#he loves tormenting him and still claiming loyalty between them

[lcvejcys]

the girlypop urge to private god only knows because my perceptions of alex and nigel as characters has shifted soso much since i started writing. therefore, everytime i sit down to draft or write, im writing them as something i see as ooc because i cant justify the sudden character change because of the context of the fic

its very AAAAAAAA.

[cielsosinfel]

i want to eventually move over all my blusky rambling to here, because reading through even your own older posts on bluesky is still DOGSHIT. But I'm very very tired from health issues so I'll figure that out later. but I do wanna post this. I was scouring through the devnotes for Raphael, Hope and Korrilla (still haven't gotten to the end of HoH so also desperately avoiding cutscenes I have yet to reach lmao playing with fire, oh well)

AND THIS ONE! THIS ONE STOOD OUT TO ME!

Korrilla: Poor, deluded Hope. She's stubborn. Raphael loves stubborn. If she'd just agree to serve him, he'd probably have released her a long time ago. Korrilla: As things stand, she's his favourite toy. We're all mad here, but Hope in hell? Why that's the definition of insanity. Devnote: NodeContext: Complicated feelings. Both jealous of Raphael's attention and sad because she knows her sister doesn't want it.

I don't think the emotions expressed in the devnote come across in the line as voice-acted in the game, but the fact it was the writer's intention is so startling, and really explains a lot of the dynamic between these two... Hope absolutely loathes Raphael. She has resisted giving into him for an untold number of years, refused him at every juncture despite the tortures it earns her. he's obsessed with her because she's something he can't claim ownership of, no matter what he does, and it infuriates him. And then there's Korrilla. Her own sister has basically abandoned her, sided with her abuser, become deathly loyal to him, JOINED in torturing her ("Sister, my sister, oh what have you done? Sold me for soul scraps, torment me for fun!" as Hope says.) Basically wholly given herself over to Raphael as an extension of his will, as a tool and a weapon for him to make use of. Even seems to have moments of casual camaraderie with him (the silly betting over what their clients will manage do...) The depths of abandonment and resentment Hope must feel!

And yet apparently Korrilla's jealous that Raphael is still so fixated on the sister of hers who refuses him at every turn, when she's practically his star employee, the person he relies on most. Everything she does for him and he still wants a woman he cannot break down into wanting him. Jealous yet still sad about what her sister is going through, still having this shred of empathy, even while thinking Hope is bringing it on herself, because wouldn't it be so easy to say "yes"? Wouldn't it be so easy to give in?

idk these three drive me crazier the more I think about them

And it's not like Korrilla wasn't subject to Raphael's violence, if we go off this note, but apparently she took to the Hells and the expectations of its hierarchies and means of survival very quickly and very well. But that still means violence, fear and intimidation were used to secure her cooperation and loyalty in the beginning, right? Did she watch what was happening to her sister, so much firmer in her morals, and decide "I will avoid this by any means necessary"? "If I just show Hope how good she can have it by agreeing to Raphael's authority, she'll come to her senses"? Me spinning headcanons in my mind lmao

Also personally I don't interpret this jealousy as a romantic thing on Korrilla's part, but who knows what the writer's intention was. Literally the only mention of these feelings of Korrilla's, as far as I know, is this devnote. I will keep an eye out as I continue to play and adjust my interpretations accordingly lmao

[littlefreya]

August’s Box of Mystery

Summary: He left you all alone in his great castle by the sea and requested that you shan't touch yourself... can you keep your loyalty?

Prompted by @gotnofucks: “How do you feel August would react to knowing his girl uses sex toys when he is away? Would he feel jealous? Angry? Turned on?More importantly, what does he do? 👀”

Pairing: August Walker x Female Reader (No description of ethnicity or body type)

Words: 3k

Warning: 18+, smut + romance and fluff in the end. Female masturbation with a sex toy, voyeurism, sex-tape, cockwarming, mildly rough unprotected sex, breeding, breeding as punishment if to be exact, slight denial, MaleDom, creampie, a lot of it. Read the warnings properly, please. 

*No permission is given for reposting my work, copying it, or parts it and claiming it as your own.

A/N: I am anxious about this one and hope you’ll enjoy, i’ve been rather influenced by Angela Carter writings. Many thanks to @the-soot-sprite @wondersofdreaming for feedback and @agniavateira for her review. Added notes and credits in the end!

Please reblog and comment if you enjoyed my work. 🖤

August’s Box of Mystery 

Outside the bedroom window, the waves roared in a tempest's rage. Torrent after torrent, the sea unleashed brutal tentacles onto the salty iron rocks in a keen, vindictive urge to dismantle them to nought. 

It was your own unruly longing that the ocean sensed: forlorn and listless, lying on your bed, the blue mist cloaking your heart. 

August's sea-fort was a gilded cage. He had given you everything: diamonds brighter than the moon, sheets made of the softest golden silk, and even a ring to bind you to his unbreakable siege. 

His only demand was that you will always wait for him, not only by flesh but soul as well. Despite his dark ambitions, trust and loyalty were qualities August valued beyond anything else.   

But soon, you grew tired of watching the reflection of the tides refract upon the naked ceiling. A woman with fire for blood, you were forever tormented by your sultry nature and daydreams of that would make the devil blush.

Frustration gnawed at your bawls until—enough! You shot up from your bed—a storm of silky linen whirling around you like Venus emerging from spume on shore; and just as the goddess of love and beauty, you too yearned to be penetrated. Nibbling your nails, you glanced at the open door, your mind seeing beyond thick walls into his office where he kept a chest filled with illicit delights. 

Every now and then—when August's muse struck—he would bring one of his toys to the bedroom, but you weren’t allowed to play on your own. 

Body. 

Soul. 

‘Certainly, August won’t be able to tell if I would be careful?’ You hoped and followed the oceanic breeze hymning from the corridors.

Sand stuck to your bare feet, the wooden planks gently wept beneath your stride. Tipping on your toes, you snuck into his cavernous study, the key stolen from his nightstand already seized between shaky fingers. Though August was absent, your heart thrummed with ire upon setting foot onto the furry rug, as if he was to appear behind you at any given moment.

It was a room that reeked of debaucheries of all kinds: "borrowed" works of art depicting naked nymphs adorned the cherry-wood shelves, divine entities hung onto the wainscoting, and trophies he kept from his victims were encased in a fancy vitrine. Even the slate-blue view felt different from this spot; the rocky piers seemed like a pathway to a marine graveyard.

You paid no mind. You knew who you married and gained nothing but ethereal bliss whenever August fucked you against the window for the shark and whales to see. 

Like a girl crawling into the rabbit’s hole, you took half a twirl. There, below the large monitor plastered to the wall, stood the locked chest. Black and gold roses ornamented its exterior and a trident crest was engraved on the lock. Only a fool would overlook such blatant temptation, and though you were no foolish girl, you were feeble at the face of seduction. 

Falling to your knees, you made haste to unlock the chest, your heart drumming in your ears with the notion that you defied the words of your strenuous lover. But the same muscle that pumped you with fear, pounded wickedness into your blood. 

If only you were blessed with a shred of your husband’s patience.

All the toys inside were placed in order, sanitised, and appropriately boxed in such fashion that you knew August would notice if something was misplaced. The man had the capability of finding an eyelash on the carpet. Still, unrelenting desire strung the cunning finger you ran over the loot, carefully picking one of the familiar vibrators he used on you before. 

'Here?'  

Standing at the centre of his tidy office you contemplated, suddenly aware of how the room leaked of his entity; scented notes of old leather binding and his woodsy cologne threatened to adhere to your skin, making this mischief taste like a crime. It was best to keep all disobedient whims in an isolated location, you assumed and allowed your eyes to further drift and glide upon the large monitor and the antique desk where August kept the remote. An abrupt wicked idea swam into your mind, reminding you of his private collection. 

Catalogued alphabetically, he kept them on his streaming device. 

'It should make things quick...' you convinced yourself whilst nibbling on your bottom lip. How worse could it be, anyway? You already rummaged through his chest. Taking a gander at his not-so-secret directory was puny in comparison. 

With your lungs in fists, you slipped your panties to your ankles and settled on the cosy leather chair in front of his desk. Ignoring the red flag waved by your anxiety, you reached for the remote and clicked the button. 

August made no effort to hide his recordings, simply naming the directory as "Films," as if it contained ordinary Hollywood blockbusters. Impatient, you scrolled down the list, trying to keep the jealousy from simmering in your bawls. August wedded you in this fort, but he never captured you on film like he did his girls. All lovers from the past, of course, but still it almost irked you; yet you brushed these concerns away and picked a file with the name you liked most and pressed “play”.

The ocean's lament was instantly swallowed by guttural howls and grunts that took every empty space within the chamber. Before your flaring eyes appeared the most forbidden of spectacles— your husband taking a different woman. It was odd to hear the familiar timbre of his groans laced with the voice of another. It was even stranger to sense the unmistakable spark of desire jittering in your cove.

Poseidon himself could not compete with the glory of the man, naked and drenched, all muscles and might. Furious, he took her on her knees, his fingers cradling her skull, pushing her head to the pillows while restraining her wrists above the small of her back. She wasn't you and still you clenched, aroused by the sight of the sweat glistening the fur of his torso and by the lack of mercy in the violent motion that ended with the dutiful grind of his sac against her swollen lips. 

You hadn't even realised how shamefully you dripped upon the oxen leather of the seat, your thoughts focused on the odd mixture of envy and lust that penetrated your blood. 

Desperate to unleash the monstrosity building within your core, you spread your legs over the desk and pressed the toy between your slippery petals. A shuddering whine rode your breath at the brush of the buzzing device, the pleasure so unimaginable it nearly drowned your senses. Gasping, you fought to maintain a hooded gaze upon your lover and his ‘whore,’ and imagined that the rosy silicon phallus that entered your anticipating hole was his swollen cock.

Your walls quickly clenched around the toy in true longing while the window trembled under the muffled rumbling of thunder. Perhaps your passions thickened the clouds. Or maybe it was the immoral streak of ecstasy laced by danger. Whichever it was, it urged you faster toward imminent bliss.

The other woman’s moans entwined with yours while your wayward hand mimicked the rhythm of bodies slamming together in the same frantic chaos that swept you.

Sweat-riddled, your ankles lost way across the smooth surface of the desk, leaving oily markings in a frenzy as climax drew close.  

‘Almost…’

‘Almost…’

‘So close…’  

‘August!’

"Enjoying yourself, my little princess?" 

Lightning painted the room bright purple, announcing the thunder that tore through the ocean. It wasn’t half as frightening as the low timbre of his voice, which cruelly withheld your ecstasy. The fervour in your veins turned glacial; one moment you ascended to the heavens and the next, got rejected at its golden gates. All the while the growls of his reflection on the monitor echoed through the chamber along with the buzzing toy still buried inside you.

It granted no pleasure now, but further stretched the guilt.

Calm and forebodingly stoic, August reached a curious hand between your quaking thighs, seizing the toy and flicking the switch off. Unable to lift your gaze to meet his severe face, you struggled to swallow and kept your eyes glued to the monitor. Yet, there was no escape from his reflection—the “real” him present in the room peered back at you through the glassy screen. Standing behind you, he etched his fingers around the headrest of the chair and tutted. 

“Do you like watching me with others, sweetling? Did this video make you wet?” he asked curiously.

Before any words formed on your quivering lips, his hand fell to your mound. An intrigued “hmm,” flowed from his throat as he found you overflowing with arousal. Like a whore, you couldn’t help but squirm into his touch, your body still enraged of being denied pleasure, and so was the sky that now threatened to turn the ocean upside down. 

You nearly gasped at the heavy patter of rain that began to hit the window. 

“I…”

“Disobeyed me,” he completed the sentence, his voice mellow and pleasant though the caress of his breath on your face burned.

“...missed you.”

Your attempt to pacify him did not go unnoticed. Lips stretching to a slanted grin, he dared to replace the toy with two fingers that drove inside your gaping hole—sensing how you wrapped and suckled around his long digits like a carnivore plant.

“Such a sweet gesture,” he retorted, “and still, my love, my dear wife who I’ve given everything to, has defied me like a lawless brat…unable to wait for her husband to return from his very important meetings.” His dainty fingers pumped crudely deeper, not to please you but remind you who you belonged to. 

Writhing in your seat, you fluttered your eyes shut. “Where were you?”

Ignoring your question, he leaned down, his lips mere inches from your ear and whispered, “I think it’s time I’ll tame my bratty woman for good, don’t you?” 

You shuddered to think what punishment he had in mind, your heart sinking to a dark pit at the deadly kiss he offered next to your ear; but then, he took your wrist and in a surprising tenderness guided you from the chair to bend over the desk. 

Predictably, the movie had run its course and started again from the beginning, her promiscuous moans and the pounding of their flesh stealing your attention for a split second. 

Having you at a disadvantage, August drew an invisible line from your spine to the curve of your behind, his fingers mimicking lines drawn on soaked sand. “All this sea salt in the air around us and your skin is still so tender,” he murmured lovingly and secured a hand around your nape, holding your head forward. 

It excited you to watch them before and now with his groin hot and hard against your bare crease you were nothing but craving his cock. 

“Is this going to hurt? Will you spank me? Treat me like that whore on your film?” you asked naively, smoothing your sweaty palms across the antique wood with dark anticipation. 

“No, my beautiful angel.” his belt clicked and dangled like a set of heavy keys of a warden toying with his captive, “You are not my whore, but my wife. Which is why I’m going to put my child in your reckless womb to end your wicked ways once and for all.”

A gasp of shock left your throat, dazed by his threat you turned to protest. But the air drowned in your chest and your entire body stiffened as August’s ‘leviathan’ split your succulent flesh. Vulgarly you were penetrated, his size stuffing you so deeply, you felt the aching pressure in the pit of your belly. 

August stilled for a moment, lingering at the sensation of your hot cove fitting around him in both a strenuous protest and the pathetic defeat in which your body seized the beast, milking it in an attempt to rope him into your womb forever. 

“Oh, my sweet wife, I will stretch your little cunt to sheath me that not even these toys will please you. You see, everything here belongs to me, even your defiant womb. And I will leave a piece in me there to teach you a lesson.”

“I don’t think I am ready!” You whined, but the thought of being bred and carrying his child made your cunt unwittingly twitch. Your canal sucked him even deeper if it was even possible.

August sensed your convulsion and growled, his hips pressed unfathomably tight against your rear, making your cheeks ache from the press of his bones. It was torture with the film playing right in front of you; falling into a lucid delirium, your mind replaced her with yourself, yet your August refused to move, withholding your pleasure, owning it, owning you. 

His cock anchored hot and thick inside you, its throb as powerful as the thunder hammering the ocean.

You wanted to cry.

“August, please! I need you! I missed you!” 

With a harsh pull, he drew back and bludgeoned your crease, his might so vulgar the tip of your toes levitated from the ground. Again, and then again… he grunted at the choke of your flesh around him. Paying you no courtesy, he shook and pounded you almost terrifyingly as meticulously as he did this woman. 

His fingers burnt around your waist, so harshly you thought you’d never be able to sense anything but his grip under your skin. 

“Oh!” fat tears rolled down your cheeks, your breath a wheeze. Piteously you crumbled onto the desk. Thunders, cries, sounds of rutting flesh, and grunts surrounded you in this cavern of sin; you didn’t know which were yours and which were from the recording. All you knew was that he never took you so zealously before, you were at the brink of either rapture or falling to the abyss.

“You’re too deep! Too rough!” you wailed, unable to adjust to his pace but truthfully you didn’t want him to slow down. Currents of bliss submerged your loins the rougher he fucked you. The hot tingle in your core stormed with every collision of his cock with your cervix.

August reached from your neck to your jaw then and held your face to the screen.

“You wanted to watch her while touching yourself. Do you want to be her?” he growled and increased the pace, splitting through your body the way Dagon ripped open the waves. 

Even if you had words, you couldn’t bring yourself to speak. 

“You can never be her my darling,” August said and removed his hand from your hip. There was a quick drag of his drawer behind you and a rummaging sound. “Here, I’ll make us a short film; memorise this moment when you conceive me an heir.”

Struck by his words, you turned to stare. The sight of him behind you, inside you, was far more worthy than any film: sweat trickled down his messy curls and arduously strained face, his cerulean shirt damp and his mouth open as his fingers clutched the camera that was directed to the point where you were joint. 

Unrelenting, your orgasm flooded through every muscle like a wave of destruction that wrecked every organ within you until you felt nothing but bliss. You felt August’s heart beating in yours. 

There it was. Euphoria. 

You drowned in it. The maelstrom inside you swallowed and sank his ship as well. With a loud shout of surprise, he broke apart and erupted inside you, his creamy gift ploughing your womb until it overflowed and dripped down your quaking thighs. 

The rumbling from outside eased now, the clouded sky groaned with a release, their tears melding into the ocean never to be seen again.

August remained inside you, his breath thick, his hips gingerly grinding into yours to make sure his seed will take. 

“There you go, my special girl.” his voice came huskily. “Now you will never be alone, unlike these women I can’t even remember.”

Your hand instinctively snapped to your lower belly, soothingly caressing it in a reverie. You felt battered, full, and disgustingly and arousingly dirty as he swam inside you.

Yet the thought that he impregnated you made your heart flutter. 

Was there a more eternal symbolism of love than a legacy?

“August…” you whispered. Beneath you, the desk slightly shook, little tremors vibrated against the delicate pads of your fingers. Turning your head back, you offered him an enamoured glance and reached a hand in plea to lace fingers with his. 

His storm-kissed eyes softened and he broke into a sigh at the sight of his wife at her best submissive behaviour. The greatest of all delights was to refine a crude rock into a fine delicate diamond. Proudly, he took your hand in his, entangling your fingers together, yet he kept the video-camera aimed at your joint bodies. 

“Don’t move,” he breathed behind you and carefully pulled out his shaft from your flooded hole. A velvety chuckle played on his tongue, impressed by the wet plop and thickness of the cream that leaked off your entrance. Your cheeks burnt as you realised what he has done; your lips parted open to complain but then, with his cock already fully rigid and thick, he plugged you once more, shoving his seed back inside you.

“What are you doing?” 

“Waste not, my angel,” he tutted and remained still, brushing his knuckles up and down the curve of your rump.

“Oh, how long?” you whined, uncertain if you are capable of staying this way with him throbbing between your taut walls.

“Until the sky clear up?...” he suggested, voice haunted by lingering satisfaction. 

The waves of your previous orgasm were yet to ebb, and now stronger tides began to emerge. Frustration grew within once again and sadly, August’s will had the mettle of an anchor.  

“At least tell me where you were!” you yelped.

August scoffed, and wrapped his hands around your waist, only slightly guiding you back into his hips. “No, no, my love. Every marriage needs a little bit of mystery, as you’ve already learned. But now do me a favour,” he uttered and placed the remote next to your hand. 

“Play us another one? We might be here a while.”

Credits: Dividers by @firefly-graphics. Themes Inspired by Angela Carter’s Bloody Chamber. Leviathan inspired by @sillyrabbit81​!!

Disclaimer: I don’t own August Walker or Mission Impossible.

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

Draw your swords, pt. 5

Summary: A very special dinner brings a very special moment for the Darkling and his wife.

Warnings: angst, sexual innuendoes, swearing, bit of fluff

Part one // Part two // Part three // Part four  

=================================

She felt caught in the riptide, finding it hard to stay upright. As the daughter of a general, Y/N had seen so many evils, so much hurt, yet she never buckled under pressure.

Staring at the empty spot beside her, she laid there while battling shadows in her head. So filled with rage, she wondered who she’s becoming as a part of her longed to feel his touch. Perhaps he was right, she’s a foolish girl who is trying to win a game where the rules are nonexistent.

Having stayed awake most of the previous night, she didn’t expect trouble sleeping. With a heavy sigh, she abandoned the bed they shared – it felt too intimate to remain there now. They’ve only ever kissed and it was never planned nor did it happen in the very bed she felt is so incredibly vast, so lonely and cold when he didn’t stay there with her.

Pacing the room as she saw his shadow do the night before, Y/N couldn’t help but wonder if he had trouble sleeping alone too. It was less than a full week since they married and she already cursed the smallest part of her that seemed to care for him.

Men are easy to love. A woman’s heart was made to care and love those near her. Mistaking love and trust is what a woman should never do. Love and trust are separate entities, one is given, the other must be earned.

Remembering her mother’s words eased her self-loathing. If she dared to love the Darkling, it wasn’t entirely under her control. Trusting him was different. She wasn’t as naïve as to allow the echoes of her heart dictate what her mind long acknowledged – he isn’t trustworthy.

And as the stars rise in the sky, she paced the room tirelessly. Arguing with herself, she paid no mind to the night sky she loved so much. If she had, Y/N might have realized a man with dark skies for eyes had trouble looking away from her shadow.

Exhausted, Y/N rose with the dawn. She had barely scraped up a few hours of decent sleep, tormented by his words even in dreams.

“Enter”, she yawned as Genya readily walked inside. The maids rushed to the bed, willing to change the bed sheets they couldn’t last time as Y/N had sent them away.

“Stop!” She exclaims as they reach Kirigan’s side of the bed, a slightly panicked look on her face relaying uncontrollable desires she had no chance of understanding.

Frowning, Genya licked her lips. While Y/N wasn’t sure what caused her outburst, she believed to know the root. “Leave us. You will be asked to change the sheets when Y/N desires it.”

Swallowing thickly, Y/N turned away. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be”, Genya mussed. “We have a dinner to prepare you for.”

“Yes, of course.” Y/N managed a smile, briefly looking to Genya. “I’ll be alone which gives me a perfect chance to find new allies.”

Blinking fast, Genya’s frown deepened. “I’m not sure who could ally with us in the Palace. Everyone’s charmed by our General. If you’d just work with him, they would all be with you too.”

“He works for the emperor.” Y/N reminded her.

Running her hands through her hair, Y/N didn’t know if she could ever trust him enough to tell him the truth. Her plans, her fight, it’s her life’s work. She came into that palace with intention of burning it down. The emperor must die and anyone else who’d fuel the flames of war must perish along with him. The war had claimed her mother’s life, of thousands of humans and Grisha alike, Y/N aimed to end it. And to end it, she had to destroy those who started it, those who refused to implement equality between species, as Kirigan called them. Humans and Grisha must be seen equally worthy, they must ally or they will be exterminated like vermin by surrounding enemies.

She grieved for her mother every day, even now as a decade had passed. Grief is really just love one cannot give to the other. It’s all the unspent love, gathering in the corners of her eyes, the lump in her throat and inside the hollowed heart that’s trying to beat in her chest. If her sorrow was but snow that could melt with coming spring, she’d shake it off her shoulder and be done with it. It doesn’t just disappear or heal with time, she could not just let it go and forgive. Y/N survived the loss of her mother by making a vow, one she was closer to fulfilling.

“Should I prepare your usual kefta?” Genya asked, holding the blue one over her forearm.

Shaking her head, Y/N turned to her with a smile. If she wants to succeeded, she must use all weapons at hand. Being the General’s wife is one of the weapons at her disposal.

“I was thinking about a different color for tonight.”

“How different are we talking?”

Smirking, Y/N’s eyes flickered to Kirigan’s kefta. “Black.”

“No one wears black but Kirigan”, Genya reminds her.

“Until he married. I believe I’m allowed to wear his color.”

Pinching the bridge of her nose, Genya sighed heavily. “Alright. As long as you allow me to make a few modifications.”

Anticipating the dinner, Y/N felt like a goddess in the kefta Genya had crafted for her. It fit her perfectly, adjusted just above the waist as it properly accentuated her curves. The closed collar wrapped around her neck, fallen stars creating a golden woven blaze as a necklace, while moondust adorned the long, skin tight lacey sleeves. The bottom acted as a floor length dress with a long slit revealing skin up to middle of her thigh.

Entering the room with her head held high and Genya on her hand, Y/N felt even more confident about the eclipsed sun stitched across her heart. It was bound to attract attention if the rest of her makeshift kefta inspired dress didn’t.  

The moment she took a step inside, everybody’s head turned. The chatter died down, replaced by astonished gasps of pure awestruck admiration.

“I believe you’ve created a masterpiece”, Y/N whispers to Genya whose smile widens.

“You are what makes it so spectacular”, Genya winks.

“Don’t be modest. We both know it’s not in your nature.”

Giggling, Genya nods, “You’re right. I’m brilliant and this”, she steps aside to give her a once over again, “You are proof.”

Pursing her lips, Y/N felt her cheeks darken. Her plan was to draw attention so any potential ally she speaks to would be more inclined to accept her request, but she didn’t expect for everyone to stop and stare.

Tugging her by the arm, Genya pulled her closer. “You’ll never guess who is here”, she spoke in a hushed tone, looking to the left as the rest of the guests began speaking again and the music played softly in the background.

Following her line of view, Y/N’s heart came to a near stop as her eyes locked on his.

“Wasn’t he supposed to leave last night?” Genya whispers, but Y/N could hardly speak.

Breath caught in her throat, Y/N stared back at Kirigan who seemed to be just as breathless. She looked like a dream, a golden bird that carried all the happiness of the world on its wings.

“He didn’t”, Y/N looked away, knitting her eyebrows. “Why didn’t he”, she tried to finish her initial thought, but she couldn’t. If she spoke of the sudden ache that settled after the initial shock of his presence dispersed, she’d hate herself more. She’s weak if her feelings are hurt by a single night spent alone in a bed. She was certain now. She is foolish.

“You won’t be able to network tonight”, Genya’s frown made Y/N chuckle.

“You’ve been frowning so often since we met.”

Shrugging, Genya leaned in discreetly. “I can afford a few worry lines. I’ll just erase them later.”

Playfully rolling her eyes, Y/N smiled brightly. She would not allow Kirigan to dampen her mood. He can stay on his side of the room and she won’t spare him a single glance.

“I’ll test the waters”, Genya promised, “If I find anyone that we can work with, we can test their loyalty later.”

Glancing over Y/N’s shoulder, Genya’s eyes widened ever so slightly.

Frowning lightly, Y/N glanced at what has her so perplexed only to huff in frustration.

“Black suits you”, the Darkling compliments her. Holding out a hand for her to take, he glances at his open palm before raising his brow. He’s challenging her.

Looking around, she realizes everyone’s waiting for her reaction. As he told her once before, they may not be a love match, but their arrangement must seem successful to the unsuspecting eye.

“Dance with me and pretend they don’t exist”, his voice softened and she couldn’t believe this is the same man who so cruelly baited her, branding her as foolish earlier. How can he act as if nothing happened when she was still reeling from it? Not that he’d know, she always put care in every move she made around him.

She placed her hand on the palm of his, holding her breath as she chained her gaze to the abyss in his. There’s no going back, she thinks, nearly shuddering as he places his free hand on her hip.

“I thought you were gone by now”, she mussed. Choosing to take control of the conversation, she kept her neck straight as it secured a proper distance between their faces.

“We had a slight delay”, he said, “I’ll be gone tonight.”

Humming, she swallowed thickly. Avoiding looking at others, she remained in a staring match with her husband.

“How did you sleep?” The Darkling smirked, watching her eyes narrow at him.

“Quite well. Did you enjoy sharing your bed with someone else?” While her voice seemed cold and unattached, her words were anything but.

“Do I detect a hint of jealousy there?” Pursing his lips, he nearly laughed as she stepped on his foot. “I’ll take that as yes.”

“I’m merely concerned how it would look if word of you sleeping elsewhere got out. I prefer my pride and honor untouched and if you choose to find a lover, I should assume you’ll be discreet.”

Licking his lips, the great general didn’t laugh at her or sneer. There was no angry squinting or vile words. For once, he had a serious expression on his face that had nothing to do with the army or their arguments.

“I’m not the kind who would seek a lover while married. Even if the marriage is a mere arrangement.”

Scoffing, she clenched her jaw as he pulled her waist closer to him. 

“How many lovers have you taken?”

He raised a brow, “That’s a horrible question.”

“Because you lost count?” She narrows her eyes, the lips he found himself so fascinated with formed a thin, red line.

He doesn’t respond, so she tried again, “Why have you not married before?”

Now he looked amused, “That’s even worse!”

Shrugging, she smirks, “Well, ask me a question then! If all mine are so awful, let me hear yours.”

“Do you think I’m a very good liar or a very unlovable being?” Slowly pulling her body flush against his, Darkling looked deep into her eyes. “I’ve never loved anyone and I’ve manipulated everyone who has fallen in love with me. So?” Inhaling sharply, he watched a disarray of emotions cross her face as he asked again, “Liar or unlovable?”

“A liar. Because you are lying, not just to me but yourself.” Her breathing is shallow, strained even. “You have a heart, General, but you’re cowering like a scared little boy instead of just facing the facts.”

“And what are those?” His voice is darker as are his intentions.

If they were alone, she was certain he’d be kissing her lips now. For some reason, it seemed he enjoyed their arguments. He liked it when she fought him almost like he didn’t know any other form of affection.

“That you care. You care and you hate yourself for it.” Stopping their dance, she managed a faint smile. “But don’t worry, I’m not spending my time waiting for you to accept it.”

Brushing his fingers across the left side of her face, he cocked his head ever so slightly, “Is it possible you’ve got this all wrong? From where I stand, you’re the one who cares – perhaps a bit too much? Let me remind you, this marriage is a sham. You are my wife, but I do not love you, I do not care for you and if you were killed right in this very spot, I would avenge you but solely for the arrangement to remain unsullied.”

Nodding, more to herself than him, she took a step back from him. For the first time ever, she drew back. “For once, we’re on the same page of the same book.”

The music stops. Looking to the man clinking his glass, Y/N’s lips part. She didn’t even realize it, but too often she entirely forgoes breathing in Kirigan’s presence.

Taking a deep breath, she nearly laughs. Kirigan…General…The Darkling. She even called him husband, yet she never even heard his first name. How odd is it to marry a man whose first name is a mystery to you, she thought.

“If you’ll excuse me”, she nods curtly without sparing him a glance. 

Her seat at the dinner table was beside Genya, while Kirigan was placed all the way on the other side of the room. She smirked, satisfied she’ll have some peace during her meal. She never quite liked the table formation in a wide U form before, but she blessed the ones who created it on this evening.

Studying him from afar, she couldn’t deny the attraction she felt for him. It wasn’t some cosmic connection that she hoped she’d share with her husband, rather wishful thinking. Longing for him is out of the question. He may be the most handsome man she had ever seen, but it’s not at all something she’d thank the saints for. If he were less appealing, she’d at least be free of torment his looks bring. The devil is real and he’s not a goat like man as humans believed. There are no horns, no tails – he’s beautiful, a fallen angel, but an angel nonetheless.

“You’re staring at him again”, Genya speaks in a hushed tone, her smile audible.

“I’m not”, Y/N replies, “I simply looked over in a direction and he happened to be seated there.”

“Then why was that look on your face?” Genya raises an eyebrow.

“What?” Y/N asks, incredulous. “What look?”

“You have a certain way of looking at him”, she informs. Letting out an tired huff, Genya explains, “You look at him and it’s like you’re staring at the night sky littered with stars.”

“So?”

Genya looks down before whispering, “You love night skies littered with stars.”

Rolling her eyes, Y/N stared at her food for the rest of the evening. One bite after another and her plate was quickly emptied. Her stomach felt like it would burst, but she didn’t care. Most people claim they can’t eat under stress, but she was the opposite – her appetite only grew.

“He’s standing up”, Genya informed her and despite wishing she remained impassive, Y/N’s eyes shot up to where he was sitting.

With a lump at the back of her throat, she watched him as he headed to the door. A part of her hoped he’d be decent enough to bid his farewell, to acknowledge her at least. That part of her needed to be destroyed, she decided. It’s the part of her that would ruin her mission and for what? If she truly wanted to, she could have him on his back and under her. If she wanted him, he’d be hers – at least his body would. The principle she held onto was more important and so, she swallowed thickly and looked to her empty plate in order to stop her weakness from showing.

As she looked away, the Darkling looked back at her from across the room. He felt a strange tightness in his heart and once he saw she didn’t follow him with her gaze, his heart dropped. Furrowing his eyebrows, he kept his gaze on her for a while longer – her beauty was unmatched by anything he had ever seen. White looked good on her, every color did – but black fabric hugging her curves could bring a dead man back to life.

With a heavy heart and frown etched on his face, the Darkling turned his back and left the room, the Palace, the strangest, most beautiful creature he ever laid eyes on.

He carried her in his thoughts ever since. It aggravates him how quickly she’s gotten under his skin. Most of the month before their marriage was finalized was spent in petty comments about their armies or their distaste for one another. She was insufferable, maddening and entirely different from what he expected.

And yet, even then, the Darkling hoped she’d lose her patience and either leave or tell him she loves him. If she left, he’d be free of her and the shackles of an undesirable marriage, but if she told him she loves him, perhaps he’d believe her. If he knew there was ever a possibility of her loving him, he’d dare assume he might be deserving of love – because she may have dubbed him a liar, but he believes himself to be unlovable too. He never saw the point in allowing himself to feel a thing for her when it would be futile, wasted emotions on a woman sworn to hate him.

Once he was done chasing a rumor of a stag up north, the Darkling had to accept it too was a futile. Going after a legendary animal wasted so much of his time that he couldn’t even believe how foolish he’s become too. The stag must not be real after all.

Approaching Little Palace, he felt almost eager to run up to their shared chambers and see her. Even if she’d likely have a few choice words for him, he hoped he could make her blood boil just to hear her speak. He’d never admit it, but he missed someone he could converse with without dying of boredom.

“General”, Genya rushed to Kirigan who nearly growled at the distraction. However, Genya seemed distraught, panicked enough to draw his attention.

“Yes?”

Swallowing thickly, she wiped a stray tear slipping down her cheek. “It’s Y/N.”

His heart stops at the sound of her shaky voice, his jaw clenching before speaking. “What happened? Is she alright?”

“She went for a ride this morning and she hasn’t been seen since.”

Darkling’s gaze hardens as he grips Genya’s arms and shakes her lightly. “What do you mean?!”

“We sent riders after lunch, because I was worried she missed two meals already”, gasping for air, Genya’s tears made tracks, “The snow covered her tracks.”

She left me, he thought. She deemed me unlovable, unworthy. She left.

“They managed to find her mare”, Genya continues through tears, “It was decapitated and left in the woods.”

“Woods?” He frowns, wondering why she’d stray from the meadow and then he realized. He’s the one she rode into the woods with. She must have thought the woods were safe. They were at the time, only because he was with her and he’d never let any harm come to her.

“There were signs of struggle, but the snow is making it hard for us to track them.”

Releasing a visibly shaken Genya, he grunts. Biting his lower lip, he paced before her as his hand ran through his hair. She never saw him so worried, so mad before. He looked like a man walking a fine line – a line between madness and sanity.

“Call everyone”, he orders, “We must find her.”

Exhaling in relief, Genya smiled as Ivan emerged, having heard everything.

“Why would we do that?”

A pause ensues as the Darkling takes a step toward Ivan. “I haven’t made a promise in so long”, he spoke but in truth, it’s been hundreds of years since he made anyone a promise. “I promised her I’d protect her.” His voice was ragged, but controlled. “So I’m making a new promise right here, if they harm a single hair on her head, I will end them all. I will do it with a smile on face and I will bathe in their blood!”

They took her from him and he had every intention of ripping the world apart with his bare hands and for once, the thought of how far he’d go for that insolent woman didn’t frighten him. He barely knows her, he certainly doesn’t love her, but Saints help those who touched his wife.

=============================

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Part 6

[kodzumie-archived]

Can l request a yandere kokichi and nagito with a insecure possessive so? Thank you very much

❝HE LOVES ME, HE LOVES ME NOT❞

Synopsis; What are the yanderes like with an insecure and possessive darling?

Featuring; Kokichi Oma and Nagito Komaeda x GN! Reader

Warning(s); Yandere themes, established relationship, manipulation, emotional abuse, possessiveness, insecure thoughts (reader), sacrilege, worship, implications of stockholm syndome, self-harm (Nagito), blood, slight gore, attempted suicide, and mentions of hospitaliation.

Kodzumie’s Note; Of course you can! Thank you for your request, this was a very interesting concept, and one that I enjoyed writing! Take care, love. Muah! <3

➤ KOKICHI OMA

⤷ He’s cunning; calculating all the ways he can use your weaknesses to his advantage. Truthfully, he’s the reason you have a desperate need to pledge your claim on him. He made you this way; riddled in insecurities, fearing that you’ll never be enough for him.

⤷ The constant malice laced with faux, brutal honesty in his words as he admits that if you get boring, he’ll leave you. In the way he drops such soul-shattering admissions without a care terrified you. Were you that easy to discard?

⤷ And thus spiraled your fogged mind of whether or not what you do is spontaneous enough. Is it enough to be deemed unpreditable? Will it keep him interested? Will he be entertained?

⤷ It’s a cruel, sadistic game that he’s forced your self-assurance to play. Constantly chasing after him as he turns his back to you, threatening you with the shackles of abandonment.

⤷ He’s caged you in a mindset where you cannot rely on trust any longer. Trusting a deceiver would bring you nothing but heartbreak; you’ve had to bear this lesson far too many times to relive it once more. Trust—in this corrupted love—was a vice.

⤷ So you took it into your cold, dead hands to carry the burden of ensuring that your lover remains. Wary glances of where he runs off to, heart worrying away over who he could possibly be with at that very moment. Who has he deemed worthy of his invaluable time now?

⤷ You fret over any and all possibilities. Perhaps he finds someone more deserving of his time, leaving you for them in the blink of an eye. Or perhaps he simply grows tired of you, your existence proving to be far too predictable and not suitable to his adrenaline-crazed tastes.

⤷ In every moment, you fixate on the where his eyes flicker when he’s with you. It’s taunting, the distraught of catching him looking at someone else. Someone other than you.

⤷ And he knows this. He’s more than aware of how worriedly you follow his gazes, hoping not to find another person they’re directed towards. It’s a realization he plans to use to the fullest, caving in whatever sense of self-esteem you had that maybe—just maybe—he only had eyes for you.

⤷ But having faith in such a deceitful individual was a mistake you’ve made far too many times. Even now as you follow Kokichi’s eyes to settle upon a figure.

⤷ Your heart dropped to the pits of your stomach, an unruly pang piercing your conviction with the tendrils of a distorted reality; he’s gazing upon someone else.

⤷ That’s not you. That’s not you. That’s not you. That’s not you. That’s not you. That’s not you. That’s not you—

⤷ “Kokichi, what are you looking at?” You cut the suffocating silence. Your breaths uneven as the functioning of your lungs felt labored. Throat contracting in anxiety, you swore you wouldn’t be able to hear his—inevitably deleterious—reply over the deafening pulsating of your heart.

⤷ “Just someone.” He mutters. But you see it, you notice what you prayed was merely an illusory of your culminated fears; he wouldn’t take his eyes off them. Not even as he replied to you. Not even as you tightened the grip on your intertwined hands. He wouldn’t stop looking at them.

⤷ In that moment, you could only describe it as the relentless tearing of your fragile heart. The desire to be his faithful partner in which such devotion is reciprocated is tattered with disdain.

⤷ You’re replacable. In what you believed were the earnest eyes of Kokichi Oma, you were to be repudiated.

⤷ As your eyes tear up and you begin to drag your boyfriend away, successfully garnering his attention away from that supposed stranger at long last, your blurred vision and hasty steps led you to miss the deviously depraved grin of his that was far too sinisterly crooked.

⤷ Your reactions, your blind fury and innermost apprehensions were so amusing; so comically enthralling. It’s no wonder he promises the two of you are sworn lovers; you never cease to stun him.

⤷ Once you two have reached a somewhat secluded area and far enough from the previous scene in which your heart ached to think about, you turned to Kokichi with such a catastrophic sheen of betrayal yet interlaced with the poison of envisage. You had expected this, hadn’t you?

⤷ “Why?” The words hang in the tense air as you peer down at the ground below, unable to meet his eyes in which—to your expectancy—darkened with the tainting of rejection; rejection of you.

⤷ This was a game that seemed far too easy for the cunning boy. It was as though you’d granted him the key to your mind, allowing him to feverishly jeopardize your self-reverence.

⤷ “What do you mean?” It’s a simple question; a plead of elaboration. But Kokichi knows all-too-well what plagued root pollute his intentions. He wants to see you break. And it seems like he’ll be getting exactly what he wants.

⤷ “What do I mean? Kokichi, what do I mean?!” You sharply inhale, your breathing sporadic as tears spill from your eyes.

⤷ “Stop playing dumb for once! Just tell me, just say it to my face, Kokichi! Are you tired of me?!” It’s a shout that tears your throat raw, emotion seeping into each word, woven with the most intricate of desperation.

⤷ He sees how you’re beginning to lose yourself; losing your self-respect as you claw at all that he’s formulated to define you. It’s as he’d planned, you need him.

⤷ And it should’ve ended the moment he’d realized how far gone your independence has been muddled upon his taxing gambling upon your mind. But he didn’t. It was far too amusing to stop now. Your desperation for his affections to be for you—solely for you—were addictive, and he wanted more of it.

⤷ So, as he cradled you, drawing you closer and inviting you to seek comfort within his bodily warmth, he suppresses a wicked cackle.

⤷ Whispering promises that you were still the one whom held his heart captive; you, you, you! And as pitifully naïve as you are, you decide to believe in him once more.

⤷ Perhaps you’d never believed him, and rather seeked out an excuse that brought the most comfort to you. Attempting to piece together your fragmented self-assurance, you depended on the contentment of his promises. Even if they were nothing more than the lies you’ve come to confide in.

➤ NAGITO KOMAEDA

⤷ A sworn worshipper; Nagito will go to the ends of the Earth to prove his devotion to his darling. His heart belongs solely to you, interlocked between the weaving of your hypnotic web as he hails you.

⤷ He believes with the entirety of his worthless being that you are a divinity; a detiy amongst purposeless nobodies that serve as nothing more than your stepping stone. But he believes you are merciful.

⤷ After all, if you had not been so graciously charitable, you’d have no associated with a low-life such as himself. Much less, willingly put yourself in a relationship with him.

⤷ It’s a blissful thought; to think that he could mean something to someone. To have some sort of negligible value.

⤷ But it’s one that he cannot take to heart. His worth lies on whether or not he can serve you—his darling deity—to the best of his lousy ability. He’ll happily dedicate his life to you.

⤷ Far-too-gone in the abyss of infatuation, Nagito finds himself unable to properly comprehend how someone so ethereal—someone so celestial—couldn’t see their blinding eminence.

⤷ He genuinely believed the notion of insecurity was foreign to you; a vulnerability that the emobodiment of all that is heavenly shouldn’t identify with. And yet he is forced to acknowledge that his lover—his one true hope—is unbearably familiar with such a plagued enigma.

⤷ Your sporadic hues narrowing at those who meet eyes with Nagito. The common practice of smiles directed towards strangers irked you; they were smiling at Nagito. Was he familiar with them? How was their smile comparable to yours? Could it rival yours, the one he claimed to encapsulate his heart?

⤷ An inkling of doubt resided within you whenever another was involved with your boyfriend. You understood full-well how much he loved you, but love is as empowering as it is contagious.

⤷ You know that these fears are nothing more than that; a drop of blood in which dirties the pure waters of reassurance. You’re aware your reactions are exaggerated, a carciture in comparison to the situation. But then why did he bother to smile back?

⤷ The thought resides within the back of your consciousness as you ponder over it. Certainly, it was no big deal. But why did it spur such an ache within your heart? Why do you feel the insuppressible urge to vacate the vicinity right within that moment?

⤷ It hurt to think. A torment so grand at the miniscule possibility that-that mutual exchange of smiles meant something more. Was it possible for Nagito—who pledges full allegiance with you as his faultless god—to fall through the clutches of your claim?

⤷ He devoted himself to you, that much you were sure of. Upon your first true meeting, he terrified you to your very core. You insisted that there was something wrong with him; something sickeningly distorted within his fogged mind of fixation.

⤷ But over time, after the relentless admissions that he wants nothing more than to serve you; worship you; love you; you’d eased into his proclomations. His depravity, albeit sinister and channeled with great fault, was out of his love for you; his pure loyalty and devotion.

⤷ So why had you continued to doubt him? He told you himself, didn’t he? He loves you more than anyone else could, more than anyone else could ever be capable of. And despite this, he still admits to viewing himself as mere scum, unworthy of your love but whose purpose is to worship and hail you.

⤷ Could it be that he’d ever seek out someone he’d believe himself to be worthy of association? Would he truly leave you for someone he deemed, too, as lowly as him?

⤷ Your thoughts have riddled themself until there’s a gaping hole within your heart—a cavity that’s sunk itself deep within the caverns of your gravitated love—and within his home that you two enter, hand-in-hand, you allow your visage to crack.

⤷ One sob after another, your knees give out from beneath you, harshly meeting with the wooden floorboards.

⤷ The sound startling Nagito as he turns to you with concern evident within the stitch of his brows. Instantaneously, he drops to where you were seated on the floor, weeping away as sobs scratched your throat raw.

⤷ “My love, what’s wrong?” He questions. His heart thumping within his ears as he cradles you, swaying your bodies ever-so-slowly in order to soothe you. Thus your crying turned erratic as you clutched against the fabric of his jacket.

⤷ He holds you so gently, he embraces you with such a warmth pooling from his heart. Did you really have any right to doubt him?

⤷ Yet it spurs such pain as the flashing of his reciprocated smile loops within your mind. Over and over, eating away at your self-restraint as you blubber; Did that smile mean anything?

⤷ He pauses, attempting to register your words. But they’re far too vague for him to properly process, and he pulls away from the embrace to face you with a perplexed countenance.

⤷ “Y-You smiled at that one person a-and—and...I just felt—“ Before you could continue, a sob escaped between your quivering lips. Your throat ripped dry as you began to question why you were crying so hard.

⤷ But before you could continue, Nagito pulled away from the embrace completely. Unfortunately, putting the worst possible conclusion within your mind as your break down was amplified.

⤷ Why did he move away? Why, why, why, why, why? Is this it? Have you finally wrung out your time with him? Is it finally over?

⤷ Though your momentary doubt was put to a halt as Nagito presses his hands against his chest, gesturing towards himself, frantically.

⤷ His eyes dilated with depravity interlaced by the seams of desperation. His lips curled into a crooked grin as his breathing came out in sporadic huffs.

⤷ “No, no, no, no, no! My beloved hope, this is just a misunderstanding.” He confesses. His hands visibly shaking as he seems to tremble from the possibility that his darling deity would ever be put under such pain from his incompetence to outwardly convey his true, unhindered love.

⤷ “I’m merely scum beneath the soles of your shoes, I’ve caused this minsinterpretation due to my ignorance. I shouldn’t even weild the right to say, my beloved, please forgive me.” He rambled. With each word, his breathing was becoming more prominent to you. It’s heavy; panicked; furious.

⤷ “I promise to you, I am solely yours. Your stepping stone towards renouncing the world of its despair. Your follower even through the flames of societial Hell. I am yours, and only yours.” His hand move to grab a hold of yours, but he quickly shrinks back in disgust at his audaciousness. How dare he grab at the hands of such divinity?

⤷ And thus, he reels his hands back and clutches his throat. His nails digging into the supple skin as he releases a breathy chuckle. His eyes blown open with a sheen of insanity, you find yourself thrust into the fear you’d experience upon first meeting him; when his luck had been particularly bad that day, and you caught him situation outside your bedroom window.

⤷ His erratic, turbulent temper terrified you. The way he dug his fingers further into his throat, clawing at the skin until the salmon-tinted lines began to trickle with deep, crimson. His pale skin stained with his own blood as he kept tearing at his throat.

⤷ “I deserve the worst of punishments for enforcing such despair upon you! Being killed within a millenial of lifetimes could never be enough to repent for the sins that the trash that I am has committed!” He shouts. You gasp, fearing for his wellbeing as he continuously attempts to pry the skin of his throat open; an inevitable suicide if he continued.

⤷ “Stop! Nagito, stop!” You scream, tears blurrying your vision considerably. Yet as his figure turned to abtract forms of color, you could still make out the sickeningly red blobs. He was bleeding, he was bleeding so much.

⤷ Prying his blood-stained hands from his throat that—if he’d continued—would’ve been torn to shreds. Your breathing loud and hiccuped, whilst his is mellow and nearly inaudible. It must hurt to breathe.

⤷ “Why? Why, why, why, why?!” You question, fear woven into your eyes as you tighten your grip on his wrists for reassurance; the assurance that he won’t proceed to try and kill himself.

⤷ He smiled, though as he attempted to speak, he coughed up remanence of what he’d inflicted; blood mixed with his saliva as he attempted to regulate his breathing.

⤷ He needed to go to a hospital and he needs to go now. But as you attempted to carry him to the front door, your phone in hand dialing an ambulance, Nagito presses his thumb against the end call button.

⤷ You face him with a panicked and agitataed expression. Is he truly hellbent on dying? All because of the conveyance of your insecurities?

⤷ “Don’t...Can’t.” He voices. Though it’s so hoarse and mangled that you could barely understand his words. But with a bit of thinking, you find yourself deducing a reason behind his rejection of professional aid.

⤷ Even if you got him to a hospital, you’d inevitably have to explain what’d occurred. And informing them of his attempted suicide would surely have him hospitalized for much longer or even transfered to a clinic. Nagito always told you that any moment spent without you is the eye of true despair.

⤷ Why had you doubted him? Why couldn’t you suppress yourself? His pain, his injury, it was all your fault. You know he devoted himself to you and through extremes such as this.

⤷ You flung his arm over your shoulder, carefully treading towards the living room as you set him down upon the couch, ready to fetch the first-aid kit.

⤷ You can fix this. You can make up for your mistakes, and help him. This is your fault, all your fault! But you can still fix it, right? You can still make it right, yeah? It’ll be okay. It’ll be okay. It’ll all be okay.

⤷ As you laid him down on the coach, his throat now barely trickling as he winces from the pain, he gazes up at you with such sincerity you find yourself in tears once again. “I love you, and I would happily die for you. I’m sorry for what my worthless self has caused you.”

⤷ His words force you into a state of fear. How could he speak of his death so easily? It unnerved you, yet you consistently reminded yourself that he wouldn’t die. The wounds are shallow, thankfully. He would live.

⤷ But that doesn’t alleviate the guilt as you choke back a sob, pressing a fleeting kiss to his lips before pulling away. The tears from your eyes cascading and rolling onto his cheek, a now painful intimacy. Never agin would you allow yourself to succumb to the clutches of your insecurity. “I love you too. And I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

[problematicfavesareproblematic]

Caught in Your Riptide, Can’t Let You Know

Joe Liebgott x Reader One Shot

MERRY LATE CHRISTMAS @sunsetmando​! 

Summary: Joe needs to remember that there are still some things worth fighting for

Warnings: ANGST AND SMUT AND BLASPHEME!, feels, church sex, fwb relationship, sex with feels, maybe fluff?

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

You didn’t even seem surprised as you watched him slip into the cold stone sacristy behind him, your eyes dancing in the low light that trickled in through the cracks in the walls.

Joe didn’t believe in angels or demons, but right now he was willing to swear on whatever religious text he could get his hands on that you were both.

You’d been sitting just behind his left shoulder silently, head resting on your folded arm as they lay crossed on the back of his pew. The warmth on your hand around the back of his neck was sweet, the steady half-moon crescents your thumb made as it moved up and down the only thing keeping him from crawling out of his skin- a task that was becoming more and more difficult with each passing moment.

He knew that most mothers would tell their children that they couldn’t run away from their problems, he knew that for most it was just a turn of phrase.

But not for Joe

 Since he was a child, he’d always chosen to run from conflict, too young to know what to do with all of the frenetic energy in his little body. That was before he’d learned how to hit and fight and shove the adrenaline from his veins, before his mother started begging him to just walk away from discord and hostile situations he always managed to get himself into.

When things became too much, Joe knew himself enough to know that he needed some sort of release- some physical outlet for all of the feelings that made his skin itch and feel too tight.

 But he didn’t have it in him to fight anymore, not right now.

Not after months of watching the people he cared about die and get sick and break like brittle branches under the constant stress of battle. He was tired, so tired that he wondered if it were possible to die from exhaustion. Every bone in his body ached but he still had the urge to flee, as if he could run back to the safety of his home and the smell of the sea and his mother’s arms.

He wanted to run until everything made sense again.

 There were only three things that stopped him from doing just that:

His hatred of injustice.

His loyalty to his friends.

His loyalty and love for you.

 He never thought that there was a difference between loyalty and devotion until he’d met you, when he realized that you meant everything to him. As far as Joe Liebgott was concerned the sun and the stars only hung in the sky and shined because you willed them to. Before you’d even given him a second glance he’d known that he was willing to go to the ends of the earth if it meant making you happy. He thought he might even consider leaving San Francisco if doing so ensured you would spend the rest of your days by his side. 

 Not that he told you any of that. 

Telling you how head over heels in love he was with you meant that you’d know.

And if you knew, you could turn him away.

And he didn’t think he’d be able to deal with that.

 So he settled for showing you how much he cared.

 Sex had always been easy for him, another extension of his tendency to seek out a physical release when the thoughts and feelings boiling his blood became too much.

He was a quick learner and he’d be lying if he said that making his partner fall apart in ecstasy didn’t give him a major ego boost. For a skinny kid who’d been bullied for things beyond his control, knowing that he could fuck his tormenter’s girlfriends better than they ever could gave him the confidence to fight back. 

 Joe never claimed to be a good man, something he used as an excuse for the libidinous delinquency of his early teenage years. It kept people from expecting anything from him, kept him safe from the disappointment he left in his wake

Those days felt like lifetimes ago now. 

Today, he felt powerless. He had no wind in his sails, no fire in his belly.

 He needed to feel something good, something to remind him that he wasn’t as useless or powerless as this war left him feeling. 

And, because you were both sin and salvation in one, you had seen it.

 Which was what brought him here, having trailed after you like the dutiful servant he was after you’d whispered the command in his ear.

You knew what he needed and because you were too good for him you would give it to him, you’d let him take back whatever prowess he’d lost in that month-long foxholed nightmare.

 Your coat was already off, and when you whispered his name he came to stand before you obediently. Your bruised and battle-raw hands found his face and brushed gently against his cheeks, fingertips trailing the path across his too-sharp cheekbones as if he were something precious.

Why you kept coming back to him, Joe would never know. He wanted to, but that would mean the two of you would have to actually talk about those feelings lurking beneath your bated breaths and he knows that would change this strange dynamic he cherished so much.

 When you whisper his name again, he finally meets your eyes- feeling small and intrusive under such open care. Sincerity made him anxious, but with you he couldn’t bring himself to lie about how broken he was. Keeping the depth of his affection from you wasn’t as much a lie as it was an omission, or at least that’s how he justified it to himself.

 The fisr press of your lips to his is always sweet, and this time is no exception. Your lips are chapped but still softer than they have any right to be, and when you press your next kiss to his mouth you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him into you.

 Joe takes your bottom lip gently between his, always wanting to make sure that this was what you actually wanted, that you got at least a moment of sweetness before he let himself be selfish.

Because that’s what he was, even though he didn’t want to be- especially not with you.

But it was all he knew. 

Why did you let him do this?

 You sigh shallowly as he grips at your hips, his tongue spearing your lips apart so he can make the kiss deeper, firmer. Better. More.

The hands that had fisted in his hair slide down his chest and begin to unbuckle his gun belt, fingers nimble and quick from muscle memory. You don’t have much room to work, not with the way he’s pressing his torso into yours yet still you manage to drop it to the floor and move on to the buttons of his jacket.

 He can feel your brows furrowing as you press your forehead to his and gasp for breath, your eyelashes ticking his skin as he kisses at whatever part of your face he can get his lips on.

His hands pull and fist into the mess of your hair as he walks you backward, letting one of his hands follow the curve of your neck to wrap around your throat when your back meets the wall.

 Holding you there, he kisses you with tongue and teeth and groans when he tastes blood.

“Yeah?” he asks, and when he hears you echo the word he knows that you don’t mind the overenthusiasm. That you don’t want him to stop.

 It’s his turn now to seek the belt holding up your cargo pants, his fingers noticeably fumbling with excitement and making the metal of the buckle clack promisingly against itself.

He doesn’t bother removing the belt from the loops, more focused on tackling the button keeping him from his goal.

 Your nails are scratching at his chest, his neck and scalp as you match his eagerness. He likes when your nails are a bit overgrown like this- likes the bite of them and the red lines they leave behind despite your attempts to refrain from marking him.

If Joe had his way, you’d leaven him bruised from head to toe from your love bites. He wants people to know how much you want him, how desperate you get int hese moments.

You are so reserved in public. It had shocked him how untamed you could be in private.

 You’re pleading with him under your breath, alternating between his name and telling him to hurry up. It drives him wild, the idea of you impatient to get him inside of you.

It makes him so hard it hurts.

 The moment that he unfastens your pants you’re turning around and bracing your hands against the wall, gasping quietly when he tears them down your legs and kneels to free at least one of your feet from the leg of your pants. Your underwear comes down easily, and as it does the smell of your arousal is revealed to him like someone uncorking a fine wine.

 Joe bites the skin of the backs of your thighs as he follows the scent to the source, bunching your shirt around your hips and pulling at your waist so your back is arched for him. You always hiss when he kneads the cheeks of your ass up and away so he can nose at the thatch of damp hair between your legs, and if you were somewhere else he knows you’d call him disgusting and depraved.

As if those words didn’t encourage his behavior. As if it made him any less debauched.

 “Not now, Joe,” you mumble, one of your hands reaching behind you to grip onto his too-long hair and pull at him. “I can’t keep quiet if you do that now, not here….”

You’re right, your otherworldly self-control does always seem to slip when he eats you out- which he loves but he also knows that getting caught doing such a thing in a church is something neither of you wants to have happen.

So he settles for ducking a quick kiss there and biting your buttcheek before he stands and pulls himself from his pants.

 You keep your hand in his hair as you press your forehead against your forearm against the wall. Joe can feel your back heaving with the quick, deep breaths you’re taking, the knowledge that you’re this worked up because of him adding to the tight warmth pooling at the base of his spine.

If you both somehow managed to survive this war, the first thing he wanted to do was fuck you until you passed out. Watching you hazy and fucked out was one of the only things he missed about being in Toccoa.

 He’s wrapped his arm around your hip and doesn’t realize how vigorously he’s been rubbing at your sex until you twist your grip in his hair so tightly he almost cries out in pain.

 “Please please please, inside me, don’t make me come until you’re inside me—”

 How is he supposed to deny a request like that? When you’ve asked so sweetly?

The first thrust inside of you almost unmans him, it’s been so long since he’s been able to relish in the hot and tight squeeze of you that he nearly blows his load embarrassingly soon.

He’s hooked his chin over your shoulder and gasps pathetically into the soft pillow of your hair, glad you are so distracted by your own pleasure that you probably don’t hear the high keen in his throat as he starts to piston his hips.

 Keeping one hand between your legs he brings the other up your stomach to grope at your chest, the feeling of your nipple against the rough skin of his palm sending rivulets of sweat down his back.

You always started babbling when he started playing with your tits, making him think that your past partners had neglected to give them the attention they deserved. Since your time in Europe, he’d noticed that they’d become smaller, most likely from losing your soft weight under the heavily rationed diet they all sustained themselves on.

He didn’t mind, if anything he thought they had become more sensitive from it.

Next time, he’d make sure to pay more attention to them from the get-go.

 Next time.

 With that thought, Joe suddenly remembers the sight of you huddled behind the hay bale beside Dike. watching you and his friends scramble for cover under the heavy fire of the German Army had made him sick to his stomach, the lack of direction from Foxhole Norman leaving you vulnerable for far longer than you ought to have been.

 Joe, stuck providing suppressing fire in the tree line, had never felt more useless in his life. Because all he could do was watch while Dike pulled your body over his in some desperate attempt to shield himself from enemy fire, your screams for Dike to let you go reaching Joe’s ears and making his heart still in his chest.

 If Joe had had a clear shot, he would have truly considered taking it.

 Suddenly, the fact that Joe can’t see your face is wildly unacceptable, and he pulls himself from your velvet heat immediately.

Hands finding your hips, he twists you around before you can voice your protest- your face twisting in pleasure when he shoves you up the wall and sheathes himself inside of you once more.

 Yeah, this is better. God, you’re beautiful.

 Your head is thrown back as you bite back your sounds of pleasure, your breaths coming out sharp and hard with each full rut of him inside you. Skin flushed and shining, some of your hairs are sticking to your temples attractively and when you look down and catch him admiring you, you smile.

 The press of your forehead to his allows him to hear all the praise you’re gritting out between clenched teeth for him- your words making him moan low in his throat.

 “You’re close,” you sigh, a hitched sigh interrupting your cooing. “Shit, Joe- I can feel how close you are—”

“Shut up.” he hisses without any venom, not disagreeing with your observation but also not wanting to come before you. “Just, shut up about it— fuck.”

 Before he can stop you, you capture his lips in a deep kiss and clench down around him- a move you know he can’t resist.

He always seemed to forget how wicked you can be when it comes to making him come. your drive to push him over the edge first was just as strong as his desire to do the same to you.

Unfortunately, it seemed like you were going to win this time.

 The bite of your nails at the nape of his neck paired with a dragging, tight roll of your hips sends him tumbling over the edge- your hand slamming over his mouth before his guttural cry has a chance to escape his throat.

“Yes yes yes yes yes…” you are praising from somewhere near his left ear, his vision going white and his muscles clenching violently with the force of his orgasm. “Look at you….shit, don’t stop doing- oh!”

 The feeling of you fluttering around him is foggy in his blissed-out mind, and when he feels himself re-enter his body he is sitting beside you on the cold stone floor and you’re running your hands over his face and brushing his sweaty hair from his brow.

 When he regains use of his limbs, he brings his hands up to take your wrists and pull them until your face is close enough for him to kiss, his lips lazy and slow against yours as you kiss him back.

 All too soon, you duck a quick kiss to his cheek and sit back- using the hem of your shirt to wipe at his cum as it gathers between your legs.

He knows what comes now- he knows that you’re going to leave and give him a moment to put himself together and rejoin you whenever he’s ready.

That’s how it’s always gone, and while he hates it he knows that he was the one who started this routine back in Georgia- because he was afraid that he’d accidentally tell you how much he loved you.

 Joe knows that he needs to tell you, the words curling on his tongue as he watches you put your clothes back on and rebraid your hair away from your face. He knows that if he asked you to stay that you would, you’d stay and let him tell you how lost he would be without you- how this isn’t about sex and hasn’t been just sex for a long time.

 But he doesn’t, and when you sling your gun over your shoulder and turn back to give him a knowing smile he can only give you a wink that portrays more cockiness than he actually feels.

 “Better?” you ask, your cheeks still rosy and your lips still swollen from his biting kisses.

He can’t, not now. It could ruin everything.

“Better.” he hears himself agree, and the moment you slip out of sight he smacks his helmet and it skitters across the floor.

 Alone, in the dark room that now smelled like sex, Joe wonders how much longer he’s going to be able to keep quiet.

Because when he’s like this, he’s reminded of how there may not be a next time.

 Fishing around for a cigarette in the pocket of his pants, Joe tells himself that he’ll tell you in the morning.

Maybe he'll be braver in the morning.

~ ~ ~

TWO IN ONE NIGHT?! WHO IS SHE?

Taglist: @mrseasycompany​ @itswormtrain​ @mrsalwayswrite​ @happyveday​ @sunsetmando​ @teenmagazines​ @liebgotttme​

[snowbellewells]

Self Promo Sunday: “Kingdom Come”

This is another one of my early Captain Swan one shots, this one written during the hiatus between 3a and 3b.  The idea entered my head when I first heard "Demons" by Imagine Dragons, which is where the title and the lyrics included come from. There was also some added inspiration from episode 3x06 "Ariel" and episode 3x07 "Dark Hollow". I don't think there is anything in here that goes against show canon; it's mostly imagined thoughts and missing scenes that go along with what has happened, and some guesses at what we may see when "Once" returns again in March.

As always, I have no claim to the show, the characters, or the song used. They belong to their creators and I'm merely celebrating their genius!

Also available on both AO3 and ff.net

“Kingdom Come”

by: @snowbellewells​

He knew that he should have kept his distance. She was shining light in contrast to his dark shadow, and a villainous wretch was the last sort she needed to have dogging her steps. Yet from their first meeting – knife at his throat, fingers fisted in his hair, hard, dangerous eyes hiding tense, nervous fear – he hadn't been able to pull away. He had no choice but to follow her. Call it a compulsion, an addiction, but he was as drunk on her as he had ever been on his chosen rum, and he despaired from the moment she left him chained atop that bloody beanstalk to any time she had left his side since.

The words Cora had hissed at him in warning echoed back to him, "You chose her…and the consequences of that decision…" Whether it was good or bad for either of them didn't seem to matter to his black, barely-beating heart. It was true: he had chosen the Swan girl…

When the days are cold

and the cards all fold

and the saints we see

are all made of gold

When your dreams all fail

and the ones we hail

are the worst of all

and the blood's run stale

It had become even clearer to him after the Echo Caves. When he had bared his soul and the feelings he harbored for her to be met with only silence and Emma's panicked uncertainty, fearless pirate he might be, but Killian Jones knew he should take a step back. The incredible, unparalleled kiss they had shared in the Neverland jungle told him the Savior was as attracted as he, but she was not ready for him. Her sole focus was on her boy – as it should be – but beyond that, she was running scared from anyone else who might try to breach her emotional defenses.

He knew it had been too much, too soon, to unload the truth about feeling that he could love again upon meeting her, and if he had been free to proceed as himself – as Killian Jones wooing a lady properly – he would have never been so clumsily blunt, but instead he was a pirate captain desperate to prove his loyalty and worth, while stuck on Peter Pan's nightmare island. They had needed to get Neal back without further delay and return to seeking Henry, and so he'd had to make clear that he was correct in the way the infernal cave worked. It had not been easy to look into her beautiful, tormented eyes when he had offered his confession, hoping he hadn't driven a wedge which would push her even farther away. It had been even worse to see her run across the bridge formed for her of their painful admissions, right up to Baelfire without giving him a word of comfort, encouragement, or thanks. He felt his shoulders slump in defeat, hurting more than he had imagined, when the cage holding the Crocodile's son vanished at words from Emma which he could not hear, and she fell into the embrace of her first love.

Killian felt her slipping away – if she had ever been within his grasp at all. Bowing his head, he hid the pain in his eyes from Snow White and Prince Charming's curious, searching gazes. Burning fire within him seared away the tentative hope he had foolishly let kindle within. He was nothing but a pirate, as the Prince had reminded him not so long ago. Though he couldn't help wanting to hold her, it was probably for the best…

I wanna hide the truth

I wanna shelter you

But with the beast inside

there's nowhere we can hide

No matter what we breed,

we still are made of greed

This is my kingdom come,

This is my kingdom come

There was no longer any doubt. He was a fool – a sodding, pathetic fool. For him to let a glimmer of belief take root in his chest again was begging for misery, but Killian Jones had felt it growing all the same.

Venturing into the Dark Hollow had been a risky, desperate move at best, but after his face-off with Baelfire and discovering that Emma had not even deemed what had been brewing between them worth mention, self-preservation had not been so high atop his list. He had barely cared what happened to him in their suicide quest to capture Pan's shadow.

Of course, the fiend trying to rip his shadow from his body had jolted things into focus with frightening clarity; especially when he realized that Baelfire was facing the exact same fate, but it was his moniker of 'Hook!' that Emma cried out in horror. That she found the power to magically light their star map shadowcatcher just after her concern for him surfaced was not lost on Killian. No matter how much he cautioned himself not to dwell on it, he couldn't ignore the implications. Emma might not want to admit it, might not be free to show it, but when push came to shove, she cared more for him than she wished to admit.

He had not lied to her when he had promised no deviousness or trickery. If Emma Swan – the Enchanted Forest's lost princess – ever gave him the chance to truly win her heart, he would use no dishonorable means. He understood good form and had once dreamed of being a hero. He might be an orphan and a pirate, not some prince or man of noble blood, and his thirst for revenge had kept him lost in villainy for countless years, but he still had honor, could strive to show it valiantly once again. He knew deep down that she wanted him; what he did not know was if Swan would ever allow herself to acknowledge her desires. He could only vow that he would endeavor to deserve her if she came to him with such a golden opportunity.

Swan needed some joy and lightheartedness in her life. Though she looked fragile, she was hard as steel; she'd had to be for far too long. To him, her beauty was unrivalled, but it was clear that Emma did not see that in herself. He wanted to worship her as she deserved, unfit as he might be to do so. Killian Jones wanted to restore her lad to her, heal the wounds of her past, love her unconditionally, and never leave her side. He trembled to risk pulling her that close; his history proving over and over that anyone he dared to love had suffered a horrible fate. It was better his own heart be crushed than for her to suffer harm by nearness to him. Still, if he fought back the darkness he had sunk into, shouldn't he be allowed to step into the light?

When you feel my heat,

look into my eyes

It's where my demons hide

It's where my demons hide

Don't get too close

It's dark inside

It's where my demons hide

It's where my demons hide

She came to him at the helm of his ship once Henry was truly safe and resting peacefully with Regina watching over him. There had been a scare when Pan had tried to take Henry from them once again, but it appeared Rumplestiltskin's strength had indeed been greater than the ageless boy's, and their antagonist was now trapped safely in Pandora's Box. Sighing as she came to a stop just beyond arm's reach from him and leaned against the Jolly's hull, Emma didn't know if weariness or relief was winning within her at present. She was not sure that seeking out Hook when her emotions were such a mess was a good idea, but it was a need all the same. She was drawn to him like a magnet – impelled to speak to him, to thank him for helping them to get this far…to make sure that he was alright.

Emma knew he had been left hanging, knew he wanted more. What she didn't know was what she had to give. It had nothing to do with still doubting his motives or that he was a pirate; Hook had long since proven himself in her eyes. She simply wasn't sure her heart could let any man in the way he would want and deserve. She found it didn't matter though: she still ached to be near the Captain. He calmed her, despite the turmoil she had been in ever since this voyage started, and his constant support at her back, whatever the situation or whatever her decisions, had given her strength. She wanted to tell him so; if nothing else, he ought to know what it meant to have had him in her corner and that she would not soon forget it.

"Hook…" she began, then shook her head to cut herself off, knowing that wasn't right. Her corrected word came out breathy and more ragged than she had intended, "….Killian…"

He turned to face her when she spoke his name, though he had already known she was there. Just then, she could see everything he was feeling in those ocean blue eyes. Though their decadent depths often smirked, prodded, threatened, or demanded as the situation called for, at that moment they were raw, reflecting mirrors letting her see right into his exposed inner soul.

All the words she had intended to give him flew from her head, and Emma was left standing frozen, swallowing hard and wondering why she wanted to talk at all. With that in mind, she moved to stand before him, just within his reach, when one corner of his mouth tilted up in a tempting smirk as he beckoned her closer. Obviously pleased with himself, he took things a step farther, resting both hand and hook at either side of her waist, his thumb rubbing soothing circles that she could feel the warmth of through the waistband of her jeans, as if he were stilling a skittish animal so it didn't flee. "Was there something you wished to discuss with me, Love?"

"I…" her mouth went dry staring into his eyes and she struggled to focus on anything other than the desire for a second kiss from him, but she finally pieced together coherent words. "I just wanted to thank you…for everything. We couldn't have even followed Henry without your ship and your help. David would be dead by now. And I, well, I just…"

"Come, Lass, it's just me. There's no need to be so formal. I offered you my ship and my services, and I meant it." As he said these words, he was slowly, deliberately, pinning her in his gaze so she understood just how much it did mean to him. He placed the cool, smooth curve of his hook under her chin, tilting her face up to meet his.

"But – it's just – it's so much more than that," she floundered, and if she weren't so grateful and attracted and muddled all at once she would have been irritated that he could sound so composed and romantic while she struggled to get a sentence out. Emotional tears almost welled over her eyelids, but she blinked them back and stepped closer yet, almost begging him to hold her, causing their noses to nearly brush. Looking up at him, she hoped that just maybe her eyes could convey her affection, gratitude, and want without the words that seemed lost to her. Biting her lower lip in nervous anticipation, Emma raised her eyes, blinking, to his cerulean gaze and prayed he would simply read her scrambled mind.

Chuckling low in his throat, Killian seemed to do just that, and wrapped his muscled arms around to reel her in. "All you had to do was ask, Love," he teased, lightly ghosting his lips over her forehead, her nose, her cheeks, forestalling the inevitable and making her heart thud erratically even as she grew impatient for his lips to reach hers. Just as she had grabbed him and driven their first kiss – fast, desperate, bruising – he was taking over this second one, creating a slow, languorous, building simmer that Emma wasn't sure she would survive.

Killian's hand came up to cradle her head, hook resting along her neck on the other side, the one bit of cool relief to the fire in which he had engulfed her. His calloused fingers stroked along her jaw as if hoping to coax her nearer still. This kiss carried their feelings in it; there was still heat and passion, but below it thrummed something more, something deeper: it required a decision. Emma's breath caught at the realization that this kiss was something which might last.

Killian was thinking, hoping, the same thing, hardly daring to believe, but unable to stop it either. Greedy thief and pirate that he was, he wanted more of Emma; it would never be enough. Fool he might be, but he did not aim to stop until he had stolen her very heart. Not so long ago, he had been rudderless, with nothing in this world to keep him but his vengeance. Now, he prayed that he could change his course. At last, he had something to fight for, someone to hold dear. Killian Jones – Captain Hook – had despaired of being anything else but hell bound…until she crossed his path. Perhaps he might still find redemption in Emma. Heaven had to know his every effort and act for good has been due to her. It's all for her.

Don't wanna let you down

but I am hell bound

Though this is all for you,

don't wanna hide the truth…

This is my kingdom come

This is my kingdom come

The door slams in his face – her door – and Killian lets himself slump against the wall, dejected. It all happened so quickly and now Emma is gone. She is beyond his grasp, as he had always known she was. He has waited so long to see her lovely face again, traveled so far, and though he tried to prepare himself for the very reaction he received, it didn't hurt any less when she gave him the blank look which told him his Swan no longer knew him.

Upon their forced return to the Enchanted Forest, he had tried to steer clear of everyone. Angry, wounded, and bitter, he had wanted nothing more than to hide himself below deck on the Roger and drink until he couldn't think of how being ripped from her just when she had given him a chance had hurt. He had not wanted to be near anyone and had made horrible, snarling company when someone forced the issue, but that had not stopped Snow and Charming. Emma's parents were a painful reminder of her, but no matter how he strove to avoid them and steer clear, they would not leave him alone.

It was exasperating how they kept trying to draw him into rebuilding the castle and their kingdom, tried to cheer him up, provided work for he and his crew as supplies were needed from other ports, and generally would not allow him to wallow in his misery as he had desired. They kept repeating that they had faith this separation would not last forever. For some unfathomable reason, he seemed to have found his way into their affection, and they would not let him despair either.

When Regina had finally put together a memory restorative potion, he had been willing to concede that these royal types and their unending hope were not so completely off base. The former evil queen had been almost pleasant and much more willing to help ever since meeting Robin Hood – apparently the man she had been destined to meet long ago. Some of the dangerous emptiness and hurt left her eyes when she was around the archer, and especially near his young son. Killian knew that she hoped Emma would find a way back and bring Henry if she could be made to remember. Regina also knew the rules of the second curse well though; she was to give up the thing she loved most. She couldn't be the one to go after them, couldn't force her hand. She would have to trust those whom she had spent so long fighting against.

Killian had been stunned however when David and Snow both championed his undertaking the quest. Something knowing flickered between the Prince and Princess' eyes, but he didn't waste time trying to figure it out. He was too grateful, touched, and ridiculously anxious to get going, whatever the mode of travel, to ask questions.

Now, faced with the harsh truth, he almost forgets the potion tucked into a pocket of his vest. He had to try True Love's Kiss, had to see for himself if it were possible. He shouldn't have even entertained the dream, and yet he couldn't help himself. He truly thought she loved him…but maybe she still does and has simply forgotten. He has come too far to turn back now without seeing his mission through. Any realm he tries to make his life in now will be empty without her regardless. He will wait for his moment, and he will try again…

They say it's what you make

I say it's up to Fate

It's woven in my soul

I need to let you go

Your eyes they shine so bright

I wanna save that light

I can't escape this now,

Unless you show me how…

Killian stands outside the large, several story building where Emma and Henry now reside, oblivious to the crush of people rushing around him on all sides, looking up to the window he knows is theirs, comforted by the fact that, though she may not remember him right now, they are once again in the same place and time. He can get to her, and he will succeed in bringing her back to her family…and to him.

That she wants him to keep his distance right now means little. He is sorry that she is at last safe with her son and free of the heavy weight of her destiny and he seeks to interrupt that. However, he thinks he knows Emma well enough to believe she would not wish for an illusion over truth; even if it pained her, she would rather face reality. He knows that much of his Swan.

Villain that he has been, that the world has always seen, the selfless action would be to let her go, but he cannot allow himself to admit defeat. Emma has never truly been loved – treasured – as she ought to have been, as he had planned to do. He fervently wishes to be the one to show her what it is to be wholly adored. He wants her to know that she is his whole world, and he needs the chance to see if she can love him in return, keep him striving to live again. The demons that still haunt him, that say her kingdom and his black soul are already lost, try to whisper that he will fail. Their voices hiss that he will never bring her back, that her knowledge and memories are lost forever. Killian pushes those insidious echoes from his mind. Soon, he will meet her haunting, storm-tossed eyes again, and he will make her see.

This is my kingdom come…

Tagging a few others who may enjoy: @searchingwardrobes @kmomof4 @jennjenn615 @laschatzi @whimsicallyenchantedrose  @thislassishooked @resident-of-storybrooke @ilovemesomekillianjones @teamhook @revanmeetra87 @scientificapricot @tomeandflickcorner @lfh1226-linda @xsajx @stahlop @donteattheappleshook @hollyethecurious @winterbaby89 @darkcolinodonorgasm @elizabeethan @wefoundloveunderthelight @jonesfandomfanatic @spartanguard @tiganasummertree​ @optomisticgirl​

[valdarian]

Invader Zim- Infinite Pink: Prologue (1)

WARNING/DISCLAIMER: This fic is intended for a mature audience and will be covering some traumatic topics that could be triggering. Please be advised! 

Read with caution! 

-Major Character death is temporary and only used in prologue.

-This fic is likely to make some uncomfortable or potentially be triggering. -It is intended for mature audiences, as it will be exploring dark and mature themes and situations. Such as violence, implied/attempted sexual assault and abuse. Non-con/dub-con warnings apply. I will try not to go into too much graphical details, however be warned it will be implied or referenced. -The events in this story are entirely fictional and merely done for dramatic effect. However, they are not intended to poke fun or downplay the real-life seriousness of these issues in anyway.

-I always try to include additional warnings in my author notes before each chapter.

WARNINGS OVER.

Stay safe!

===============================

SUMMARY: Zim’s trial was a victory for Irken society, their biggest thorn finally defeated for good. Zim’s soul reflects on his life and actions from the great beyond. 

When a second chance presents itself; Will he achieve his happy ending or wind up like he did before? Fighting against impossible odds, unraveling mysteries and discovering what lies beneath. Secrets will be revealed. What truth awaits?

===============================

NOTES: 

-Prazr is supposed to be slow burn endgame pairing.

-No Dib/mission to invade Earth (I don’t plan on exploring it) in this fic, besides small past references. 

-Instead it will be focused more on Irk and her history/society. Like Zim’s Academy/elite days.

-It’s been years since I’ve wrote a proper story, so please don’t mind the writing if it’s a bit weird in some places. I’ve had this plot stuck in my head for about a year. Inspired by my obsessed with Isekai/reincarnation/do-over manga and fics.

-If others want to use this as a base for their own story or art, that’s fine. Just tag me, I’d love to see what you do!

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(The Abyss: Undetermined time after The Trial)

Zim floated endlessly in darkness, surrounded only by a feeling of a bygone age.

His body, the only thing visible as far as the eye could see. Was as bare as the day he was born, not even a PAK attached. 

Any Irken caught like this would be ridiculed for such degeneracy. Yet, he could not muster much shame. Only hugging his knees tighter to his chest.

He had nothing to show the passage of time. Only a half remembered feeling of what it was to be alive. Left alone in the Abyss with only his own thoughts and distant memories as company.

How long had he been here? Minutes, cycles...Eons?

Was this what death truly felt like? All alone and tormented by his life on replay.

Forever wondering what had went wrong.

He had been angry at first. Enraged at the thoughts of his trial and execution.

How dare they do this to him, to ZIM! He hadn't done anything to deserve this!

The pain of PAK removal was one of the few things still fresh in his mind.

He had cursed the hoomans and their filthy planet, the dib-beast for always interfering in his plans. As well as a long list of others for his fate. Just about anyone and everyone he could remember. No matter how insignificant they had played a role in his life.

His rage had burned without an end in sight. Who had he angered to endure such disgrace! Who did they think they were to put him through such humiliation? 

The names had slipped past his lips before he could stop them.

The Almighty Tallest.

His tirade had halted immediately. Appalled at his renegade of a mouth.

What traitorous thoughts! 

The propaganda and teachings of the Empire still deeply ingrained within his mind.

Yet, the more he had thought about them, the more his rage started to burn again. Turning into a blaze of discontent and resentment.

The Tallest had used him!

They were no more innocent then he!

Just as the Empire had designed them to. Zim had only been doing what any Irken soldier would've done...right? They were taught to love destruction and mayhem. How could he ever be the one in the wrong? Was not that, the purpose the Control Brains gave them?

He was only doing his duty.

What right did they have to punish him then!

Was not it the Tallest who had forced him to pilot during Operation Impending Doom? 

They hadn’t even asked what had caused the disaster. Why he had done what he did. Not that he could’ve answered them. Even now, that time is nothing but a distant haze at best. 

Still, they had never tried to find out what had went wrong. Only sending him to suffer on Foodcourtia under the sadistic Sizz-Lorr.

Did they like seeing him in pain? Did they enjoy seeing him unable to fight against them, even when they continued to ridicule him. Pushing him ever closer to his breaking point?

Like when they had sent him to that treacherous death-world known as Urth.

No! His body had shook in anger.

No, no. 

The truth was that they had sent him into the deep recess of space, hoping he would die.

He had turned a blind eye to all their misdeeds against him. 

For so long...too long, he realizes now. 

Letting his feelings blind him.  Everything had just felt so...so right with them. He had clung to a smeethood friendship. To long buried feelings that he swore they shared, but could not speak of. 

Had he really been that delusional?

They had been friends once, close ones. It had been an instant connection. One he thought would last the test of time. Since their days in the Academy, they had spent practically every waking moment by each other’s sides. Years spent studying, training and completing assignments together. Even graduated as elites with one another.  

He had cared about them, more than he could ever put into words. He had thought they had cared about him too.

Maybe they had one point...Until their love of status won out.

Zim had always known about their dreams of grandeur. But, had ignored it. Convincing himself, that no matter what, they would never abandon him. That they still cared for him...even if only a little.

Yet, time and time again he was proven wrong. 

Unwilling to accept the truth. His own delusions gladly filling in the blanks. They were ultimately the same as him, obviously. Only doing what the Empire wanted. What the Control Brains wanted. 

This was all an...act...There was no way they actually hated him. It was...a test! A test of his faith, of his will...of his love. No matter what, he couldn’t fail. He needed to prove himself to them. Maybe then...

What a pitiful creature he had been.

So much so, he had even done something as primitive as pray to the ancient Gods. Hoping that one day...

He really was delusional. The crazed mess everyone believed him to be.

After all, what Irken in their right mind, would ever want to be seen with such a tiny smaller? 

Yet, in the end he had still loved them. Even now his cardiac-spooch aches for them.

They had hurt him, but he had hurt them too.  He hates them, he loves them, he hates them, he loves them...

He doesn’t know what to think about them anymore.

After some time, his anger had eventually moved on. 

To the only ones left.

The Control Brains.

The machines who claimed to control everything. If they were truly such omnipotent beings, then surely they had to have known his PAK was defective! They dictated everything about Irken lives after all, from what they wore, to their careers and everything in-between. 

Then why was only he to blame!

Were not they the ones that programed him this way!

If he had been such a threat to the empire, if his PAK had so many errors, then why didn't they fix it!

Why had he been the only one to be punished!

If he was so broken, then why couldn't they have just fixed him!

…and just like that, the flames had been snuffed out. He had been quiet for a few minutes...hours...or maybe even days. Dwelling only on that single thought alone.

A sob had left him as the realization came crashing down.

Only then had he finally blame himself. A deep well of shame had quickly bubbling within him.

Over two hundred cycles, years devoted to serving the Armada. Bowing to the strict rules of the Empire and whims of his Tallest. Placing his loyalty to Irk above all else. Rejecting his natural inclinations. Forever trying to hid his perceived weaknesses.

It all amounted to what exactly?

He was defective. A mistake. A problem to be remedied and swept under a rug to be forgotten.

He was only capable of needlessly destroying everything in his path, even himself.

Forever trying to be something he wasn't.

While Silently pleading, hoping beyond hope someone would give him the attention...the love that he so desired. His peers would recognize him and appreciate him.

Irk was sure to celebrate his death for cycles to come.

It's not that he hadn't tried to control his urges. He had tried, he really did. To be the perfect soldier, to be the prime Irken example.

But, at his core, that not who he was. Despite how much he had tried to make himself to be so.

Luck was as much his friend as it was his enemy.

In a society were one was not to step out of line, not to break any mold, to do only what they were told. Someone like him, could only double down. Hoping that maybe this time something would go right. If only he kept trying it wouldn't be considered failure. Something would have to work eventually, right? He hadn't been kicked out of the collective yet. So that meant there was still hope.

What a fool he had been. 

Chaos incarnate many called him. The name Zim was synonymous with destruction and failure. He had no glory, no honor. He was nothing but a devil to his own people, an omen of their death.

By the Gods, if he could just go back! 

His hands clench at the thought.

Would things be different? Could he make different choices. 

Even if his loyalty came into question? If he walked a different road then that of the perfect little Irken. 

Would he even be capable of such a thing?

He doesn’t know.

If only he had tried a little hard to control himself. If he could just be given another chance to prove himself. If to no one else, but to him. If he could just have a chance to live life how he truly wanted.

If only he could start over. If only...

A humorless laugh leaves him. Who would even give him the time of day? To him of all Irken?

As if.

His Empire had denounced him. His people had forsaken him. He had nothing left.

Magenta eyes stare blankly into the expansive darkness. They close as he  buries his face into his knees, lamenting his fate.

Truly this couldn't have been a more fitting punishment for someone as despicable as him.

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Cover Art: https://valdarian.tumblr.com/post/643477875611271168/cover-art-for-my-invader-zim-fanfic-infinite

OC ART:https://valdarian.tumblr.com/post/643603226310148096/just-a-few-of-my-oc-that-appear-in-infinite-pink

MAP of IRK: https://valdarian.tumblr.com/post/644055524128735232/guess-who-found-a-world-map-maker-its

Next chapter:

https://valdarian.tumblr.com/post/640238150925598720/invader-zim-infinite-pink-ch1

[shadow-assassin-blix]

A Picture is a Poem Without Words

Chapter 9

A/N: Okay. Some slight drama. Canon typical violence. Slightly nsfw-ish in that there's some fingering.

(Noticed far too late that half of it didnt transfer over, fixed that)

Diego and Blix do some much needed bonding.

Everything tag: @mikeisthricedeceased

Pacho tag: @yungkvte

They laid there a few minutes more, simply enjoying one another’s presence, before with a small groan, Blix sat up.

She quietly stretched, turning her neck side to side, grunting at the small pops and cracks her neck made. Pacho straightened up next to her pressing a kiss to her shoulder.

“Gilberto said he found you in my office last night? Doing homework as he claims,” Pacho teased as he brushed her back behind her hair.

“Just… trying to understand your world. Gotta say… it’s far more complicated than I thought it was,” Blix lightly noted as she turned to look at him.

“It’s not all crazy parties and getting high. It’s a lot of work to be one of the best cartels in the world,” Pacho said with a smirk.

Blix hummed in response, pushing off the covers, as both of them got up. Blix quietly got dressed, throwing on some shorts and a tank top. She finished getting ready, as Pacho waited, looking at all the things she had unboxed the day before. He stared at the items curiously.

“Your mother had very strange tastes,” He muttered quietly as he picked up the mace.

“Indeed, she did,” Blix stated as she walked up to him, ready for the day.

Pacho turned to look at her, “Not planning on using any of these on me, are you?”

“Hmm. Don’t know. Depends on whether you’re a good boy or not. Don’t test my wrath,” She said with a teasing smile as she walked past him, toward the hallway.

Pacho shook his head with a smile, before following after her.

They made their way downstairs, joining the others for lunch.

She got about halfway through her meal before she remembered she had to make some phone calls. She got up and called Theo to see where he had gotten on the warehouse that they believed was König’s.  

“Hey, so there is a lot of activity going on in a warehouse that’s allegedly abandoned. We’ve been monitoring it from a safe distance, and we’ve seen a lot of armed guards patrolling. We’ve seen König wandering the property, but we have yet to see anything damning,” Theo reported, a small yawn escaping him as he finished.

“Good to know. Keep watch for now, we’ll catch him soon enough. Has there been any other robberies I should be made aware of?” She questioned as she paced around the living room.

“None so far. Not sure if that’s good or bad. But I’ll keep you posted,” Theo answered.

“Yeah. Hm. He’ll mess up soon enough and we will be there when it happens. Talk to you later,” Blix ended the call with a small sigh.

She ran her hand over chin, in contemplation. She had slowly wandered down a hallway away from everyone and was near a door that was slightly ajar. She looked inside and saw something that made her smile. She pushed the door further open and saw books lining several shelves and cases.

As she examined the books, she realized they were the books that her sisters sent her from their mother’s home. She ran her fingertip down the spines of several, quietly remembering each story. Several were antiques of the classics and others were miscellaneous. She walked further in and noticed there was an area full of throw pillows and soft cushions surrounding a window nook.

The window, she noted, looked out over the grounds, and it was slightly breathtaking.

She sat on the seat, gazing out.

“See you found your library. Pacho will be sad that you found this before he could show you,” Diego’s voice came from behind her.

“I’ll act surprised when he shows me. He set this all up just for me? Why?” She asked looking around from her seat.

“Isn’t it obvious by now? He cares for you. Loves you even. Just like he does me,” Diego responded as he joined her.

“Are you okay with that though? Sharing him? I know we never actually really sat down and talked this out,” She mentioned as she made room for him to join her.

“I’ll admit in the beginning, I wasn’t thrilled by you,” Diego began.

“’Wasn’t thrilled?’ You tormented me for days!” Blix exclaimed shoving him lightly.

“Okay. I was an ass. The point is, I see now, you are not just some fling of his. You make him happy in ways that I cannot. Just like I make him happy in ways you can’t. He wants both of us. We are not fighting for his attention. He wants us, we want him. That’s that. Plus, he’s allowing you to see the inner workings of the cartel; information that is usually pretty heavily guarded. If he trusts you with that, then I can trust you with him,” Diego explained, taking her hands into his.

Blix nodded once in response, with a small smile.

“So… is he going to be busy with the brothers today?” She inquired after a moment.

“Probably, why?”  Diego asked looking at her curiously.

“Well. One, I promised Phobos I would take him out for a ride today. Two, I just thought me, and you can hang out. Get to know one another. If you ‘re cool with it,” She proposed.

“How about tomorrow? I have somethings I need to do this afternoon, but tomorrow I am pretty much free. We could run around town if you’d like?” Diego countered.

“Sounds good to me. Now, gotta harass someone in to taking me to the ranch,” Blix muttered thinking of who to choose.

“Or… I’ll drop you off on my way out. Gotta head out anyway,” Diego offered.

“Ooh. Yes. Lemme go put on boots,” Blix said excitedly, getting up.

She rushed upstairs to get her socks and some boots. She hopped on one foot each, as she threw them on. She ran downstairs, meeting up with Diego; they hopped into his car, driving off.

In no time, he had dropped her off. She walked over to Phobos’ stall, grabbing a brush on her way to him. She pulled him out of his stall, taking him to a small post to tie him to. She began to give him a thorough brushing, quietly talking to him.

Once he was brushed, she saddled him up and began to trot around with him. She walked around with him, letting him get used to her. They spent a good 2 hours wandering the grounds before returning to the stables.

Navegante was waiting for her when she got back with Phobos. She got him settled back into his stall and stretched for a moment before joining Navegante. He took her back to Pacho’s home, dropping her off before disappearing himself.

She walked inside and was told by some guards that Pacho and the brothers had left; Pacho should be back by tonight though.

She decided to just continue her reading upstairs in his office. She spent a few hours doing that, when a guard informed her dinner was ready if she was. She got up and made her way downstairs, after securing the files she had pulled out. She took the plate of food, eating at the table, somewhat watching the soccer game that was playing on the television.

She had just finished eating, when there was a knock at the door.

“What the hell?” She whispered as she got up.

She grabbed a gun that was hidden in a drawer, walking toward the door. She opened it cautiously, gun tucked behind her back.

She stared at the man before her. She had never seen him before, but noticed he looked somewhat familiar.

“Hello? Can I help you?” She questioned him.

“So, you’re the woman my boy is in love with? Seems he’s finally becoming a man,” Came a deep, gravelly voice.

It was then she realized why he looked familiar. He looked a bit like an older Pacho, but with Alvaro’s curls.

“Mr. Herrera. What brings you here?” She asked him dully, immediately annoyed by his presence.

“Wanted to speak to him. Found you instead. You’re much prettier to look at then he is,” He announced pushing his way inside.

“Yes. Please come in,” She muttered annoyed.

She quietly grabbed her phone, discreetly calling Pacho, hoping he picked up. She set the phone down on the counter, watching her intruder look around the living room.

She took a breath of relief when she saw that the phone had connected.

“Mr. Herrera. I don’t know why you are here, but you need to go. Pacho is not here, nor is Alvaro. You are not welcomed. So, either get out, or I’ll make you leave,” She warned him loudly, trying to gain his attention.

“Please. You’re not going to do anything. So, what is it about you that you turned my son back to a normal man?” He asked with a snarl as he turned to her.

“Normal? Oh no. He is still very much gay. He just enjoys my company. Get. Out.” She replied coldly, as she pulled the gun out.

He chuckled, somewhat darkly, “Are you really going to shoot me? I don’t think you have it in you, wench.”

She narrowed her eyes in response, aiming the gun to a spot near his head. She took one shot, the bullet grazing his ear at it embedded itself in the wall behind him. He groaned loudly, touching his ear gingerly.

“Next one, will go between your eyes. Now get out. Leave me alone. Leave Pacho and Alvaro alone. Neither of them wants anything to do you with. You come near them again, and I will bury you so deep into the ground that the Earth’s core will incinerate your corpse,” She promised him, motioning with the gun for him to walk out the door.

“Such loyalty to a man who will only break your heart. Tell me, whatever did he promise you to receive such protectiveness?” He asked as he slowly moved to the door, his eyes fixated on the gun.

“Heh. He’s not the first man to ever break my heart, doubt he’ll be the last. Why does everyone think he bought me? Bought my loyalty? It’s truly starting to vex me. I’m a simple woman Mr. Herrera. Offering simple human decency is enough. Now get out of my home. I truly hate cleaning up blood,” She growled as she stepped forward.

She watched as he ran out, to his car, and made sure he drove off before closing and locking the door. She moved over to the phone, picking it up.

“Pacho. You there?” She asked her voice cracking slightly.

“Yes. I’m here. I’m almost home honey. Is he still there?” He inquired, his own voice shaking.

“No. He’s gone. Ya know… I expected your dad to be a piece of work, but I never thought that I would want to immediately strangle him once he started talking,” She tried to joke, but in all honesty, she was a bit freaked out.

She hears him snort before replying, “Yeah. He’s… something.”

“How… how far away are you?” She asked in a whisper.

“5 minutes. Tops. Salcedo has already… detained… my father who we passed by on our way in. He won’t be bothering you anymore,” Pacho firmly stated.

“I’ll see you in a few then?” She confirmed as she took a seat on the couch.

“Yes. I’ll see you in a moment,” Pacho tells her.

She slowly hung up, waiting on the couch for him. In a minute, the room was filled with guards and Pacho.

Pacho walked over to her, his eyes roaming over her, as he checked her.

“He didn’t hurt you, did he?” Pacho questioned as he looked her over.

“No. I’m okay. He just… unnerved me a bit,” She answered him.

Diego popped up next to them, whispering something in Pacho’s ear. Pacho simply nodded in response, his eyes never leaving hers.

The whole house was buzzing about with tension; several people were trying to figure out where the hell the guards were that was supposed to be there. Why was he able to come on the grounds?

Blix was tired of everyone fussing over her, 10 minutes had passed and everyone and their mom it felt, had come to ask her if she was okay. She stood up, and made her way upstairs, away from everyone and their concern.

She hid in her room, keeping the door locked. She went to bed, but it was a fitful sleep. When she finally woke up the next day, she felt exhausted as she sat up. She quietly got ready for the day, hoping a shower would wake her up, and wash away the funk she felt. She walked into her closet trying to decide what to wear, when she heard a rumble of thunder, followed by the sound of rain.

“Guess that answers that,” She mumbled to herself as she grabbed jeans, a shirt, and some boots.

She quietly got ready, unlocking her door, as soon as she was dressed. She strolled downstairs, smiling smally at the sight of Diego, who was leaning against the back of the couch, waiting.

“Hey. Ready to get out of here for a bit?” Diego asked her when he sees her.

She nodded, looking around. She spied Pacho in the kitchen, she slowly walked over to him. He was finishing up a phone call, when he spotted her. Once he hung up, he made his way to her.

“I’m sorry for just… leaving the room last night. Not used to that many people fussing over me. It was a bit overwhelming,” She whispered as he stood before her.

“It’s okay beautiful. I’m just glad you are okay. My father… he won’t be bothering us ever again. I’m sorry you had to deal with him by yourself. He should have never been able to get to the house,” Pacho said pulling her into his arms.

She hugged him back with a sigh.

“I hear you and Diego are spending the day together?” Pacho mentioned with a curious look.

“Yeah. I mean… we both care about you. May as well get along right? So, we are going to go get to know another,” Blix explained scratching the back of her neck.

“I like that you two are spending time together. Though now you two will conspire against me I feel. But I’ll deal with that later,” Pacho teased as he walked her back into the living room.

She chuckled at that, grabbing a jacket and an umbrella that was offered to her, as her and Diego made their way out to his car.

“Alright. Where we going first?” Blix asked as they started to drive.

“Figured we could go grab a bite to eat to go, followed by either some shopping or we could go to a museum?” Diego listed out as he fiddled with the radio for a moment.

“Food yes. Shopping maybe. Museum. Hmm. I’d be down for that. Be nice to go to museum that I don’t have to investigate,” Blix replied nodding her head to the music that was now blasting from the radio.

Livin on a Prayer by Bon Jovi was playing, and she began to rock out to it. Diego laughed for a moment before joining her.

When they got into downtown Cali, they picked up some muffins and hot teas to drink. They ate as they drove to a nearby museum. They parked, dashing inside the museum trying to avoid the rain as much as possible. They strolled around the museum, talking about each piece that caught their interests. Diego was apparently quite a history buff.

Blix looked at him with a soft smile.

“What? What’s with that look?” Diego questioned as they were finishing up their walk around.

“Nothing. It’s… it’s nice talking to someone who knows what I’m talking about without… having to explain 30 other events and situations. It’s honestly nice, having someone else explain new facts to me,” She explained with a shrug.

“Clearly, you haven’t dated the right men. Pacho especially loves art, ask him to take you to an auction sometime. He’d loved that,” Diego joked, throwing an arm around her shoulders.

“Hm. Loves art eh? Is that why he bought a Caravaggio without verifying it was real?” Blix snorted as they walked into the gift shop.

Diego choked on a laugh, “Oof. Well. First off, Miguel bought that and gifted it to Pacho. Pacho only kept it up because it was a gift. He hated it otherwise.”

“Good to know. So, where should we go after this?” Blix asked staring at some trinkets.

“Don’t know. Where do you like to shop?” Diego asked picking up a glass figurine, staring at it before putting it back down.

She bit her lip at the thought that came to mind.

“Ever been thrift store shopping?” She inquired, with a raised eyebrow.

Diego looked at her surprised, “Noo. You… you like thrift stores?”

“Yeah? Duh. Do I look like the kind of person who likes to shop at fancy-schmancy places?” Blix countered gesturing to her outfit.

“Soulmate. That’s what you are. Let’s go!” He excitedly said dragging her out to the car.

The two of them spent the next several hours, going to various thrift shops, trying on outfits and being goofy. The two of them both bought several things from each shop, items varying from outfits to accessories.

When they had their fill of shopping, they grabbed a bite to eat, parked on the side of the road, munching away happily.

“I don’t ask this to annoy you, but are you okay after last night? I’ve had the displeasure of meeting their father as well. It’s…” He trailed off making a face.

“Yeah. I’m okay. It was just unnerving how much he and Pacho looked a like,” Blix noted with a small shudder.

“Same. Took me a while to separate that what he said, did not come from Pacho himself. This is the third time he’s appeared out of nowhere and it’ll be the last. You can always talk to me about it. Pacho… he knows how terrible his father is but doesn’t quite understand why it’s hard to get over the things his father says,” Diego commented.

Blix nodded with a grateful smile, “Thanks.”

The two of them finished their meal, tossing the remains into a nearby public trashcan. As they made their way back to Pacho’s house they talked about their pasts. He knew a great deal about hers so, he was telling her mostly about himself.

“Parents abandoned me when I was a kid. Bounced around in the foster system for a long while. When I was 17, I ran off, decided I wanted to make my own way through the world. Ran into Pacho, quite literally, and my life changed from that day forward,” Diego began.

“How did you ‘quite literally’ run into Pacho? Explain that good sir,” Blix wondered with a teasing smile.

“Was running from a cop, stole food cause I was hungry, and ran right into Pacho. Cop was fortunately on the Cali’s payroll, so Pacho just waved him off. Took me in, 2 months later we were together, and have been since,” Diego told her with a laugh.

Blix laughed softly at that, listening to him tell more stories about himself.

Soon enough they had pulled up to the house, and after grabbing as many bags as they could, they hurried inside. It took a few minutes to sort out what went to who, but soon enough they had parted to go placed their stuff in their rooms.

She was hanging stuff up when she heard Pacho’s voice, “Did you two have fun?”

She looked toward him, before skipping over to him, “Yes. We did. It was a good bonding experience.”

Pacho shook his head at that, pressing a kiss to her lips softly.

“Would you like to come swim with us? I think Diego may be a bit in love with you. Something about history and thrift shopping?” He ribbed lightly.

She kissed him back, walking over to her closet to grab a bathing suit. She grabbed a two piece, changing into it quickly. It was times like this she was glad his pool was indoors. She grabbed a towel, following Pacho to his room, where he changed as well.

Pacho after getting dressed, stopped and stared at her for a moment. He was checking her out, a smirk growing on his face as he examined her.

She noticed his staring, “What?”

“Just admiring you,” He stated simply as he walked forward.

She looked down and away, a slight warmth to her cheeks.

“Snake charmer. That’s all you are,” She muttered as she turned and led the way to the pool.

Pacho’s smirk only grew, especially as he was treated to her backside.

“Stop staring at my ass,” She called over shoulder.

Pacho slowly caught up to her as they entered the pool house. Diego was already doing some laps when they joined him. The water was warm, as she stepped in, dunking herself when she got in deep enough. She floated calmly as she heard the guys goofing around and splashing each other.

She felt one of them swim up to her, and she turned her head to see who appeared.

“May I ask where all of these scars came from?” Diego politely requested as he looked at her.

She straightened up, to stand, wadded over to the edge, pulling herself up to sit on it.

“Ask away,” She granted, ringing water out of her hair.

He came up to her and would point at a scar. Her answers tended to be brief as she explained them, many were from work and others were from her childhood.

Pacho had at some point joined them, listening quietly. Once she was done, Pacho slowly pulled her back into the pool. As she rejoined them in the water, Pacho kissed the side of her neck, gently. She turned her head to him, kissing his cheek. She moved forward, wanting to do some laps before she got too tired.

When she was done, she got out, wrapping her towel around her, watching Pacho & Diego for a moment. While they were distracted, she made her way inside the house, briefly stopping to get a drink. It was while she was taking a sip of her Pepsi that she heard a strange noise. Setting her drink down, she moved toward the sound, which led to the basement door.

She knew she should let it go and ignore it, but she couldn’t help herself. She opened the door, walking down the dimly stairs. As she reached the bottom there was a lone light shining onto a man, tied down to a chair.

She realized as she got closer that it was Mr. Herrera, who had been badly beaten. His head lulled up to look at her, hearing her footsteps.

“Well, well, well. My son’s whore. What brings you here? Want to take a few hits too?” He taunted, spitting out blood.

“No. Heard a noise. Making sure the house wasn’t haunted. Now that I see that it’s just you… well. I think I’ll let you die alone and miserable,” She responded disgusted.

She turned away from him, planning to just go back to her room.

“Wait. Don’t you turn your back on me. Come back here,” He demanded, with a groan and a cough.

“No. Don’t think I will. Enjoy the rest of your life. However short it may be,” She stated not turning around.

She could hear him yelling more profanities at her as she closed the basement door, grabbing her drink, and going upstairs.

Unaware that Pacho had seen her emerge from that room, he listened to his father’s shouts for a minute before ordering Navegante to get rid of him. He found Blix in her room, grabbing clothes to change into for bed, after her shower.

“You should join me in my room, once you are done,” He told her, causing her to jump slightly as she wasn’t expecting him.

“Christ! Clearly need to throw a bell on you, so I have a warning system,” Blix startled, pressing a hand to her chest.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” Pacho apologized before requesting. “I know that…sometimes curiosity can get the best of us. Do me a favor, please don’t go down to the basement anymore. For your own safety.”

“I promise. I’m going to go clean up, and then I’ll join you in your room,” She promised him.

About 20 minutes later, she was strolling into Pacho’s room. She had finished her drink beforehand and joined him on the bed.

“Diego joining us?” She wondered.

“Not tonight, he has other plans,” He whispered to her.

“Your dad… was he always like that? Or was he just good at hiding his hate before he found out about you?” She asked him, shaking her head.

“Hm. Let’s just say… my mother left him for a good reason. She was trying to gain full custody of us when he kicked me out. I didn’t care much. I was moreso worried about Alvaro. I was able to help my mother gain custody of him at least,” Pacho explained, as he wrapped his arms around her.

She returned his embrace, “That’s good….” She paused for a second. “I assume Navegante took care of him.”

Pacho nodded in response, and Blix simply said, “Good.”

She burrowed herself into his arms, growing tired.

“I did want to thank you though. For defending my honor. Not many people would be willing to shoot at their partner’s parent. In fact…” Pacho trailed off, as his hand slowly slid down her curves.

His hand languidly found its way into her sleep shorts, moving past her underwear. His fingers ran themselves up and down her slit, toying with her folds lightly. She took in a shuddering breath as his thumb brushed against her clit.

He gently slid a finger inside her, making a come-hither motion, before a second finger joined. The palm of his hand brushed against her clit teasingly, slowly working her up. Her body was growing warm, and breath short as his movements became more deliberate.

Soon his fingers found a spot that made her gasp loudly, her hands trying to find purchase wherever. His fingers moved over that spot several times, leading her to a swift orgasm. She rode out her orgasm for a moment or two before he pulled his hand away.

“Well. I was tired, but now I don’t really want to sleep,” She moaned softly.

“I was hoping you’d say that,” Pacho groaned as he rolled them over slightly, laying on top of her.

They spent the rest of the night trying to wear each other out.

[missksj]

choose your hero!nct127

ﾐ☆ genre: punch inspired!au, video game au!, superhero au!

ﾐ☆ word count: 7k

ﾐ☆ warnings: mentions of greatest fears and nightmares, fighting, death, light smut but nothing too vivid, and sm ceo and dispatch make an appearance ew i know

ﾐ☆ author’s note: ah my first nct 127 headcanon and second creation on this site! yes i know it’s been a long time coming since punch dropped but ever since i saw the music video, this idea popped into my head. i heard of other nctzens talking about this aesthetic when mentioning the mv, but hopefully you like my take on it! please enjoy and look forward to more writing from me in the future! thank you so much! ps this is not proof read yikes sorry

Velvet clouds of psychedelic purple with the scattered rays of sunset hues made an unnatural background for the logo’s electric lettering with lightning strokes cracking the static screen in your stuffy apartment. Outside was a different matter. A thunderstorm jolted the placid crimson sky to a violet that only nature could create, although the graphic designers of PUNCH: NCT 127 came close. It was rather befitting for the stark opposition of the hurricane raging outside to the retro sparking aesthetic that you’ve witnessed for the ninth time, and it was the most pivotal. It was as if the thunder was the applause, the lightning rallying behind you, the pelting of the raindrops reverberating the hammering of your heart. Almost victorious in a way, the non-player hero that lurked in the background of the other eight paths taken would finally be the alternate hero to your player. He was a prize in the reverie that you constructed solely from his brief bio to the artificial mannerisms and quotes that he generated in the story lines which enabled you to project your fantasy on mundane men. The comparison was cruel, fictional characters were even crueler. Nimble fingers and darting eyes fell into a comfortable routine, familiar with the introduction story, it was a race between the controller’s buttons and the spiteful lightning that would sever the power.

[FOR OFFICIAL USE ONLY]

[PROPERTY OF THE NCT 127 DIVISION UNDER THE SM AGENCY]

PRIORITY IDENTIFICATION 

[NAME]...F/N L/N

[ID #]...07201607

[STATUS]...Active

[CLASS]...Agent

[ALIAS]...Punch

[TEAM AFFILIATION]...N/A

Welcome to the NCT 127 Division, Agent L/N. I am Lee Soo-Man, the Director of the SM Agency and your guide for your latest mission: THE FINAL ROUND. On behalf of the whole SM community, we apologize for the abrupt summoning, but your presence and skills are crucial if we are going to defeat the DISPATCH terrorist. For too long, the person that cowers behind the mask that claims itself DISPATCH has tormented South Korea for too long, and only you can stop them. It cannot be done alone though, if you so choose to take on this responsibility, I will assign one of the nine superheroes of your picking to share this task. Do you accept it?

CLICK [YES] TO CONTINUE

CLICK [NO] TO RESTART

I am pleased that you have accepted the assignment. For the duration of the mission, the NEO ZONE will be the location of the base for you and your partner. Intel, equipment, and training will be at both of your disposals. Now that you have been briefed on all inner workings of the mission and the NEO ZONE, there is one last obstacle until you defeat the enemy. The selection of your partner is based on compatibility and trust, I implore you to consider wisely until you make a final decision. The designated superhero of your liking will be under one of two teams, FUTURE OR DREAMER. Both equally beneficial, but the bonds of loyalty run deep between the members, you have to determine which one of their morals you value more. Heed my warning though, with the right set of skills and talent,  you and your partner will be unstoppable but tread lightly your connection with him. After all, you are his only weakness. Which team and hero will you choose?

CLICK [TEAM FUTURE]

CLICK [TEAM DREAMER] 

You now have the option to choose your hero.

Before your perplexed mind could comprehend the change of dialogue, a streak of lightning had pierced the stillness of the undisturbed bedroom and released the tempest that was once contained to reality. With the abundance of consuming darkness, shards of glass pricking your paling skin, and tree branches pounding for entry--your white knuckles and twitching eyes fathomed the only connection you had with actuality; a plastic controller and the flickering avatar of your destined hero you chose only seconds before. Your heart had been thumping, not from the anticipation of a new adventure, no, it was pure fear that jolted your numbed muscles to sprint to sanctuary. The thunderstorm mocked your failed attempt at fleeing as another surge of electricity enveloped the room in white and sparks rippled at your ankles as you ran away but the tethering currents from the screen wrenched you back.

SOUL TRANSFUSION NOW COMPLETE_

Team Future

Taeil

Power: Pyrokinesis

A very vocal opponent when he’s on the battlefield, you might be on the other side of the area but you can always figure out where he is located by listening to his strange grunt/growl combos, enemies usually have to process the inhuman sound that came out of a small man but you just roll your eyes and toothy grin grows as you run to him for back up

Says “let’s get it!” any chance he gets, always attempts to make it your team chant before going on a mission but everyone votes no, even you

Loves to wear long sleeves as a staple piece of clothing despite his already burning temperature, he claims it eases him as if it were security blanket, and he enjoys when you tell him he looks adorable with his sleeved paws

During winter though, he always has to stock up on sweaters because you are always stealing them, whether it’s the feeling of his residual heat ghosting over your skin or look of complete adoration glazing over his eyes as he devours that look of yours, it’s a great excuse to wear one

If you had to assign ‘roles’ in the relationship, you would so be a top, he’s the most chill boy out there as you throw tantrums or squeal out of pure joy when you are finally promoted, it’s either purring hums out of his mouth or a silly smile as he gazes at you 

Physical affection is minimal between you two unless you initiate it, but it’s mostly wrapping his arm around you, it’s in no way conveying that he doesn’t love you, but rather love to him is experiencing moments with you, making memories while watching a funny movie or dancing horribly to a playlist he created

An exception is when you end up falling asleep on the couch as you two watch a movie, he secretly loves to carry you back to bed as he tucks you in and truly soaks in what you mean to him

His hair gradually transitioned to its current red as his powers grew throughout the years and he would always dye it but his genes overpowered any artificial color, not until you said you liked his hair like that, he decided to keep it

King of making you smile especially when you are down, he can’t stand seeing you sad so he insists on becoming a goofball until your sides hurt from laughing so hard

Takes training way too seriously, you always start off competing but by like the 100th crunch you are wiped but he’s still going 

Becomes sulky when his Disney Hades costume doesn’t come out as planned because his fire is red and not blue, but it was the best decision ever when you suggested Ghost Rider for the Halloween party, Taeil never looked better with just a leather jacket covering his bare skin

You finally convinced the clothing department to give you a fireproof uniform because Taeil has really bad aim, and your clothes are rags after a mission

Figured out you had a crush on Zuko when you were younger, so he would rewatch it with you and definitely cosplay Zuko, perhaps even role play with it if it’s something you were into

Having sex with Taeil was searing pain shooting through your thighs, tender love handles, heaving chests and lactic acid seeping through your muscles as he cheered you onto the last lap--it was a workout in itself with a sweltering room that reflected his aroused emotions

Both of you are constantly battling, whether it’s a rap battle or a cooking battle, Taeil is in love with the passionate side of you

Breakfast in bed is a tradition held during the weekends, he says he loves to spoil you but he just loves tasting his own food while you give him compliments on how delicious it is

Taeil is usually saved as a last resort for dangerous group missions, you’ve heard stories of his past battles as if he were legend already, but you’ve only witnessed his true power once by scorching down the enemy in one go, flames clawing his body as the inner glow within him exploded like he was a supernova--someone had to drag you out before the building collapsed on itself from the stifling heat and the roaring fire

You pinch his bouncy cheeks as often as possible just to see him roll his eyes while he fights off the widening smirk that makes his doe eyes curve into crescents, but it’s the blooming crimson of his cheeks that you indulge in, lightly sizzling your fingertips until you can’t take the pain any longer and yelp slips out, but Taeil swiftly swoops in and kisses your fingertips in an apology, it was a good pain though

It’s a normal night for both of you, 2 AM and your blabbering about everything and nothing, and Taeil always ends up the saying the same line to you as he coaxes you to sleep because he knows how grumpy you become in the morning, “I’m grateful we’re together, who would make you a fire if you were stranded on a deserted island? You definitely can’t, so, hmm, I guess it has to be me”

Johnny

Power: Lycanthropy

You’d suspect him to be bear when he morphed with his build and height, but he’s a hulking chestnut brown wolf with gentle eyes

Basically a puppy on steroids always expects a treat and good belly rub after eviscerating all his targets

Has the ability to shift at will, so during winter nights you can find him nestled around you for added warmth

During the colder months, he usually wears knitted sweaters and oversized coats in his human form because it reminds him of his fur, and he claims he likes to keep you warm while he holds you in any form

Creates video tutorials of both of you sparring with each other, lots of constructive criticism and compliments on your ‘form’

Begs you to ride him into a mission just for the sake of it, he can so see you as a badass warrior on their monstrous steed

Johnny’s favorite time of day is during the end when you wind down with him and you tell him every detail of your day despite you two being joined at the hip as partners

Always asks questions out of plain curiosity and simply in love with the sound of your voice, it’s the equivalent of you petting his sweet spot on the back of his ear

Without a doubt, he howls in bed while having sex, he’s always teetering the edge of shifting and even though you repeatedly tell him it’s fine to let go, the splintered wood of the headboard and floating feathers of a slashed pillow is evidence of how much concentration he puts in to keep you safe

Manicures and pedicures on a regular basis in the Suh household got to keep those claws clean

Adamant about not getting a pet dog with you, his excuse is he would get too jealous of another canine but his stance is weakening with your improved puppy dog eyes

Multiple jokes about ‘starting a pack’ with you

While in his wolf form, he can understand human language but he doesn’t have the ability to communicate, so both of you rely on subtle gestures

Naturally has a small smile, always nudges you with his snout, and whenever you make a joke to him, he bears his canines that are frightening to most but to you it’s comforting

Johnny’s greatest fear is if you two are ever in an argument and his anger blinds him to the point of him unconsciously shifting and accidentally harming you

Even clumsier in his wolf form, he doesn’t realize actually how massive he is which makes him a hazard to normal-sized beings

Gets most of his stances and moves from the wolves from the twilight series, he won’t admit but he’s certainly inspired by them

Sexual appetite is at a peak when the full moon comes out, growl central!!

The most treasured item you two have is a portrait of wolf-Johnny on his hind legs, attacking your face with slobbering kisses and you grinning brightly because nothing can compare to the bliss of that snapshot

Taeyong

Power: Superhuman Speed

After every assignment, Taeyong’s personal mission is to dote on you, this usually happens by using a covering or his own jacket and slinging it over your shoulders, if there is grime or blood on it, he lets out soft ‘sorry’ even though you always tell him not to

He knows it’s his job, he understands the need, but that doesn’t mean he is comfortable with the bloody side of it, and so he loves talking to you after incidents, your voice is soothing and it helps him process all the trauma, he says it’s for your sake but you know in these moments you are his crutch and you gladly accept the job

Naturally, a faster walker than you so he always manages to be a few feet ahead of you, but when he sees you fall behind, he holds your hand and  tugs lightly while matching your pace

After enhancing his speed,  he always has flushed cheeks and a glossy sheen across his forehead, so you make it a habit to kiss his forehead, cheeks, and lips to cool him down

It doesn’t work, his heart his pulsating harder than ever and does that exasperated airy laugh as an attempt to stabilize his heightened emotions while walking away so you don’t witness his even redder face

You give him piggyback rides after missions, his energy is basically depleted by then, so a jacket for a piggyback ride seems like a fair deal even though he fights you the whole way but you know he adores being cared for

You were the one to convince him to dye his hair pink in an effort to have an easier time spotting him during assignments and now he’s pink blur racing off to defeat villains

When he lightly peppers kisses on your face, the smacks get louder until he finally lands on your lips and it’s the most exaggerated sloppy sound he can make while he squeezes your cheeks

Weekdays for him are for cooking dinner, and you occasionally join to help him but mostly it’s him feeding you bits asking if everything is seasoned well and by the end, he is cursing because half the dinner is already gone

Type of boyfriend to remember you mentioning something you like and a few days later, he buys it for you or he randomly buys you things that remind him of you and leaves it for you as a surprise

Always doodling on you or leaving you notes with drawings so he can remind you that he loves you or to hydrate

After stressful missions, he just plops on top of you, his nose inhaling your scent as he forces his heart to match your rhythm, it lasts for about twenty minutes or until he can finally recharge

Taeyong’s gym locker in the NeoZone is plastered with couple photos of you two and photos of you modeling or candid while he directed you with his camera

The only way you can convince him to give you ten more pushups or five more pullups is if you bribe him with kisses and it always works

Very sacrificial, it’s one of his main flaws, he’ll get super flustered and annoyed when he sees you in the line of fire, so he’ll ultimately take all the heat and scold you after to put yourself first

His face usually has a cold blank stare to it as he observes his surroundings but once you collide into him and coil your arm around his, he grows this massive grin that only you can create

Never takes advantage of his speed with you, his surroundings are always in a constant race and he’s always anticipating the next move, but with you, your a serene presence washing over him; calming him, grounding him to capture every moment of you so it isn’t a blur but a vivid mural

Definitely tender and sensual in bed, once tried to spice things up by using his speed but he almost broke you, so now he only changes his pace if you request it

With your head on his chest every night, the last thing you hear before you fall asleep is the rapid thumping of his heart; it’s the only lullaby you’ll ever need

Yuta

Power: Supernatural Swordsmanship

Cut his hair with his kodachi and you most definitely needed to clean up the edges

Villains dread combating with Yuta, not just because he’s insane with a sword but he only talks about you and your relationship while fighting as if the opponent will answer his question of whether he should give you a cookie or ice cream cake for your birthday or even both 

Rather than making you feel better when you feel down, he would be your soundboard, a shoulder to cry one, a great pair of ears; patience and multiple ‘mhms’ as you unravel your worries while his fingers swirl on your thigh and he kisses your temple

You two could be on opposite sides of the room but his eyes would always gravitate to you and he would wait until you notice so he could meet your gaze and he would do the dorkiest faces, especially his famous lion rawr aegyo, it makes you realize how good of a father he would be

Goes wild when he sees your body tremble beneath him as the cold metal of the kodachi glides along your skin

The only thing rivaling his love for you is his love for his katana, it’s bond that can never be severed and  it’s a trust that only develops between soulmates, you could never understand but you accept and allow it to be the third partner in the relationship

It shouldn’t be possible for Yuta to look like a prince walking out of an otome game right after a battle, but there he is, glistening skin with swept hair and twinkling eyes as he sheathes his katana across his back as if he’s going to ride his horse in the Sengoku period

It’s usual occurrence to catch him absentmindedly talking to his katana, you wouldn’t be surprised if it could talk back, he can summon it by hand already, that sword and he shares one brain cell but he usually uses it as a mirror

You’re a killer couple, not only with looks and fashion but it’s quite a sight to experience as you shoot a bullet to his katana so it can ricochet at a target eighty feet away

Manages a rigorous training session before you wake up and when he’s done, he ends up collapsing on top with his sticky body as you screech at him to get off

The training facility in the NeoZone is rarely used because Yuta is a big believer in fresh air and beautiful scenery will motivate you more, so your sparring on the edge of cliffs and sprinting along the seaside

Alternates between reading books with you outside in your backyard with a makeshift picnic or both of you cuddled in bed with the open windows and the only source of light is the sun

If you have missions abroad, he convinces the agency to always give both of you one day free so you can act like tourists, nobody can say no to his dashing good looks and he knows it

One year for Christmas, you got him custom made tiny katana earrings and it’s literally the one pair he uses now, at least on his lobe

Yuta isn’t the overbearing type when it comes to jealousy, he shouldn’t have a say in what gender your friends are but when he sees a certain person obviously flirting with you it just takes slight glint of his katana to blind the intruder and they are already scurrying off 

Gets a kick out of playing real-life fruit ninja

Decided to shave a slit in his eyebrow with his katana one spontaneous night, he got out of the bathroom with a huge grin and asked, “does this make me look more badass?”

Your hands always end up somewhere around his stomach, gliding across the lean muscles, squeezing around his hips, twiddling his piercing, you name it, you can’t keep your hands off him

Nakamoto Yuta is a force to be reckoned with on the battlefield, the pang of fear thrills you as you witness his lack of mercy and fiery anger at injustice as he slaughters anyone that stands before him, but that wicked glint in his eye softens just for you and then you see the scrawling of your name engraved on the hilt of the katana, and you know you are the only one that knows the true Yuta and you feel so blessed

Doyoung

Power: Precognition 

You beg him every possible waking minute for him to allow you to do his makeup if only to contour his insanely sharp cheekbones, he finally relents but he has a scowl on his face the whole time

You’ve become quite a baker with Doyoung but he always has to guide you so his arms snake around your waist as an excuse yet he acts completely innocent when he knows it makes you distracted

Playlist for every occasion, especially when he’s having sex with you, the house ends up feeling hollow whenever he’s away without his angelic voice but to your surprise, Doyoung leaves you secret audio files lulling you in a trance

His mouth becomes a cherished part for you, especially the way the corners of his lips curl up naturally, the small smirk instantly widening when in front of food, or the blinding white teeth as he’s gritting them when approaching an orgasm or laughing at you, not with you

It takes about five minutes for Doyoung to arrange his plushies in the right position so you both don’t ruin them as you cuddle

One arm draped over a plush and the other wrapped around your back, or him in a fetal position with his plush embraced into his chest as you act as the big spoon

Hand holding is strictly for the bedroom with him, but he knows you admire his hands often, so he’ll have him some type of connection with you when out in public; whether it’s his pinkies wrapped around yours, curved into the loop of your pants, or his delicate veiny hand wrapping around your sleeve

End up catching him more than once, gushing over the phone with his brother about how in love he is with you and you may not lurk in the background for a few minutes until you interrupt the conversation by saying hi to Donghyun

Downtime for you two is building a puzzle, coloring some pages, playing board games and him smug with his victory, watching some documentaries or kdramas, and if you two bought some new furniture for your renovating house, he would most definitely want to do it by himself as you laugh while handing him pieces

Manages to still be shy when you both kiss, it’s you who initiates the subtle peck on his pouting lips, but soon the soft curve of his lips invites you more while your hands cup his warming cheeks--he’s a contradiction of being timid but with all the confidence as he nibbles your lips as if you were a delicacy

Training for you two equals nap time, his power allows him to rely on his mind rather than his body, so when you ultimately force yourself to exercise, Doyoung is laying on the couch, lazily cheering you on

Always giving you little compliments in your earpiece as he guides you around for a recon mission, and still holds his breath when he tells you about the unforeseen event that you need to be prepared for even though he knows you can handle it with ease

Studies multitudes of intel before a mission because he can never be too prepared, and it eases his nerves knowing that he can take every precaution in ensuring your safety

Would dedicate a photo album of himself on your phone, and even send you his recent selfies, telling you to choose one of them as an updated contact photo

You clown him 24/7 but he clowns you right back, it’s always a constant playful banter between you two, his eyebrows would furrow when you called him cute, the trembling of lips broke his facade, and when he does it to you, you essentially become his baby as he bites your cheeks but tell no one or he would deny it

From the moment you two wake up until you both arrive at headquarters, he has sullen look across his features, he would brush his lips across your temple and a hoarse good morning would escape his mouth in a notion to acknowledge you, but until he gets coffee in his system his energy hasn’t been restored yet, but your use to it as you tug him to the break room with his lidded eyes

Alone time is a must for you two, it could be both of you in the same room doing your own thing without communication or different parts of the house or mostly you would leave to run errands and Doyoung stuck in his room, but at the end of the day he crawls to you and says a small ‘hey’ as if his day just started from the moment he set eyes on you

Doyoung was always on alert, aware of incoming predictions that he had no say in but easily accepted, it’s a strain on his mental being, a reason why he needs to center himself by being alone, but then you come

Your blank, just like him, you’re unpredictable and foreign to him, but it’s not until you two kiss for the first time, that a hazy premonition reveals itself in a form of two children that share your hair but his feline eyes, it’s fragile though and uncharted, he knows that he needs to do right by you to get to the last level that seemed like paradise to him

Team Dreamer

Jaehyun

Power/Being: Android

During his exoskeleton stage, Jaehyun requested that the scientists create dimples during his living tissue transplant because he heard “they’re to die for”

Definitely thought it was a weapon utilized to kill his enemies

You make a habit to poke at his dimples until you feel the exoskeleton underneath, an oddly comforting sensation that makes you realize that Jaehyun doesn’t have a heart but his actions say otherwise 

Literally the personification of steam coming out of ears in cartoons with scalding red tips, this only happens when you’re in danger or when he sees you in what he perceives as provocative

It took five hours to draw an array of tattoos on him for a disguise on a reconnaissance mission, and a certain neck tattoo was going to make you abandon the mission and your sanity

Sadly, he had to erase them because the “the bad boy” persona was an official disguise in his hardware and couldn’t be revealed to the public

Jaehyun kept one design, however, a soft beauty mark on the apple of his left cheek, he claims it’s your signature as his owner but you like the word partner better

Programs all your training sessions and signature moves to his hard drive because he believes there is no better instructor than you  (except Bruce Lee)

The first time you helped him clean his internal munition unit, you couldn’t decipher any of the weapons so you gave them your own personal nicknames, he kept correcting you but he got tired so he now calls them “wholly fist” and “boom boom pow by the BEP”

You joke around with him that because he was created on valentine’s day, he should be credited as a sexbot but he always frowned at that comment until he figured out he could turn the tables on you by saying “I could be your sexbot”

Whenever he sees another person eyeing you in what he perceives is attraction, he activates his instant kill function with laser red eyes and declaring “target locked”

Suave and intimidating when you two first meet but truly transformed into a ‘soft boy’ after downloading your Pinterest board 

Whenever both of you are out in public, eyes ogle him and mouths gawk, but Jaehyun is oblivious to it all until he turns to someone and starts up the most wholesome conversation about something mundane and you know that person melts with ease because Jaehyun was built to reflect human nature, but he was doing better than most in your opinion

Lots of arcade dates with him, he quickly figured out the algorithm of each game just so he can overflow you with gifts and so he can show off his basketballs skills because he knows you love eyeing his arms in action

When he’s with you though, he’d rather listen and absorb every action and word that you produce, he wants to immerse himself in you because he truly believes that you are all that is good about humankind

Archives every single detail that you speak, and replays it for you when you forget something or to prove you wrong, there is no in-between

Robot sex!!!! That drilling option though...oof

The moment he realizes the blaring internal alarm warning him of his elevated temperature and the shorted circuits whenever you are near, he correlates it to what humans label  “love” so he downloads files on expressing these so-called feelings

Instead of saying “I love you”, he says “I dopamine, serotonin, oxytocin you” when he first confesses, and you assume there is a chemical imbalance within him so you rush him to the infirmary but for the first time, Jaehyun stalls and his eyes are clouded with retrieved information glowing neon green until he settles on “I love...I love...I love you” (yes, he stole it from Mr. Darcy, so sue him, he’s a fracking android)

Jaehyun sometimes doubts his ability to love you and even you sometimes question if you can love a piece of metal, but then you observe him before he joins you in bed that he triples check his instant kill function is disabled and he gushes about the new song he discovered and you are so sure that he was made for you

Jungwoo

Power: Lightning Bolt Projection

Gets easily flustered with the most pouty lip ever when you call him ‘Zeus’, it was his failed superhero name when he was trainee, but to you, he is much better than that jerk of a Greek god

Dressed up as the actual Zeus once for the office Halloween party and the year after that as a lightning bolt and you a storm cloud

Whenever Jungwoo craves attention but you’re occupied with another task, he repeatedly zaps you, not enough to harm, but until you cave in yet when you want to be annoyed with him, his owlish eyes and trembling lips easily subdue you

Your shoulder is a sacred space for him, it's the perfect fit for his head to settle in with a toothy grin and the warmest ‘mhms’ as he listens to you speak

Jungwoo was never much of a fighter, his powers were swift enough to eradicate enemies with not much mobility, but training sessions with you were more than enough of an excuse to spend time with you

Lately, your skin has been electrifying, not only the amorous glow you were emitting, but everyone you came in contact with felt a slight spark

Hair treatments are a must, the frizz is wild with Jungwoo, you really need to ask about his hair products because his hair so fluffy despite the amplitude of currents running through him

While brushing your teeth with him, he always shoots out finger hearts to you and winks through the mirror, it’s a great way to start the day

Never felt more grateful for his power until you were attacked on an assignment and your heart failed, it took four shocks to revive you with streams of tears and muttering to any God to hear his prayer

He’s most himself in the rain, umbrellas have never been on your shopping list

Definitely shoots bolts out of his finger guns and then blows on them afterward, if he’s feeling flirty, an added wink explodes your heart

Your biggest cheerleader when you are kicking ass during a mission

It’s a tradition for him to rake his fingers over your back with slight ripples of electricity while you cuddle in bed, it does wonders to relax your muscles

It’s been months of practice to improve his bolt voltage and range, but he finally managed to write ‘I love you y/n” in the sky, he couldn’t help it, he’s bursting at the seams with adoration for you

Both of you in the kitchen is a sight to see, you season but he cooks the food, his specialty is slightly charred chicken

Packs both of your lunches so you can eat together on break

Gets scared easily and as a result will discharge a lightning bolt as a defense, so pranks are off-limits between the team members

Literal sparks when you kiss, numbing and exhilarating as currents pass through your molding bodies to create goosebumps and raising hairs

When he thinks of home, his first instinct is to be cradled in your arms, watching trashy movies as a thunderstorm quakes the earth

Mark

Power: Compulsion

Mark might excel in whispering but when you turn the tables on him, with your sultry murmurs, he can’t help becoming a puddle of blushing mush

Never once used actual compulsion on you, the only exception is when you figured out the surprise birthday party he was planning for you, he redirected your attention to grocery shopping

His favorite part of you is your right ear because it’s where you naturally tuck your hair at and he just loves to twirl a strand of it in his finger while he mutters sweet nothings to you

You’re his bodyguard during missions, he can’t possibly get that close to targets while they attack if you aren’t watching his back

Even when he is supposed to be acting intimidating during an assignment, he can’t help but stutter and repeat ‘uh’ a thousand times, but he gets the job done eventually

Your literally breaking sweat, contorting your body so four targets don’t reach Mark, and he’s over there oversharing with another target

“The love of my life is about to kick your ass and you aren’t going to do a single thing about it, booby head” or “make the password ‘mark and y/n forever’ or else”

Naturally whispers in his sleep with his stinky breath in your ear, and you try to push him off but he just clings onto you like a koala 

In the morning though, the slight breakage in his voice from pitched to croaky as he says good morning to you is on repeat in your head for the whole day

Mark’s give away when he is about to use compulsion is him licking his thin lips, and almost makes you get knocked out by the enemy because your already under his spell

Does a tiny dance for any occasion, from doing the laundry, stripping naked, or when you two had your first kiss

It’s the strained grunts, the heavy breathing, and the showering of hushed compliments in your ears that makes you reach your peak in bed, Mark always sounded better when he was being pleasured

To him, your voice is the loveliest sound across the universe and your adorably awkward cackle that you so desperately try to hide as he reenacts vines to you is what happiness is to him

Ice cream dates consist of him bringing a tub of ice cream to a yogurt shop because he knows you prefer it

Coughed over his first fart with you but now he loves to fart on you as you pretend you are suffocating and gagging

Has a folder in his photos dedicated to you where it ranges from blurry to candids and in during most of them he was either hyping you up or teasing you

Greets you with a ‘yo!’ whenever he enters the room

Will always buy you any lip product associated with watermelon and you’ll always buy him baseball caps for him to wear

Despite being loud for 90% of your relationship, he is most vulnerable with when he whispers his greatest fears, future goals, and nightmares to you because your the only one he can trust

With the many decibels that Mark Lee varies in, your favorite by far has to be the ascending chortle from the low HAs to the high HEEs with clapping hands and a scrunched nose that puffs out his cheeks-- it’s pure bliss to you

Haechan

Power: Light Manipulation 

Haechan is utterly in love with your cheeks, instead of biting them or pinching them, he opts to kiss them whenever he has a chance, it’s rushing heat of your blush and the swelling of your smile that he lives for

The little spoon in bed, just so he can wrap his leg around you and nestle his head in the crook of your neck just like a koala

Literally always a brat to you, it’s the many ways he shows you affections

You asked him once to paint your nails, and now he does it every Friday ever since he discovered the ‘my hands look like this so hers can look like this’ meme even though his hands just have bitten nails

A man of action, Haechan shows you love through his movements with a heart framed by his fingers or blowing a kiss

Needs to always be physically attached to you, whether it’s hugging you from behind, leaning his head on your shoulder, or falling into you when he’s in a fit of giggles, he needs you to know that he will never let you go

Snarky remarks and cheesy jokes define your relationship with Haechan

Manages to always wake up before you on those lazy mornings with you burrowed deep into his side, and he can’t help but be memorized by your presence but soon feels selfish when he moves a ray of sunlight to your eyes so he can just peek at the explosion of colors in your eyes when you flutter them open--ah yes, this is his favorite part of the day

Loves to play video games with you into the late hours of the night, especially overwatch, but your always the first one to pass out, so he makes sure to tuck you in and dim the light of the screen so it doesn’t bother you

Most nights the both of you are wide awake so you end up playing ‘what the light?’, a game where Haechan creates 3D objects out of light and you have to guess what they are before he finishes them

Oh, and shadow puppets! He’s become quite the expert with them, he creates the most ridiculous stories with them but you join him by voicing the characters

In addition to ‘I love you’ as a goodbye, you have a secret intricate handshake with him, his excuse was that if you two ever question’s one identity if ever an enemy swapped bodies, you two would know the truth with the handshake but in reality, he just loves that extra time with you before you two part 

It’s either Haechan teasing and making fun of you or he’s doting on you, there is no in-between because after all, you are his idiot

If he’s in the mood, he’ll solidify light photons into the shape of a sword and call it ‘sunflower’, he just loves to tell the tale that he took out fifteen assassins with a sunflower, but usually, he blinds them or burns them

Goes the extra mile for you to create a spotlight on you when you are giving a mission brief at headquarters, that’s the love of his life right there and he’ll make damn sure everyone notices them

Recreates Edward’s sparkling in the sun scene just so he can see you beam with laughter 

Master of mood lighting during sex, and don’t even mention when he hits his climax, bulbs flickers and lamps explode

It might be a trick of the light, but Haechan’s eyes are vividly bright and he’s drowned in golden hues of sunlight, it makes you wonder if he was plucked from the star itself

Yet, as your lips quiver and your glassy eyes blink the last remnants of tears in Haechan’s cupped hands, there is an inner glow from them as you bask in their warmth, he can’t help but proclaim that you are the sun of his world, you are the light of his life even when it feels like his is diminishing

[bighousela]

MODERN ART chronicles a life-long rivalry between two mavericks of the London art world; the rebellious art critic Peter Fuller and Michael Minas the most expensive living artist of all time, as they cut their path from the swinging sixties through the collapse of modern art in Thatcher-era Britain.

WRITER’S STATEMENT Peter Fuller was my late father and I wrote this Biopic screenplay based on his memoirs, private letters and journals from the archive held at the TATE. This project has allowed me a dialog with the father I never knew. The story really came together when I created the character of Michael Minas out of Peter’s best friends and rivals, and my own adaptation. Comparisons have been made to two of the most popular streaming series this year; THE CROWN, which has brought a context to 20th Century British political and cultural history like never before. And breakout series QUEEN’S GAMBIT which has popularized the game of chess, an otherwise niche field, whose participants are obsessive and yet the story is entirely character driven. These are equally the aims of MODERN ART. 2020 has only proven we need art, now more than ever. Peter Fuller was like a punch in the guts to the art world from 1969 to 1990. I want for this film to reach the person walking into an art museum for the first time knowing nothing about the paintings in front of them and hit them emotionally just as hard as the collector with five Picassos on their wall. This is an inside look into a world that is a closed door to the average person, I want to kick that door down with this piece. Laurence Fuller, 2020

SYNOPSIS INTERVIEWER: Michael Minas, your latest piece, a car wreckage made of solid gold at Deutscher Galleries, has made you the most expensive living artist of all time. Can you tell our readers what you believe is the state of Modern Art? MICHAEL: This moment, as we all know, is missing someone. He was my oldest friend and greatest adversary. Thirty years on and we still feel his absence stronger than ever. He pulled himself to the centre of this carousel and watched the horses dance for his pleasure, wincing at the neon lights. PETER FULLER… This is all your fault. When my assistant found Peter’s journal in my studio this morning, there was no more hiding the origins of my work. The radical 60s; John Lennon plays guitar with Che Guevara, Vanessa Redgrave rallies a protest in Trafalgar Square, Peter and I were there for it all and we had the scars to prove it. Shaggy hair and anarchy everywhere. Art was the centre of this game and art was radical. It was time to question everyone and everything. And yet, Peter was struggling to find his voice amongst so many competing agendas. Peter was a terrible painter, I kept encouraging him to write instead, none-the-less he insisted on having a solo exhibition, for which he sketched his first wife the sensual COLETTE as the Venus De Milo. The show was a critical disaster in all the papers across England, I should know, I wrote one of them. Peter’s confidence as a painter was shattered, but it was that day a critic was born. Britain didn’t need another painter, it needed a writer. I connected him with the revolutionary journalist Tariq Ali who inspired him with the words “Write our revolution. Seize the time.” Peter’s fierce and prolific columns inevitably led him to JOHN BERGER. There was no greater critic at the time. After an invitation to join Berger at his home in France, they talked for days, Peter became fascinated by the man, who became his surrogate father. I am ashamed to admit it now, but I was jealous. The three of us locked in a power struggle: Two brothers fighting for the father’s approval. At Berger’s request to find out which side he’s really on, he asked me to keep an eye on Peter. I watched him in the hungry hours of the art openings. I watched him feed his demons at the late night whipping houses and horse tracks where he spent his last pennies on the strangest hopes. Little did I know, he was watching me just as closely. I took it upon myself to steal his journals. I could not do this alone. I had to enlist the help of the person closest to him, Colette. As I read them feverishly, of course I knew it was wrong, but what was he hiding? I was obsessed with trying to figure him out.

Anxiously I read in Peter’s journals how he wrestled with his father in the tormented dreams of his childhood where we first met at boarding school. The older boys could be unusually cruel back then. Failing to comply with their authority we were tied to a fence in a bull paddock and whipped within an inch of our lives. Reading his account again inspired me to create the exhibition MINOTAUR’S SONG in 1986. I knew I could never beat Peter with words, but my art would torture him and force him to rebel against us. And he did by publishing brutal columns. John felt as though he had lost his son, he turned to me. Colette could no longer bare Peter’s anguish and the marriage was ripped apart, she turned to me. Peter went mad with jealousy and confronted Berger and myself at the exhibition. Our next debate was televised and it was merciless. Peter turned his back on all of us. He was black listed across the entire art publishing trade, except for his own passionate glossy MODERN PAINTERS. The magazine tore the entire establishment apart on both sides of the divide. There, revealed at its centre, was Peter holding the curtain open to the dying light of beauty. At the launch neither Berger, nor I were spared in the most intense debate I have witnessed let alone been a part of, as nobody could use language as a weapon like Peter. Finally, he had undeniably found his voice. I did not see his final letter until after the car crash which claimed his life so abruptly. Of course Peter’s final move in this game is a crescendo which reveals the purpose of beauty and the preciousness of life. Who better to deliver me this message than my assistant, but did she know more than she was letting on? George Mackay Michael Minas MICHAEL MINAS - 30s Caucasian Male (British), Peter’s lifelong best friend, though rougher round the edges, the two are locked in a constant cycle of camaraderie and rivalry. The emotional rollercoaster of their relationship escalates from adolescence through the revolutionary 60s, into passionate televised debates of the 80s, sensational art openings and betrayals of love and loyalties, played out on the art world’s stage. LEAD JOHN BERGER - 40s-50s (British), a handsome man with a large presence and a wisdom that is expressed in the lines of his face and the openness of his heart. John Berger was the leading art critic in England throughout the 20th Century. Notorious and internationally recognized for his controversial perspective on art criticism which was also deeply personal and autobiographical. He was Peter’s mentor and over time his surrogate father as their intense relationship sent ripples throughout the art world. LEAD

Modern Art Script Trailer

[tessadoesstuff]

Run It With Love - Chapter 6

Day 6 - Revan 

(Sorry this is late, forgot to post on tumblr!)

A non-linear story of Bly, Aayla, and Quinlan in the time of the Knights of the Old Republic games (about 3,800 years before the prequels) designed to be read without any knowledge of that game or time.

First Chapter!  Previous Chapter!

The first time Sam ever remembers hearing about Darth Revan, it was during their escape from the crashing ship where their memories begin. The words echo and stick in Sam’s head, and Sam has no idea why.

"That smack to your head did more damage than I thought. Bastila's a Jedi. She was with the strike team that killed Darth Revan, Malak's Sith master. Bastila is the key to the whole Republic war effort. The Sith must have found out she was on the Endar Spire and set an ambush for us in this system. I believe Bastila was on one of the escape pods that crashed down here on Taris. For the sake of the Republic war effort, we have to try and find her."[1]    

Sam knows, deep in their soul, that those words are important, that they’re the key to something.

They’re not Sam’s first memory from after the amnesia. Their earliest memory is from twenty minutes before, being shaken awake in a bunk in the crashing Endar Spire . The man who had apparently been their bunkmate filled Sam in as quick as best they could, but Sam felt detached from the whole incident until Carth said those words.

On the surface, those words are what caught Sam, and drew them into this grand adventure. They led Sam to their partners, to Carth and Bastila, who quickly became two of the most important parts of Sam’s life. Those words set Sam on the path to find Bastila on Taris, which led to them being bonded in the Force. That bond became the key to Sam being trained as a Jedi, and the quest to find the Star Maps.

Which brings Sam back to Revan. The quest for the Star Maps which comes from visions they share with Bastila, visions of Revan and Malak hunting for the same Star Maps years ago.

At the end, Sam’s journey begins with Revan, and when they find the Star Maps to guide them to Malak’s weapon, this chapter of Sam’s journey will end with Revan too.

---

Bastila Shan has been tied to Revan as long as she can remember. When she first came to the Jedi Temple as a child, Revan was there. When they were just younglings, Bastila has been told they were briefly inseparable. Bastila doesn’t remember that so much, she just remembers when Revan reached a point when it wasn’t cool to have a little kid hanging around all the time. They had a fight, and Bastila stopped seeing Revan after that.

But that didn’t mean her ties to Revan were broken. Revan would always haunt her every step.

After her friendship with Revan ended, Bastila became fast friends with Lucian Draay, and whenever the other boy came to the temple, they would study together. However, as they grew, the world became tormented, and so did their friendship. The war that had taken place just before they were born, the war against the Sith Lord Exar-Kun had killed Lucian Draay’s father, and left him and the rest of the Jedi scattered and afraid. Lucian was always afraid of the return of the Sith. Bastila knows now he was likely even right, but at the time it seemed ridiculous.

When Revan began to speak out against the Jedi’s stance of neutrality in the budding Mandalorian Wars, Lucian protested, dug in his heels, and began to speak out about the return of the Sith. When Bastila confessed that while she supported the Jedi’s neutrality, she believed the Mandalorians a larger threat than the Sith, she and Lucian fought. She stopped seeing Lucian after that.

Lucian denounced her as a Revanist, despite the fact that she swears she wasn’t one.

Despite being called more and more a heretic by higher ranking Jedi as Revan continued to argue for the Jedi to go to war, Revan was still the brightest padawan of the generation. As Bastila progressed through her studies, she was surrounded by examples of the excellence of her childhood friend. Bastila was talented, and as such was constantly measured against Revan in every class.

That stopped when Revan left.

When Revan and Malak took most of their generation to go fight in The War alongside the republic, Bastila stopped hearing the name ‘Revan’ around the temple. At least, for a couple of years. The masters disapproved, and they were afraid that more of their ever shrinking group of padawans would follow Revan to war, that those who went off to war would fall the way so many had done during the war with Exar Kun. Bastila listened to the Masters and tried to forget all about Revan then.

The Masters were right to be concerned.

When the Republic won the Mandalorian Wars, Bastila thought Revan would finally come home. She remembered her best friend from childhood, the friend Lucian had never been to her, she saw that now. When Revan came back, she had promised herself, she would fix what had been broken.

Revan didn’t come back.

When Revan and Malak disappeared with more than two thirds of their forces and the Jedi that had been with them, the temple once again lit up with talk of Revan, of Revan’s disappearance. No one had any idea where they went, or how to bring them home again. Sometimes there were rumors of either Revan or Malak being seen around the outer rim, but they were never more than rumors.

It would have been better if they never came back from their hunt for the Star Maps.

When Revan did come back, it was as a fallen shadow of Bastila’s old friend. Revan wore a mask of steel and commanded armies that destroyed the Republic and terrorized its people. Revan came back as a Sith Lord. The Jedi council turned to Bastila, with the Battle Meditation ability she had crafted over her life. She was their only choice. She had to kill Revan.

Revan killed the others who went with Bastila, and for a moment Bastila wanted to do the same. Bastila refused to let the dark in then.

These days, Bastila keeps having visions of Revan’s lost days. Sam has the same visions. Bastila worries what that means. Revan hunted the same Star Maps, and now so do Sam and Bastila.

These days, Bastila holds the lovers her teacher told her she should be above having, holds Carth and Sam so very close, and tries not to think about Revan at all.

---

Carth Onasi has never met Revan. During the Mandalorian Wars, Carth was just a lieutenant, while Revan was functionally a general. There was never any reason for them to cross paths. But Revan was a brilliant strategist. The men and women Revan fought alongside won nearly every battle they engaged in, and Revan single handedly changed the tide of the war. Carth admired Revan during those days. The thought now makes Carth sick.

Carth used to think Revan was some sort of hero. A grand warrior who came out of a dangerously uncaring or even corrupt Jedi order, but who managed to rise above it to fight for what is right. Carth knows better now. The dangerously uncaring one was Revan. Who betrayed them so easily, who talked others into betraying  everything they’d known alongside them.

When Revan had left, over half of the Republic’s soldiers had gone too. It disgusted Carth; he couldn’t understand it at all. What Revan had done to earn that loyalty from so many? To earn that loyalty from Saul?

When Revan left, Admiral Saul Karath had gone with. Before that, Saul was Carth’s mentor, his friend, his confidant. And when Saul betrayed the Republic for Revan and Malak, he betrayed Carth to Revan and Malak.

After the desertion, Carth was promoted to Saul’s position. And when the desertion was revealed to be a betrayal? Carth led the battle against the new Sith Army, fighting throughout the outer rim. And so, Saul told Revan and Malak where to find Carth’s family.

Malak and Saul went to Telos IV together, and they destroyed the planet. Bombarded every city, every town, until there was nothing left living anywhere. That bombing  killed Carth’s family. Killed his wife and son. Killed Morgana and Dustil.

It was Saul’s fault, it was Malak’s fault, it was Revan’s fault.

As Carth holds those who now have his heart, clings to Sam and Bastila, he swears that he will kill Saul with his own hands, and that Saul, and Malak, will never touch them.

And yet, the ghosts of Revan remain.

---

Canderous Ordo has knelt at Revan’s feet, and has starred up from the ground at the cold steel mask Revan wore. It was Revan who brought the Mandalorian Neo-Crusaders’ war against the Republic to an end, who put a stop to their conquest. It was Revan who demanded Mandalore’s unconditional surrender, and who claimed their weapons. Revan destroyed Mandalore.

Canderous does not hate Revan. Canderous respects Revan.

How can he not? When it came down to the end, the war between them was a battle of strategists, Canderous leading his warriors and Revan leading the Republic’s soldiers. When it came down to it, Revan had been willing to make the sacrifices and take the chances that allowed for the Republic Army to outmaneuver the Mandalorians, even when no one else was willing to give the orders to do so.

And in the end, when Canderous had crossed blades with Revan, Canderous had been soundly defeated, unable to so much as scratch Revan’s mask. How could Canderous not respect that strength?

Canderous has heard that what truly led to Revan’s death was a betrayal from the inside, from Malak. Canderous can believe that. No matter what Revan did, Canderous knows that Revan will always be the greatest warrior and tactician Canderous ever encountered.

---

Juhani knows that Revan was a bad Jedi and was an Objectively Bad Person. But still, Juhani can’t make herself forget.

Juhani knows that she will never forget how Revan saved her during the Mandalorian Wars, how Revan inspired her to finally leave Taris and go to Dantooine, who gave her the dream of becoming a Jedi.

Juhani will always remember her life on Taris, growing up hated by the humans who held all of the power, and the feeling of her family being the only Cathars on the planet. She knows she was shaped by her childhood as a refugee in the gang-ridden Undercity. She is haunted by the murder of her father, and the way her mother’s life faded out slowly after that until Juhani was alone.

When Juhani’s mother died, Juhani barely had time to make arrangements for the body before the Exchange came. Juhani will never forget the moment the big enforcers told her of her parent’s debt, or the way they took her afterwards.

Juhani can’t ever hate Revan because Juhani can’t ever forget the feeling of standing there, waiting to be sold, only for Revan to lead the Jedi to interrupt the sale, to save her. Because even though Revan never took off that mask, Juhani knows that Revan smiled at her.

---

To Jolee Bindo, Revan is just another page in the never-ending chain of Sith. An interlude between Exar Kun, Jolee’s first chapter, and Malak, Jolee’s current chapter. Revan isn’t even a particularly notable page - Jolee missed Revan’s entire life during his stay in Kashyyyk’s Shadowlands.

From what Jolee has heard and seen though, Revan was nothing special. Revan was just another Jedi, then just another soldier, and then was just another Sith. Jolee has seen hundreds of Jedi, Thousands of soldiers, and more Sith than he cares to count.

People talk about the shock of Revan’s betrayal as though Exar Kun had not done the exact same thing 50 years prior. They talk about the way Revan convinced other Jedi to desert, to fall, as though Exar Kun did not do the same thing first. As though Exar Kun did not convince Jedi to fall in far greater numbers, as though he did not lure away even the best of the Jedi, as though he did not lure away Jolee’s Nayama.

The galaxy talks about what Revan has done, about the people they know betraying them to follow Revan, as though Exar Kun did not inspire the same, as though Jolee never found his wife’s lightsaber at his through as her eyes glowed yellow.

The Jedi Jolee has encountered since returning from Kashyyk talk about the potential Revan had, how great a Jedi Revan could have been, as though there have not been hundreds of Jedi with great potential who never lived up to it. As though Zayne Carrick, Andor Vex, or Shad Jelevan were not padawans with equal potential who did not live up to their greatness the way they were expected too.

Jolee sees how the galaxy talks about how Revan was a brilliant tactician, how no one could outthink Revan, but he’s suitably underwhelmed. He remembers how Krynda Draay out-thought Exar Kun, how she rose up from loss to lead the Republic to victory.

Jolee Bindo never met Revan, but he remembers what came before Revan, and he will remember what comes after.

---

To Zaalbar, Revan doesn’t stand out. Revan is just another human in a galaxy of humans. Zaalbar never even heard the names of Revan or Malak before he left Kashyyyk. If the tales of Revan were told on Kashyyyk, it would be simply added to the list of terrible humans Zaalbar’s father once carved.

Revan was just another human slaver. The only difference is that Revan went after his own people rather than just the Wookies or the other sentients who don’t look like them.

To Zaalbar, Revan is nothing remarkable. The remarkable ones are those who are on board the Ebon Hawk with him, the ones who welcomed him as the family he has longed to have for so long.

---

Mission heard of Revan just once when she was a little girl, before Griff left. She heard of Revan in hushed tones, murmured between the people of Taris, after the destruction of the temple. The Jedi temple that had once been the pride of the governors of the planet, before it had been destroyed in order to chase the Mandalorians from Taris.

After the taxes were raised in the undercity so the governors could build an even more lavish temple to replace it, in hopes of drawing the Jedi back, that was when Mission first heard the name Revan. She learned that Revan was a champion of the non-humans of the galaxy, and that Revan wasn’t there when the temple fell.

Revan came later, to chase out the Mandalorians who remained, or so the stories tell. They talk of how Revan walked through the same filth covered streets they did, who stayed in the same filthy inns they did, who walked for a few days in their shoes.

To Mission and the people of the Undercity of Taris, Revan was a legend, a figure who brought ever so small a taste of equality. Even when the stories the people from the Uppercity told became tainted, talking of a darker Revan, they were considered just another political play by those who lived below. Another attempt to take away the light in their dark world.

Mission believed that as long as she could. She believed it right up until she was aboard the Ebon Hawk , looking out at the destruction Revan’s student rained down. Mission believed in Revan until Revan’s legacy left her one of the last survivors of Taris.

---

Revan first really mattered to Quinlan Vos during an undercover mission on the planet of Dromud Kaas, about six months before he was sent back in time. It was a terrible mission on a terrible planet, largely due to the cultists.

Even nearly four thousand years after the time of Revan, the cult of Revan remained, and Quinlan spent three months undercover in it. During that time, he learned very little, and none of the things he went there hoping to learn. Instead, he learned that many people learn of Revan and view Revan very differently. As Quinlan performed his initiation tasks, he dove deeper into the history of a figure that, while famous at the Jedi temple even in his time, had previously just been another historical figure.

To the cultists, Revan represented balance. The grey between the light Jedi and the dark Sith, given the time that Revan spent as both. They claimed to strive to walk that pathway, neither light nor dark. Quinlan wished that was possible. He didn’t believe it was back then – most of the cultists were deeply dark, and a few light enough that with training Quinlan would label them Jedi. There was no middle grey to be found there, despite their awareness of both.

Now here, in the era of Revan? Quinlan was more sure of that belief than ever before. There was no middle ground here in the galaxy. Those who had once been on the side of the republic were most assuredly not anymore. That did not make them half sith, half-republic, they were entirely Sith.

The same was true for the Jedi who had turned their backs and left their principals and teaching. They did not become grey, they became dark, Sith, the same way Quinlan very nearly had once. If they wanted to be anything but Sith, they would have to work every day to walk in the light the same way he does.

No matter what the cultists of Revan believe, Revan did not walk grey lines. Revan simply walked white and then black. In the force, no one ever managed to walk grey, no matter what they believed or how strong they were.

---

Notes:

1Directly quoting from KOTOR 1.[return to text]

did someone say world-building and foreshadowing? Too bad you get it anyways. Also, a wild Jolee makes his first appearnace.

[supernova1us]

My finalized Bionicle series idea

after bringing together a lot of my bionicle ideas and fine tuning what i like, this is my final full idea for a bionicle series

The world of the endless ocean contains many islands, populated by biomechanical beings, primarily the matoran. The capital is the massive island city of Metru Nui and from there, two great beings; Mata nui, the spirit of light and Makuta, the spirit of darkness, emerge by the power of the mythical mask of life. Both are formed from the energy of their elements, encased in powerful protodermis armor. They coexist and rule together for a time, though makuta realizes that mata nui is more loved and revered by the matoran than he is. Shunned and jealous, makuta develops a hatred for his brother which explodes into a life or death battle between the two. Empowered by his creation, the mask of shadows, makuta triumphs over mata nui, casting him down.  

With the end of mata nui heralding a series of natural disasters, the toa team of metru nui put all of the matoran into a deep slumber to protect them.  Makuta confronts them, but having been wounded by mata nui and at risk of losing the battle, offers a bargain. He will rule the island and the toa are free to resist him, but neither he nor the toa will directly confront each other, but he will not directly threaten the matoran either; the toa reluctantly accept. 100 years pass, and the matoran finally awaken to metru nui in ruins and overrun by nature, and their toa protectors aged into frail turaga elders. The Turaga rename the island mata nui in honor of the spirit of light and the tribes migrate away from the darkened city to settle in the wilds of their regions. From the islands center, makuta sends out his corrupted rahi beasts and evil warriors to torment and keep the matoran in a state of fear and control.

This continues for another 900 years until finally the energy of mata nui spirit reawakens. Guiding the rogue matoran takua, he sets in motion the creation of legendary heroes.  After his journey and apparent self-sacrifice, the energy of mata nui is released and merges with the elements of the island themselves and births 6 new toa heroes.  These toa heroes must discover who they are, their elemental powers, how to work as a team and embrace their destiny in defeating makuta and restoring mata nui.

 Toa

Nikila-Toa of energy.  She has power over lightning, electricity and any form of raw energy.  She is the leader of the toa mata, and is the most mature, brave and heroic, with a tendency towards over confidence. Her tools are her lightning swords and she wears the mask of wisdom.

Malum-toa of fire.  The largest, strongest and most hot-headed of the group.  He is arrogant, prideful and violent but has a surprising kinship with the wild rahi.  He tends to clash with Nikilas leadership the most.  His tools are his flame claws and he wears the mask of endurance.  

Hahli-toa of water. Generally kind and gentle while sometimes shy, she quickly gains self-confidence and is the most intelligent and spiritual of the team.  Her tools are a trident and protosteel talons/fins and she wears the mask of translation.

Pohatu-toa of Earth.  He was the most focused and unwavering of the toa, though somewhat distant. He is wise and friendly when comfortable, but as fierce and unbreakable as nature when pushed. His tools are his enhancing foot attachments and his ruble shovels and he wears the mask of strength.

Matau-toa of air.  The most free-spirited and easy going of the toa, he always went with the flow like his element; A joker and explorer who was only serious when the situation was at its most dire.  His tools are his storm-o-rangs, which double as wings and he wears the mask of speed.  

Zaria-toa of metal.  The most creative and sporadic toa, creating weapons, armor and anything new was his passion. He was the free thinker and craftsman of the team.  His tool is his giant meta-hammer and he wears the mask of shaping.  

Takua-toa of light. Originally a matoran on mata nui from the lost tribe of light/shadow, he was well known and popular amongst the population.  After he was chosen by mata nui, he seemingly perished to summon the toa. He was however transformed into a toa and returned much later but lost his memories in the process. He is ever inquisitive and fascinated by the world around him. His weapon is his sun staff and he wears the mask of light.  

 Other Characters

Mata Nui-the spirit of light, born from the worlds core along with his brother makuta.  He is benevolent and loving but prideful and oblivious.  After he is betrayed by a jealous makuta, he is rendered as an incorporeal spirit, who after 1000 years chooses takua as his champion to summon the toa and reawaken him and free the world of darkness.  

Matoran-the largest and most numerous race of the world of the endless ocean; they are small but brave spirited, creative and peaceful people. They are separated by the elemental tribes of fire, water, air, earth, energy, and metal on mata nui. Notable matoran are jaller, Nuparu, macku and hewkii.  

Turaga(kopaka, Lhikan, gali, lewa, onua, matoro)-the leaders of each of the elemental villages on mata nui. Each is wise and steadfast in their leadership. They were originally toa who stood with mata nui and witnessed his defeat and protected the matoran from makuta for 1000 years, with age having long caught up with them.

Keetongu-an ancient being of nature who watches over all rahi on mata nui and occasionally aids the toa. He is accompanied by the massive Tahtorak beast.

Strakk-a brutal icy warrior who claims mata nui’s frozen peaks as his territory and will fiercely battle any who trespass on it.

Ekimu the mask maker-a wise and ancient turaga who has mastered the crafting of powerful masks. He crafts special new masks for any matoran who prove themselves worthy.  

Krakua- a mysterious toa of Sound, he is never quiet or still for too long and was fascinated with all the sounds the world made. He is very fond of music and was akin to a wandering bard on mata nui. He possessed super hearing, could create sonic booms and wore the mask of stealth.

Krika-a warrior of an unknown race, he is a cold but long serving and trusted agent of makuta but his conscience forces him to aid the toa.  His armor was altered to make him able to morph into an insectoid form to move freely about the visorak horde.    

Umbra-the cold and emotionless yet dedicated eternal guardian of the mask of life. He will only grant access to the relic by being defeated in battle, but refuses to fight matoran. Anyone who proves capable of gaining the mask he swears an oath of loyalty to and protects with his life.

The order of mata nui-a radical militia of warriors of varied races who fight a guerrilla war against makutas forces through any means necessary.  They are led by the extremist Helryx, the first ever toa, who is the one who broke the mask of time after using its full power to stop her from aging.  She comes into conflict with the more traditional views of the toa.

 VILLAINS

Makuta-the spirit of darkness and the antithesis to his eternal brother, mata nui.  Self-centered, ruthless and power hungry, he will go to any length to achieve greatness in the eyes of the matoran and be seen for the god he knows himself to be. He forged and wears the mask of shadows to which his spirit and power are always connected. He has spent years building an empire though exuding control over many islands.  

Roodaka-a part serpentine creature and advisor to makuta. While appearing calm and charismatic, she is in fact cruel, cunning and a deadly warrior.  She is completely loyal to and in love with makuta and devoted to achieving his goals and remaining at his side. She often manipulates makutas other agents to fit her designs.

Icarax-the leader of the vampiric phantoka race, he is a fierce and brutal warrior and makutas general. He is arrogant and strongly believes he is better agent of darkness then makuta and his schemes. Though he needs no help at being confrontational, he is often goaded by roodaka.  

Sidorak-the oafish but tyrannical king of the industrial island of stelt. He is fiercely loyal to makuta and is always seeking his approval but is often made a fool or manipulated by roodaka.  

Nidhiki – an insectoid warrior who act as makutas goon, muscle and enforcer, often menacing the toa in their quests.

Tuyet-a murderous former toa who has allied with makuta and often partnered with nidhiki.

Tridax-an alchemist, mad scientist and inventor, he is the brains behind many workings in makutas network of evil, working closely with sidorak and has considerable brawn to back up his brains.

Nocturn-a hideous aquatic creature, he is loyal to makuta but slowwitted, quick to anger and easy to manipulate or intimidate. He primarily acts as makutas messenger to his other agents.  

Rahkshi-the main military force of makuta, they are deadly, fear-inducing armor suits built on stelt and possessed by shadow leeches makuta has summoned from the depths of the abyss. They number at 5000 and are all yellow in color.    

Akmou-toa of shadow. A fellow matoran of the light/shadow tribe; a self-interested and shifty individual, he believes takua is responsible for all his problems rather than his own misdeeds.  Though he has been an agent of makuta on mata nui for many years, after becoming a toa, he is unsure of his loyalty to darkness, wanting only to prove his superiority over takua.  

Tuma-a battle hardened skrall warlord from bara magna, he leads his fearsome race in their attempts to conquer their homeland with makutas aid and provide theirs when he needs it. His loyalty lies solely on his people, keeping him skeptical of if the alliance is in their best interest.  

Umarak the dark hunter-a relentless and ancient hunter and mercenary who peruses many bounties and prey and periodically works for makuta

Bahrag-the monstrous queen of the isle of the insectoids. She maintains a loose alliance with makuta with the promise that his rule will grant them passage to infest other islands.

Barraki(the drowned)-a trio of aquatic warlords who menace a group of sub-aquatic matoran and reluctantly aid makuta in the construction of his titan form.

 Obviously there are many similarities to g1, but there are many intended differences as well.

-the change to the toa mata members and element line up

 -like the glatortian, the toa will have armor that will represent or be based on their elements 

-a mask with a similar ability doesn’t exactly mean the mask matches the look of its G1 counterpart

-there have been other toa, but this special group are the first with elemental powers

-like g2, matoran are uniform in design and masks beside element colors and rare mask exceptions

-there would not be multiple future toa teams, only a few special cases

-Romance would be canon, but not a large focus; macku and hewkii mostly with a few possible other cases(but not the main toa team)

  Story Arks

1.With shadow creatures and rahi controlled by makuta having menaced the matoran for 1000 years, mata nui reaches out to the wandering matoran takua. Guided, takua sets off on an odyssey across the island to find the fragmented key to the kini nui temple. He has many adventures, aiding each of the matoran tribes and avoiding makutas threats.  He finally unlocks the temple, releasing the power and summoning the toa, though apparently at the cost of his life.

 2.The newly born toa, who must discover who they are, defend the matoran, and learn how to work as a team, and finally fend off makutas horde of wild rahi. Finally they travel into a sacred temple and do battle with makuta himself, triumphing.

3. The toa set out to find the mask of time, and must race against umarak, the dark hunter, to find it.  They use its power to view the past to see the beginning of the brothers war and how the island became what it is.  The island is then attacked on two fronts: a bridge of web allows swarms of insectoids from another island to attack while makuta summons undead skull warriors from beneath the earth.

4. Makuta, still weak, sets his rahkshi hoard loose to menace the island.  The toa travel through the ruins of metru nui, which still stands at the islands center. They face many threats lurking in it as they make their way to makutas lair to confront him. They learn that makuta seeks the mask of life to regain his former strength and that it can revive mata nui as well. As the toa cannot defeat makuta, takua returns, transformed into a toa of light by mata nui, who defeats makuta, almost killing him.

5. Takua is left to guard the island and matoran while the toa sail to Voya Nui, but are trapped in the underwater realm of the barraki. When free, they make it to voya nui and must fight both makutas allies and Umbra, the mask’s guardian.  After winning and receiving the mask, they return to mata nui to use it but makuta intervenes.  Mata nui is nearly revived but the mask of life is shattered, the force of which destroys both spirits and scatters the fragments of the mask across the world. Makutas mask survives and he flees and has a new armor built for him.

6. With mata nuis spirit lost and only able to be restored by the mask of life, the 7 toa must search the numerous islands, leaving umbra to guard mata nui.  They set sail and split up, each with a beast mount and new adaptive armor, to explore their separate islands to retrieve the mask fragments while battling makuta or other enemy forces on each one. After their separate adventures, each toa finds a fragment, which becomes a golden mask for them. Malum is seriously injured and in the fear that he may die, transfers some of his power to his matoran companion, jallar, who becomes a toa. In this time, makuta begins to realize his grand designs, while also dealing with a coup by his general icarax and also kills umbra.

7. The toa reunite and make their way to Karda Nui to reform the mask of life and revive mata nui, fighting past makuta and his minions, who steal Jallers’ mask fragment.  The toa use the fragments they have and mata nui is revived, but only as a mortal toa, since the mask was incomplete and the toa had absorbed some of its power while using the fragments. Malum is healed and Krika, a former servant of makuta, betrays him and aids the toa.

8. The toa sail for a secluded island fortress of makuta on Krikas guidance but before they arrive, the island is shattered by a giant robot body that has risen from beneath the sea. Krika says its construction was makutas grand plan.  Makuta has used his mask piece to fuse his spirit to the body and has trapped all the matoran within it.  As makuta rules the matoran within his body, he decimates the other islands one by one. After witnessing the doomed last stand of the order of mata nui, the toa make their way to the ruined mata nui to find a way to enter the robot. On their way, the toa a briefly drawn into the mythical red star, where the spirits of the dead go, and both the toa and mata nui find revelations there. They also pass through the demonic netherworld, ruled by the insane Karzahni. 

9. On mata nui, where makuta now stands guard, they are confronted by an army of enemy forces. They are joined by the allies they have made on their journeys and a massive war erupts. Krika shows the toa the way to enter the robot before returning to aid in the fight.  The toa manage to enter makutas body, who is distracted watching the war. They fight their way through rahkshi, body defenses and a mutated and empowered roodaka. Takua is forced to return a large portion of his light energy to mata nui, who sends the toa away to ensure the safety of the matoran. The toa lead the matoran out and rally them to battle, turning the tide of the war. Mata nui reaches the core, where makuta reconstitutes his normal form and they battle. Makuta is the stronger but mata nui is able to recover the final mask piece and is restored to his full form. They are to evenly matched, so mata nui fuses the two of them together, killing both but creating a new spirit of light and darkness, who possesses the titan. With his power he restores mata nui and creates bridges connecting all the other now restored islands. Presenting the toa with the mask of destiny, a fusion of the masks of life and shadow, the new god vanishes into the stars. All the beings come together and begin rebuilding mata nui into a new city paradise.  

[argonas]

The Tipping Point

[[ Co-written with @kidcatgemini​ / @raetos​ ]]

Argonas couldn't sleep. It had been a few days since he had. Anger, guilt, and frustration all tormented him as of late. He felt stuck; unable to make headway on anything, be it finding closure following the loss of his wife, or serving justice to that arrogant defiler, Avehi. He had too few people he could talk to about it. Few people he trusted. 

Sylaess was still nowhere to be found. He worried she had died. Again. Or… worse. Had the Old Gods consumed her soul? Had her final succumbing proved to be the end of his old friend? He couldn't say. He couldn't seek her counsel or even rely upon it if she were there to offer it. Her mind was lost… if not her, entirely.

Sinafay… wasn't an option. Not anymore. He felt a sickening tickle in his throat whenever he thought of that pale and shallow reflection of his beloved wife. And her orc partner. Disgusting! As much as he wished to have someone to talk to about all this… he had written her off. 

Khanaros, his mentor, still couldn't see reason. Mierne had her hooks deep, it seemed, and the High Vindicator was beyond help. Argonas tried to speak with him again a day earlier… but nothing changed. He told Argonas that Avehi's outlandish claims - that death was "broken" - were verified by the Auchenai. For all the reverence he felt for the Order… he didn't trust them one bit. Not after what had become of Exarch Maladaar. And Khanaros? He had lost his mind just as much, so ready to believe such foolishness.

And Mierne herself? She sought to manipulate Argonas, too! How long would it have been before she enthralled him, as she had Khanaros? He thought he could trust her. Confide in her. Their time together was a boon, following his loss on Argus. But no… she had shown her hand, even if no one else saw it. He did; he knew the games she sought to play to protect her precious friend.

That only left Raetos; a somewhat naive Lightforged, but pure and uncorrupted. Argonas felt he could rely on him, and seek his counsel on some of what it was he struggled with. But he was worried; it had been a while since the Scout reported in. Troubling thoughts that Avehi may have found and killed him started to set in. Had he sent the Scout to his death? He prayed such wasn't the case… but considered venturing out to find him and make sure.

For now, however, Argonas tried to relax. He soaked in the soothing springs in the Crystal Halls, hoping to be rid of the soreness in his muscles and the fatigue in his mind.

Raetos had arrived at the Exodar rather late. Chasing Avehi across the continents was a bigger undertaking than he’d expected. Even more so that everytime he managed to catch up with her, she’d ride him until he had nothing left to give, leaving him exhausted. He yawned as he made his way through the crystal halls, not really paying much attention to where he was going.

"--Raetos?"

It was a surprise to Argonas, seeing him here. More so, having just passed through idle thoughts about the Lightforged. Coincidence, surely. But a fortunate one at that. He sat up and waved Raetos over to the edge of the relaxing pool.

"Come, friend! Let us speak!" the Vindicator beckoned him, wearing the gentle outline of a smile on his lips… for the first time in ages.

Raetos froze. He had assumed arriving at the Exodar so late would mean avoiding Argonas altogether. But apparently, the Vindicator didn’t sleep!

���A-Argonas!” He exclaimed, finally turning to face the larger Draenei, “Hey! Yeah, so… did not expect to bump into you at this time!”

He walked over to the pool, but didn’t really make any moves to undress and get in himself.

“I’m actually super tired right now. Was a long trip home from Kalimdor. That Death Knight you have me tracking sure loves to travel!”

“--Ah, fortunate of you to find your way here, then.” Argonas stood, continuing to beckon Raetos further into the pool. “These pools will alleviate your fatigue. Come, join me. Tell me what that vile creature has been doing in Kalimdor!”

The scout tried desperately to think of an excuse to NOT stay and talk, but his tired brain came up empty. Besides, Argonas seemed rather insistent.

“I… guess I can stay and chat a bit,” he finally gave in, before going about undressing, “She actually hasn’t been doing much other than her usual stuff. Unfortunately no illegal activity to report other than the obvious raising fallen soldiers of various races. She got in a scuffle in the Barrens with some Orcs. She and a Tauren dude fought them off. Weird that he helped her. I’m thinking he’s some kind of outcast."

He finished undressing and slipped into the pool with a sigh. Argonas was right! The soothing waters felt great!

“There was a strange encounter in Arathi. She met up with some Lightforged Draenei chick on a farm. Looked like she was living there with an Orc. Oh man! I think they were a couple because they had the ugliest baby I’ve ever seen! Like... holy shit!”

The Vindicator relaxed back down into the pools. The more he listened, the more he frowned; his brief smile had vanished entirely. It didn't bode well-- Avehi was gathering allies for her despicable cause. He knew of no Tauren contact she might have, but presumed him to be another Ebon Knight. At least they battled a few orcs. Argonas couldn't be too mad about that. But the second part… he bristled immediately at the mention.

"Sinafay… and her Orc mate, Grakkar." he grunted, more spitting the words out in disgust than speaking them. "So they have hidden out in Arathi. Bold of them."

It was that moment that an idea struck the Vindicator. A plan to work around Khanaros' directive and still stop - or at least slow - Avehi's progress towards her abhorrent objectives. She couldn't do this alone, as the business with Mierne and her chokehold on the High Vindicator had proven. If he wasn't able to confront her directly..  he could at least eliminate those who harbored and aided her. And Sinafay and Grakkar were first on that list.

"Where in Arathi, Raetos?"

“They live on a farm way out in the north, near the mountains. It’s way out in the middle of nowhere. Wouldn’t have ever suspected it was there if I hadn’t followed Avehi there.”

He rambled on a moment, before turning his head to look at Argonas.

“Why? What did they do? Are they criminals? If so, I know this super cool Dark Iron Lady that’s all about Bounty Hunting!”

"--Bounty hunter? No, we have no need of their sort. We will handle this ourselves, yes?"

Argonas grunted, almost offended by the notion! He was far superior than any sellsword. And with the Light flowing through him, he had what no bounty hunter or mercenary ever could; divine purpose. He shook his head.

"Sinafay is a traitor to the Draenei. One who chose loyalty to the Orcs over loyalty to her own kin. They are not wanted; rather unwanted. Exiles." he explained, idly running his hands through the waters. "But if Avehi is meeting with them, they must know of her foul machinations. It can be presumed they are helping her, just as Mierne helped her by manipulating the High Vindicator. If we cannot strike out at Avehi directly… we can at least cripple her support network."

He nodded slowly, considering how best to go about it. Fighting and killing his former apprentice resonated as a sound enough idea to him, considering her treachery. But more than that, he wondered if it would perhaps bring him peace. It felt cruel, that his beloved wife was lost, and yet the tainted reflection of her endured. His mind turned to Kairei, his first real love; slaying the Sargerei variant of her after she passed helped him find closure back then. It stood to reason it would now, too. Such was a Vindicator's charge; to dispense justice.

"... I will handle them." he nodded. "You must continue your task, and follow Avehi. When next she meets another supporter of hers - that Tauren, or anyone else - dispatch them once they part from her. Burn the bridges in her wake, yes?"

Raetos couldn’t help but frown, a hand moving out of the water to rub at the scar Avehi had left on him in their first encounter together. 

“I mean… the war is over. We can’t exactly go around executing people at random like that. Not without proof of wrongdoings to back it up. What if they’re just friends of hers? Innocent in this whole raising the dead thing? And I thought we were going to wait until the High Vindicator looked into things first.” He shook his head, “No offence, Argonas. But you’re starting to talk about some extreme stuff here.”

“--You speak of extremities? Avehi is out there raising the dead! What is more extreme than that?!” Argonas snapped, scowling. “None who consider that villain a friend are innocent! If they aid her in any way, they are just as guilty of her defilements as she is! And it is our job to see justice met for such crimes!”

The Vindicator snarled at Raetos. He couldn’t believe he had to explain the Light’s justice to a Lightforged! This was not extreme, it was necessary! Why was Raetos speaking out against the plan in such a manner? Perhaps he was not as committed to seeing evil purged from Azeroth as Argonas thought...

“Remember your duty, Raetos.” he cautioned him, sternly. “We face a terrible foe. And while she may not be as destructive as the Legion… Avehi is every bit as dangerous. She has become a demon in her own right-- and the Light cannot abide such a reprehensible and shameful creature!”

“Whoa whoa whoa,” Raetos waved his hand, “Do you hear yourself, buddy? You’re talking Xe’ra-type shit, there! Trust me when I say I wasn’t super upset over her demise, alright? I’m Light-forged, yeah, but not Light-blinded.”

He reached over and placed a hand on Argonas’ shoulder.

“Listen to me,” he said, his golden gaze meeting the Vindicator’s, “There’s a huge difference between the Light’s justice and a personal vendetta. And honestly? Avehi’s a pretty cool person once you get to know her a little. Other than raising the dead, she hasn’t done anything illegal.”

The Vindicator's eyes narrowed dangerously. He didn't care for Raetos' tone, words, familiarity… he didn't care for Raetos altogether! He swatted the Lightforged's hand from his shoulder as he peered at him. 

"'Once you get to know her?'" Argonas repeated, as he rose up out of the soothing water once more. "Have you been watching her, or speaking to her?"

Brusquely, he gripped Raetos' head in one hand, turning it as his eyes honed in on that bite mark he had so readily dismissed before. He presumed some animal had done it-- a foolish assumption, now that he'd gotten a proper look. With a grunt, he stepped back from the Scout, scowling!

"Or more than even speaking, it appears!" he accused, pointing so at Raetos. "She has seduced you, you damned fool! You bear her carnal mark, defiled and beguiled by the witch, herself!"

“Psh! She didn’t seduce me…”

Restos moved out of the pool, not bothering to dry off before beginning to throw his armor back on. He could read Argonas easily enough at this point. 

“Okay, so the first time… maybe a bit of seduction was involved. But you know what? Doesn’t matter. She’s fucking hot and not at all gross like you’d said she’d be. And look at me! Still Lightforged! Still connected to the Light! At least she’s not out there killing innocent families over a HUGE assumption of a crime. What she’s doing is unconventional, and trust me, I was skeptical too! But she really believes she’s saving these people from a worse fate. I may not fully grasp what she’s talking about, but I do believe there’s something going on. At least look into the matter yourself if you’re too stubborn to hear it from anyone else!”

Raetos huffed as he finished attaching his armor. The way Argonas has been talking about killing Avehi’s allies, he didn’t exactly feel safe around the Vindicator himself. 

“I’m going to bed. Try not to do anything stupid.”

"There is nothing I could do more stupid than you trusting her, Raetos! Your naivety in this matter put you in jeopardy!" Argonas gave a final warning, fists clenched. "I am resolute in this cause. My calling! I will see justice dealt to Avehi; with or without you!

Argonas stepped out of the pool, but paced no closer to Raetos as he turned to leave. He knew well the cowardly traitor was retreating out of fear. Out of guilt. And rightly so; Avehi had implicated another into her ring of misdeeds, and Argonas couldn't abide it! He had lost enough friends as it was to the Death Knight's manipulations… this last one cut him deeper than any blade ever could. He was truly alone in this cause. Only the Light was with him, now. And he knew the Light's justice needed to be fulfilled!

Was this why he was brought back? Spared from death on Argus? Perhaps no one but he could resist Avehi's manipulative ways. Perhaps he, alone, was to save Azeroth from this next great threat!

"Reevaluate your allegiances, Raetos. I caution you…" he all but growled. "... I will not permit you to aid her. I will not permit anyone to aid her!"

“Yeah, you’ve made that pretty clear,” Raetos shot back, “Enjoy your crusade! The more people you can blame the better, right?”

He sneered, shaking his head. As disturbing it was listening to Argonas, it was more disturbing knowing he himself hadn’t been much different all that long ago… before Avehi had literally knocked some sense into him...

“I don’t know what your obsession with her is, but everything you’ve said about her is wrong. I hope the Light grants you clarity on that before it’s too late. Goodnight, Argonas.”

With that, he turned and walked off towards the apartments...

[[ Mention Tags: @sylaess​ @avehi-the-adamant​ @sinafay1​ @sinafay-the-defiant​ @grakkar-gorefang​ @miernethepersevering​ ]]

[theworldofsisi]

The Dangers of Love Chapter 1 ~ The Jig is Up

Since you had joined the force, paranoia had seemed to follow you around like a dark cloud, reemerging and suffocating you every time you got to a semi-stable place in your life. Your current predicament was no exception, and the terror that it brought with it was far from a foreign feeling. By this point in your career, you wonder if you should be immune to it. As that thought passes through your head, a man calls out to you, reminding you of where you are. You’re undercover for the SPD, sent on a top-secret operation to infiltrate the most notorious gang in South Korea, Bangtan. The man calling out to you is your love interest, Jungkook.

It hadn’t taken long for the gorgeous man to get under your skin. He got to you in ways that no one ever had, made you feel things that you never imagined were possible. Within a few weeks of being undercover in the gang, he had gotten through the barriers of your academy training and stolen your heart. You’re paranoid that Jungkook will find out who – what you are. You know that even if he claims that he loves you now, that will change in a heartbeat if he knew that you were betraying him and his gang.

Loyalty was like a root so firmly ingrained into JungKook’s skull that you didn’t think that anything could change his mind. He’d kill you without hesitation if he found out. The man in question came into your field of vision, sauntering his way to where you sat in the living room chair.“Y/N,” he said, gently caressing your chin in his hand “it’s late, you should come to bed.“

“I’m not tired yet, Kookie. I’ll come to bed after I review the security footage from the last heist. I need to make sure that the camera didn’t catch NamJoon’s face.” You said, putting a hand on JungKook’s chest to push him away. Rather than moving, he grabbed your hand, holding it against his chest. His heart was racing. Slowly, you raised your gaze to his. The look in his eyes was smoldering, making your body heat up instantly.

Goddamn, he was hot.

It soon dawned on you that his invitation to come to bed wasn’t because he expected you to sleep, at least not yet. You weren’t sure how it happened, but one second you were sitting in the chair and the next, Kook was slamming you against the nearest wall. You gasped as the impact knocked the breath out of you.

JungKook took advantage of your opened mouth and attached his lips to yours, kissing you. His tongue found its way into your mouth, and you moaned. The sound seemed to encourage him as he removed one hand from its position on the back of your neck, lowering it down to the hem of your black skirt.

“Y/N,” he ground out between clenched teeth “don’t leave marks, the other guys will joke.”You pulled away from his neck long enough to utter two words.

“Let them.” You went back to sucking on his neck, this time harder.

Seconds later, you were falling. You gasped and opened your eyes as you landed on JungKook’s bed. You looked around for him, and when you finally saw him, he was staring into the bedroom mirror, assessing the damage you had done to his neck. Even from a few feet away you could see the red blemishes that were hickeys scattered across his tanned neck.

He turned to face you, and you noticed immediately that the look in his eyes had shifted from predatory to purely animalistic. He made his way over to where you laid, sprawled eagle across his bed and unceremoniously popped the button on your skirt, albeit ripping it from your legs.“I told you not to leave marks, Y/N,” He said, voice low and threatening “You didn’t listen.  Now, I have to punish you.” Any normal person would be terrified when they heard a member of a violent gang threaten to punish them, but his words only left you soaking wet.

“Punish me, daddy.” Your words spurred him into action as he pulled down your underwear.

He held you underneath your legs as he shifted your position so that your legs were hanging off the bed and your pussy was facing him. He knelt on the ground and began licking below your clit, purposely avoiding the area. The anticipation made his motions even more electric. Your excitement soon turned to desperation as he continued to torment you, not giving you the pleasure you so desperately craved.

“Kook, please.” You begged.

JungKook paused, raising his eyes to meet yours. “Please, what, baby girl?” he questioned, smirking. “this is punishment, remember? You don’t get to make requests.” Despite his words, he finally began licking your clit. You desperately raised your hips, attempting to buck against his mouth, but he held your hips down with his hands.

“Patience is a virtue, baby. Just lay back and let daddy take good care of you.”JungKook went back to eating you out, and you did your best to be patient, but damn was it hard.

You wanted him to give you more pleasure than he already was, you were greedy, you knew, but you needed to feel more of him. Kook seemed to sense this as he removed one hand from your hip and placed a finger at your soaking entrance.“Are you ready?” he questioned, and you nodded.

He gently inserted the first finger inside of you, using your juices as lube. He allowed you to adjust to the feeling before adding another finger and scissoring the digits together. You bucked your hips against his slender fingers, desperate for more friction. You needed it. You needed him, preferably inside of you. Somewhere in your pleasure induced haze, you became aware that this entire time, Kook had been giving you pleasure, never asking for anything in return.

You knew it was selfish.“Kook, stop,” you forced yourself to say.

JungKook did as he was told, staring up at you in confusion as he slowly removed his fingers from your opening.

“Are you even hard?” you questioned as you sat up on the edge of his bed, grabbing his hand and pulling him down to sit beside you.

You stared down at the bulge in his tight black jeans that assured you that yes, he was indeed hard if the straining fabric of his pants was any indication.“Are you kidding me, Y/N? I can get off just by listening to the sounds you make when I’ve got you moaning from my fingers alone,” he paused, allowing a smirk to form on his face.“ imagine the sounds you’ll make when it’s my cock.” The words got to you, you couldn’t deny that,  but you wanted to please him as much as he had pleased you.

You placed your hands on his chest, pushing him onto his back in your previously vacated position on the bed. Jungkook didn’t object, not seeming to mind you stepping up and taking charge. Based on the way that his pants seemed to get just a little bit tighter, you’d wager that your dominant side turned him on even more.“Spread your legs.” You commanded.

JungKook did as instructed, and you sat on your knees between his legs. Slowly and sensually, you began popping the buttons on your shirt one by one, letting the garment slide off your back. You undid the clasp of your bra and threw it onto the floor alongside your shirt, giving JungKook a perfect view of your body. You knew that just looking at your body turned him on just as much as touching you did. Licking your lips, you lazily began rubbing your hand over the bulge of JungKook’s dick, making him moan.

The fabric of his pants was impossibly tight, and you were surprised that he hadn’t ripped through them yet. His cock was straining against them, and you knew that the constraints were probably painful to him, but you were still feeling a bit vindictive due to his earlier “punishment” and weren’t quite ready to take mercy on him. You continued to rub his dick through his pants, hardly using any pressure at all.

JungKook groaned in frustration, eyes snapping open to glare at you.“Fuck Y/N. It hurts. Fucking unzip my pants or something.” he demanded, and you smirked. “This is punishment, baby boy. You don’t get to tell me what to do.” Rather than unzipping his pants, you straddled him, sitting directly on his hard member. You began grinding your pussy against his clothed dick, causing JungKook to moan in pain and pleasure. This time, he didn’t open his eyes when he spoke, seeming to have given up.

“If you make me cum in my pants, I’m going to make you fucking scream louder than you’ve ever screamed in your life.” His voice was calm, but you sensed the promise of his words.

Once you finished toying with him, he was going to fuck you through the mattress until your throat was raw from screaming, or sucking his cock, whichever came first.“I’m not going to make you cum, baby. I’m gonna bring you right to the edge; then I’m going to stop.” You said as you began pushing up his black t-shirt to reveal his abs while still gently grinding against him.

You traced the lines of his defined abdomen, smirking at the way his stomach tensed at your touch. You didn’t spend long on his abs, however. You had something that you wanted to try. You hitched his shirt up higher, revealing his nipples. You grazed your hand across his chest, just below them, watching for his reaction. JungKook didn’t move, though his body tensed, almost like he was anticipating what you were about to do. You took that as your cue to take the left one between your fingers, pinching it gently. JungKook bit his lip, attempting to stifle the moan that was fighting to escape.

You craned your neck downwards towards his chest, taking his other nipple into your mouth like he had done to you so many times before. This time, he couldn’t hold back the moan, instead letting it out through clenched teeth.“Y/N. I’m – I’m close.” He forced the words out, you released his nipple and lifted your head, kissing him passionately before sliding off him.

Finally, you took mercy on him and unzipped his pants, helping him kick them off his legs. Precum soaked through the front of his boxers, and you knelt down, sucking him off through the fabric. Before JungKook could complain, you pulled his underwear off, finally allowing his hard erection to spring free. He hissed when the cold air hit his hardon. It was red and oozing precum that looked too delicious for you not to get a taste of. You lowered your head again and took the tip into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks. You gradually took more of him into your mouth, silently thanking whatever god had blessed you with a limited gag reflex.

Once you had taken as much of him into your mouth as possible, you began fondling his balls. JungKook gasped and tensed, and you could tell that he was so close to sweet release. Exactly where you wanted him to be. You stopped, just as you had told him you would. Your goal wasn’t to get him off, no, it was to bring him right to the edge and then back off, allowing him to finish inside of you so that you could both experience that pleasure. 

You released his dick with a loud ‘pop’ and stared up at him. He was looking at you through barely open eyes, long eyelashes obscuring his vision.His lips were slightly parted, allowing rapid breaths to escape past them as his chest heaved.“Kookie,” You said as you got off of the bed. “do you have a condom?”JungKook nodded, pointing to his bedside table, apparently too fucked out to respond verbally. You reached into the drawer, pulling the last condom out of the box, making a mental note to get more, then tearing it open with your teeth.You got back on the bed, once again sitting between JungKook’s spread legs.

You rolled the condom onto his dick, smirking as he winced a little from the friction.

Once the condom was on, you shifted your position on the bed, so you were again hovering over him and reached down, holding his erection still. You met his eyes once more, waiting for permission. JungKook nodded, and you sunk onto him, moaning as his full length entered your tight heat. For a moment, you just sat on his dick, getting used to the feeling of having him inside of you. JungKook’s eyes closed, and his mouth went slack.

He was laying impossibly still, and you knew that it was because he was trying to make sure you were comfortable before he started moving. He was always considerate like that.

For someone whose job was to hurt people for a living, he was always so careful to make sure sex with him was as pain-free as possible. That was another reason why you had fallen for him. He didn’t love many people, but those who earned that endearment were loved immensely familiar pang of guilt overwhelmed you once again as you realized that he did love you.

The feeling was mutual, but he wouldn’t understand that if he found out that the only reason you had gotten with him was to get information from him. Well, that had been your original intention, but that had changed. Over the last few months, you had genuinely came to love him. You had broken the first rule of being undercover, becoming attached to the people you were infiltrating. By this point, you weren’t sure what decision you were going to make as far as staying with the gang and betraying the force, or vice versa.

You hadn’t reported back in weeks, and even when you had, it had just been vague reports stating that you hadn’t discovered any helpful intel yet. That had been a lie, of course.

During your time with them, the gang had carried out numerous heists, heists that you had actively participated in. At some point, you had stopped acting and genuinely began caring for the safety of the members. Hence why you had been so dead-set on editing the security footage to make sure that the security cameras hadn’t caught NamJoon’s face.

Despite this, you had been trained by the SPD for years, and everything about your current situation made you want to scream. The little voice in the back of your head reminded you daily that these men were criminals, yet you still wanted to protect them. Mostly, you wanted to protect JungKook. Not long after the thought passed through your mind, JungKook grunted, bringing you back to the present. You were still sitting on his cock, not moving.

Although, you noticed, that he didn’t seem to mind. The grunt had been one of pleasure, not frustration. You smirked as you realized that JungKook was turned on just by you sitting on his dick. You momentarily pushed your guilt to the back of your mind and decided to toy with him.“Are you getting off just from me sitting on your dick, Kookie? You don’t even need me to move; you just like having me warm your cock, right?” You questioned, biting your bottom lip as JungKook tensed beneath you.

He didn’t answer, but his reaction was answer enough. You decided to take mercy on him and teasingly moved, bouncing up and down softly. JungKook moaned, grabbing onto your hips hard enough to leave marks.“Faster, baby. Fuck yourself harder on my cock."You did as you were bidden, rocking your hips down harder onto JungKook’s length, causing you both to moan in unison. JungKook thrusted his hips upward, intensifying the feeling as you rocked on his dick.

Sweat was dripping off of his brow as he fucked you, and the exertion on his face had to be one of the sexiest things you had ever seen in your life. All too soon, JungKook’s hips stilled."Gonna. Cum.” He said, enunciating his words with a moan deep in his throat. Seconds later, JungKook grunted, and his expression went slack as he released his load into the condom.

You were nowhere near cumming, but you knew that the overstimulation of still being inside of you would be too much for him, so you stood, letting his now limp dick slide out of you. JungKook glanced at you through one open eye as you laid down beside him. He felt fucked out, which was obvious, but that didn’t stop him from being the caring person that he was.

“You didn’t finish.” He said matter-of-factly.

You shook your head.“I’m fine, though. You should go to sleep, NamJoon wants to have a meeting about the next heist in the morning."JungKook stared at you disapprovingly as he sat up on the bed.

"Y/N, baby. You know that isn’t how I operate. If I finish, you sure as hell do, too. We’ll sleep when we’re both exhausted.” He leaned forward, planting an almost chaste kiss on your lips. “Spread your legs for daddy.” You did as you were told, spreading your legs apart, revealing your dripping pussy.

You could have cum right then and there when JungKook licked his lips like he was anticipating devouring his favorite food. JungKook shifted his position on the bed, reversing your previous positions as he situated himself between your spread legs. He ducked his head between your thighs, using a finger to separate your folds, revealing your clit to him. He started with gentle, kitten-like licks on the sensitive bundle of nerves, then gradually increased the pressure. Your legs shook as his tongue lowered, delving in and out of your entrance. You could feel the vibrations against your pussy as he hummed. He soon replaced his tongue with a finger, inserting it inside your entrance.

You moaned when the digit pressed against your spot, making you squirm.“Daddy!” You stuttered, and he stopped, sitting up to look at you with a smirk. Sensually, he retracted his finger and while making eye contact with you, began licking it clean of your juices.“Mhm.. you taste delicious. My favorite drink.” he enunciated his point by returning to his position between your legs, once again abusing your clit. You were so close, you could feel it as your cunt tightened and your breath began coming out in quick, strained pants.

JungKook seemed to notice as well as he began sucking on your clit and fingering you simultaneously. You pinched your left nipple between your fingers, intensifying the pleasure.“Cum for me, baby girl. Show daddy how good he makes you feel. Show me how much of a slut you are for my tongue.” That did it. You came with a scream of his name, legs ceasing up and then going limp.

JungKook sat up, licking his lips before reaching out, brushing your hair away from your sweaty forehead.

“Such a good girl."You threw your arm around his neck, making him lay down beside you.

You lazily kissed him before snuggling against his chest. You felt him shift slightly, then felt the warmth of the blanket as he covered both of you up. He kissed your forehead, and that was the last thing you remembered before falling asleep. 

You woke up to the warm feeling of being pressed against JungKook’s chest. You blinked your eyes open, looking up into his face. His eyes were closed and his breathing shallow.

He was still asleep.

Despite being asleep, his arms were still wrapped securely around you, making it impossible to move without waking him up.You glanced over at his bedside, staring at the numbers on the electric alarm clock. It was 7:30 - he’d have to wake up in thirty minutes to get ready for the meeting, anyway. You shifted in bed, slowly sitting up.

JungKook’s grip went lax, and his arms slid off your waist, allowing you to move freely.“Kook,” you said, nudging him in the ribs “wake up, baby.” He groaned, grabbing your hand and pulling you down onto his chest.

“Five more minutes?” he slurred, and you shook your head against his chest. You broke away from his grasp, sitting back up.

“We have to get dressed, NamJoon said not to be late to the meeting.” JungKook opened one eye and then the other, blinking sleepily.

Groggily, he reached up and caressed your cheek gently.“You look beautiful in the morning.” You barked out a laugh, rolling your eyes.

“Are you delusional? I have crusty eyes, and I haven’t brushed my teeth. God, not to mention how my hair must look.” You argued, running your fingers through your hair in a fruitless attempt to comb through your bedhead.

“You’re still beautiful,” he said, more firmly and coherently this time. “so fucking beautiful, Y/N.” He bit his lip seductively, staring at you with something other than sleepy innocence in his chocolate eyes. He pulled you down once again, and you shared a leisurely kiss.

The kiss became heated, however, when JungKook’s tongue entered your mouth.“JungKook,” you said warningly, pushing him away from you “meeting.” you reminded him.

“Mhm,” he responded, sitting up and once again, attached his lips to yours “I didn’t forget.” he said as he laid back, pulling you down on top of him. You were both still naked, so you could feel his hardening dick perfectly as it brushed against your inner thigh. You couldn’t deny that the feeling made wetness seep between your legs. You gave in. You were sure that the two of you could fit a quickie into your schedule if you rushed to get ready for the meeting.

Or maybe it was the sudden horniness you felt that was turning your thoughts to mush. Whatever the reason, you reached down, grabbing JungKook’s dick, stroking it to full hardness. You kissed him, softly at first, then you allowed him to lead the kiss. His tongue found its way into your mouth, curling against yours in an intricate war for dominance. You let JungKook lead, matching his movements as he began rutting his hips, grinding his dick against you as you laid on top of him.

You were already wet; it never took long for JungKook to turn you on. You wanted more, though. You broke the contact of your lips against his, rolling off of him onto the other side of the bed. JungKook seemed to understand what you wanted, sitting up and smirking at you."What do you want Daddy to do?” he questioned, voice still gruff from sleep, making the question sound even sexier. “Do you want me to eat you out?"You nodded, blushing. Normally you didn’t get embarrassed during sex, but you could tell that Kook was playing a role. He wanted you to be flustered.

"Please, Daddy.” you said, biting your lip as you stared up at him through half-lidded eyes.“Such a naughty girl,” JungKook said, tsking as he grabbed both of your legs.

“Spread em’ for me, baby.” You did as you were told, spreading your legs to reveal your dripping pussy to him. JungKook wasted no time, situating himself between your spread legs and immediately nestling between your thighs. First, he teased you by blowing cold air onto your sensitive bud, causing you to squeeze his head between your thighs. You crossed your ankles over his back. As a result, the added pressure pushed his face closer to where you wanted it to be. JungKook took that as his cue to stop his torturous teasing, instead opting to lick your clit once.

He stopped, as if tasting your juices, then he took another, longer, more drawn-out lick.

Your legs shook as his tongue delved in and out of you, making you cry out in complete ecstasy.“Oh god, JungKook.” you moaned, clenching your thighs together as JungKook’s tongue wrecked you.

“Yes, baby?” JungKook said, stopping and pulling away from your dripping pussy with a cocky grin.

“Don’t be an ass.” You choked out, grabbing his hair and forcing him to resume his previous ministrations.

He did, but not without a final snarky comment. “Oh, stop pretending you don’t love it when I tease you. You can deny it all you want,” he said with a smirk, licking a trail from your dripping entrance all the way to your clit, “but your pussy.. it doesn’t lie.”

“Stop - talking,” you said, forcing the words out along with a broken moan. “we-don’t have much time.” as if to enunciate your point, noises could be heard coming from the rooms of the other members of the gang as they all got ready for the upcoming meeting.

JungKook hummed, increasing the speed of his licks. You could feel your orgasm approaching rapidly, and you clenched your legs together, encasing JungKook’s head between your thighs as you cried out, your back arching off the bed. He continued eating you out, reaching up to pinch one of your nipples between his fingers for extra stimulation. The added pleasure was too much as your body tensed up, and you grabbed hold of JungKook’s hair to ground you as you came with a cry of his name.

JungKook sat up on the bed, leaving you panting on your back in the throes of your orgasm. He reached into his bedside drawer, most likely rummaging around for a condom.

“The box is empty,” you said helpfully, the words still coming out in strained gasps.

Jungkook frowned, reaching for your purse sitting in the floor by the bed. As his hand clasped around the strap, your mind made the connections your post-orgasm brain had failed to realize.

Your badge was in your purse.

You had left it in there after your last meeting with your superiors, the meeting where you had decided to stop reporting in. Due to sentimental reasons, you hadn’t been able to throw it out, not to mention that one of the boys might have spotted it when taking out the trash. Now, JungKook, the main person you didn’t want to find out about your double life, was about to discover your true identity.

He was only looking for a fucking condom.

All because of stupid sentimentality.

You barely considered yourself a cop now, why the hell did you need a stupid piece of metal to prove to yourself that you had once thought differently? JungKook was already digging through your purse, searching for one thing and not realizing that if he continued his pursuit, he would find much more than he’d bargained for. Your badge was at the bottom of your purse, covered by all of the other shit you carried with you, but you were sure that was where the condoms were as well, considering how your luck tended to run. You grabbed hold of your purse; attempting to rip it out of JungKook’s grasp, in your desperation of protecting yourself, you didn’t realize how suspicious you looked. Instead of going slack like you anticipated it would, JungKook’s grip on your purse tightened and he pulled it away from you, giving you a look that you couldn’t quite read.

“Y/N, is there something you feel like you need to hide from in here?” JungKook questioned, halting his search for a moment to stare into your eyes. You laughed awkwardly, and the sound seemed hollow even to your own ears.

You’d never been a great liar.

You could act with a well-rehearsed script, but on the spot, when your defenses were down, you were obvious, and you were sure JungKook could see right through you.

“Why would you think that? I just don’t like people going through my purse without permission.” you said, hoping he would believe you and that would be the end of it.

Of course, you could never be so lucky.

“Because you usually don’t care if I go through your purse.”

“Yeah, but usually you have my permission to go through it!” you cried in desperation. JungKook’s jaw tightened, and his gaze moved back to the purse in his hands.

“Is there any particular reason why this time is different?” he questioned, and you couldn’t answer.

No matter what happened, you’d be fucked. You couldn’t lie to him on the spot; he’d see through your facade and keep looking through the purse because it’d prove to him that he had a reason to be suspicious. The result would be him finding the badge. On the other hand, you could tell him the truth, which would have the same result .With tears forming in your eyes, you realized that the jig was up.

“I’m so sorry, JungKook,” you said, your voice cracking as tears streamed down your cheeks.

JungKook didn’t answer but began his search through your purse anew. You knew the exact moment when he found the badge. You’d been trained to watch body language, and when JungKook’s body tensed up, you knew that his hand clasped around the piece of metal that signified the ultimate betrayal. He pulled your badge out of the purse, letting the bag fall to the floor at his feet. He turned the heavy badge over in his hand, gripping the edges tightly enough that you were sure it would draw blood.

An eternity seemed to pass before he finally looked at you, but when he did, his eyes were dead, devoid of emotion as his tongue pressed against his cheek. JungKook didn’t say a word as he stood up and turned his back to you. You couldn’t see past your tears, but you heard the crash as he threw your badge against the wall, chipping the paint and leaving a small dent.

“JungKook, please let me explain!” you begged, jumping off the bed and throwing your arms around his waist. His muscles were tense, and being this close to him, you could hear how fast his heart was beating.

“Let go of me,” he ordered after a moment of strained silence.

You didn’t listen, moving from his back to the front, so you could look into his eyes for any signs that you could reason with him. The normally chocolaty brown orbs were nearly black, and you could see no trace of the man you loved so dearly inside of them. Most of all, you saw none of the love he normally had for you. Still, you had to try.

You threw your arms around him again, laying your head on his chest as near incoherent apologies spilled out of your mouth. He didn’t push you away, and for a moment, you wondered if he was willing to listen to you, but then, his next words made you realize that you couldn’t have been more wrong.

“For the last fucking time. Let.Go.Of.Me!” he yelled the last word, and you jumped, genuinely scared of him for the first time. You backed away, allowing him to maneuver his way past you to his closet. Shit, you’d forgotten all about the meeting that he had just moments to get ready for. You watched as he slipped on a pair of boxers, followed by his normal black get-up. He didn’t look at you again until he was fully dressed, however, when his eyes finally met yours, you wished that they hadn’t.

“Pack up your stuff, and get the hell out of here. If one of the others finds out that you’re a rat, they’ll fucking kill you. I’ll tell them that we had a huge fight or something.” JungKook commanded as he walked towards the door. You began crying even harder when you realized that despite everything, JungKook was still trying to protect you.

“Why don’t you want them to know? I thought you’d want me dead. I betrayed you, JungKook.” you reminded him. He turned around to face you, a humorless smile on his face.

“Because, Y/N, I loved you. I tried so fucking hard not to fall for you, but I did anyway. And, what’s worse?” he questioned, shifting his eyes to the floor. “I know I still love you or this wouldn’t hurt so much. You’re right, anyone else, I probably would have let the others kill you or done it myself. You’re different. I’d never forgive myself if something happened to you on my account, no matter how badly you hurt me. So, I’m telling you for the last time, I want you to get out before that changes.”

Without another look in your direction, JungKook left, slamming the door behind him. As soon as the door slammed shut, you collapsed to the floor, your legs no longer possessing the strength to hold you up. In a matter of minutes, your world had come crashing down. There was only one more thing for you to do, and that was to add fuel to the fire. You had to tell the rest of the members of the gang the truth, even if it meant they’d kill you. You couldn’t stand the thought of making JungKook lie to them for you when lies were what had gotten you into this mess in the first place.

You had to come clean, even if you would burn for the truth.

[morganas-pendragons]

Saudade (Longing For The Lost) | R.M.

This fic might be the hardest thing I’ve ever written. Rowena was a character who stuck with me pretty much from the moment she was introduced, and after watching her die in All Along The Watchtower, this one was absolutely traumatizing enough to the point where it’d been 6 days and I’m still crying when I see gifs. 

SO FOREWARNING, THIS CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR 15x03 AND IS NOT A HAPPY FIC. IT IS SAD. IT IS DEPRESSING. It is also told from the perspective of Rowena’s female best friend, and the prompt I was given by @victoriasagittariablack​ was Rejection. 

Prompts for Rowena and Castiel are OPEN. Tagging @marril96​ @royalrowena​ @rowenaswife​ and please tag anyone else who would read this. I’m rather proud of it. 

In loving memory of Rowena Macleod, who is currently sitting on Hell’s Throne because I am in that much denial and I really don't believe this is the end of her. She’s too important. 

There are some words that are untranslatable in other languages. One of those words felt appropriate for the title of this story I’m about to tell you. In Portuguese, it is called Saudade - or, simply put, longing for the lost. 

When the world keeps taking what you have to give, it’s normal to want what you no longer have anymore. And for you, that thing you no longer had was a person, and her name was Rowena Macleod. 

Rowena came crashing into your lives about five years previously as a threat to the Winchester brothers - Sam and Dean - and the angel, Castiel. She’d gone on a killing spree that ultimately had ended up with her in Hell where her long forgotten son Crowley had been King for what felt like an eternity at that point. Cue familial conflict, right? 

You were a powerful hunter. A good one, at that. When a powerful hunter meets an equally powerful witch, one of them should be afraid of the other, right? You could speak Latin incantations as well as she could, even with the centuries of age difference, but your aptitude for magic was nothing compared to hers. But out of all the qualities to compare the two of you, there was one you had that she didn’t. 

An ability to see people for who they were. 

When you looked at Rowena, you didn’t see a witch on a path of revenge. You saw a woman abandoned by the one who claimed to love her, left to die on her birthing bed, cast out by her peers for accusations of performing witchcraft, and a mother who had abandoned her son to die at the mere age of 8. You saw years worth of rage and guilt and shame. You saw what the Winchester brothers didn’t, and that was why they let her live. 

They captured you in Hell, left you in a cell so you couldn’t tell the brothers that Lucifer was inhabiting Castiel. That was the first time you saw her die. Crowley never forgot the sound of such a piercing scream echoing within the depths of his palace. Sure, hell had enough tormented souls, but no soul knows torment like a soul who knows loss as an old friend. 

  “You are literally the only person on this planet who makes my mother act like a decent human being.” Crowley muttered as he fumbled with the key he’d snatched from Lucifer that unlocked your cell door. “And Lucifer only kept you down here so you don’t rat him out to the Winchesters.” Your eyes widened as the King of Hell stepped away only to gesture to the front doors of the throne room. “Do me a favor, and kick him hard where the sun doesn’t shine.”   

“For Rowena?” 

He nodded solemnly. “For Mother.” 

You and Crowley had an understanding from that point forward when it came to the topic of Rowena. She should’ve been afraid of you because you were a hunter, you should’ve loathed her because she defied every instinct your upbringing had given you. She should’ve been dead the moment you met. It’s what Dean would’ve done. 

But your heart often ruled over your head when it came to your best friend, and so the two of you began seeing each other as the other wanted to be seen. Human. Broken. The one’s who lost and lost and lost some more.. but gained something when they found each other. 

Which was how you found yourself screaming at the top of your lungs from inside a little crypt in a cemetery during the end of the world. 

This plan was supposed to be easy. Castiel and Belphegor would go to Hell for Lilith’s Crook, Dean would stay outside to throw Rowena’s hex bag into the rupture, Sam and Rowena would remain within the crypt to perform the spell while you guarded it in case something caught the rest of you off guard. 

  “What about me?” 

She smiled at you from across the crypt while rifling through her bag for the ingredients. “I need my best protector on the outside of the Crypt in case anything catches us off guard outside.” Rowena replied. “Doing what you do best, Y/N. Protecting the ones you love.” 

Did she not realize that also included her? 

You had just barely managed to open the doors to the crypt when Rowena caught sight of you in the midst of tearing into her shoulder with one of the knives that had been laying around. Sam whipped around at the sound of the doors opening, brow furrowed when he realized that something stood between you and him. 

  “Sam! Sam, you have to-” You slammed your hands against what you’d both thought was thin air but instead happened to be some type of magical barrier. Your heart dropped. She was trying to keep you out. 

No no no. 

  “Rowena?” Sam questioned as Rowena dug through her shoulder and removed what looked to be a miniaturized hex bag. “What is this barrier between Y/N and us? And why is it up?” 

Green eyes slowly lifted until they caught sight of you. Your jacket discarded, hair wildly framing your face as it had been pulled out with the wind outside, eyes wide and desperate as you kept trying to get her attention but to no avail. Nothing was gonna stop her now. Not even you. 

  “There’s only one way this ends now.” She held the item between her fingers. “My last resurrection satchel. I won’t need this where I’m going.” 

At that point, you were panicking. Dean was still outside probably wondering what had happened in Hell, Castiel and Belphegor were still gone, and now here you stood facing your worst fear, again. She’d already been taken from you twice. Sam wasn’t going to kill her, he couldn’t, he wouldn’t do that to her, to you. Not with all you’d lost. 

  “What do you mean where you’re going?!” Sam exclaimed. 

  “Hell is closing, the walls are falling-” 

He shook his head vigorously. No. It wasn’t going to come to that. He wouldn’t let it. Not after the way she’d made him feel, not after he’d finally found that one person who understood the darker part of himself he never let anyone else saw. She was the only one who could empathize with that besides you. His best girl behind that barrier, and the woman he’d come to care deeply for mere feet in front of him. 

  “There has to be another way.” 

Her hands gripped the knife tighter and drew it closer to her abdomen. She was testing him, goading him into driving that vile thing into her so they’d fulfill the prophecy Billie had spoken so long ago. 

  “I put that barrier up because I knew once Y/N figured out what I was intending to do that she would fight like hell to stop me. That’s always been my favorite quality about her.” Both of them looked to the barrier where you had yet to move away from, hands pressed against it and eyes wide with a fear Sam knew all too well. “Her loyalty. Now, though, she can’t hear us Sam. We can’t hear her. It has to be this way.” 

  “If you’re going to.. to do this.. shouldn’t you let her say goodbye?” He kept trying to ignore the tears blurring his vision and his sight of her. “After all the two of you have done for each other, Rowena.. this isn’t how she should remember your last day together. Split apart like this. It’s not... it’s not right.” 

While Sam had a point, Rowena believed that distancing herself from you even in a physical sense would make this final death so much easier. She didn’t want you to mourn her, to spend your nights trembling in fear of remembering the day she’d died before your eyes again when you slept, she didn’t want you to grieve. She wanted you to live, to move on, to find someone better then her. 

  “I can’t.” 

That was her rejection. The first time she’d ever rejected you would also be the last time. Rejecting your closure, rejecting your goodbye, rejecting you no matter how much her heart told her otherwise. 

Sam couldn’t look at you then. After all you’d been through and all you’d done to help Rowena become a person that she could be proud of, the last thing you deserved was to watch one of your best friends kill the other. It would either make you or break you. 

He imagined the latter. 

 “I don’t care about anything enough to take my own life. Not you, not Y/N, not your brother, not even the world.” You liar. You care more about her then anyone else. You taught her how to protect herself when conventional weapons wouldn’t work, you taught her how to trust people and how to learn to love people again. She taught you the very same things. You made each other better. “I believe in prophecy, I believe in magic. I’m here and you’re here and everything we need to end this right now is in our hands!” 

She was mere feet in front of you. You were on the upper portion of the stair case, and Rowena was only four steps in front of you. If the magical barrier intending to keep you out hadn’t been in your way, you would’ve very easily been able to reach out, grab her dress, and pull her right into your arms. But when your best friend was a centuries old witch, nothing was ever that easy. 

  “You turned this ancient, angry witch into someone worthy of redemption, Y/N.” She took your hands in her own and smiled that very, very rare smile that you committed to memory because it was beautiful. She always was beautiful. Beautiful in the way that stars are when they fall. “I’ll never be able to thank you for that.” 

Your heart lurched as she and Sam fought over the knife poised over her abdomen. You knew it then in your heart of hearts that this was the last time you’d see your best friend, your girl, the one person who you’d sacrificed everything for.. and she was about to die without letting you tell her goodbye. 

  “I know this in my bones. It has to be this way.” 

Sam cannot do this. Not with you right behind her, on your knees, eyes screwed tightly shut and tears falling down your cheeks and into the dirt on the staircase. 

  “Do it! Kill me Samuel!” 

He hesitated. Rowena saw his eyes flicker from the knife back to behind her where you knelt, practically screaming at the top of your lungs that one of them would hear you and that this would all stop. 

  “I know we’ve gotten quite fond of each other, haven’t we?” Her grip on his shoulder tightened as she feigned a smile. Sam resisted the urge to spew the bile rising in his throat because how could she smile when he was forcing himself to kill her? How could she smile when she was leaving you behind? “Y/N saw it too. She always did have an eye to see the things about me I couldn’t see myself. But will you let the world die, let your brother die, let Y/N die.. just so I can live?” 

You’re both crying at that point. You just want to wake up, wake up, wake up-

  “No.” 

Before he can shove that knife into Rowena, she stood on her tiptoes and whispered something in his ear as Sam wrapped his arm around her waist and slid the blade into the soft flesh of your abdomen. Rowena was thankful that barrier was sound proof on both ends, because if she’d had to hear your scream she wasn’t sure if she’d be able to go through with this. 

Your throat was hoarse. Your fingers were trembling, and you wanted to punch something, anything, until you bled as much as she was in that moment she drove the knife deeper to ensure it had worked. 

  “If you ever need me, Rowena.. If you ever need me, I’ll come running. Say the word and I’ll be there.” 

She can’t need you. Not right now, and not ever again. She can’t need you because she’s about to throw herself into the deepest pit of Hell, she’s about to make your greatest fear come alive and lose you forever. She can’t need you. She can’t. 

Everything goes in slow motion after that. Rowena whispered a Latin incantation to release the barrier and Sam surged forward to wrap you tightly enough in his embrace that you couldn’t go after her, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t stop trying. You had to fight for her. Why was nobody fighting for her?!

Castiel saw you first, then Dean did. Both men watched as you went limp in Sams embrace and turned yourself away from Rowena so you didn’t have to watch her kill herself. 

Rowena looked back over her shoulder to gaze at the tiny family she’d been brought into when the two of you had met. She took one last look at Sam, then at you, and said, “Goodbye boys. Goodbye Y/N.” 

When you opened your eyes again, she and the rupture were gone. Defeat sank into your bones like an overwhelming weight, and you turned far enough into Sam’s chest that you could cry without being seen. He sat himself down on the grass and buried his face in your hair, and the two of you mourned together. 

Rowena and her damned sacrificial side, Rowena and her stupidly large heart, Rowena and her want to save everyone.. All of it. You were so angry that she’d just gone and done the one thing you’d never anticipated she’d do and wouldn’t allow you a goodbye. 

  “Castiel,” You called out to the angel who drew nearer at the sound of your voice. “Knock me out.” 

  “Y/N-” 

All three men winced at the ferocity of your scream, “DO IT! Knock me out! Anything is better then this!” Your body went limp as you tilted your head up to gaze at the angel. “I just want it to be over.”

  “Want what to be over?” 

  “This nightmare.” 

When the angel’s fingers touched your forehead, you thought you’d see darkness. You didn’t. You saw Rowena. You wanted to tell her everything was going to be okay. To assure her that she deserved a good ending, a happy ending, but you can’t. 

Because she’s gone, and you were still here. 

A tragedy really. 

***

The nightmare you wanted to be over wasn’t over. It was real. 

Two weeks passed. Two very bleak, angry, sad weeks passed before you forced the boys to let you make an empty grave outside the Bunker. You’d called someone in Lebanon who made stones and had a very simple one delivered right to the door which you put in front of the neat grave that took you three hours to dig. 

Rowena Macleod. 

Selfless. Beloved. Redeemed. 

Castiel had left the same day that Rowena had died. You hadn’t heard from the angel since, but you hoped he was getting the care he deserved. You weren’t entirely sure what was going on between the two of them, but you knew enough to know that Cas did not deserve what Dean had been putting him through since Jack had killed Mary. You’d spent so much of your time grieving with Sam in the safety of his bedroom that you hadn’t paid much attention to the older Winchester. He hadn’t loved Rowena like you and Sam had. 

  “I know you have a lot to say.” Sam turned away from the grave and wiped beneath his eyes. It was the most defeated you’d seen him look probably the entire time you’d known him, and your heart broke that he’d had to endure this to begin with when he’d just realized he loved her. “I’ve said what I need. I’ll leave you to yours.” 

You were alone. 

Everything felt colder now. Rowena was dead, Ketch was dead, Jack was dead. Castiel was gone, of where you had no idea. Dean was about ready to drink himself into an alcoholic coma and if it wasn’t for you, you’d imagined Sam would be in a similar situation. Your precious little family was destroyed, and you didn’t even have the closure you needed to mourn Rowena properly. You hated her for that. 

But your relationship with her was why you now stood over this grave. 

  “I’m not entirely sure what to say here, Ro. I know I watched you throw yourself into that pit, and really.. now that I’ve had time to think about it, it’s the one death you had that was on your own terms. You did what you did to save the world, and for that I am beyond proud of you.” You buried yourself deeper into your coat and tucked your hands into the pockets. “But I’m so angry at you for rejecting the one thing I needed to be able to mourn you properly. I know our time together was short, but you were the best friend I’ve never had because we both knew loss as an old friend. I clung to you just a little too much, and that’s why this is so much harder because you were all I had besides the boys. And now I’m alone.” Bitter laughter broke past your lips. “Sam and Dean are alone. We’re all alone. Some part of me doesn’t quite feel like you’re actually gone. Maybe it’s my rational side, maybe it's the fact that I’m in denial. I don’t know.” 

You reached into your coat and pulled out two thin silver frames. The one in your left hand was one of Fergus she’d kept with her for years. The one in your right hand was the last picture you’d taken on a random day after her altercation with Death, when you’d driven her and yourself god knew how many miles away from the Bunker for a girl’s day. Of all things. Best part of that was how much you’d both loved it. 

  “It’s okay, sweetheart. It’s okay. You fought the good fight. You did your part. I think my life was better honestly because you were such a crucial part of it. You learned how to open up to people again, how to love again, and it made you a better person. You’re a hero to me, to Sam, to Castiel. We love you.” You laid both photos down on either side of the gravestone. “If it’s time for you to go, it’s okay. Be peaceful.” 

*** 

There stands four graves in a little clearing outside a bunker in Lebanon, Kansas. Three of them are full, and one of them is empty. Castiel and Jack Kline stand vigil over their fallen, rulers of Heaven, the last of the Heavenly Host. 

  “Cas, do you know what that saying is on Y/N’s stone?” He pointed to the stone directly beside Rowenas. Castiel paused and allowed his eyes to read the world several times. He’d heard you say it a lot after she’d died. After losing almost everyone and everything that mattered to you, you’d been resigned to death when it’d finally come for you. Dean and Sam had tried to get through to you, but when you’re going up against God.. no one comes through that alive. Not even the Winchesters. You’d accepted death with open arms. You’d surrendered to it. “Saudade-” 

  “I think she said it meant longing for the lost.” He replied. Jack watched his father’s eyes soften as they read Dean’s gravestone. It was a daily ritual for him almost a year after three hunters, a fallen angel, a witch and a nephilim had saved the world. “Y/N spent a lot of time doing that.” 

On a throne made of gilded gold in Hell, Rowena Macleod ruled. She kept a picture of a girl’s day so long ago tucked away in her gown, and a tattoo of a word she’d never learned the meaning of etched into the skin on the inside of her forearm. 

Saudade: Longing for the Lost. 

She’d just never imagined that you would be the one who was lost.