out loud. “That means the only thing they have on you…”

“…are words,” Matt finished for him, his head turned in Y/N’s direction. “Possibly an eyewitness, but with that alone they won’t be able to prove anything - the night is dark, and I hear the street lamps at the docks are rotten”. 

Y/N worried her bottom lip with her teeth, listening to him intently. 

“Then why and on what grounds are they detaining me?” she finally asked, sounding like she already knew the answer. 

Foggy and Matt exchanged heavy glances. 

“They can keep you in custody at least for the next 24 hours, and trust me, they are going to try and push the bail option off the table”, Foggy reasoned, his eyes switching between Y/N and Matt. “They think you know who the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen is”, he added, his voice barely perceptible.

“Do you?…” Matt urged under his breath without missing a beat, leaning closer to Y/N. A waft of his spicy perfume washed over her, mixed with a salty, metallic odour that she couldn’t quite place. She lost her train of thought for a moment, watching her reflection in his glasses, his eyes hidden behind their usual red armour. When she really thought about it, she could count the times she had basked in their hazel glow on one hand. 

With a sharp bob of his Adam’s apple, Matt swallowed, his face unreadable. 

“Um… hello, Matt, have you met me?” Y/N gave Murdock a sceptical look, her voice dropping a couple of octaves. She threw her hair back, instinctively moving towards him. “I’m a journalist, I don’t keep secrets. My job is to uncover them. Especially ones of this caliber”.

Bittersweet relief rolled over Matthew in a cool wave, spreading from his feet to the tips of his ears. He couldn’t help but chuckle at Y/N’s uncannily fitting choice of words. She was right, of course; revealed, this secret would shoot to kill, far more dangerous than a loaded gun. 

“Here’s what happens next,” Matt interlaced his fingers, joining his hands together on the table. “We’re going to have a word with Hoffman, and then we’re posting bail. Unless they have other ways to track down Daredevil so they can bring him to court, chances are you won’t even have to face the jury.”

“Peachy,” Y/N muttered under her breath, absentmindedly feeling for the cut on her forehead with her fingertips. Both Matt and Foggy were already getting on their feet. “At least I can scratch that from my bucket list…”

“Who the hell puts getting arrested on a bucket list?!” Foggy mused, staring at Y/N in disbelief. 

She rolled her eyes, rubbing her cheeks lightly with her fingertips. 

“Not getting arrested, Foggy, this isn’t my first rodeo,” she released an impatient breath. “Getting in trouble for helping Daredevil. Now that’s something I’d write down in my journal if I’d had one,” Matt heard her smile, her voice englobing him like a cashmere blanket. “Thank you for taking care of me, you both. You really don’t have to post bail, though…”

Matt’s body grew stiff. He leaned on the table separating them, with his hands biting into the wood. 

“We know for sure that Hoffman’s on Fisk’s payroll, Woods. And he won’t stop at anything - and I mean anything - to make you talk. I could never…” he stuttered, biting on his bottom lip hard, the eyes behind his glasses drilling a hole a couple of inches above Y/N’s head. “We’re posting bail”, he declared assertively. “Fight me.” 

Tense silence surrounded Matt and Y/N, as they just gazed at each other, the air around them buzzing with emotion and intent. Something was happening between the two, something mysterious and possibly life-changing, their bodies speaking in a language only they could understand. Y/N brushed her fingers against her lips - Matt rolled his tongue against the inside of his right cheek - and Foggy suddenly felt wrong trying to decipher whatever they were conjuring up, without as much as a touch. 

Clearing his throat, Foggy motioned towards the door. 

“I’m going to speak to Hoffman and start the paperwork. We should be all out of here in couple of hours, tops”. 

“And then we’re walking you home”, Matt pushed away from the table. Y/N sighed, half-opening her lips, and his entire body seemed to react to the nearly imperceptible sound: his skin shivered and his heart picked up some.

“Okay,” she said, her voice even, still looking at him. “I suppose I owe you this much”. 

†††

The rain was falling thickly as the three of them made their way out of the stuffy police station; the sky was still dark, with an occasional flash of lightening splitting it in two, three, four uneven cobalt blue parts. Crackles of thunder rolled across rooftops to the pattering of hefty raindrops, resonating in Matt’s feverish mind. 

Pain still gnawing at the corners of his mind, he realised he had never done such hard thinking as he did now, falling a bit behind Foggy and Y/N. Something was off, he could sense it. Ever since that tense moment they shared in the interrogation room, Woods had been unusually quiet, compliant and overall so unlike herself, agreeing to do just as Foggy and him told her, without even trying to put up a fight. At first, he thought that maybe she was tired - she, too, had a hell of a night, he had to remind himself. But then he sensed her stare from across the room as he talked to Hoffman - a stare that left his skin burning, his body vibrating under those restless interrogative eyes. 

Both Foggy and Y/N stopped just outside the heavy doors, waiting for him to catch up. Just as Matt stepped outside, he allowed himself a deep breath, despite the pain in his chest. The air seemed charged with electricity, and the humidity pressed down, suffocating him… Y/N’s eyes settled on his face, and he felt her hand wrap around his wrist. Still watching him closely, she interlaced their fingers. Her fingertips danced over his maimed knuckles… His breath hitched. Swallowing hard, Matt slid his hand out of her grip, adjusting the collar of his shirt. 

Good God! Had she figured it out?…

He was a goddamn mess, wasn’t he?

“As much fun as this had been,” Foggy spoke, pretending not to have noticed his best friends’ antics. “I’ve got to go. If I leave now, there might still be a chance for me to enjoy my night of mind-blowing sex and cuddling with Marci”. 

Y/N chuckled at his words. Matt barely raised an eyebrow. 

“Well, don’t let us stop you,” he said, notes of accusation tingling in every sound. 

He heard Foggy let out an exasperated breath, his heart beating faster than normal, and realised he was in this alone. 

Not that Matt could blame him. He was the only one responsible for this mess and it was up to him to deal with the consequences. 

“See you tomorrow, Fog,” Matt added, patting his best friend on a shoulder. Clearing his throat, Foggy gave Y/N and him one last look before darting to the nearest waiting taxi. 

“Stay safe, and vigilant, both of you.”

And just like that, Matt found himself alone with Y/N, in the very situation he dreaded from the minute he dropped Foggy’s call earlier that night. 

“You don’t have to walk me home”, Y/N spoke calmly, stepping out into the rain like this was the last thing that bothered her. “I’m sure you have better things to do”. 

The words felt like a slap, but Matt refused to acknowledge whatever meaning she’d put into them. He followed her into the rain, not batting an eyelid.

“I’m walking you home, Woods,” he sounded serene as he spoke; maybe a little too serene, but it was too late to do anything about it. “Don’t make me break my promise”. 

“Fine,” she shrugged, stretching her hand out to him. Water rolled down her face, soaking her trench, the smell of her neroli perfume intensifying as Matt stepped closer to her. She took him gently by the elbow, leading him down the glowing, wet street. 

The night was silent, save for a siren roaring a couple of blocks ahead. His body stiffened as he first heard its wailing sound; it took a soft squeeze of Y/N’s hand to get his head back in the game. He needed to win. So that his secret identity remained secret, and Woods remained oblivious to his late night shenanigans. 

“How are you holding up?” Matt ventured, mindlessly falling in line with Y/N’s steady pace. He felt her shrug as her hand slid higher up his bicep, creating friction. Matt bit the inside of his cheek, trying to ignore her soft breaths, interrupted by the whispering sound of rain crushing against her damp skin, small drops rolling down the curve of her breasts…

“I’m fine,” she answered, her voice smooth and soft, like velvet. “I am more worried about Daredevil, he got hit pretty deep with that shard of glass…”

With his breath hitching, Matt noticed a change in her heart’s rhythm - it slowed down, but it thumped louder now, wilder. 

“I’m… Well, the night is a blur now, you know?… But there’s one detail that bothers me, I can’t seem to wrap my mind around it…”

“What is it?” Matt turned cold with irrational fear, suddenly realising they weren’t walking anymore. 

Wherever they were, this wasn’t Y/N’s block - it just didn’t smell like it. 

Concentrating, Matt caught a whiff of Indian spices through the tantalising veil of the neroli perfume… That neroli perfume, dear Lord, it was driving him insane, pushing his thoughts in all the wrong directions… Smelled like gas, too, there must have been a gas station within a 30-metres radius… And camomile detergent…

And then it hit him - it’s her who walked him home. They stood just beside his building, but why did she…?

Y/N’s hands landed on his shoulders, cutting his flow of thoughts short - she stood facing him now. So achingly close, it felt like there were not much of that buzzing hot air between her soul and his. Before he could remember how to breathe, Y/N’s fingertips caressed his his cheeks, moving smoothly up until she reached the wet cold metal of his glasses, pulling them away from his face. Matt looked steadily at her lips, his eyelashes begging for her touch. 

“The moment I fired that gun,” she whispered, water rolling down her lips and chin. “I swear I saw Daredevil flinch, he dipped his head a little to a side… His deep red mouth moved, and I could swear I saw those lips before…”

Her fingers moved across the skin on her chest, breaking water patterns… Just like she was breaking his will, pushing him to surrender.

Matt groaned barely audibly, his brain electrified. Helpless and intoxicated, with her scent sending him in a heady trance, he let his hands find their home on her waist, his touch gentle, worshipful.

His cane fell on the ground, and neither of them noticed.

“…He turned his head my way and it was like he saw me. And the next thing I know…” 

Matt’s body was hard, pushing against her soft breasts. He didn’t want to leave marks, but he couldn’t let go of her. Rain hit her cheekbones, and the water splashed against his nose and lips. He was losing it. Losing control.

“And the next thing I know, he screams - Run,” she dipped her head, her breath burning the skin on his neck. Matt crushed a groan in his throat, grabbing her arms, holding her in place.

“Run, Woods, run!”

The wind held its breath. A stillness fell over the street. The silence got torn apart by a low rumble of thunder. 

It felt like the ground underneath Matt’s feet was crumbling, and the walls he had spent so much time building around himself tumbling to the ground. Like he just stood there, breathless, holding up the roof, so that the weight of the truth didn’t crush his life-outside-Daredevil-duties, the life he fought so hard to hold on to. The life in which Y/N loved and trusted him.

He really blew it, didn’t he? A single second, a fleeting-moment kind of realisation, a mind-numbing moment of fear… All it took for his life to go down in flames of hell. 

Everything stopped. His heart came to a screeching halt. 

“Y/N, please,” he muttered, licking the water from his bottom lip. “Please, just let me…”

Her lips obliterated his every thought, swallowing the words off his mouth. Matt’s brain was instantly on fire - but her lips were cold, and the cool relief spread in waves all over his body, soothing all the parts of him that’d been on fire for too long.

From then on, everything accelerated, happening in a flash. Y/N pushed her fingers through his mane of damp hair, Matt groaned, his head falling back. Their bodies were aligned, her nipples cold against his chest…  

Y/N lips were Matt’s salvation and his torment. Exhaling frantically into his mouth, Y/N bit on his bottom lip, letting him feel her teeth, her need, her gratitude… She let him name it. 

“Oh my… dear Lord,” Matt growled, the feeling of diving headfirst into an erupting volcano with her, finally kicking his common sense into submission. With a jerk of his bruised body, he hoisted Y/N up, guiding her legs to wrap around his waist. Kissing her mad, kissing her senseless, he made his way up the porch and into the building, the door slamming shut behind them. 

The explosions of thunder continued to drown Hell’s Kitchen in the most deafening racket; but even its uproars could not hide the sounds made by two lovers, moving against each other, feeling each other… Loving each other like they’d never loved before.   

See the list of the prompts here & request the hell outta them 😈

[enchantedbride]

The First Meeting, In a Cafe  (Leon/Joey Shorts 1/???)

Tagging: @lovely-selfships, @foreveryours-mouse, @charliedoyleloves

(Let me know if you wish to be tagged in this series or any other self-ship writing of mine! I’m more than happy to do it so the people who want to see my stuff can find it more easily.)

Fandom: Pokemon SwSh

Rating: SFW

Warnings: None (But later stories will includes depictions of struggling with depression and mentions of past self-harm, suicidal ideation, and childhood emotional abuse and will be tagged when said topics come up)

There was an unsteady rhythm to the rapping of her fingers against the table as her eyes anxiously flitted back to her phone. The side patio of the Cafe had less of the chatter from other patrons as inside, but that was simply replaced by the patter of footsteps against the sidewalks and the occasional dull whir of an engine as a vehicle sped by. The smell of coffee drifted outside from the side door, causing a small sigh to escape her.

Lee was getting close to being half an hour late. She was already sweating bullets about this situation before, but the fact he was late made it worse. 

Joey wasn’t sure to begin with that coming all the way to the Galar region to crash with a friend she only knew online was a good idea. Luckily he seemed more than happy to meet up with her in a public place so they could meet each other in person before she committed to this. 

And should he turn out to be a creep, she had a friend of hers keeping a watchful eye. Not that she thought Lee was likely to be a creep, but on the off chance, it was better to be prepared.

That might not be necessary though if he didn’t even show up.

“Blas?” Claudia, her Blastoise, shifted impatiently in her spot next to her at the table. The two had been together practically since Joey’s infancy, so it took little effort for Joey to understand her partner Pokemon’s state.

“I know. It’s really getting to be late. He sent me a text saying he was running late, but still.”

“Blastoise...”

“I’m starting to wonder if this was worth it,” Joey thought aloud. “On the other hand, I guess I am glad for the change of scenery. Even if it winds up being for only a couple of days instead of a few weeks.”

Motostoke had a charm to it, with it’s steam-powered moving platforms and the the little shops that lined the streets. Some buildings were newer, styled much like the modern towering skyscrapers of Castelia City back in Unova from where she came. But many were older and not imposing in the same way, with brick and stone exteriors. 

It would be dishonest of her if she didn’t admit she wanted to explore the place more.

I shouldn’t even really be on this trip, though, she scolded herself. If it weren’t for the fact I literally can’t go back to work for the next few weeks, that’s where I would be. Where I should be. 

Joey turned her gaze back to her coffee, starting to get lost in her own thoughts again. She would wait a little while longer. But only a little while.

A few moments passed, and the relative quiet was interrupted by the sound of a stomach gurgling. 

“Blas...Blastoise?” Joey looked up to see Claudia’s expression shift to something that appeared more pained as she briefly patted her belly.

“Oh dear,” Joey remarked, “Are you hungry, Claudia? It is past lunchtime now.”

The Blastoise nodded in agreement. “Blas.” 

“I know Lemon treats are your favorite, there were some in the case back inside. I could get some if you like?”

Claudia nodded with more enthusiasm at the suggestion. 

“Okay. I’ll be right back. Can you mind the table while I’m gone?”

“Blastoise!” 

“Thanks, Claudia. I’m really sorry about all of this.” Joey got up from the table and pushed in her seat, taking her phone with her but leaving Claudia behind. She only planned to be gone for a few minutes. Unfortunately, the line inside told her that it might be longer then that. 

Joey sighed, briefly looking back before she glanced down to her phone.

No new DMs, she observed. The last message displayed was from fifteen minutes ago.

Sorry Helix, I’m running late! I’m having trouble finding the Cafe. I promise I’ll try to be there as soon as possible.

Joey got in line and began a second waiting game in addition to the one she was already playing. If Lee does show up, it’s going to be a bit strange to start calling each other by our real names, she thought. Up until now, we’ve only known each other by our internet nicknames. 

They also didn’t know what the other looked or sounded like. It might very well be quite the surprise for both of them. Although if Joey were being honest, she wasn’t quite sure what to expect. 

Lee had been a kind, goofy and excitable sort in the several months the two corresponded. But what stood out with him was his ability to support and encourage others and to take difficult situations with grace. His friendship had been invaluable to her. 

Perhaps this was a major part of what made her nervous. He’d come to be an important fixture in her life. If things didn’t turn out well or he wasn’t as he appeared, it would hurt. 

Joey continued to wait as the line slowly dwindled and she moved closer to the counter little by little. Occasionally she would look at her phone for new messages, but there was nothing. Otherwise she kept her focus on the lemon treats as they sat at the front of the display case by the service counter. 

They look delicious, she thought. Claudia’s going to love them!

She was nearing the service counter, and eventually it was her turn to order. She asked for a pair of lemon treats and paid for them before they were taken from the case and handed to her. Joey stepped to the side to let the next person approach, and turned to make her way back to the patio. But then, she heard a voice from near the front door of the cafe.

“Excuse me. I didn’t see you there, please forgive me.”

“Oh, Champion! Don’t worry about it. Please, go ahead. I was actually about to go sit down.”

Joey turned her head. Champion? Her eyes briefly went wide. Recognition flared up as she saw a tall man perhaps a little bit younger than her with long violet hair close the door behind him and make his way further in. 

Oh! That’s the champion of the Galar Pokemon league, Leon! Joey found a big grin pulling at her face. Lee’s such a big fan of his and collects all sorts of merch. I bet he’d be so stoked if he knew Leon was here. 

Joey observed him for a moment, noticing that he started to walk off to the side and pull out his phone. Catching herself a moment, she chided herself mentally a bit for being nosy and tried to redirect herself to go back to her table on the patio. She began her stride, but found herself stopped as she felt her phone begin to vibrate in the pocket of her sweatshirt.

Joey pulled out her phone to see a notification lighting up the screen.

It’s Lee! Talk about timing...

She opened up her phone too see the text in detail. 

I’m finally here! Again, I’m so sorry for being late. Where are you sitting? I’ll come find you. 

He’s here? She looked over but saw nobody had come in since Leon. Maybe he came in just before? There were a few other people who came in while I was waiting in line. 

I’m actually just got a snack for Claudia and was about to head back to the table on the patio, she typed back in reply. Why don’t you wave and I’ll come find you? If you see a  gremlin in an Umbreon hoodie coming towards you, that’s me. 

Joey kept her phone in hand, while holding the bag of lemon treats in the other. She began to look around the cafe for someone waving there hand. It was a moment or two, but eventually her eyes caught sight of someone waving their hand, and a pair of amber eyes looking back at her.

A startled response briefly overtook her and she blurted out in response to seeing who was waving back at her.

“WHAT-” she stopped as she spotted multiple gazes now pointed in her direction, almost crumbling inward in embarrassment.  She began to approach, clutching her phone and treats tightly as her feet briskly brought her forward.

The person waving at her was Leon. And she couldn’t brush it off as a coincidence when he was the only one waving and he was looking right at her. Joey excused herself as walked past someone in the line. This can’t be right, she argued with herself. Lee can’t be Leon. It doesn’t make sense!

She finally stopped in front of him, attempting to compose herself. Her reaction probably didn’t come as that much of a surprise. But he probably thought it was because she didn’t expect the friend she’d been corresponding with all these months was a celebrity. But it had more to do with the fact she didn’t expect someone to collect their own merchandise. 

And perhaps the fact she had more assumptions about him than she thought.

“Are you Helix?” he asked. She wasn’t very good at reading people, but she could at least gather that he was anticipating her response.

“Yeah,” she replied, “In the flesh. Although I generally go by Joey in real life.” She began to put her phone back in her pocket as she tried to meet his eyes as closely as she could without causing herself discomfort. Eye contact was always hard for her, but she especially didn’t want to obviously be avoiding it for the moment. “Are you Lee?”

“Joey,” he repeated her name with noticeable enthusiasm and a smile before his expression shifted to a more apologetic one. “It’s nice to meet you in person. I want to apologize again for keeping you so long. If it weren’t for Charizard I probably wouldn’t have gotten here.” He blinked in realization before he cleared his throat, almost as if he was nervous. “I’m Lee. Or Leon, as you’ve probably figured out.”

“You know it fits in a lot of ways,” Joey admitted as the reality of the situation began to sink in, “But, certain things don’t add up. Namely, I wouldn’t have thought you would be an avid collector of your own merch!”

Leon chuckled.

“I wasn’t at first. I started getting it for my little brother, Hop in the beginning. But I was so impressed with all the things my fans created that I guess I started wanting some for myself as well.”

Joey nodded. “I see. So ChampionHour was a way for you to quietly look for things you thought Hop would like and then it became a way for you to quietly interact with your own fandom and various Pokemon centric groups online.”

“I guess it did. I mean, I have a more public account that I use in a more official capacity but... yes.” Leon answered as his eyes wandered towards the side door. “So you said your table was out on the patio?”

“Yeah. Guarded by my three thousand pound Blastoise. Can’t miss it.”

“I see,” he laughed. “You mentioned Claudia would be with you for security. I understand why. All the same, I’m glad to meet both you and your partner Pokemon. Did you bring any of your other Pokemon with you?”

“Corti’s in her Pokeball but everyone else is back at the hotel or in the box system,” Joey replied as she gestured to her pockets. Cortana, or Corti for short, was Joey’s Raichu, and her other closest partner besides Claudia. “And I’m glad to meet you too. Although to be honest I was worried you weren’t going to show up, and well... as is obvious, I didn’t put two and two together.”

“Honestly I’m not surprised and I don’t think you should fault yourself. I think a lot of people wouldn’t have thought to consider it,” he answered as he followed her outside. “Especially with a nickname as blatant as Lee. Actually I chose it because it’s the nickname Hop calls me.”

“I see. That makes sense considering you originally made your account to look for stuff for him,” Joey considered.

“And again, I really am sorry,” he repeated, “I’ve never been great at finding my way around, even in places I’ve been to a million times. But I shouldn’t have kept you waiting. I understand if you’re miffed.”

“I am a little, I won’t lie,” she confessed. “But you’re here now and I accept your apology. So don’t worry too much about it, alright?”

“I’ll try not to.” He smiled. “Also I’m glad you didn’t wait to get something for yourself.”

“Oh this?” Joey held up the bag. “Oh I mainly got this for Claudia. But... I should probably eat too.” At that moment Joey felt her stomach softly burbling. 

“That sounds like a good idea,” he replied with a small chuckle. he looked up and his smile widened. “Ah! I see my partner has found yours just fine.”

“Hm?” Joey looked over to see that next to Claudia was another Pokemon. Specifically, a Charizard. “Oh! Right, you mentioned your Charizard helped you find your way here.”

My friend Lee is Leon, she processed. And that’s his Charizard talking to Claudia. Whatever I might have expected deep down, it wasn’t this. 

Charizard and Claudia appeared to be having a lively conversation, although both quickly looked up when Joey and Leon came to the table. Claudia huffed at Leon before she tilted her head sighed softly towards Joey. Charizard snorted looking quite amused.

“I know Claudia. He did say he was sorry though,” Joey answered her Blastoise. “It looks like you and Charizard are both mutually annoyed from the looks of it. Can I take that as a sign the two of you are getting along?”

Charizard let out a low rumble of agreement. 

“Thanks for getting us here, Charizard,” Leon said to his friend before addressing Claudia, “ I should say sorry to you too, though.”

“Blas.” Claudia nodded in acceptance before her eyes caught the paper bag with treats. “Blastoise! Blas?”

“Yeah! I got us both one. Here-” Joey pulled out a treat from the bag and handed it to Claudia. “Thanks for being so patient, friend. Hope it’s good!”

“I haven’t exactly made a good first impression, have I? I know you’re already nervous about the prospect of staying with my in my loft over your leave.”

Joey frown, finally visibly averting her gaze. “To be honest, I think I’d be nervous whether you were late or not.”

“Because we never met in real life until now. Although I imagine knowing who I am now probably doesn’t help things.”

“Well...” Joey began to rub the back of her neck. “Maybe a little.”

“You don’t need to downplay it,” he assured her, “But I know you well enough to know you won’t treat me differently because I’m a public figure and a celebrity, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“I guess there’s no sweeping that under the rug, huh?” she sighed. “I guess there’s a bit more to talk about than where I’d be sleeping and what’s off limits in your fridge if I agree to this.” 

At this Leon laughed. “You can take anything in my fridge you like,” he replied, “There are more things to talk about yes. But what I said before we agreed to meet here still holds true. You’re my friend and I want to help. But I also want you to be comfortable. If for any reason you decide your not comfortable, I want you to assert yourself, okay?” He was gentle but firm. “That includes asserting you’d rather return to Unova.”

A moment of clarity cut through the haze of unreality she was feeling at the situation. He was talking just like her did in their DMs with each other. Only the difference now was he was physically here and she could hear his voice. 

That was perhaps unreal in its own way. 

He really was her friend, Lee. 

“I appreciate it,” she replied. “So, then, I guess we should figure out what to talk about first then.”

[chisie12]

Day 6: Forget-Me-Not

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19071907/chapters/45947032

‘Ah, fuck. This hurt.’

I paused two steps outside Jack’s room, gripping onto the railing on the wall as the pain in my chest flared. A discomfort lodged itself in my throat and I attempted to breathe, in and out, slow deep motions, but no matter how I tried, the lump didn’t want to go away.  Breaths came out forced, ragged, like a dragon’s claw taking possession of my neck. The dragon commanded its power, wordlessly demanding my life. Equalled with its might of guardianship was its cries for destruction, laying dormant. To protect or to retrieve, were its choices, or to put it simply, to live or to die.

I wheezed a sharp inhale when it squeezed its claw, the lack of air causing my lungs to contract as they desperately scrambled for oxygen. I palmed my chest, fisting the fabric of the shirt, forcing the pain to go down, but I was a victim of my own devices. The metal in my body began to overheat again, the flames laying a fiery path in my veins. My flesh screamed in protest, a dragon’s agonised howling in my ears, rioting as my flesh started to reject the foreign objects, even if they’ve been conjoined for over a decade.

I lifted a foot off the ground, the tips of my toes grazing against the tiles. It was heavy. All my muscles groaned at the simple movement, but with a slow controlled breath, I gripped tightly onto the railings, lifted and dropped the foot forward. Sweat clung to my face, tracing along the pale scars as I panted. I clutched harder at my shirt, feeling the dread settling in.

Would my body not hold out until then? I promised her. Please, let me hold out until then. Don’t fail me now.

It’s one promise I can’t break. Please, don’t make me break it.

The metal seemed to respond to my mental pleas, as though they resonated with the one that had breathed life into them. That if its her, they could do anything, and it was that that also appeased the guardian, making it choose to let me live – even if it was simply a little while longer, just for her.

She was all that filed my mind as I trudged along the corridor. Each step was still as heavy as the first, but it was steady. Instead of pain anchoring me down, the same power of the dragon in my blood floated through my veins, lending me the slight power that it was willing. Soon. I’m almost there.

My palms were hot and sweaty, certainly leaving disgusting trails on the railing for the next person, and the room was already in sight. Just a little more. My feet dragged across the floor, heavy slapping on the tiles and though the pain was suppressed, it still felt hard to breathe. Short pants, heavy, and I stopped. Right before the door.

‘At least their rooms are on the same floor,’ I bitterly thought at how mine was too, but on the other side, far away. A miracle I managed to walk here to be honest. The nurses saw me, but mostly paid attention to their work. They were busy, bustling about like bees hurrying under the orders of their queen.

And I had survived through, without them telling me to go back.

A shaky hand lifted. Deep breath in, and out. The hand rested against the cold metal of the doorknob. What would I see at the other side? Would she welcome me? Or would she rather have Jack visit her instead?

Then the image of her hitting her head and slumping on the ground resurfaced, causing a wave of agony to curl in my heart. With a tight grip on my shirt, I released the deep breath built up in my chest and twisted my wrist. I needed to know, to see with my own two eyes. And the door opened with a click.

Tick.

Tock.

The hands of the clock slapped loudly in my ears. I stepped closer.

Tick.

Tock.

There weren’t any other sounds in the room except for hopeless breaths and loud, echoing ticking. The measured movement was moving in time with the heartbeats crying inside my restless ribs, and my steps moved in sync.

Tick.

Tock.

I still remembered the way her face would light up with a smile, easily drinking away at the coffee, or the way her nose would scrunch up and eyes drifting up as she pondered on something. On her unbroken wings, she would fly, in unspoken promises, that she’d watch our backs. She was there, protecting us. She was valiant. She was merciful.

She was our Mercy.

My chest jumped as the emotions swirled with the misty breaths fogging her mask. Streaks of fire burned my cheeks, unable to hide behind my mask. Each new wave a hot trail of agony as a hand shakily reached out. I lightly brushed her golden hair aside from her forehead. The flames of despair and regret burned brighter than the pains I felt, a deep emptiness filling my heart as the sentiments raged past the seams. Breathing hitched and knees buckling, I fell by her bedside, metal fingers tightly holding her limp one in desperation.

“Angela? Angela, can you hear me?” I choked out. I winced at the pain in my chest, cursing at the bullet wounds I received, and wheezed before trying to calm my myself. She was alright. She’s Angela. My dear Angela...

I still owe you dinner. Please don’t do this to me now.

Warm tears dripped onto her fingers and I quickly wiped it away with my other hand, only to freeze and stare at the crimson tinting it. I stifled a sob, pushing the pain of seeing a lifeless Angela away, as I looked down onto my chest. The green hospital shirt was stained with my blood, the metallic smell spreading and nearly dying the front a full dark red.

No, I breathed out. Fucking wounds, couldn’t you stay closed?

Grimacing, I gingerly swiped at my fallen tears with my metal thumb. Her name fell from my lips in soft whimpers as I pulled my body back away from her bed, unwilling to stain it – or her. My murmured voice spoke of sweet promises under my breaths as my vision started to distort, the painful yet beautiful sight of her blurring under a greying curtain. I forced my eyes open, pushing hard against the bandages that hid the surgical wounds while the blood continued escaping. I spoke of our future date, that I would bring her to an exquisite restaurant, possibly high up in the sky, because an angel like her deserves only the best the sky could offer, like a vast expanse to anywhere her freedom so desired. Through the entrance, past the short water wall with clear transparent water falling like a curtain would bring about a zen-like feel, so that she may feel at peace. I’d then lead her to a table made private with the bamboo separators, near the large open windows where she could watch the night sky sprinkled with stars hopefully visible despite the light pollution. There would be a different kind of serenity as potted plants, though sparse, decorated the place, with her smiles and laughter the best event of the night.  

“Of course... I wouldn’t... forget the Swiss... chocolate... too.”

......

...

“I found him! He’s in here!” A nurse called out frantically as the ajar door was flung open in panic. Light footsteps entered the room, rushing towards the fallen patient on the floor, blood slowly seeping out from his clothes.

“Hurry and prepare the operating room!” A doctor yelled as he picked up the half-cyborg, half-human man with a grunt and carefully settled him on the wheeled stretcher that a nurse brought in. “Get someone to clean the mess up too!”

“Yes, doctor!”

The nurses ran to get the corresponding tasks done. Even though they looked kind of helter-skelter, there was a certain method to their chaos. One checked Angela’s vitals, searching for anything amiss while those by their station hurried to prepare the documents the doctor on surgery would need.

A nurse carrying a bucket of soapy water, bleach and a rag dragged her feet into the room, cursing inwardly at having to do the dirty work just because she was the newest and youngest of the group stationed today. When she walked through the door, she was startled at the ginger haired doctor already standing beside the unconscious patient.

“Oh? Who are you?”

“I’m new,” the doctor replied nonchalantly without even looking up from the papers in her hand.

‘Then they should have given the cleaning for you to do,’ the young nurse grumbled internally as she fell to her knees by the puddle of blood, noticing the lack of wrinkles of the new doctor and thinking that she was rather young. “Seriously, why can’t that patient just sit still,” she complained while scrubbing the floor. “No one should even be able to move after surgery!”

“Don’t you know who that patient was?” The ginger nurse calmly checked the machines Angela was hooked up to. Her bright auburn hair fell to cover the dark glint in her eyes as she looked down to inspect the mask.

“No,” the nurse on the floor grunted, wringing the rag in the bucket beside her. “Some lovesick man looking for Doctor Ziegler?” She scoffed.

Yes. They all knew of Doctor Angela Ziegler, a talent in their industry. Read her academic journals and findings with nanobiology and her work on cybernetics. They were surprised when the beautiful, well-known doctor turned up by the hospital, and even more shocked when they found out it was related to the hotel scare that happened not long ago.

“That was, I believe, Genji Shimada.” The older nurse wrote some data on the paper on her clipboard, her dual coloured pupils turning sharp. “The first successful experiment of Doctor Ziegler. Rumours has it that she saved him from the brink of death.”

“Wait, he’s the robotic guy?”

“More like a cyborg.”

“Ugh,” the younger nurse groaned as she finished scrubbing the blood away. Thankfully it was still fresh. “Yeah and? He can’t possibly be experiencing the Florence Nightingale effect? He looks so ugly.”

The ginger nurse didn’t bother chiding her for the insult. Not all nurses were after all, compassionate. Or lawful. “It doesn’t matter what we think. Stop being gossipy. Go back to work.”

“Alright, alright,” and the younger nurse left after finishing her task.

When she was sure that the younger nurse left, the older nurse turned back to stare at Angela’s face. The blonde’s features were twitching in pain, brows tight and nearly touching, while sweat covered her pores.

“Poor, poor Doctor Ziegler,” the only other person in the room cooed flatly, resting a hand on her hip. “What mess did you get yourself into now?”

The doctor flipped a page on her clipboard with a thoughtful hum. Details of Angela’s last hospital visit was recorded, noting the concussion and injury on the brain, and the blood loss that occurred. Looking at the date, as she calculated the weeks, she found that it was roughly 18 weeks ago.

“Ah, and you still haven’t fully recovered your memories? Well, it’s no surprise. These quack doctors telling you that you'll remember and recover in a short time.” The nurse rolled her eyes, muttering under her breath. “Your body is already functioning different from ordinary humans, with your applied nanobiology. Of course, you wouldn’t fully recover.” She proceeded to put the clipboard by the bedside table, her hands then hovering above Angela’s forehead. “They can’t. But I can.”

~*~*~

A heavy feeling weighed on my mind, a looming presence drifting closer to me in the vast darkness. My heart raced faster at the mere knowledge that something was there, yet I couldn’t see it, nor did it make a sound. A ghostly apparition making its way to me and I scrambled back. If it was the Grim Reaper or a convoy to hell, I wouldn’t want to know. Not now. I don’t want to go.

A sharp pain in my chest jerk my attention towards it, but as I looked down, I saw nothing but a fair bare-chested torso. Shaky hands slowly flitted over my skin, running across the perfect unblemished skin, across the ridges of my still existing abs, feeling the narrow waist and defined hips, made of flesh and not metal. Human-looking skin, back to when I was still the young clan heir of the Shimada, back to the time before my older brother cut me up, destroy my limbs, when I lived a carefree life without another care in the world, just me, myself and I (and the ladies of course). A disgruntled groan rolled off my tongue when a slow, burning pain dragged itself across my chest, before periodic stabs hooked itself onto my flesh. Resisting the urge to cry out, I fell to my knees, painfully aware that the unknown presence still watched me with a penetrating gaze. I looked down onto my chest, confused as I writhe in pain, at the lack of cuts or puncture marks. They felt so real, too real to be a vivid dream.

This was real. It’s happening.

“Argh…”

Desperate fingers clawed and clutched at my chest, but the useless attempts at easing the pain never subsided, not even when I allowed the darkness to swallow me whole once more, all the while that eerie pair of eyes watched me unendingly.

……

…

A blinding light engulfed my sights when my eyes flew open with a desperate gasp for air. My eyes were dry, that much I could tell as they squinted at the bare contact with the air and wished they were hiding behind their protectors. Groaning, I tried to get myself to sit up with my elbows. I had barely succeeded with lifting my body a mere inch off the bed when a calloused hand stopped me by the shoulders, and when I struggled, the person simply forced me back down onto the bed with a push.

“The fuck…?”

“You should stay in bed, love.”

“Lena?” I groggily turned my head to my right, faintly making out a petite woman munching on peeled, cut apples. Sunlight was lighting up the outline of the curtained window behind her. She held some apples out to me, the smell of fresh, juicy apples sneaking into my senses.

If Lena’s here, then…

“Yo,” Jesse grinned lopsidedly at me.

I groaned.

“If I didn’t know better, I would think you didn’t want us to visit you,” Jesse mock pouted. “Do you not want us anymore? Sob.”

Lena rolled her eyes at the cowboy’s drama as she proceeded to slowly feed me the apples that I gratefully nibbled on. Not to my surprise, I couldn’t really move my arms or feet, much less feel my fingers. “You were out for a while after surgery, again.”

I sunk my head further into the pillows as another groan escaped. I stared at the opposite wall with half lidded eyes, memories of last night streaming through my mind. Her blonde hair matted against her forehead, covered in bandages, beautiful features scrunched up in pain that made my heart ache with her every twitch. She looked so weak, so… vulnerable. Her breaths slowly fogged the oxygen mask, the machines hooked up to her the only other indicator that she was still alive.

Was she even cleared of the poisons?

“If you’re worried about Doctor Ziegler, she’s all right. I’ve asked the nurses. She’s not poisoned either. She’s just hurt her head really badly this time,” Lena explained upon noticing the tight furrows of my eyebrows.

I tilted my head to look at her, a frown setting upon my lips with my brows furrowing even tighter. Hurting her head really bad this time? …That was my fault.

If only I had been more careful when I had pushed her out of harm’s way, if only my foot hadn’t shocked itself when I twisted around, causing me to fall and stumble.

Lena watched as her bedridden friend squeezed his eyes shut, that scarred countenance twisted into such pain. She glanced over at Jesse, a silent tacit understanding communicating between the two. How were they to help? Words were meaningless, no matter how well they meant them, because before they could help, Genji had to allow them to work first, to accept their words, their help. Everything in life, was always a choice after all. And for now, if he chose to wallow in pain, they'll let him. Just for a little while.

She could only reach out a hand and pat his head, caressing it gently, ignoring the glistening wetness that stubbornly formed beneath his lashes. Seeing him like this made her heart ache. She missed the Genji that would crack jokes with her, the one she could tease and laugh with. This… this was just too painful.

I… I hadn’t known how much time had passed. The sunlight was no longer trying to peek through the curtains and my two friends were already long gone, leaving me alone to the silence of the night. And my thoughts. Thoughts that kept wandering back to…

I sighed.

Flexing my fingers, I felt the blood swimming through my veins as the sensation of touch returned. Slowly, I observed my body from within, sensing out the changes that occurred. To no surprise, my cyborg self was still breaking down, but not as bad to the point where I would no longer function properly. With a deep breath, I tried to then get up, only to realise the futility of my situation when I had to bite at my bottom lip to keep from crying out. Sharp pain speared through my torso and my left foot, realising then that lower limb was bent weirdly from the shape beneath the blankets. It couldn’t properly straighten, dangling at an angle to the side, as though broken. My expression darkened. I suspected that it would take at least half a year before I break down completely at this rate. Then glancing down, I lifted up the neckline of the shirt to stare at the bandages wrapped around my torso, remembering the bullets that were lodged there from the mission.

Once again, I sighed.

What am I to do now?

I didn’t have the mood to play with my phone, no mood to watch the muted television in front of me. All the television spoke off was about a man that had gone missing for over a week now and still not found, only really taking notice when I realised that his build was similar to Slade’s.

I laid there motionless, imagining that I was a corpse (I wasn’t that far off from one anyway), and just counted the seconds as they passed. Time seemed to congeal at that moment, its passing lost in my mind. A slow road to recovery.

At 9pm, my door clicked open as a nurse walked in. I immediately shut my eyes, pretending now to be asleep, listening intently on the sounds of her footsteps. I heard the relief in her released breath when the steps neared my bed (was I truly that frightening to ‘normal’ humans?), and I felt her presence by my IV drip. The tinkering of metal and crinkling of plastic drifted into my ears while she replaced the bag, until her voice joined as well.  

“So many scars...” she muttered. “Why did Doctor Ziegler save someone like you?”

I resisted the urge to move, to roll onto my side and peek my eyes open. Yeah. Just why indeed did she save me? Was it her instincts as a doctor to not let anyone die? Or did she want to try her hand at saving a life that was on the brink of death?

The sounds stopped, but I knew the nurse was still there. Her breathing was soft, and I felt her stare scrutinising my every scar laid bare.

“And why did you go and see her? Can’t really be the Florence Nightingale effect could it?” A pause. “Ugh, whatever. He's not even handsome. Not reaally my type.”

Her footsteps eventually died as she left the room, closing the door behind her with a click.

‘Who the fuck cares if I’m your type?’

When I was sure she left, I opted to turn my head to the side, staring at the ends of the curtain dangling motionless. A bitter smile played off my lips. Handsome, was it? I used to be. Not anymore.

Just like how no one wanted me.

Closing my eyes, I released the pent-up frustrations, the sadness, in one deep long sigh.

No one.

It was bright when I woke up the next day, just in time to see a male doctor standing by the foot of the bed and checking the clipboard detailing my condition.

As though sensing that I was awake, the doctor looked up and smiled despite my silence. “Good afternoon. I'm guessing you slept well?”

I nodded mutely.

“Good, good. Any discomfort anywhere?”

I shook my head. A blatant lie.

He came over to my side while the nurse carefully lifted up my shirt to change my bandages, silently observing as she did. His eyes trailed over the markings of past battles and the surgical marks he created, checking that the sutures were properly in place, before taking a step back. “The second surgery was a success, though I’ll advise for you to not move until the wounds are closed. As much as I’ve helped you remove the bullet wounds, I couldn’t fix the cyberised parts of your body.”

My eyebrows darted up high to my hairline. He could tell?

Seeing my reaction, the doctor continued, although albeit embarrassed, “I'm a huge fan of Doctor Ziegler’s work and have read on her works regarding applied nanobiology and cybernetics. When we found you in her room, I thought you were most likely one of her projects that she worked on.”

His words zoned out in my mind, falling onto deaf ears as I let the hope sizzle into ashes.

Projects? Hah... I guess that’s all I was.

I finally turned to lay on my side as the doctor continued rambling on. I refused to look at him any longer. A glance was enough to imprint his lustrous black locks in my mind, the bangs swept back in a nice fashionable gel, and his bright blue eyes lighting up at the mention of the famous Doctor Ziegler. Tall and slim, well built. A young, charismatic, handsome man.

More handsome than me. And most definitely not a project.

‘Stop it, Genji.’

‘It's true. I'm ugly. I'm a monster.’

‘You fucking idiot. Stop. If you miss her so much, go and see her. Better than this self-pity party you’re not inviting her to.’

I bitterly chuckled. What more could I actually say? Anyone, anyone would be a better fit for her than me. Glancing at the embarrassed doctor from the doctor of my eye, I ignored him as he left the room. The hours passed, I ate what was given and didn’t get to see Jesse or Lena that day.

But when night came, I decided to hold onto the crazy end of my mind and meet her. It was already a few days since the mission and us ending up at the hospital, and after the surgeries, my body seemed to somewhat hold up. I hope. Dragging my legs slowly with controlled breathing, deep pants to ease the pain, I stood up. A muted sharp cry escaped through gritted teeth as I dropped and stumbled. I glared down with a frown at my left foot that was evidently broken. The ankle part was broken, the limb twisted, where bottom of the foot was facing the left.

‘Fuck, just fuck.’ Gripping onto the sheets, I tried to stand again, only to wince and sink my teeth into my lips with a snarl. ‘This shit fucking hurts!’

In a haze of madness, I planted the foot with the sole furthest away on the floor, my leg bent weirdly. The metal bed frame creaked and dented under my grip, and in one clean move, crack! I forcibly twisted the foot back into place, causing disagreeing shocks to rampage in my nerves. My breathing grew haggard, coming out in short puffs as black spots attacked my already blurring vision. I tightened my grip in response. That shit hurt, really fucking hurt. But it was only metal, shattered bits and cracks of something that wasn’t alive in the first place, and when the first wave of pain was over, and I had control of my sight and breathing again, I tested the water once more.

I probably must have broken that pain nerves of that foot, over-shocked it into oblivion, because I could now stand on feet that actually looked normal. Slightly wobbly, but I could walk. Enough for me to crawl out of bed and stand, to quietly make my way through to the other side without the nurses on my tail. I looked fairly normal to outsiders, but internally, I was screaming. My chest would hurt at the slightest wrong move and if I went too fast, my breathing couldn't catch up.

Passing Jack’s room, my steps halted in hesitation. I bit the insides of my cheek, mind whirling with questions before choosing to move on.

A deep breath in to stabilise my emotions and I twisted the doorknob, silently pushing my IV pole in. The closing click of the door rang loudly in my ears, followed by the loud thumping of my heart as I watched wide eyed and mouth agape. Turning her attention away from the window, her profile was illuminated by the moonlight that was streaming into the unlit room, setting her golden locks ablaze. There was a large cotton gauze taped on her head and her vivid blue eyes seemed to twinkle a little brighter in the dark, lit up with utter joy. Joy? Me? Here?

“Genji!” She lifted a hand that was folded on her lap and waved. “You’re all right!”

“Mmm,” I hummed in acknowledgment.

My steps were slow but sure as I made my way to her side, dark eyes scanning every inch of her face for the smallest of signs that something was wrong, but when her grinning lips fell into a confused gape and her head slightly tilted, I felt my face split in half at the wide grin reaching ear to ear. “You’re okay,” I breathed out, resting a hand by her bed as I sat down on the empty chair.

“Yeah, I feel better.” She nodded resolutely, and a burden seemed to have lifted from my shoulders when I sat up straighter and let out a relieved sigh. “How are you feeling?”

“Haha,” I chuckled humourlessly. “As good as I can be. Doc already patched me up here.”

“Oh, that’s good...”

I reached out my hand, slowly like you would to not frighten an animal, and Angela stayed still, allowing my fingers to brush against the gauze. My sombre gaze dropped to find hers, still twinkling bright, looking up at me from beneath her lashes. A silence fell over us. Comfortable and peaceful, with the rhythms of our breathing the orchestra for the night.

My hand trailed down to her cheeks, the back of my fingers tracing her jawline before holding onto her chin. She shuddered under my fingertips as my thumb rubbed just below her bottom lip.

“Genji,” she called out while gripping my hand in hers. A panic inwardly rose when I caught her serious expression. Her cheeks were slightly pink and I froze in fear. The bliss I felt squeaked like a frightened mouse and turned tail. Was she going to ask me to leave? Did she want to chase me out? Wait, if she was, then she wouldn’t hold my hand.

“Y-Yes?”

A roll of her eyes. If she caught onto my nervousness, she never mentioned it. “When are you going to take me out for the dinner?”

I blinked slowly at her. Dinner? Dinner... oh, dinner. I gulped the nervous lump in my throat, feeling the warmth of her fingers covering mine. Our faces were still so close, her breaths fanning my lips. “When we’ve both recovered. I think we can have the dinner then.”

She beamed at me and I felt the tips of my ears go pink. “Sounds great! I can’t wait for it.”

I nodded in agreement.

My hand slowly left her face and I thought to settle back into the chair when she lightly tugged at my limb. “Angela?”

She said nothing, but when she tugged at my hand again, I let her pull me closer. My body was bent over her bed while she leaned nearer and lifted her other hand to caress my scars. Was she appalled by them? Did she find them ugly? My gaze darkened as I dropped my head, casting shadows over my eyes for fear she’d see the hopelessness and fear in them. She’s not the same Angela I once knew, yet she’s still fanned the flames of my love that I forcibly dimmed. It was the same face, the same smile, but the cafe owner Angela was like a new breath of fresh air. She was freer, happier. Maybe this was better, for her to not recover her memories. She was happy as Doctor Ziegler, but she was tied down and restricted. As cafe owner Angela, there was nothing to worry about except for the bills and customers, and she genuinely loved it there.

But then I felt it, the warm moisture of her lips upon the scar on my cheek. Frightened like a poor deer caught in the headlights, I froze at the contact. When she pulled back, I was too afraid to ask, to afraid to break the bubble she created. I closed my eyes as her lips peppered my face, on every scar that carved itself onto my skin, from my cheeks, to my forehead, before moving down to the long, deep one by my nose.

“I feel like you’re afraid, Genji...” she whispered softly, a trace melancholy tinting her voice. She too, didn’t dare ask him anything. Why he’d freeze at her touch, why’d he keep his distance. Had he not loved her?

“N-No, I'm not. I'm just...” I reluctantly pulled back and was I allowed to feel the slightest shred of disappointment when she didn’t stop me? I glanced into her questioning gaze, feeling utterly small at that very moment before dropping imine to my lap. “It’s just... aren’t you together with Jack?”

Her eyebrows shot up to her hairline in pure confusion. “What? Since when?”

I looked back at her, an eyebrow of my quirking up in similar confusion. “Aren’t you? Jack said –”

“What did he say,” her face twisted into a slight snarl when realisation dawned upon her. What more lies did Jack tell? What more did he keep from her?

Seeing her twitching in rage, my eyes flew wide open as I tried to explain, “No, no. He didn’t say that you were together, but he made it sound like it. So, I thought –"

“We’re not. We were never dating,” she glared at her hands. “He was only a close friend of mine, someone I trusted.”

I had caught onto that last word but didn’t have the chance to ask when she continued.

“He was just the only one there when I woke up in the hospital. I didn’t remember anything or know anyone, but he felt familiar, he was kind. Naturally I would be close to him.”

“Wait, hospital? You were in the hospital? When?” I straightened in my seat, a sense of panic running through me. I hadn’t heard anything of that sort!

She furrowed her eyebrows. “Yeah, hospital. About a little over four months ago? I woke up in a hospital and he was the only one by my side. Wait, he never told you?”

I bitterly shook my head. “No.” Of course, he didn’t. But I didn’t wish to dwell on it any further, because at the very least, the biggest misunderstanding was cleared.

She watched him visibly relax and the anger diffused as well. Misunderstandings could always be talked through at a later time. Calling out his name softly, she beckoned for him to come closer.

“Huh?”

“I’m not done. Come here.” She grinned.

My eyes widened as a blush crept along my neck and onto my cheeks upon realising what she meant. Lips parted to question her, but I crumbled at the stern, slightly narrowed glare. I obediently leaned forward.

“Do you hate your scars a lot?”

I closed my eyes as she took my face in her hands, tracing the scars on my face as she lightly pecked each one. “Mhmm...”

“Why though?” she pulled back slightly when she was sure she kissed every one of them. “Do they still hurt?”

I shook my head. “They’re ugly.”

“Really?” She forced my gaze to hold hers. I could only bitterly smile when I saw her beautiful countenance up close, thinking that I'll never be able to stand next to her. “I think...” she murmured, a finger grazing the deep cut across my face, “that the strongest souls emerged from suffering.”

Before I could ask any further, her hands dropped after giving me a long, tender kiss on my forehead. “You’re fine the way you are, Genji.”

It was odd indeed. When she had awoken, she found that she remembered of some memories of her past, especially of those when she was recruited into Overwatch. She recalled the events that had transpired and of the related people. They were coming to her in waves and didn’t hurt one bit, like a scene of a drama that was playing, only that it happened in her head and not on a screen.

My heart felt warm and fuzzy at her words, and a smile blossomed on my face. “Thank you, Angela.”

She returned my smile and then we descended into silence once more. I stared at her, watching her comb her hair with her fingers as she leaned against the bedframe.

“You know, I think they should have kirsch in the hospital,” she grumbled lightly under her breath, breaking the silence. “I'm suddenly craving for my special coffee.”

A peal of joyful laughter burst out from my chest. “I'm pretty sure alcohol isn’t allowed in hospitals.” Her bottom lip jutted out into a pout and I leaned over to pat her head, gazing deeply into her eyes. “I'll order you one for our dinner. Sounds good?”

“Mhmm, it does.”

And just like that, we spoke into the night, speaking of random ordinary topics of food and drinks, more specifically the coffee. She had laid down on her side at some point, eyes fighting to stay awake, her lashes constantly fluttering softly. I continued whispering of pleasant scenarios to her, of stargazing in an empty meadow, of trying macaroons on the Eiffel Tower, of strolling under the Sakura trees in Hanamura... up until her eyes remained closed and her breathing grew heavy. They were pleasant to her, but bittersweet to me. Why did I have to say those words? I was already leaving. I shouldn’t have gotten her hopes up.

‘But I hoped she would not forget me. That I'm not just someone passing in her life.’

The days and nights passed like that, and as I was recovering, I’d constantly drop by her room in the dead of the night with a rose I’d find in the hospital gardens. Her laughter in the hospital gave me the joy and willpower to simply not run away from it, and I hadn’t seen Jack either; He was already discharged long ago. And I supposed it was a struck of fate that we could be discharged together too.

If my calculations were right, it was already 5 months since her incident in the hospital. So many changes in such a short time. She was back to her cafe and I returned to the bureau to report myself.

I stood outside Jack’s office, back in the comfort of my suit, fingering the letter in my hands.

“Come in,” Jack called, and I entered.

I ignored my shaky movements, trying to look as natural as possible, but there was something lodged in my knees, blocking it from bending properly. There was a drag in my arms as I tried to move my elbows. Slowly. It would be my end.

“Genji, how are you?”

I could tell that Jack was trying to maintain his professionalism, from his flat tone and steady gaze, yet his interlaced fingers betrayed his emotions. They were tightly bound, shoulder muscles tensed. His eyes dropped to the envelope in my hand.

“I'm good, commander. I'm also here to hand in my resignation.”

Taken aback, his fingers slowly unlaced themselves, reluctantly receiving the letter from my outstretched hand. “R-Resignation?” He parroted Genji as though he couldn’t believe his ears.

I firmly nodded. “I would like to quit.”

“B-But...” Jack stopped himself there. What right did he have to go question an old friend’s motives? His own motives were already questionable enough. He stared into Genji’s eyes that were steady and unyielding, and he sighed. Settling the envelope on the table, he rubbed at his temples. “Alright. Take care, Genji.” Just like that, Genji Shimada was unemployed. No more words were said

I nodded my head, pausing in my spot. As though he sensed my intentions, Jack lifted his head to gaze sadly at me. His lips were pressed into a thin line, eyebrows curved in reluctance.

“Where will you go?”

My hopes dashed at his words. Biting back the irritation in my voice, I replied, “Not sure. Maybe I'll go find Zen.”

“But Angela...?”

I shook my head, choosing not to respond. “Thank you for everything you've done for me so far, commander.”

Jack waved it off. “I'm no longer your commander. Just call me Jack.”

“Jack,” I tested the words on my tongue, feeling somehow bittersweet. It was an unspoken promise between friends, yet an invisible boundary of separation. “I wish you the best, Jack.”

“Same to you, Genji.”

I turned and left the office, the unpleasant taste of regret and broken hopes drifting heavily in the air. “Goodbye, Gabriel,” I said when I noticed the tall dark man standing by the door to Jack’s office. “Thank you for everything in the last years.” For taking care of me, for the laughter you’ve given.

Gabriel’s face twisted into an embarrassed scowl as a thick heavy hand ruffled my hair. “You're really going to leave?” He asked, having overheard.

“Yes, I think it's time to relax. I'll go and find Zen, perhaps.”

He nodded sadly. “Take care of yourself.”

“I'm not leaving yet. I plan to lounge around before I do.”

“Sounds good.”

A foot was lifted, ready to leave when I turned around to find him staring after me with a sombre gaze. “Can I give you a hug before I go?” I’d always remember my times in Blackwatch and how he’d always took care of Jesse and I (the other man was the troublemaker. I'm innocent). Wish I told him before, but this man was more of a father than Sojiro ever was.

Gabriel scoffed and rolled his eyes, but it couldn't contain the trace of joy that shone through. “Come ‘ere.”

I chuckled and squeezed the bigger man tight, hopefully conveying all I never said with that. Angela’s condition made me realise how short life could be, that anything would happen, yet I couldn't bear to stay because of that exact reason. I didn't want them to despair when they found out of my condition, and (I glanced at Jack in his office as I hugged Gabriel) I didn't want to expose Jack for what he's done. That was the last bit of mercy that I could give him.

“Take care, Genji.” Gabriel patted my back, watching until I turned around the corridor. The smile on his face dropped as he turned into Jack's office and locked the door behind him. “What's going to happen now? Our best spy and infiltrator just left.”

He didn't have the heart to hold him back and things were dire. The situation was a lot worse than they thought, yet he didn’t want to burden one of his best men (son) with it.

Jack groaned and massaged his temples. “What more can I do? I'll figure out a way. Don't worry.”

Gabriel pursed his lips.

They had found out that the Slade they captured was a fake, a decoy, which explained the sheer madness of the man in trying to bury himself along with them. Their intel was insufficient, lacking, when the news of Slade having a twin brother surfaced, and this was only because the same man had gone missing from his office a week before the mission. Even he hadn't known that his older brother was knee deep into the operations as an underground drug ring leader. The twin brother had gone mad from the drugs administered into him and was now lying unconscious on the bureau's medical bed slowly recovering. He was also our best bet at capturing the real Slade.

“I'll be fine, Gabe. Trust me.”

And that was all Gabriel could bet on.

 ~*~*~

 “Angela!”

The blonde laughed as the smaller Asian woman pounced into her arms and gave the biggest bear hug possible. “Hi, Mei!”

“I'm sorry that you had to tend to the cafe by yourself.”

“It’s okay. I'm happy to do it if it lets you recover properly.” Mei was overjoyed in seeing her friend in one piece. When Jack had thought that the cafe owner would stay put in the cafe, he had assigned for Mei to remain back to protect Angela, but who’d have thought that their sweet, strict (independent) Mercy would rather rush head on into danger instead?

Angela got right into work, greeting each colleague as she got herself ready to work, having already been updated on the cafe affairs when Mei had come to visit. She was cleared on her head injury when the doctors observed no abnormalities in her.

Mei noticed the little skip in her friend’s steps, the cheerful tune as she hummed. “Did something good happen?” she giggled.

Angela avoided Mei’s teasing gaze while focusing on putting the empty tray back on the counter. “It's nothing.”

Mei laughed heartily, arranging the food in the display nicely. “Sure, sure. I guess your blush means nothing.”

Ignoring her friend, Angela decided to instead busy herself with the counter. Mei turned back to her tasks, happier than when she first started. Something seemed different with Angela today, something that was there before separating the two was not there anymore.

After a moment, Mei heard Angela exclaim in confusion. “What's wrong?”

There were sounds of paper crinkling as Angela removed the bag from under the counter.

“Oh, the bag Genji left.” She peered over. “What’s in it?”

“I'm not sure,” Angela frowned at the slightly heavy weight. “I'm going to take a quick break.” Straightening herself, she retreated into the kitchen, away from prying customer eyes to look. The cooks were busy cooking up a storm, sparing only a simple greeting before returning to work.

She was curious. Why would he leave a bag like this here? Why hadn't he taken it back? A hand entered the bag’s mouth and she felt the hardness of paper on her fingertips. Gripping it securely, she pulled it out, the plain unadorned ivory book cover appearing before her eyes. The words [花笑み] were written in gold calligraphy, below it the romaji [Hanaemi]. The book wasn’t thick, probably just about an inch in thickness, and it had contrasting covers; ivory for the front and black for the back. [切ない] were the words brushed in gold upon the back cover, with [Setsunai] written below it; A similar yet contrasting design to the front. With her curiousity piqued further, she turned back to the front page and opened the book.

[A smile as beautiful as blooming flowers.]

There was only that one sentence written on the page. Yes, written. Her fingers traced the words, feeling the bumps as she did. She was certain, this was handwritten. When she turned the page, the story then began.

It spoke of the beautiful smile a certain woman had, detailing of her small quirks that she had. How she loved drinking kirsch in her coffee, the way her nose would scrunch, and her eyes would drift up when she pondered on something.

She found her lips tugging into a smile as she continued to read, this time turning into a random page. The book had then gone to describing a scene, one that somehow struck familiar. It spoke of how the woman had dressed up as a witch during Halloween, down to even having black pointy hat. That night during Halloween, the Overwatch team had celebrated with spooky food and drinks, and of course, trying to beat each other with the biggest loot of candy. It further detailed the event, of how Jesse the dressed as Van Helsing had gotten drunk, and how Mei, dressed as the Chinese zombie, was trying to scare the living daylights out of said drunk Jesse, and essentially how happy everyone was.

It was this particular part that struck her odd. Because this happened to be one of the few memories she recently remembered.

A weird thought crossed her mind.

Turning the book over, she stared at the calligraphy that painted the dark cover before turning to the first page. There, written like the first page on the front, was a lone sentence: [A bittersweet feeling, painful yet wistful.]

On the next page, was a sombre tone setting the book. It wasn’t much like a memoir of what she read earlier but a narration like an actual story.

 ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

 Dear reader, I wish I could tell you that it ends well.

That I found her after two weeks, that nothing had actually happened to her, that it was just a simple misunderstanding. Perhaps, she had gone on an impromptu trip to the Arctic to see the penguins and polar bears, to be surrounded by all the fluff and majestic wonders of life in the ice and snow, doing all that research and contemplating on medical magic like she normally would.

Because last night, I dreamt that I woke up after lying asleep on her lap — one of my favourite moments in life. I closed my eyes and drew in a lung full of air, letting out a contented sigh. I focused on her fingers in my hair, the sound of paper rustling and smelled the alcoholic coffee wafting in the room. A few minutes stretched out like an eternity, a blissful eternity. Outside the room, the pitter patter of rain began to fall.

“Oh, it’s raining.” A whisper barely audible tickling my ears.

“Mmm, it would seem like it is.”

There was silence when she spoke again. “If I recall, it was raining when I found you too.”

My body stiffened at her words and my eyes finally cracked open, falling first on the ever-present smile, and I instinctively relaxed. “Yeah, it was raining just like this at that time.”

She hummed and went back to her book, and I went back to enjoying her warmth. These moments were just short intermissions from the daily hecticness of our lives, but it was all we needed at times.

“I’m glad that I did though.”

“Huh?” My eyes flew open.

She peeked over her book, her gaze glinting in amusement from behind the glasses. “It allowed me to meet you.”

I shifted on her lap so that I fully faced her, and I chuckled when she jumped at my hand touching her cheek. With her attention stolen from the book, I gazed at her as the world around me fall away.

I vividly remember my lips parting as I wanted to tell her — tell her things that I left unsaid, but when I saw the dull white ceiling of my single bedroom dormitory, I was slapped in the face, back into the harsh reality; That I still haven’t seen her in the past two weeks, of neither hide nor hair. Not even my calls or texts were going through. I initially thought that she hadn’t texted me in that week I was away because she hadn’t wanted to disturb me during the mission, but even two weeks later? It’s been a long time… And the worst is not even seeing her in the office.

 ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

 With shaky hands, Angela finally lifted her head from the book, sinking her teeth onto her bottom lip. What that from Genji’s point of view? There was a trace of sadness in those blue eyes of hers when she thought of how the poor man must have been lonely, and adding onto her attitude weeks ago, gods, she couldn’t even fathom how he didn’t hate her yet. A deep breath in, and she tried to steady her emotions, forcing the tears to disappear and her heart to slow.

Carefully bending the book, she lightly flipped the pages open, seeing the rush of blurred words – handwritten words – dance, when it suddenly hitched and stopped. Confused, she opened the book at the page it stopped at, picking up the hidden bookmark that was left inside. The bookmark was unique; A dried and flattened red rose that had lost its lustre was laminated and cut into a rectangular bookmark, with a golden ribbon tied at the end. She lifted it up to peer at it closer when she realised the uneven marks in the transparent film. They looked a lot like dried glue. Turning the bookmark over, she traced its cut edges as an indescribable feeling started to churn in her stomach. It was handmade, done with the use of clear glue stick and a pair of transparent film paper. She guessed that the dried roses were placed in between the transparent films after he applied a large section of glue, where he then constantly flattened it and allowed it to dry before actually cutting it up.

She thought that the surprises were over, intending to put the bookmark back, when her eyes caught sight the words written on the open pages. She was drawn in, like a curious cat to a box.

 ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

 Dear Angela,

There were many things that I wished I could tell you, but I don’t know where to start.

When we first met, I was broken, more than any person should possibly be, and you saved me. You gave me grace and patience, kindness and care, even though all I ever gave you then was unresolved anger and despair. You could have given up on me, but you didn’t.

Now, after years of silently loving you, if I had to choose one thing to say, it was ‘Thank You’. I believe I never told you that enough, never shown you that enough.

Thank you.

You are the reason for my every smile and is the reason for the beauty in my world. You are my joy, my angel, the purest person in my heart. And falling in love with you, was the best choice of my life, even if it was never my choice to make. I hadn’t chosen to fall in love with you, I could not control it. Your smile, your personality, everything about you made it impossible for me to simply do anything else. And each day, I found myself falling ever more in love with you.

Thank you.

And I hope that now, you find your happiness, Angela.

Because…

 When spring comes again,

I only have one wish, that

You’ll remember me.

 ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

[malarkis]

Mercy

As requested by a dear friend of my, here’s an old fic I wrote about Willhelm and a few other familiar faces from the usual militia lot. I hope you all enjoy ; u ;

The sound of gunfire and canons blasted through the canvas walls of the medical tent as the two surgeons and their assistants rushed about, aiding to the wounded and the dying.  The men ran about, cutting and stitching as fast as their hands and minds could fathom, but sadly not as fast as the injured were being carried in by the minute.  The medical tent was just as much hell as the battle that raged outside.  Blood puddled on cots and soil, filling the air with its pungent, metallic miasma.  It was more than most could bare, but Percy and Willhelm did all in their power to make it work.

Usually, the two men would’ve worked separately.  Though equals in their field, the two were far from companions outside of their professional work.  A slight rivalry bloomed between them, no doubt stemming from their opposing work methods.  Willhelm was methodical and organized, although a bit too rigid in the eyes of his more radical colleague.  Much to Willhelm’s dismay, Percy was more unorthodox in his ways.  He was a brilliant man, that much the other would admit, but far too much of a maverick in his field.  The two butted heads endlessly, and they were more than thankful when their commanding officer agreed to let them work separately - Percy for the higher ups and Willhelm for the cavalrymen.  Today, however, was an exception. The sweat dripped off of  Willhelm’s forehead as he put the final stitch on yet another wounded soldier.  “Alright, take him away. Next”, he ordered, wiping away the beads of sweat that blurred his vision. The younger of the two chuckled. He barely even glanced up from his work, yet his colleague’s frenzy was as palpable as the bloody mess that lay in his hands. “Losing steam eh, Dr.Blackwood?”, he chortled. “You know, I can always take one off your hands for you. Lighten the load, perhaps?”

Willhelm rolled his eyes at the other man’s irritatingly nonchalant demeanor. He admired him for his ability to handle situations with dire stress, but he also wished he could do so quietly.  “As much as I appreciate your assistance, Dr.Hewlett”, he sighed, wiping his hands on a bloodstained rag. “I suggest you keep your paws to yourself, if you wish to keep them.” Percy guffawed as he signaled for the officer he was working on to be sent off. “Well they did warn me you were a genius with a scalpel and saw.  The offer still stands though. All this stress can’t be easy for you, old man.” A patient each was set upon their operating tables, groaning and bleeding. This was no time for levity. Willhelm simply scowled before returning to his work. “Bloody maverick.”

—————————

Hours passed and still the influx of patients continued to travel in and out of the medical tent.  There had been a slight lull accompanying news of the British forces finally taking the offensive and advancing a few meters northbound.  Nonetheless, the surgeons’ work was far from over.

A flood of wounded officers had found their way into Percy’s skillful hands, but like any surgeon, no matter the skill, he only had two. He kept his cool, but Willhelm could see a slight panic beginning to breach the surface. “Eating your words yet?” Willhelm smirked as he watched the other man toil over two patients. “You know it’s never too late. My hands are free. I could lighten the load, perhaps?”, he asked, parroting Percy’s earlier quip.

Percy felt his cheek twitch. “Well, Dr.Blackwood”, he spoke through a strained smile, taking off his spectacles as to wipe them of sweat and blood.  “That’s very kind of you to offer. Yet a tad bit unoriginal, don’t you think?” The older man chuckled. He couldn’t help but take even a little pleasure from the other’s chagrin. It seems even the great Percival Hewlett’s pageantries and medical prowess had their limits. “Come now, Dr.Hewlett”, he chided. “There’s no need to be shy.” One of the officer’s squirmed as he went under the needle. “P-perhaps Dr.Blackwood’s right”, he whinged. “Th-think of the othe-“ “I would consider it highly unwise, Mr.Parker, to question the authority of the man who holds your life in his very hands”, Percy cut off the officer with his usual strange brand of saccharine apathy. “Or in this case, your limb. Now please, do hold still.” His strange grin made the man shiver. The canons sounded off yet again, making the ground shake and the tent walls shiver.  Percy did all he could to hone himself in, to buckle down, to drown out all the chaos, all the din.  It was easy, or at least it was most of the time. Yet again, today proved to be another exception.  With aching wrists and tired eyes, the man set down his medical scissors with a defeated sigh. Willhelm simply watched, his brow raised expectantly. “Well, Dr. Blackwood. Today’s your lucky day”, the younger of the two finally admitted. “It seems I’m feeling quite generous.” The other couldn’t help but laugh. “What’s this? Am I sensing a sliver of humanity in the great Dr.Hewlett?” “Yes, well, don’t go getting used to it”, Percy retorted. He bowed his head as he focused on his work once more. “The next officer that walks through that tent is yours, Blackwood.” True enough it took no longer than ten minutes for three new patients - two officers and a private - to be lobbed into the already crowded quarters. The higher ups were split amongst the surgeons, an Officer Richards limping over to Percy’s side of the tent, while an Officer Daniels clung to his bloodied sleeve as he trudged over to Willhelm’s end.  A fourth member to the injured party joined them as well, his bespattered kilt swaying stiffly as the blood upon it began to dry. “Jesus Christ, Paddy”, Willhelm exclaimed, recognizing the man. His dark eyes shot quickly to the bloodied apparel. “Don’t tell me-“ “I appreciate the concern, Doc”, the other man panted as he practically dragged his wounded companion. “But it is not my blood. The boy. It’s the boy.” “Yes, well place him on the bench-“ “I would but I don’t think the lad’ll make it if I tried.” The young soldier groaned, his lips quivering as he clutched onto the darkened stain that continued to spread down the front of his coat. He opened his mouth to speak, but all that came out was a sputter of blood. “Christ Almighty! Get him to the table. The table! Get him on it now!”, Willhelm roared over the panic. He turned swiftly, catching one of his assistants by the arm as they were about to run past. “Bandages. I need bandages, clean ones. More of them. Understood?” Percy watched silently as the other man scurried away. His usual chatter may have ceased, but his curiosity was far from ebbed. With a huff and a grunt, the young soldier was lifted onto the operating table, whimpering in pain at even the slightest movement brought onto his wounded form. Such a sign didn’t bode well. “Alright. Let’s have a look now.” Carefully, Willhelm began to take the soldier’s hand off of his gut and peeled away the blood-soaked jacket flap. “Easy now. Let’s just-“ “How dare you!”, the officer bellowed from behind him. “You put him before me?! I was here first!” “You both came at the same time, Officer Daniels”, Willhelm said over his shoulder, not even turning to look at the man. “Now if you would please wait your tu-“ “Don’t you dare turn your back to me! I’m an officer!” “Yes and I am very much aware of that. I am sure your regiment will fair fine without you even for a moment. From the sounds of it, they already are.” The man’s brows raised in shock. How dare he! How dare anyone speak to him in such contempt!  “If we lose this bloody battle because of you-“ “And if we this boy loses his bloody life because of you, then what, Officer Daniels?!”, Willhelm bellowed as he spun around to finally face the nuisance of a man. “Now answer me this and answer me quick because I have another man’s life in my hands! Can you walk?”

“Y-yes.” “Are you breathing?”

“Of course I’m-“ “Do you have a bullet lodged anywhere?” “N-no-“ “Well then, what seems to be the problem?”, Willhelm challenged Daniels. His snide tone was far from appreciated. “Are you blind? I fell off my damn horse and now my wrist-“ “Yes, the thing looks broken. Fractured at most. Now if you please excuse me, I have a man with a hole the size of St.James in his guts! I’m sure you can tell which is more dire, considering that it was your wrist that broke and not your brain.” Daniels couldn’t believe the gall of this doctor! Who did he think was? He sat there, seething as he watched the doctor walk away. “Y-you…m-my superiors will hear of this! This will not go unnoticed, Doctor Blackwood! Mark my words!” “Well, that’s if he has any tongue to tell them with”, Willhelm grumbled as he reached for his forceps. “Aye, steady on now, Will”, Paddy warned. “Believe me, there are several things I’d love to teach that man, he’s a right bugger, he is. Though might I suggest we keep things rather untroubled. For the boy’s sake.” A boy indeed. Willhelm couldn’t help but feel the twisting pang of guilt as he gazed down at the young man. He was young, too young to be here.  “He should be at home. Working. Studying”, the doctor thought to himself. His mind wandered for a moment to his students. Then to his son. Good god, the boy looked so much like him - the dark hair and eyes, the slope to his nose. Now, Willhelm was a professional, a man of method and rules. Hardly did he ever let anything move him in such a way. He was acquainted with death and accustomed to blood and pain, much more so than he would like to admit. But this, this broke him. “Well?”, Paddy asked, taking Willhelm out of his subconscious. “What do you reckon, Doc? What’s the damage?” The doctor looked at his friend, but gave no answer. With his forceps and scissors he cut away at the bloodied cloth, revealing a gaping void of viscera and tissue. The boy had been shot in the stomach. It was only a matter of time before the acids and bile began spreading throughout his body and causing an unbearably painful death. And who knows how long it had taken for them to get back to the medical tent. Willhelm had to make a decision and fast. “I-I…I need time”, he faltered. “I just need a little time.” “I’m afraid we don’t have much of it, Doc.”

More blood came up from the young man’s mouth, the dark liquid dripping down his chin and mingling with the viscera that already dampened his uniform. He could not speak nor scream, yet the flurry of fear and panic that shown in his eyes rang clear as the gunshots outside. His cheeks grew wet with tears and blood as his hand gripped onto the fabric of Willhelm’s sleeve. “Steady on, steady on lad”, Paddy comforted the boy, holding him still as he shook with each cough, “Will, we’ve got to do something! Now!” A thousand remedies ran through the doctor’s already frantic mind, and yet none deemed themselves helpful to the cause. The blood was already traveling up to the boy’s throat, the bile and acids of his stomach surely making it hard to breath. The pain, oh Christ ,the pain in the young man’s eyes. Willhelm grabbed a nearby bottle of laudanum and uncorked it. He poured the ruby liquid into the soldier’s mouth while his other hand supported his head. “Will…”, Paddy said, staring in horror. And yet he kept going. The bottle was down to half its content. “Will.” A third. “Willhelm!” A quarter. “Dr.Blackwood!”, Percy’s voice yelled from across the room. Willlhelm stopped, his hands shaking as he put down the tinted bottle. The boy’s grip upon his sleeve had grown limp. He was dead. The doctor’s gaze travelled about the tent, gathering the unnerved glances of those around him. “I-I….I need to…wash my hands…excuse me”, he slurred before turning the other way and walking out of the tent. “Please excuse me.” Paddy, Percy, and the officers simply stared in silent shock at what they had just seen. “He killed him…”, Daniels murmured. “He bloody killed him…” ————————— Percy leaned against the post of the nearby tent, the light emanating from behind him casting long shadows onto the cold ground. The night air had grown silent and still. Only the scent of gunpowder remained as a reminder of the recent battle and victory they had accomplished but a few hours ago. The quiet only amplified the shouting coming from the nearby officer’s tent.

He listened intently, gathering whatever he could from the muffled voices. “So”, Paddy sighed, taking his place beside Percy. The flickering lamplight only accentuated the worry upon his already weathered features. “Officer Daniels really did it eh? Bloody bastard can’t even keep his own boots clean, yet he can keep his word on this?” An exhale drifted from the doctor’s lips and turned to vapor. “Apparently.” The two stood still, the muffled screaming being the only other sound than the groaning of the wounded. “Did he really do it though?”, Paddy asked, his eyes fixated on the glowing tent. “Did he truly kill the boy?” “In a sense, yes. But not to the extent of which most would think.” “Aye, but do they know that?”, the Scotsman said, gesturing to the tent. Pushing himself from the beam, Percy chuckled cooly. “They will. Soon enough.” ————————— “An outrage! This is an absolute outrage!”, Commanding Officer Wesley Péche yelled from behind his desk. “Out of all the people in this company that I expected this sort of buggery from, it definitely wasn’t from you, Dr.Blackwood!” Willhelm stood silently at the front of the desk. He was usually not one to back down from a heated debate, but tonight he could barely even look at the man before him. Instead, his gaze remained fixated on a small scratch engraved onto the dark wood. “I appreciate your trust, Sir-“ “Yes, well it doesn’t seem much like it! You’ve made a mockery of it! And absolute mockery! I hand picked you myself, do you know that?! The college had recommended me your superior, Dr. Langley, but I specifically chose you. Do you want to know why, Dr.Blackwood?” “If I could please explain-“ “Because they told me of your skill, your competence, and most importantly your compliance to the oath you took when you became a surgeon!”, Wesley continued, his hazel eyes glowing with rage in the lamplight. “I thought you proficient in understanding the importance of obedience to the rules. Perhaps I was mistaken.” Though older by a great many years, Willhelm couldn’t help but feel as if he were a young child being scolded by its parent. He clenched his fists tightly, opening and closing them as he took a deep breath. “Sir, with all due respect-“ “No! No!”, the other cried, throwing his hands up in the air. “I don’t want to hear it! Daniels told me quite enough! Not only did you waste an entire bottle of laudanum, a provision that we are in low supply of, but you ignored an officer his right to medical care. And let us not forget the biggest error of all, you-“ “Good evening, Officer Péche”, Percy interrupted as he lifted the flap of the tent. “Forgive the intrusion, but we are needing Dr.Blackwood back in the medical tent. Some of the patients are getting a little fussy.” Wesley scowled. He was already upset enough at one surgeon, he did not need the irksome company of the more confounding of the two at the moment. “Yes, well I am not done with him, Dr.Hewlett. As you can see, I am having a discussion-“ “Ahh! Well then perhaps I could be of assistance?”, Percy offered, fully stepping into Wesley's quarters. The officer blinked. “I don’t see how-“ “Well considering the misdeeds and accusations that are being speculated around the camp concerning our dear Dr.Blackwood, I thought I may shed some light on the situation. I did witness the entire ordeal, after all.” Willhelm held his breath. What on earth was his colleague up to? “W-well…I…I guess, that’s alright…”, Wesley considered, turning his gaze away from the other doctor. Percy always had a habit of making him feel uncomfortable whenever he was in his presence. He would have readily shooed him out of his quarters, but what other choice did he have? The only other witnesses to the incident were Paddy and Officer Richards, the two being unreliable due to their close relations to Blackwood and their injured state, respectively. As much as Percy was far from winning any favors in Wesley’s book, something hardly ever earned by anyone according to the men, the doctor  had always seemed rather neutral to most situations. Eerily so. Neither was he close to Blackwood in any sort of the sense. “Fine. Fine. I’ll allow it.” “Perfect. Do carry on, Officer Péche”, Percy said with his usual saccharine nonchalance as he lowered himself down onto a nearby chair. Willhelm stared in horror at the other doctor. Christ, this was it. He was doomed. “As I was saying”, Wesley continued, clearing his throat. “Firstly, you ignored an officer, when according to him and other witnesses, you had promised to ‘lighten Dr.Hewlett’s load’.” “Sir, I-“ “Secondly, you not only used an entire bottle of laudanum, but wasted it-“ “Correction”, Percy said from across the desk. “Not all of it. The bottle still had over a quarter left.” Wesley glowered, his lips drawing to a thin line before he resumed his monologue. “But wasted it entirely on one man. One man! A bottle can serve almost three men if I am not mistaken. Am I Dr.Blackwood?”

“No. No, sir.” “And worst of all, you readily poured the contents of said bottle down the throat of your own patient! Choking him from the reports of the others!” A shot of guilt tore through Willhelm’s gut. “I…Sir, I didn���t intend to kill the boy-“ “Well you most certainly did, according to those present!” “I only meant mercy-“ “Mercy?! By forcing a bottle down his throat!?” “He was in great pain, Sir! There was no other way!” “If I may? Gentlemen?”, Percy interrupted yet again as he stood form his seat and took his place in front of the desk. “I would like to give my own account of this afternoon’s situation.” Wesley hesitated for a moment, feeling a strange prickle as he sat under the fair-haired doctor’s expectant gaze. “If you must…” “Thank you”, he replied with a smile. “Now, I must say that the first two accusations are sadly true. Dr.Blackwood did ignore Officer Daniels’ request, and procured a bottle of laudanum from the already dwindling supply.” “Exactly. Therefore-“ “But he did not do so without reason.” Percy squared his shoulders and calmly placed his hands behind his back, as if he was ready to lecture in front of a class. It irked Wesley to no end. Willhelm shot the other doctor a nervous glance. “Dr.Hewlett, I don’t think-“ “Hush now, I believe Officer Péche has give me the podium, so to speak”, he replied with an ensured grin. “You see, in the medical world, rank does not outweigh the dire need of medical attention. A title and commission, though magnificent in their own right, does not outrank a giant gash across someone’s chest, for example. Though the two patients did arrive at the same time, Officer Daniels’ injury was far more inferior to that of the young private.” “Well I think that’s rathe-“ “Don’t tell me, Officer Péche, that if you were to walk into the tent with, let us say, a fractured shin, yet have your good friend - what’s his name? Harold?” The officer’s ears reddened. “Harold lay bleeding to death on another cot, you would use your rank to get ahead?” Wesley froze, his face looking like a strange cross between a scowl and a grimace. He was never one who enjoyed being scrutinized, much more so when it was he who was supposed to be doing the probing. “Alright. Alright, fine! But that still doesn’t account for what happened to the private. I should have you tried for murder, Dr.Blackwood.” Willhelm felt his blood run cold. “Murder?!”, he exclaimed. “Sir, you cannot be serious!” “All the witnesses said Dr.Blackwood gave the boy a high dosage of laudanum-“ “As a means of mercy, no doubt”, Percy explained. “May I ask you, Officer Péche, if you know the Hippocratic Oath?”

“I-it’s an oath recited by doctors and surgeons as a means of pledging allegiance to their cause and calling. I’m not that stupi-“ “Yes, but do you know the words?”

The officer simply huffed as he leaned back into his chair. “No…no, I don’t.” Obviously delighted by this, Percy prattled on. “Well, then I should enlighten you!” “Please don-“ “It’s quite long, but I shall get to the stanzas that ring quite profound. At least for this situation they do.” Willhelm swallowed hard. He was already in the thick of things earlier on, and now he was just completely lost as to where Dr.Hewlett planned on taking this whole spiel. He simply braced for the worst. “How about you, Dr.Blackwood?”, the other doctor inquired as he turned to his colleague. “Do you remember the third and fourth stanzas of the oath? I’m sure you recall.” “Err, yes”, Willhelm complied, shaking himself out of his stupor. “I will apply, for the benefit of the sick, all measures that are required. I will remember that there is art to medicine as well as science, and that warmth, sympathy, and understanding may outweigh the surgeon's knife or the chemist's drug.” An awkward silence emanated throughout the tent as the older doctor finished his recitation. Wesley simply stared in confusion. “I don’t see how-“

“I will apply, for the benefit of the sick, all measures that are required. Warmth, sympathy, and understanding may outweigh the surgeon’s knife or the chemist’s drug”, Percy parroted. “In other words, Officer Péche, Dr.Blackwood did nothing else but his job.” Willhelm turned to the man beside him, his eyes wide behind their spectacles. “The boy was dying, and in a lot of excruciating pain from the looks of it. I may not have been by his side, but even I could see that nothing could be done for him. The laudanum allowed him even a moments peace in his time of agony. He would have died sooner or later, quite slowly and painfully if I may add. All Dr.Blackwood did was ensure his comfort as he left this world.”

The older doctor couldn’t help but stare in shock at the man before him, his mouth slightly agape. Had his ears deceived him? Had Percy truly defended him?  He quickly pressed his lips together and returned his attention to the officer. Wesley sat with his elbows propped on the desk, his nine fingers knit together as he pondered over Dr.Hewlett’s words. After a few moments, his eyes peered up at the two men before him as he reached a decision. “I will readily admit that I know not of the medical world nor its rules and regulations, but I do know of my own rules. The rules of the military. I am afraid there are some things that cannot go without consequence. I am sure you understand, Dr.Blackwood.” A sinking feeling ran deep through Willhelm as he accepted his fate. “Yes. I do, sir.” “Which is why you will be given a warning…” The doctor raised his gaze. “Sir…” “I am a reasonable man. You will receive a warning for misconduct towards an officer, and the amount equivalent to the bottle of laudanum used shall be taken from your pay.” Willhelm blinked.  “A-and what of the boy?” “Gather his belongings and give them to his best mate. Tell them to give them to his family. That is all. Goodnight, gentlemen.” A wave of shock and disbelief surged through the older doctor. Or perhaps it was the sudden depletion of his adrenaline. “Well now that that’s finished, I believe it is time to take our leave”, Percy announced as he lead his colleague out of the tent, but not before turning to the commanding officer once more. “Thank you for time, Officer Péche. Perhaps I may repay you with a check up. I do believe you are due one in the upcoming days. How is your finger, by the way?” Wesley froze and simply occupied himself with a map that lay in front of him. “I..err..p-please just go. There are things I must attend to now. I said goodnight, gentlemen.”

A wicked smile played upon the younger doctor’s lips as they exited the tent and into the cool night air. The slight layer of frost upon the soil crunched beneath their boots as the two men made their way back to the medical area.

“I know I said we needed you back at your station, but I highly suggest you get some rest, Dr.Blackwood”, Percy chuckled. “You had quite the day.”

Willhelm, still fazed by what had just happened, stopped in his tracks and stared incredulously at his colleague. “I…I don’t understand”, he muttered, his warm breath making small puffs of vapor in the night air. “I know we are not the closest of comrades, far from it in fact. And yet…you defended me. I was clearly in the wrong, and yet you insisted..” Percy halted as well. “That may be so”, he said, turning to Willhelm with his signature grin. “But I’m not heartless.”

The older of two stood silently, his legs refusing to work. Or perhaps it was the heavy burden upon his shoulders that soldered him into his place in the frosty ground. “Dr.Hewlett”, he called out. “I…you must understand. I have blood on my hands. A boy’s blood rests upon my hands, and this time I fear a rag and some hot water won’t do…” “Don’t we all?”, the other chuckled. “We are surgeons after all.” “But would you have done the same? W-would you have…put him out of his misery?”

“No”, the other said a-matter-of-factly. “Which is why I applaud you. There is little in this world that I wouldn’t do. I guess you’ve bested me in that, Dr.Blackwood. Congratulations.”

Willhelm tried to fathom something to say, but nothing surfaced except another puff of vapor. “I would say I owe you my gratitude”, he finally admitted. “Though I do not think that is enough, Dr.Hewlett. Lord knows what I would have in store for me had you not stepped in. I…thank you.”

“Like I told you, I was feeling quite generous today”, the other replied. “As you were, in your own right.” A bitter chuckle leapt from Willhelm’s mouth. “Generous? In what? Laudanum? Death?” Percy smiled once more before turning on his heel and lifting the flap of the medical tent. “Mercy, Dr.Blackwood. Mercy.” —————————

[pingo1387]

Prompt 1- Sanji/Zoro - Bounty hunter Zoro finds the holy grail bounty -Hitman Sanji...but uh containing him seems like it could be dangerous for all kinds of reasons. What now?!

Zoro couldn’t believe his luck. The man wore a hat and sunglasses, but tufts of blonde hair poked out, and the hat had shifted upwards for a moment to reveal an unusual eyebrow before being tugged back down. There was no doubt about it: The third son of the Vinsmokes, known as Black Leg, was sitting across the café from him, holding a mug of black coffee with fingerless-gloved hands. Black Leg, the only one of the infamous assassin family Zoro had ever had any leads on. Black Leg, the assassin with the fourth-highest bounty in the country. Black Leg, holding a mug of coffee, its reflection in his sunglasses moving as his head snapped up to gaze at Zoro. 

Zoro gave him a wave and cast his stare down at his own drink, an Irish coffee (he wouldn’t have it any other way). It wouldn’t do to make a scene in the café. Citizens were almost as scared of bounty hunters as they were hitmen, and if there was a scuffle, Zoro’s identity was sure to be revealed—what other bounty hunter had such telling hair?—which would cause Black Leg to either up his vigilance or flee the area. Best to wait until there was a time where he could corner Black Leg, alone. His hand wandered to the sheath concealed under his loose shirt, in which one of his daggers lay. 

The squeak of the door made his eyes flicker up, and he saw the slim figure hurrying away, the cup left on the table. Zoro waited before standing, tossing the rest of his drink into his mouth and swishing it around like mouthwash before gulping it down and burning his throat. As he passed Black Leg’s table, he noticed a generous tip left, and not a single drop of coffee in the mug. 

The air bit Zoro’s cheeks as he sped after Black Leg, keeping a distance to mask his presence. Street after street he crept closer and closer, and it was only when they were the only people in sight that he lunged. 

With the training of an expert, Black Leg spun around and kicked out at Zoro, forcing him back. Zoro shook his head and darted after him, reaching out a hand to seize his shoulder and force him to the ground, but Black Leg ducked down and kicked out, sweeping Zoro’s feet out from under him. Zoro, on the ground, grabbed hold of Black Leg’s legs, clawing into the skin for dear life. 

But Black Leg did not punch him, as expected, and froze where he was, struggling to pull his legs out from Zoro’s grip. It was a ridiculous sight: Zoro, on his stomach, clutching a pair of legs, their owner wiggling in place helplessly. 

Finally, Black Leg fell onto his behind, and Zoro’s grip loosened with the changed position. Black Leg used the opportunity to kick his chin, which weakened Zoro’s grip enough to allow him to escape. Zoro sprang to his feet and ran after him, refusing to let his opportunity go to waste. 

Black Leg turned and ran down an alley, only to skid to a stop at the dead-end he faced. He whipped around to find Zoro in his face, slamming him against the wall with a dagger pressed to his throat. 

“Okay,” Zoro said, catching his breath. “Come quietly. Make it easier for both of us.” 

Black Leg’s hand shot up before Zoro could react, but he wasn’t hurt—instead, his hat fell to the ground. 

“Thought so,” Black Leg hissed. “Fuckin’ grass hair bounty hunter. Zorro.” 

“It’s one R,” Zoro said, an eye twitching. 

“How’d you know—?” 

“Heard it in your voice. Are you coming quietly or not?” 

“Fuck you,” Black Leg said, spitting on Zoro’s shirt. “I can’t go to prison. You know what they’ll do to me?” 

“Oh, please, you can fight them o—” 

“I meant my sentence, jackass. It’s life behind bars or capital punishment in this case.” His cheeks twitched, and Zoro knew his eyes were narrowing. “You don’t look bright. That means the death penalty.” 

“I know what that is, dumbass. If you aren’t coming quietly, I’m gonna have to fuck you up until you don’t have a choice.” 

“Not on your life.” Black Leg’s chin inclined ever-so-slightly and Zoro knew he was eyeing the blade. “You don’t get it. I can’t go to prison.” 

“Pretty sure you can.” 

“I won’t let anyone take me there. See, this is what I mean. You’re not bright—” 

Black Leg went silent as Zoro pressed the blade into his throat, bringing out drops of blood. 

“I warned you,” he said coldly. “Come quietly or I’ll beat the shit out of you.” 

“Like you ever could.” 

“Which one of us has their back to the wall?” Zoro took out another dagger, holding the tip to Black Leg’s hand and watching the color drain from his face. “Do you like killing people, jackass?” 

“Get that away,” Black Leg whispered. 

“A weak point, huh?” Zoro pressed the tip into the back of Black Leg’s hand, and he froze, barely breathing. “Do you and your sicko family get off on killing?” 

“Fuck you,” Black Leg whispered, struggling for breath. “You think I like this? Don’t fucking compare me to those coldhearted sons of—” He caught himself. 

Zoro seized the hand and pinned it to the wall, holding one dagger to it while he stowed the other away. Black Leg could have escaped anytime he wanted in that position, and all it would cost him was a nasty hand wound, one that would easily heal with time. But instead his face was stark white, staring in abject terror at the blade. 

“How about I make this easy?” Zoro offered, watching his face with curiosity despite himself. “Come with me and I won’t cut off your hand.” 

“You wouldn’t,” Black Leg whispered, his voice barely there. A bead of sweat rolled down his neck despite the chill in the air. “Fuck you, you shit excuse for a human being.” 

“Look who’s talking. You’ve killed people.” 

“Fewer than you think.” Black Leg turned to him, moving a fraction of an inch. “Don’t do this. I can’t have this right now. I don’t want this—” 

Zoro faltered, something behind Black Leg’s words confusing him. His hesitation caused his knife to slip just far enough away from the vulnerable hand so that Black Leg could yank it away with no injury. With a kick to Zoro’s ribs, Black Leg left him in the alley as he sprinted away. 

Black Leg readied the gun, staring for the longest time at his target from the rooftop. The man (he had never been assigned a woman since a disastrous mission) was reading a newspaper on a park bench. It was a classic setup for an assassination, and all he had to do was pull the trigger. 

He shifted the target with practiced hands so it aimed for the man’s thigh instead. Perhaps he would bleed out, perhaps not, but at least this way he had a chance. Black Leg took a deep breath and then shrieked in pain when a boot fell onto his spine, heavy with the weight of the person it carried. 

“Well, well,” came a familiar voice. “Here to kill another target?” 

“No,” Black Leg wheezed. “I wasn’t—” 

Zoro squat down and shoved his head aside, peering through the barrel. He frowned. “You’re an idiot. Why would you kill someone by shooting them in the leg?” 

“I told you, I wasn’t going to.” 

“Then you won’t mind if I do this.” Zoro kicked him out of the way and took up the gun, first removing the bullets, and then bending it over his knee and tossing it to the roof. 

“Thank you.” 

Zoro blinked and stared at Black Leg. It wasn’t the knee-jerk reaction he had expected, but there the infamous assassin was, hair still covered by a hat but sunglasses gone, revealing eyes filling with tears. 

“Now … now I can tell them it wasn’t my fault for real,” Black Leg said, crawling over and picking up the gun. “I’ll say … I got in a fight with a bounty hunter, and he ruined the gun, so … I couldn’t finish the job.” 

Below them, the target for murder had folded up the newspaper and walked away, unaware of his close call. 

“What the hell are you talking about?” Zoro said at last. Coming to his senses, he knocked the broken gun away from Black Leg and yanked out a dagger, tackling him to the ground. Up close, he was shocked at the blue of the eyes he saw, and how wet they were. 

“I told you,” Black Leg said, harshness returning to his voice. “I don’t like this.” He blinked away tears and sneered. “Why do you care? Like you’ve ever listened to anyone before turning them in, I’m sure.” 

Zoro moved his dagger down to Black Leg’s hand again and watched his eyes widen. “You seem to care about your hands. I guess you couldn’t fire a gun without them.” 

“Are you kidding?” Black Leg said, every muscle tense. “If it was just that—I would’ve broken my own fingers long ago. I would’ve done it again and again until Father either killed me or disowned me.” 

“Then why?” 

“Fuck you. I don’t have to tell you shit.” 

“Guess not. And I don’t have to leave you with all your fingers.” 

Truth be told, Zoro didn’t know why he dawdled. He could have incapacitated Black Leg then and there if he wanted. He could have done it in the alley, or when Black Leg cried over the broken gun for all the wrong reasons. Fourth-highest bounty in the country. Well-known assassin. Didn’t want to be one. 

“I want to cook,” Black Leg blurted out. His ears turned pink. “Fuck you, fuck you, you piece of shit. I want to cook, and god, fuck, the only way I can do that is if I have my hands intact by the time I get out of that shitty family.” He grit his teeth as his eyes welled up again. “Fuck my father, fuck my brothers. I never asked for this. I never asked to be born.” 

Manipulative, cunning, sly, pleading. Zoro had seen these qualities and more in his quarry, and never one to be swayed by emotions, he had seen through them all, and brought them in in the end. 

“That’s why I can’t go to prison. Okay?” Black Leg stared at his hand, trying to flatten it, keep it away from the blade. “I’ll never, never be a cook in prison, or if I’m dead.” His eyes flickered up to Zoro’s face. “Would you believe me if I told you I’ve never tried to kill anyone?” 

“No.” 

“I tell them I’m a bad aim.” Black Leg laughed the kind of dry, forced laugh made when a superior tells a bad joke and you’re on the brink of losing your job. “Shoulders, abdomens, thighs, anywhere but the vitals. You know why I have the fourth-highest bounty out of everyone in my family, right? Because not everyone I aim for dies. If they do, well, fuck, I tried. If they don’t, one of my brothers is probably assigned to them. Does that make me guilty if they kill them? Tell me that!” 

“You’re still hurting people,” Zoro said, but his voice was hollow. 

Black Leg gestured to the dagger still pressed to his hand. 

“That’s different—” Zoro shook his head. “Never mind. Fuck you.” 

“Fuck you.” 

Zoro withdrew the dagger and sheathed it. “You can’t be faulted for failing to do your job if you’re being shadowed by a bounty hunter, right?” 

Black Leg stared at him incredulously, frozen on the roof. 

“Right,” he said, biting sarcasm coming back into his words. “‘A bounty hunter? Why not take him out yourself, you idiot? Well, we can do it for you, just tell us what he looks like.’”

“‘No, that would be a very bad idea,’“ Zoro said in the same singsong, sarcastic tone. “‘I think he’s contacted the government! They’ll kill me for sure if he dies!’” 

“Like they would care if I died.” 

Zoro stared at him. “Then tell them I’ve got tabs on your whole family.” 

Black Leg pushed himself into a sitting position. “Why are you doing this?” 

“Testing your sincerity. If you’re lying, I’ll die, and that’s that. You and your family are free to go. If not … well, we’ll see how things go.” He shrugged. “And if I shadow you, fewer people get hurt.” 

“Fine,” Black Leg said. He stood, studying his hands. “Zoro, with one R.” 

“Yeah. Black Leg.” 

“It’s Sanji.” 

“What?” 

“My name’s Sanji. Only my enemies call me Black Leg.” Sanji glared at the broken gun and kicked it before turning. “See you, Zoro.” 

Wherever Sanji went, there was Zoro, never more than a block away. He sat in earshot of Sanji at every restaurant and bar and café, watched him as he ate and talked and laughed like anyone would, and staked out his path going home. Sanji had only contacted him once to warn him about learning where he and his family lived, fearing he would be caught as well. 

“This is so nice.” 

Zoro started when Sanji sat with him at the bar, holding a drink. 

“What is?” he said, staring. “We’re not supposed to talk.” 

“No one’s here to know.” Sanji gave him a smile, and Zoro lost his words. “I meant, it’s nice, not having a target. I still can’t believe you’re doing this.” 

“Yeah,” Zoro said, trying to find his voice. He cleared his throat. “Well, I still haven’t settled on whether you were lying or not. And don’t forget I could kill you anytime I wanted.” 

“I know. But still, thank you.” 

When Sanji didn’t move, still watching Zoro with piercing eyes, Zoro cleared his throat and he jumped. He stood and hurried away, and only looked at Zoro once more during their stay there. 

“We’re leaving.” 

Sanji stared at Zoro. “Excuse me,” he said, refusing to reveal how warm Zoro’s gaze and the hand on his shoulder was. “What? And what happened to no contact?” 

“Doesn’t matter anymore. You’re dead.” 

“Oh.” Sanji sighed. “I see. So you think I’m lying.” 

“It’s not that, you idiot. Your family just got a letter informing them of your untimely demise.” Zoro gave him a hard stare. “And I just quit my job.” 

Sanji stared, processing his words. “You mean,” he choked out. “You mean—” 

“Yeah. Let’s get out of here.” Zoro rolled his eyes, looking around. “I’ve always hated this city, anyway.” 

His reflexes, borne of unforgiving combat, all failed him when Sanji flew upon him, pinning him to the wall with a kiss and a brush of a sharp tongue. 

“Oh, my god,” Sanji said, pulling away. “I’m sorry, I—” 

Zoro reached around and yanked Sanji’s hat off, showing beautiful blonde hair which he seized in a fist and shoved towards him for another, messier kiss. 

“We’ll find someplace,” he said, breaking away. “Where no one knows us—you can cook. I can, I don’t know, I’ll find another job. Fuck bounty hunting.” 

“Fuck assassination,” Sanji said, and he was crying again, shoving his head into Zoro’s shoulder. 

The familiar squeak of the apartment door made Sanji turn around, and he smiled at Zoro’s disheveled clothing and five-o’clock shadow, contrasting his own neatly combed hair and pink apron. 

“Welcome back,” he said, stirring the stir-fry. “How were the kids?” 

“One of them kicked me in the nuts,” Zoro muttered. 

Sanji burst out laughing. 

“I asked them if they had any ideas about how to defend yourself if a stranger comes at you,” Zoro explained, rubbing his thigh, “and one of them rushed forward and—” 

“You couldn’t stop him?” 

“I didn’t expect it. Fuck you.” 

“Fuck you, too.” Sanji stifled his laughter and turned off the heat on the burner. “You’re just in time. Dinner’s ready.” 

“Hope it’s edible.” 

“It’s all you’re getting.” 

Zoro slithered up behind Sanji and wrapped his arms around his waist, resting his chin on his shoulder. Sanji plucked a bit of beef from the pan and popped it into Zoro’s mouth. Zoro chewed slowly, closing his eyes. 

“Well?” Sanji said. 

“Less teriyaki sauce,” Zoro said, swallowing. 

“Let me take care of that.” Sanji turned his head and kissed the corner of Zoro’s lips, where a spot of sauce hung, and Zoro nuzzled his cheek, eyes still shut.