#how am I supposed to live in a rapidly dying body?

[shattered-glass-system]

The last months/years are catching up. I can't take this. But I have to. Fun fact: told our therapist about our count of like 36 alters. His statement: well. Expect like 20+ more. (the count is just a thing for the plural app .. doesn't include a lot etc)

I won't heal from this thing. This unsure thing. I can't let go. I need them. But I love them. I can't go back to being only friends. I want to kiss them. Tell them 'I love you'. Since I'm too damaged to keep things up regularly I was like... I'm fine with visits every 3-4 months and unregular texts.

But it's .. I'm not enough. I'm never enough. I'm always too broken. And I'm sorry. I never wanted to be too broken.

[deadsetromance]

any jet star or fun ghoul content 🙏 i adore your writing

A ROSE BY ANY OTHER NAME

not my gif!

fun ghoul x gn!reader

summary: you didn’t know loving someone could hurt this much. but god, you love him so much, you’re dying

warnings: angst, hanahaki, body horror, illness, blood, gore, mentions and graphic depictions of death/dying, no use of y/n, not proofread

note: thank you so much anon ! that made my day <3 i combined two prompts here! i had sososo much fun figuring out a way to work hanahaki into the killjoy universe. hope you all enjoy :))

there was no room for love in the cruel world you lived in. if your heart hadn’t been hardened by the drugs bli pumped into you, or the fear alone, the desert sun would wither it for you.

partnerships–if they were formed at all–were purely beneficial. you’d seen  it countless times. shell-shocked, desert hardened duos, with nothing left to cling onto but each other. 

you were part of the unlucky bunch. by some cruel joke the phoenix witch played, you found yourself tumbling head over heels for one of the fabulously famous killjoys. you’d met fun ghoul during a supply run which had gone costa rica. he’d saved your life, taken you under his wing, and somehow managed to run laps around your heart.

you weren’t entirely sure when you’d fallen in love with him. maybe it was when he patched you up after a run-in with a drac, scolding you for not being careful, his fingers leaving trails of goosebumps on your bare skin. it could have been one of the times you sat together on the roof of the diner, where you both mapped out made up constellations. if you had to guess, it would have been the time he’d shown you how to fix up a part of the trans am, his chest pressed up against your back as he whispered instructions to you. 

you would have been perfectly content running with your adopted crew of killjoys, denying the extent of your feelings for a certain black haired renegade. 

but fate was cruel, and reserved no mercy for you.  

☠︎ ☠︎ ☠︎ ☠︎

you had heard of it in rumors, whispers floating around in the sand until the origin was as lost as you were. they called them desert roses, blooming after unrequited love. no one knew where it came from. some suspected it was the work of bli. others pointed to otherworldly forces, or even some twisted form of survival of the fittest. there was only one thing about it that was certain. it was fatal. 

no one really talks about how painful it is. 

it starts with shortness of breath, deathly rattling coming from deep inside your chest as roses sprout in your lungs. it’s supposed to progress rapidly. one day you start coughing up rose petals, and within a week your throat is torn to shreds. when you die, roses sprout from your throat. whether you suffocate before or after is unknown.

 after all, no one has lived to tell.

☠︎ ☠︎ ☠︎ ☠︎

you hadn’t thought much of it at first. shortness of breath and rattling wheezes go hand in hand with the coarse sand of the desert. everyone gets static-throat at least once, but it goes away after a few days. 

after the third day you began to worry. the pain working its way up your chest paired with an unfamiliar tightness was concerning. and then came the coughing. it sounded like death, shaking you violently, to the point where fun ghoul would shoot you worried looks. 

“hey, you alright?” he’d asked you after one particularly bad coughing fit, arm draped around your shoulders. 

“‘m fine.” the hacking noise you made said otherwise. you coughed into your palm, surprised when you felt something wet. blood. 

it trickled down your arm, but what scared you most was the blood spattered rose petal lying in your palm. 

“what’s that?” you were quick to hide your hand, assuring him that it was nothing. “honey…you’re coughin’ blood.” 

you couldn’t say anything more after that, the sound of the pet name leaving his lips made your chest constrict so tight you could hardly breathe. 

☠︎ ☠︎ ☠︎ ☠︎

you’d never told anyone before, but you’d seen a body once. it was in one of the villages in the outskirts of zone four. it was just…lying there, the roses spouting from the poor soul’s mouth beginning to wilt under the scorching desert sun. someone was digging a grave.

that was you, in your nightmare. your decaying body replaced the one you had seen, bloody roses sprouting from your mouth. someone…fun ghoul, was digging your grave. he turned, locking eyes with you and…

you woke up screaming. your stomach flipped, and you ran out into the sand, spitting up a mix of stems and thorns. fun had followed you out, waking at the sound of your screams. you kicked sand over the blood before he could see anything. 

“sweetheart…” at the sound of his voice you turned around again, watching in horror as rosebuds fell from your mouth. “hey. hey you’re not okay.” he was worried. you could hear it in his voice, but you couldn’t look at him. 

“i told you, i’m fine.” wiping the blood from your chin, you turned to face him. “i promise. ’s just sand in my throat…promise.” you could feel the stems creeping up your throat.

☠︎ ☠︎ ☠︎ ☠︎

you were dying. you knew you were. you couldn’t eat or drink because of the roses in your throat. you were withering away, and no matter how hard you tried to hide it from everyone, they still noticed. 

fun ghoul was ever so worried about you. by the time you realized his connection to the roses growing in your chest, you feared it would be too late. 

the sound of someone saying your name woke you up. “hi.”

“hi,” you whispered back. you couldn’t do much more than whisper at this point, your throat slowly being shredded by the thorns you would spit up. 

“i’m worried about you.” he pet your forehead, wiping away the sweat from your face.

“fun…” you could feel the tightness of your chest grow. you held in your cough. he couldn’t know. if he knew…

“you haven’t eaten, or drank, or…” his voice was shaking. or maybe you were just hallucinating. “you’re running a fever, and i know you’ve been coughin’ blood…just….talk to me. let me help you…please.”

he was pleading now, and it made you feel sick. you loved him, god you loved him so much, and he didn’t love you back, and now you were dying. that was it then. you would die, and he would never know how you felt. at least, not until it was too late.

you coughed so hard you saw spots. fun ghoul must have left the room at some point, but you didn’t notice.

you knew you were going to die tonight.

you didn’t know dying hurt so bad. you would feel yourself slip closer to death with each rattling gasp you took. you were dizzy and you couldn’t breathe, stuck in some sick limbo between alive and dead.

they say the phoenix witch grants you peace with happy memories before you die. maybe they were right, because in your not quite dead state, you saw it all. the bad jokes, and the nor so subtle flirting, and hell even the longing glances shared between you and fun ghoul. you saw the time he saved you all those years ago, and the time you scared him while he was working on the trans am. you saw yourself sparring with him, and the other killjoys laughing in the sunlight. you saw the time the both of you had got caught in the garage during an acid storm, all the times he had kissed you forehead, and the way you slept wrapped up in his arms.

you were going to die, but he had to know how you felt. 

your legs felt like jelly and you almost didn’t make it to the door. the walls spun and your body slammed into the doorframe of fun’s room. the handle wouldn’t twist bo matter how hard you tried, you were going to die outside his room and he would never know. 

you couldn’t even call his name, your voice gurgling behind blood and roses. vision going dark, you heaved one last time, your chest caving alongside the door.

it was dark, but you could still see him sitting up. he looked so…comforting, and you all but collapsed into him gasping as he stroked your face.

“hey, what’s goin’ on? wh-“

“i love you.” you were choking on the words as the tumbled out of your mouth, flowers blooming in the back of your throat. you couldn’t breathe but you had to tell him. “i love you and i’m going to die”

he didn’t say anything and you gasped, fighting to stay alive for just a little longer.

“please. i just…the flowers….say something…” your words died in your throat as a rose bloomed in your mouth, silencing you. it was over.

his panicked face would be the last thing you would see, and it would all be over…..except….“you love me…?” his voice was warm, and sweet, and tired, and it sounded like heaven. you couldn’t do anything but nod, choking on your last breath. “you love me…”

*** 

the sun was always warm in the desert. but it felt different today, kissing your skin as you curled up against fun ghoul, who had been whispering love letters to you all night. he had told you he loved you with everything he had, he had held you close as you both thought that you were going to die. but death never came. 

he had been oblivious to the way you felt…just as oblivious as you had been to him. it all meant something, the touches, and the jokes…it was all there. it didn’t matter much, you had each other now…and while your throat still burned from the rose that had bloomed over the week, the way he kissed you made you forget about it all…

he took you out to the roof that night, careful and slow and you coughed, watching as a great red rose fell from your lips, before it shriveled and turned into star dust, joining the rest of the sand that you called home.

“i love you…” his voice was soft, his fingers trailing over your skin and you couldn’t help but smile. 

you were tired, worn to the bone but you were alive. alive and perfectly in love.

[cutielando]

Hello, can I request for a sad onesot of draco x reader where the reader is dying and only has few days to live and draco tries to look happy for her even though he knows that he’s going to lose the love of his life forever?

LOSING YOU

my masterlist

Losing someone is hard. Be it a member of your family, a friend, a pet, an acquaintance.

But knowing you are going to lose the love of your life is a whole other kind of pain.

Draco knew that better than anyone.

You had been together ever since the Yule Ball in your 4th year, your relationship growing into the most beautiful and intense connection either of you had felt with anyone in your life.

Draco treated you like a queen and was the very definition of what a perfect boyfriend had to be like.

And yet, your happiness was always overshadowed by something. A virus, a variable which threatened your relationship on a daily basis.

Your illness.

Nobody knew what the illness was, or what were the triggers for it or anything. It was a mystery that nobody could solve. Not the best wizard, not the most skilled healer from St. Mungo's or any other wizarding trick.

There was no cure.

Despite this, you lived your life to the fullest, knowing that your time in this world was limited and could be cut short at any given time.

Your boyfriend was exactly the opposite. He believed you should be resting at all times, you shouldn't exert yourself and get tired, you weren't allowed to do much effort, he was treating you like a porcelain doll he was afraid would break so easily.

You didn't mind it, knowing it was just the fear in him acting out. You felt guilty that you were doing this to Draco, leaving him in the time when he needed you the most and your life together was just supposed to start.

At your last visit to your regular healer, you received the news that your illness was now progressing rapidly and you would soon be leaving this world behind. To say that the news completely broke both you and Draco would be an understatement.

You thought you had prepared yourself for this moment, but hearing that your time had finally expired was bringing a whole new meaning to everything.

Draco was devastated. He couldn't even find the words to process everything, he was just shocked and numb at the same time. He wanted to be strong for you, wanted to put on a brace façade so he wouldn't add to your stress and pain, but after all these years together, you could read him like an open book.

"Do you want to talk about it?" you had asked him that same evening while you were sitting in his bedroom at Malfoy Manor.

His family had invited you to stay with them during summer break, which you immediately agreed to.

"Talk about what?" he was trying not to look at you because he knew he would immediately burst into tears.

"You know what, don't make me say it" you whispered, this conversation being as hard for you as it was for him.

He sighed and put his head in his hands, still facing away from you.

You shuffled closer to him and put your arms around his shoulders, bringing him into your body. The moment he felt your touch he completely broke down, clinging to your body like his life depended on it.

You held him tightly, whispering sweet nothings in his ear to help calm him down. Seeing him so broken and sad was tearing you apart, especially because you knew you were the cause of it.

"I just can't lose you" he mumbled once he managed to calm down and slightly pulled away from you to be able to look at your face, but still staying in your embrace.

"I know, honey, I know. This is not easy for me either, you know?" you said, stroking his cheek and wiping the tears that were still falling from his beautiful eyes.

"How am I supposed to do this without you? I don't even know how to function without you by my side" the way his eyes gazed into yours with all the love he had for you, but so much pain at the same time, was wrecking you.

"You're going to be okay. You're going to mourn me for a while and then move on with your life. I don't want you to spend your entire future in mourning, love" you said, caressing the back of his head.

He sniffed and shook his head.

"I won't move on. I can't even imagine being with anyone else" he was determined, which made you smile sadly at him.

"Honey, your biggest dream in life is to have a family. How are you going to achieve that if you don't find yourself a wife?" your tone had a slight joking tone to it, in hopes to lighten the somber mood.

"I don't know, but it's not fair that I should be happy without having you by my side. Are you sure there is nothing that we can do?" he had been grasping at straws ever since you got the news, burying his nose in every medical book he could get his hands on.

You smiled sadly and shook your head.

"No, my love. This is it" Draco sighed and buried his head in your neck, his sobs now turned to quiet sniffles.

It was silent between the two of you for a good 10 minutes, neither of you knowing what to say anymore.

"You're going to be okay, my love. I'll be watching over you and I'll be right next to you in every step" you whispered, planting kisses on the side of his head.

You might not have much time left with Draco, but you were going to make sure you make the most out of what you have left.

And you were going to make sure Draco will be okay without you.

He had to.

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[bottoms-movie]

SAMBUCKY FIC RECS PT. 2

The first part did really really so I decided to make a second part of sambucky fic recs. Just as the last one: the fics are split into three categories: based on tfatws, canon divergence, and au. CHECK OUT PART ONE HERE All fics are completed and all are on AO3. 

BASED ON TFATWS

The Truths Beneath Our Ribs | Mature | 6,742 words

5 times Bucky wears Sam's things +1 time Sam wears something of Bucky's

anything you can do, i’ll do you better | Explicit | 5,526 words

Steve is going to kill them if they don't learn to get along, but did they have to take it so far?

making amends | Explicit | 8,645 words

“Not Cap yet,” Sam said. He looked a little ruefully at his hands, which were covered in nicks and cuts. He could already feel his palms bruising from that last shield catch, but at least nothing was broken this time.

“I respect that,” Bucky said slowly. Sam raised an eyebrow, but didn’t respond. Bucky flexed and unflexed the vibranium fingers of his left hand, a nervous habit that Sam had clocked ages ago. “And you’re right.”

“Thanks, I know.” Sam waited a beat. “About what?”

Muscle Memory | 3 parts | Explicit | 13,156 words part 1: Muscle Memory | Teen | 1,766 words

Barnes sighs, and it’s a deep, soul-weary thing. “Maybe no one ever told you this, but I’m telling you right now. You don’t have any obligation to care about me because Steve did. You don’t have to pretend.”

Sam blinks, taken aback. He has to think, really think, about what he says next, because it’s - it’s either going to build or break something.

You’re My World | Explicit | 6,585 words

“I… oh, I get it now.” Sam tilted his head, perceptive as ever, goddammit. “All this flirting with my sister, that was just to get my attention, wasn’t it? I know it was. Say it.”

“That wasn’t—” Bucky croaked, but Sam wasn’t having it.

He huffed a low laugh, and bulldozed right through Bucky’s feeble pretense. “You like it when I pin you against the wall? Take away all that power you have, that strength that your arm gives you? Make you feel small, maybe?”

Call Me By Your (Pet) Name | Teen | 6,928 words

“You got a list of the nicknames available to us lesser mortals?” Sam continued, staring straight ahead at the seat in front of him. “The ‘you’re not Steve Rogers, so don’t even think about it’ collection?”

“Yeah, sure, there’s a list,” Bucky replied, pausing long enough to draw a pointed look from Sam. “Bucky,” he finished, gesturing broadly with his arm to convey the obviousness of the answer.

5 times Sam and Bucky used pet names as a joke + 1 time they used them in earnest

That’s not very gunkle of you | 2 parts | 4,325 words part 1: Bestie Vibes Only | Teen | 1,822 words

“What’s buzzin’ cousin?” Says Bucky, sitting down next to Sam on the docks.

That’s the moment that Sam realizes he needs to change tactics, no more subtly looking up definitions for his weird old person slang, it’s time to fight fire with fire.

“Not much bro, this view is highkey just hitting different TBH” he says, casually looking out at the water.

There’s a beat of silence and then,

“That’s swell doll, I just ate some four-o cackle jelly with side arms, and I’m looking for some kicks, you dig?

Oh, this means war.

misunderstandings | Not Rated | 3,167 words

Sam thinks Sarah and Bucky had a date, and he's Not Okay

you walked into my life to offer me a better view | Teen | 2,534 words

He was standing twenty feet away at the edge of the docks, chatting with Sarah, and Sam couldn't take his eyes away. Bucky's smile was warm, wide, and when he tipped his head back and laughed, his nose scrunching up and eyes crinkling at the corners, Sam could feel it vibrate straight to his heart.

falling, falling, flying | Teen | 2,778 words

Bucky had kissed him.

And Sam had pulled away, because that beautiful golden sunset made Bucky’s hair gleam with the faintest touch of blond, that rare summer breeze hissed like a dying missile past Sam’s ears, the kiss was so familiar, too familiar, and Sam was falling, falling—

(“Let yourself be happy, Sam. Please.”)

lonely boy, you are my world (and i could be anything you need) | Teen | 5,747 words

It all starts with Sam, a shelter, and this sweet kitten that reminded him far too much of a certain century-old, grouchy super soldier.

too dangerous to fall | Explicit | 3,466 words

Bucky Barnes is a one-armed menace. He has murder eyes and no care for basic safety protocols. His jokes are terrible and his bad moods are worse. He’s a godawful roommate who leaves his wet towels on the floor and his combat knives in the linen cabinet. Sam can’t stand the sight of him.

What happens in Louisiana | General | 3,478 words

But just then, in the engine room of the Wilson family boat, away from prying eyes, it felt like something they both needed. The closeness. The warmth.

Steve would laugh at them. Two grown men not being able to get it together. He would roll his eyes at Buck, nudge him with his elbow and tell him “you’re sweet on Sam Wilson so make a move already, punk.”

keep the ashes from my heart (and walk away) | Explicit | 4,412 words

“Jamie asked me out on a date,” Sam says. Bucky swallows. “Took him long enough,” he says, keeping his tone light. He bumps their shoulders together for good measure. “You should go for it.” “You really think so?” Sam asks, looking at him. “Yeah, man,” Bucky says. He fixes his gaze on Torres, high up in the sky, sunlight glinting off his wings. It hurts Bucky’s eyes. He blinks, rapidly. “You should be with somebody who can make you happy.”

(In which Sam starts dating someone who is not Bucky, and Bucky pines, gets seriously injured, and proves himself wrong.)

Hey Samuel | Teen | 3,223 words

"Bucky."

"Yeah?" He looked up eyes wide. Did he say something out loud?

"We're walking the wrong way."

"Oh." Right. Um. "Let's get ice cream."

"I don't know about you, man, but if I eat ice cream in this weather I will get sick."

Bucky was at a loss for words. What now?

OR Ride along Bucky's journey of figuring out when exactly did he fall for Sam Wilson.

Anyday, everyday | General | 6,735 words

He moved his head and locked eyes with Sam. "D'you- can you.. help me cut my hair?" He asked. He forced himself to look away, feeling embarrassed for asking him to come all this way just to give him a haircut.

His stomach dropped when he felt Sam let go of his hand to stand up. Of course he was about to leave. Who wouldn't want to leave Bucky?

"C'mon, Buck. Let me cut your hair." Bucky's eyes snapped up to Sam's. He had a small smile on his face and his hand was reaching out, waiting for Bucky to take it.

Or; the five times Bucky fell more and more in love with Sam, and the one time he finally got the guts to tell him.

If You’ll Have Me | Teen | 4,779 words

Sam casually shrugged, although there was an intent look in his eyes, "Yeah, well it's getting late and I didn't feel like flying anymore so I was wondering if your old man self is okay with-"

"You can stay here." Bucky quickly finished for him.

I like Bucky, Sam I am | Not Rated | 2,653 words

"I would kiss you on the boat. Or in Wakanda by your goats."

Static in the Dark | Teen | 4,989 words

So prompt idea, some bad guy follows Bucky to the docks for revenge (over whatever you can decide) and Sarah gets to see how protective Bucky really is over Sam when he gets in the line of fire

CANON DIVERGENCE

A Different Kind of Problem | Explicit | 7,616 words

“Do you know what it feels like to be insatiable?”

Two months ago, an interrogation gone wrong left Sam with Bucky’s explicit words seared into his brain and body.

Now, Bucky is living in the Avengers Compound, making pancakes and wearing Steve’s huge sweatshirts, fluffy haired and a little shy, seemingly completely content to be on house arrest — and Sam has never been more confused. Whatever Steve thinks, Sam doesn’t have a problem with Bucky. This domesticity is just so at odds with the feral sexuality Bucky had used to rattle Sam during his interrogation. Where did that side of Bucky go? And why can’t Sam stop thinking about finding it? Maybe Sam does have a problem with Bucky… it’s just not the problem Steve thinks it is.

Bucky’s Choice | Not Rated | 4,753 words

When Bucky enters Westview to try to help Wanda Maximoff, he is confronted with something he never expected- Steve Rogers, back from the dead and ready to start a life with Bucky in Westview. It's everything that Bucky ever wanted, everything that Steve abandoned when he went back in time to live his life with Peggy Carter. But Bucky and Sam have been involved for months, and Sam is waiting for Bucky outside of the Hex. Bucky has to make a choice- the life he always wanted with Steve, or a new start with Sam?

tonight i’ll need you to stay | General | 2,227 words

For once, Bucky wants to stop leaving when things are finally looking up. And he wants people to stay with him, too.

(or, 3 times bucky needed an excuse to stay with sam, and the one time he didn't)

How to Win a Supersoldier in Ten Days | Explicit | 14,901 words

When they realize that all the Winter Soldier's interactions with Sam are just him trying to Awkward MurderBot Flirt (TM) with the sexy man, Steve, Tony, and Nat convince Sam to play the honeypot and bring Bucky in.

Sam's pretty sure the honeypot isn't supposed to fall in love with the target, but what can you do?

at the end of the war (what’s mine is yours) | Mature | 4,290 words

They don't talk about it: that's how it works.

warm blood (feels good, i can’t control it anymore) | Explicit | 4,492 words

Sam's just chilling watching TV one evening when Bucky comes in and stares at him silently for a minute or two before sitting down on the couch. He's pretty close to Sam.

Okay, he's really close to Sam. Like, Sam would be using the word 'cuddling' if it wasn't so bizarre.

"What," he says, carefully not looking at Bucky, and Bucky huffs a sigh.

"Steve's not here," he says as if it's obvious. "Don't make it weird. Just- shut up."

Caught With Their Pants Down | Explicit | 3,539 words

“Sam, this guy is not coming, the intel was false,” Bucky replied. “I get this whole ticking boxes and what not, but Rogers got it wrong, and for the love of God I need a fucking toilet.”

“You need to learn to plan your water intake better, is what you need. You’re a damn fool and I don’t know why I put up with you.”

“Because you love me,” Bucky replied, and Sam could hear the smile in his voice.

“In your damn dreams, Barnes.”

They’d been fucking for about six months, but Sam didn’t want Bucky to go getting a big head about it.

AU

sharp teeth, soft heart | 3 parts | 17,866 words part 1: you touch me within and so i (know i could be human once again) | Explicit | 12,444 words 

It’s inevitable, the way it goes. He’s my friend, Steve says, and he is, he is, he must be. Sam’s best friend is Steve, and Steve’s best friend is a werewolf, that’s just how Sam’s life works now.

But once he realizes he’s attracted to Bucky and Bucky can tell, everything becomes, like, a thousand percent more difficult to negotiate. Sam’s just trying to live his life, that’s all, and he keeps getting confronted by Bucky Barnes in a soft flannel shirt, sleeves rolled up, hair all soft and shiny. Bucky glances over at him and smirks, and this is really very embarrassing, how Sam can’t hide his attraction even if he keeps a totally straight face.

I’m so into you I can barely breathe | Explicit | 6,515 words

Sam Wilson had a long day dealing with morons, so he decided to finally go to the famous club in town. There he meets someone who just might get him back in a good mood. And then some.

twelve ounce steak (boxers in briefs) | Explicit | 3,753 words

Sam has pretty lips. Bucky seems to think so, too.

caught it bad (i’ll be on the way) | Mature | 4,830 words

Sam constantly gets roped into doing dumb things with Steve, but this time, it works out perfectly for him.

meet me in the a.m. | Teen | 3,147 words

Steve accidently starts a fire and Bucky's tired. When unbelievably hot firefighter Sam saves the day, though, he can't really be that mad.

i wanna savour, save it for later | Not Rated | 6,419 words

"It's his damn ratings, man," Sam says. "It's weird 'cause when you read the reviews, he seems to like our food and all. Nothing but praise for days. And then you get to the rating, and it's always the same. Three goddamn stars."

Bucky tips his beer bottle from side to side, lips pursing slightly. "I see. And that's… a bad thing?"

"We are not a three-star joint," Sam says flatly.

Or, the one where food truck owner Sam gets caught up in his quest to unmask an anonymous food blogger. Falling for one of his regulars was never on the menu.

we were a fire with no smoke | Explicit | 15,295 words

Sam can’t help but roll his eyes. Take the boys out of New York but they’re still Brooklyn Catholics, that’s clear enough. Bucky catches the gesture, smirks hard enough Sam can see his eye teeth. It should be dangerous but he’s beautiful, pale and charming and recklessly easy.

“You wanna come in?” Sam asks, ignoring the noise Steve makes, and Bucky’s smile gets wider.

“Yeah,” he says. Steps up close to Sam. “I do.”

my house of stone, your ivy grows | Teen | 9,042 words

When Sam Wilson inherits the manor of the old man he once took care of, it feels like his luck is finally looking up. It's an opportunity for a fresh start, something he's in desperate need of. When he arrives, however, it becomes clear that an easy transition into estate living is not exactly a possibility. The house is run-down, nothing like Sam remembers it, and the groundskeeper — who Sam apparently has to share the house with, wants nothing to do with him.

You Smiled Because You Knew | Teen | 3,754 words

"You've got the wrong address," the man who'd answered growled. He had long, scraggly hair that had mostly escaped his attempts to pull it away from his face. He had nice eyes, and wouldn't have been unattractive, especially with a shave, except for the scowl. "Nobody here wants or needs your . . . services."

It was apparent by the tone the man did not appreciate Sam's hard work.

Well, that was tough shit.

[lokisprettygirl]

Love is Selfless, It's Kind (Loki x female reader) (Part 17)

Summary : Loki couldn't save you from dying and now he has sworn to punish himself. But is he the only who's going to pay for it?

Warning ⚠️ : Emotional distress you're going to get from reading this , 18+

Taglist : @purplekitten30  @colifower  @rinacreateart  @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore  @christineblood  @delightfulheartdream  @the-wounded-healer05  @lokiprompts  @stitchinaride  @geeky-politics-46  @sharklover927  @virtualstrawberrydinosaur

You are dead, gone, he was supposed to protect you and he failed again, but this time you won't come back to him, he would never get to feel you, your affection again, he would never get the chance to make you the princess of Asgard, his wife, the mother of his children, all his dreams are shattered in just a second. Why wasn't he better than this? Why didn't he keep you more secure? It hasn't even been a minute since you were gone but it felt like a lifetime to him, he felt like he died too with you, he'll never be able to get over this. Never.

Eddie ran over to loki and saw him holding your lifeless body in his arms, you are dead but he still can do something or venom can. A symbiote can not only heal but also regenerate it's host, if he transfers venom in your body maybe you'd live again, even if it doesn't work he have to try. He crouched down to you and loki pulled you back "No stay away from her, she's not going anywhere, she'll stay with me forever" he mumbled mindlessly, his eyes burning with hopelessness, he won't let anyone take you. "Loki I'm trying to help just trust me with this okay, you don't want her to die right ?" He consoles loki and he finally looks at him "Pleaseee" Eddie held your right hand in his and black slimy venom comes out of him and gets inside you. "Come on come on venom you can do this, help her, you like her I know that, so bring her back" Eddie pleads and loki is just looking at you, hoping for a miracle. They saw the wound closing and healing rapidly but there was still no pulse or a heartbeat.

Eddie sighs when nothing happened and he looks at loki apologizing with his eyes. Loki was going to cry and scream again as he felt his last hope diminishing but then he felt it, he felt your hand twitching in his, he felt your eyes fluttering, and you woke up with a gasping breath, you sat up and coughed up residues of blood from your mouth. Wanda gasps and she sat down next to you. She squeezed Loki's shoulder and he finally snapped out, you were here, you were breathing, you were alive, you were alive. "What the hell happened?" You looked around and when he heard your voice that's when he finally moved, that's when he clutched you so tightly in his arms, you felt suffocated. "Loki baby" you whisper softly and he couldn't believe it, you are here with him and there's nothing more he could have asked for. He's still in a trance, he watched you die in his arms, are you back or he is just hallucinating?

"Don't you dare leave us like that again" wanda yells at you and she pulls you in for a hug almost snatching you from loki. You can't help but cry, you felt yourself drifting away but did you really die? How are you alive if you did "How am I alive" you mumbled and then you heard a voice in your head "Because of me, hello y/n, was waiting for a chance to get inside you" you yelped as you heard the voice and loki pulls you closer to him "what's wrong princess?" You look at him, he looks so defeated, so sad, so hurt, and you just want to calm him down but so much is happening in the moment. "What is that voice in my head? What is that"

"It's me venom, we are venom now, you belong to venom now, I like this vessel, it's warm and clean" you hear him and you shake your head. "Get it out of me please" you scream and you hear venom groaning, eddie keeps his hand on yours and it gets transferred again, once inside Eddie morphs into venom "I saved your life, be grateful tiny human" you clutch onto loki when you see it but he assures you that it won't harm you "thank you eddie" you whisper and venom gets offended again "not Eddie, it's venom, did you see Eddie get inside you and rearrange your guts?" venom said and loki glares at him. "What? Now we both can say that we have been inside her" for god's sake he needs to stop before loki strangles him.

Eddie comes back and you thank him for saving your life with the help of venom or resuscitating would be a better term. "Loki, Bucky he fought for me, he almost died, god please tell me he's okay" you ask him and he have no idea how Bucky is so he looks at steve "Sam took him to the hospital, super serum in him will help him heal faster, don't worry about him, we are glad he did what he could to save you" you look at steve and nod gratefully. Once everything seems okay, all of the avengers get back to the tower and loki gets you admitted in the medical care facility they have in the tower itself, even though you felt fine he just wanted to be sure. Doctor took your blood samples and ordered few scans. But you didn't need this, you needed him , he needed you "princess you just lie down and rest okay? Your body requires it my love, do you need something, tell me what you need" he mumbles softly as he kisses your forehead "I need you lo, I need to make sure you are okay" you put your hands on his cheek and he closes his eyes at the touch "I'm okay princess, you're here and alive, don't need anything" he mumbles.

But he's not okay, how could he be okay, you died in his arms, and he just watched, he couldn't help, he couldn't do anything, he couldn't bring you back, barnes almost lost his life to protect you, Eddie brought you back from the death , what did he do? Nothing, he was the reason you even got in such trouble in the first place and he just allowed you to die like that. It was almost early in the morning, your one year anniversary. But loki didn't mention it, doctor advised you to get complete rest, having venom inside you did heal you but it also exhausted you. When you fell asleep you didn't get up for next 12 hours, loki sat right next to you, watching you breathe every second, sometimes he would get up and place his palm over your chest to feel your heartbeat. However when you woke up he wasn't there, you were hooked to the iv drips so you couldn't really get up from the bed, the doctor informed you that you can leave soon.

Your eyes looked for loki, where is he? Why isn't he here? Soon wanda came to see you and she walked you to his room "Where is he wan? I'm so worried about him" she looked at you sympathetically as if she knew something. "I don't know how to say this but him n thor left for Asgard, like two hours ago" you almost didn't want to believe it why would he leave you like that? "Did he leave a note or something for me, a message? Something?" She nods in no and Your eyes teared up and you missed him so much, you just wanted to be close to him and shower him with love n affection but he wasn't there, neither to give nor to take.

Two months passed after that unfortunate day ,whole two months, you didn't hear from him, he didn't come back, your heart broke every day you didn't get to see him or touch him. Why would he do this again after he promised you that he would never let go, Tony insisted for you to stay in the tower as long as you needed to. None of them were allowing you to leave, you tried to pass your day by spending time with Wanda, and you visited Bucky after that day too. He almost died because of you and the least you could have done is give him company while he healed. Eddie was offered to work with avengers as an avenger and he agreed, he was fun to be around as well and venom has taken a very special interest in you. He threatened to eat everyone who bothered you even in the slightest. You lived rent free in the tower in Loki's room but you still wanted to earn your own money,so Eddie dropped you to work, everyday, and sometimes him or Bucky would pick you up. You had to let go of your apartment, your first home with loki.

You were grateful for their help, but your heart cried everyday for loki, you missed his smile, his face, his adorable eyes, his love and touch and the affection he used to drown you in. You would miss how adorable he used to look when he would pick you up from work, you missed his essence and his whole precious existence. You missed doing the same for him, Why would he just go and not tell you, why would he hurt you like that again. How can he do this to you. You had nightmares almost everyday, you'd see Thanos and maw and them torturing you and wake up shivering and sweating. Why wasn't he there to comfort you?

After excruciating two n half months you finally saw him again, you just came back from work with Bucky and he gave you a sympathetic look as he saw loki in the living room with thor. They both were in their asgardian attire, horns and everything and you have never seen someone so magnificent. Oh how you have missed your sweet baby lo but he was lost somewhere in his head while thor chatted with everyone excitingly. When thor saw you he came up to give you a hug "Lady y/n how are you fairing now? Sorry we had to leave due to an urgent matter" He asked "good, you both are back" you mumble as you teared up and he looks at loki, "I knew it, he didn't inform you about our departure, did he? He lied" you nod in no and he hugged you again.

You saw loki going straight to his room, he didn't even look at you or talk to you, he ignored you like you didn't exist. Like he wasn't seeing you after months, as if he didn't leave you all alone here again. You were angry with him, so upset, so hurt but you knew he didn't do anything without reason, and you wanted to know the reason. When you stepped in the room he was still in his Asgardian attire, he looked as good as you remembered him, even better so, in all of his royal glory, that cape made him look so majestic, those horns framed his head perfectly. All of a sudden you felt unworthy of having a god like him as your lover. He looked at you once you entered the room "You're living in my chamber?" He asked you as if you were a stranger living there "Mmmhm" you mumbled and he sighed "I'll find another one, they have plenty of rooms in this tower" why he is being like this ? What did you do? Why he is being so distant like a stranger?

You walk up to him and you got closer n closer until he was so close to you that you could feel his warmth, you could smell his essence, you pulled him in by holding the leather of his mantle or whatever they called it in asgard and he shuddered "Y/n, stop this" he warns you firmly and he tried to pull your hands away from his clothes "what did I do lo? Why are you doing this to me?" You sob as you pull him closer, you stood on your tip toes as you placed your head in between his neck "I'm not doing anything to you, y/n just get away from me please" he tried to pull you off again but your hold on him was so tight he would have to manhandle you to get you off "What's going on lo? What is this baby? What's wrong talk to me please" you beg, you must seem pathetic but you need to know. You need to know why he's treating you like a stranger. You're his princess.

"What's wrong? What's wrong is that you died y/n, you died and I did nothing, that's what's wrong, I let you die" he said angrily and tried to pull you off him again, you being this way is killing him and it's making things harder for him "you saved my life lo, you saved me from Thanos, I'm here because of you" you whisper in his ears, you needed your lo back, you needed him back desperately. You need to drown him with your affection and you needed it in return, you need to pull him out of this. "No miss Y/n Y/l/n you're here because of barnes and you're alive breathing in front of me because of Brock, not me, so why don't you go and allow them to court you, they won't let you die atleast" you hear him and it breaks your heart, is he leaving you for real? Is he allowing you to slip so easily after everything you both have been through? He never wanted to hurt you like this ever again but he have to, because you'll never be safe with him, he'll just let you die again and he can't let that happen, you deserve to live a long happy life with a man who would be able to protect you atleast.

"This is madness loki, you don't want this I know you don't baby please don't do this I love you lo" you plead him again and you kiss him, he didn't want to give in but as soon as he felt your lips on his, he couldn't stop, he have missed you more than you can imagine, being away from you killed him from inside, he is just a shell of the man he used to be when he was with you, when he was yours, he didn't leave you that day, he left his will to live, his sanity, his reason to smile, his princess. He picked you up and walked towards the dresser in his room, he sat you down on it and kissed you rough and quick, he has been away from you too long, every touch of yours is igniting the old flame and passion inside him but he can't do this "You listen to me y/n, you're just a mortal, and I'm a god, look at me, I'm a god y/n, been alive for a millennium, you were right that day, you're going to die someday and I would still be here, and I thought I was ready for that, but when it actually happened I wasn't ready, I'll never be ready, so why put us both through all that pain, go find a man with whom you won't have to worry about that" his voice was firm but his lips were all over you, you were making this so hard for him by being like this, why wouldn't you just be a normal woman and leave him for hurting you like this.

"I would take everything if it means I get to be with you lo, you're my forever, you're my sweet baby are you not? nobody else will take your place in my life, nobody can, I belong to you" you kiss him passionately again and he moaned in your mouth , you wrapped your legs tightly around his waist, being as close as you can with him. And every touch every whisper, every movement of your hips made him moan, he have missed your body and he have craved your soul "You'll find someone y/n, you'll have line of suitors waiting for you, I can name two just in the tower itself, I have seen how they look at you precious y/n" he whispered as he sucked on your neck until it turned blue.

Why was he being this way, his body wanted to be so close to you but his words were venomous."Don't hurt me lo, I know you don't want to, let me fix this okay?" you whisper as your hands trailed over his chest and moved down until you found his bulge, you gave him a squeeze and he moaned "fuckk y/n ..stop please, you're just hurting yourself at this point, let go of me please, you would be happier" he grabbed your hand and wrapped it around his neck as he kissed you again "no never, love me lo, please I need you" you whisper in his ears and he can't believe what is happening in the moment, did he really think he could just toss you aside and you would just give up on him like he did on you? Did he not know his princess at all? Ofcourse you're going to fight for him, he just needs to be more cruel with you "Begging for your warm precious body to be used in the heat of the moment? Even when I'm rejecting you again and again? Is that really what you want sweet y/n?"

You should be upset with him for this, you should be so angry with him for talking to you like this, for disrespecting you, you should slap his adorable beautiful face and maybe that would bring him back to his senses but you need him desperately "yess pleasee lo, missed you please" you sob and his heart sank at the sight, his precious y/n, his sweet y/n that he was breaking slowly, more n more every second while you're only looking and hoping for his love and affection, his heart felt so heavy, so dead, but it was for your own good, he was hurting you so bad and you were still willing to be his, he'll never find a woman like you again "I'm not your lo anymore y/n, I'm not yours and I hope you understand that" he whispered and you shake your head in no, he'll akways be yours no matter what he says. He waved his hands to get you both undressed and you shivered as the coldness of the room hits your bare skin "You want to get fucked one last time by a god, mortal? Hmm? I'll fuck you so good y/n I promise" he thrusts his cock in one quick motion and you moan loudly, he growls as he sees you so lost in him, your cunt so tight n warm, tighter than he remembered, he have missed everything about you and he will never not regret hurting you so badly but he would rather see you alive and away from him then have you dead with him. He didn't make love to you night, he fucked you like he promised.

Once he came inside you and made you cum on his cock he held onto you for a minute, before he picked you up and laid you down on the bed, he threw the duvet on you so you can cover yourself with it "Stay" you ask him softly and he can't do this again, he's not that strong. He's so weak for you and you're not showing him any mercy. He takes out his clothes from the closet and he starts to dress himself up. You walk over to him still naked, and turn him around, you cup his cheeks and you kiss him as you whisper "Stay lo, love me again please" you kiss him and he did, he took you again and again and again until you both were satiated, or atleast until the physical thirsts were quenched "I love you lo, I love you so much, stay baby please stay, let's fix this, I'll help you baby" you whisper, his breathing hard from cumming inside you again "I don't love you y/n and you should engrave that in your head, I moved on, time away from you made me realise that I didn't really need you as much as I thought I did" everything he said felt like a knife through your heart, hell you'd take the pain you felt before dying than take this, he got up this time, he wouldn't let you drag him in your sweetness and warmth again. He needs to go before he crumbles.

"Lo? Please, I'm your princess, you promised you'd never leave, I am so alone without you please" You sobbed and grabbed the duvet to cover yourself as you followed him, he was almost out of the door, you were begging in front of a man to love you again. But it wasn't just some man, it was your lo. You were his. He was yours. He wouldn't just leave you like that.

He smiled as he looked at you "I also promised to keep you safe and failed, add one more disappointment to the list why don't you?" He stepped out of the room but came back again and looked at you, his eyes teary and it filled you with hope, your lo was still in there, you just needed to pull him out

"And maybe I shouldn't have raised your hopes up like that, just so you know, I'm betrothed to the youngest Princess of Vanaheim Aliksia, so no Y/n, You're not my princess anymore"

And then he slammed the door shut on his way out. And he finally was able to break your heart.

[physicalturian]

[18+] Deranged Love - Hanma Shuji x F!Reader - Part 17

[Probably contains spoilers from the anime and the manga][She/Her pronouns used for the reader, no physical description; Everyone is +18]

Archiveofourown - Spotify Playlist

Words : 10 272

Warnings : Explicit! / Angst / NSFW / Gaslighting / Manipulation / Blood / Violence / Sexual topics / Drugging / Mention of assault / Desecrating / Victim Blaming

- - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 -Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12 - Part 13 - Part 14 - Part 15 - Part 16

“I would like whatever drink makes me look less suspicious.” was what I wanted to ask the bartender when I arrived at the bar, only I couldn’t ask that. Since they were busy taking someone else’s order, I started mulling over an idea that would either make me look powerful or like an utter idiot—seeing one of the bartenders walk my way, I had to make a hasty decision and quickly greeted her. “Two champagne flutes, please.” then a sweet smile. The woman behind the counter nodded and asked if I wanted the bottle and two glasses instead. I felt embarrassed for not asking for that instead, but simply grinned, “You know what? Absolutely, a bottle and two glasses it is!” I told her with enthusiasm. Inside I was dying, I wanted to run away, but when she chuckled, I felt a short-lived wave of relief travel my body.

Short-lived since, as she handed me what I ordered, she asked, “How would you like to pay?” Instant panic filled my being, I was about to look behind me to call Hanma but instead chose the more risky choice, “Do you know the man sitting behind me, in the corner?” I asked. Her eyes focused somewhere behind me, her expression turning from guarded, perhaps thinking I was going to need some help, to scared—yet she composed herself right in front of me, so I continued, “I am here with him.” “Right, sorry, I didn’t know. No need to pay.” She chuckled nervously, pushing the bottle towards me with a tensed smile on her lips. “It’s alright, no harm done.” I mirrored her smile to reassure her, although from how on edge she looked, I hardly believed it worked.

Once I bid her goodbye, I walked back to Hanma’s table and placed the glasses down on the table, then started unscrewing the bottle, “I don’t know how the thing Kakucho gave me dissolves, but bubbles are a good idea to hide whatever is going on there, right?” I asked, looking up Hanma while twisting open the cork, slowly but surely to not make it pop too loudly. He did not answer at first, all he did was look at me with a mischievous smile on his lips as he reached for one of the empty glasses to his mouth, “He’ll be fine whatever you give him,” he then spat in the glass and put it back on the table, resting his elbow on it, “I mean, at first. If he doesn’t cooperate…” He punctuated his sentence by bringing his thumb to his throat and gesturing killing him off.

I was too stunned by him spitting in the glass to say anything—a surprised gasp escaped my lips when the bottle opened with a pop, startling me, “Shit!” Quickly, I put the bottle out of reach and let the bubbles flow out and onto the floor, throwing a glance at Hanma, “And how am I supposed to go up to him? What the fuck am I supposed to say to that sexagenarian weirdo?” “Looking like that, you won’t need to say much.” he commented, licking his thumb as he reached for me. I didn’t move, trusting he wouldn’t do anything weird then felt him press on my shoulder, “Though I don’t think he likes blood as much as you do, so let’s clean you up a bit, yeah?” he laughed, repeating the action and making sure to look me in the eyes as he licked the blood from his fingers and went at it again. Rapidly, I placed my hand on my shoulder to see if there was any blood left. When my hand came back spotless, I thought it was done; Hanma, however, stood up and shook his head. “Pour the drinks, I’ll get you clean.” He smiled, a smile too sweet for the kind of man he was and yet I basked in that strange sweetness.

Handing him a napkin, he took it but did not use it. Instead, he wrapped his arms lazily around my waist, leaving my arms free, and I felt the warmth of his mouth on the back of my shoulder. It had been stupid of me to have started pouring at that moment since his action made me react instantly, spilling champagne out of the drink. Even after swearing under my breath, I didn’t clean it up right away. I finished pouring the drinks while being all too aware of his tongue traveling that small spot on my skin over and over again. His chest was also pressed against my back while his hands held me steadily at the hips now, nails digging ever so lightly in my dress. There was no way I’d admit it out loud, but I was enjoying his little act a bit too much, something he must have understood when he finally stopped everything and tilted my head back against his chest, forcing me to open my eyes.

“Done.” He grinned lazily, his eyes darting everywhere across my face, ignoring the way my mouth was half-open… inviting him. “I cleaned up my mess, now clean up yours.” He smirked, bringing the napkin in front of my eyes and dropping it on my face before stepping back, fully letting go of me. I was fast to grab it and look at him over my shoulder with a frown before huffing and wiping the glasses down with a look of disbelief on my face as he sat back down. “You just—I…” I let out a huffed laugh and shook my head, “You are, really…” I couldn’t finish my sentences, not only from how flustered I was, but also from the lack of words to describe him at this moment. What was he? An asshole for not kissing me? For not fucking me in a hallway? Or a flirt for touching me like that in public? An idiot, maybe, for acting so intimately, knowing we both knew that I had to flirt with a random man. It’d be a bit hypocritical of me to call him an idiot after being the one to fall in love, wouldn’t it? I scoffed to myself.

“Yeah? I’m what? The music’s loud babe, you’ll have to speak up.” He said with too much pride, leaning back on the seat with his arms open wide on it. With my head held high, I grabbed the two drinks and handed him the one with spit in it, wordlessly asking him to drop the roofies in. With the slowest pace, he grabbed the plastic bag from the table and opened it before dropping the tablet in the drink, “Thank you.”

Quickly placing a hand in front of my thigh to stop me instead of grabbing my arm, Hanma asked again, “What am I, hm?”

Pushing his hand away, I looked down at him, “An animal.” I was going to argue my point but walked away to find the chairman instead, Hanma’s laugh echoing behind my back. I did not have time to spare, time was not stopping and the night was not so young anymore. The more normal people were starting to leave, allowing more underground people to come in. The mood was slowly shifting into something less comfortable, less welcoming.

It was hard to find one specific man amidst a sea of men that all looked alike: balding, business-like looking, the same outfit too. That was something I could praise Bonten on, it was the way they held themselves when not together. They had some poise, and as much as I wanted to tear them on the topic, their suits were not half-bad; it surely made it easier to recognize them.

I could see Rindou talking to some men at a table while playing blackjack and quickly looked elsewhere when I caught his head moving to look at me. So I hurried my pace while still holding myself properly, head high and steps as relaxed as they could be. “Well missy, are we in a hurry? Why are you running around like that?” A voice I was somewhat familiar with grabbed my arm, almost making me spill my drinks. I held back from insulting the person and chose to turn around slowly instead, smiling politely, “I’m sorry, you are?” It was Arata, clearly he had an eye for finding the youngest women in the room, even more so when they were alone. “Shouishirou Arata—ah, but you can call me Shou. I’ve been watching you walk around for a while now and,” he pointed at his eye and winked, “I have an eye for the pretty things, join me.” Half-turning, he opened one arm towards his table where some other men were sitting. If I had to drug the man, I couldn’t have him pass out in front of his friends; I needed to find a way out.

With one subtle glance towards Hanma’s table, I saw one that was empty right next to his, “You’re lucky I’m fond of well-aged wine.” It made me sick to even say those words but it seemed to do the trick, so I added to it, “We should find a table alone, here.” I looked at the two drinks in my hands and for a moment hesitated. Shit, which one is the good one? Think! You put the glasses on the table, Shuji took one and spat in it, then he started touching you—fuck him for doing that, I forgot which one it is! I panicked in my head for a short few seconds, if I took any more time it’d look suspicious so I handed him a glass and did not drink from mine yet. If I could have him drink both, it’ll be fine, right?

Arata made sure to graze his fingers over mine as he took the flute, it was hard to not make a disgusted face when he did so but I managed fairly well, “Follow me.” I smiled, nodding to the empty table and meeting Hanma’s gaze on the way, my eyes lingering on his for a few seconds. I wanted to smile at him but only averted my eyes to look at the table once more. It wasn’t right how much I wanted to do good at this moment, how much I wanted to prove myself to him. This feeling in my chest was not only one of longing because I wanted to be by his side, because I wanted him to flaunt me for some sick reason, but also one of fear. Fear of disappointing him, a fear that could become reality if I did not manage to drug the man that now sat next to me, a hand on my thigh.

It was gross, unwelcomed, dry and made me feel like a prey even if I was the one preying on him, targeting him. “So, what do you do—” I barely had time to ask him a question that he was leaning in to kiss me; quickly, I grabbed a glass and placed it between us, tutting him with a smirk, “Who’s the one hurrying now? Please, drink.” I raised a hand to call someone over at our table and until they arrived, Arata spoke up, “It’s not fun if we’re not both drunk, let’s raise a toast!” He said, handing me the other glass. Taking it, I shook my head, “They were gifted to me, I’m more of a red wine gal myself. I’ll tell you what—” a waiter interrupted us, so I ordered us a bottle of wine and a glass of whatever Arata was having, although I did not listen. I watched the waiter walk away, then looked back at the old man in front of me, “It’d be a shame to let it go to waste,” I sighed, bringing the glass slowly to my lips, “but I’ll finish it before enjoying a nice glass of wine in your company.” I smiled sweetly, letting the champagne touch my lips. Arata gently took the glass from my hand and placed it down, finishing his own glass first. “Oh no, no, don’t drink it—I’ll do it, you enjoy the most expensive wine I can possibly offer to someone as beautiful as you.”

Seeing him take the second glass gave me the challenge of not looking at him like a hawk, of taking in each of his actions, his movements. Once he’d drunk that glass, whatever happened would be on me. I’d have to live with the weight of drugging someone on my conscience. Drugging someone without even trying to talk to them, without even considering trying anything, I’d have to live knowing I took the easy way out of a situation that I didn't even care about. “The most expensive? I would play coy, but I can see from your stature that you’re a wealthy man, so…” I placed a hand on his shoulder, all too aware that Hanma could hear us—he was probably listening intently, and I felt too self-conscious about whatever I was doing, hesitant to do anything. “I'd only expect to be treated with the best, I’m sure you could do that. Right?” I moved my hand to his bicep and smiled, “You could give me the best of the best, mh?” I hummed, my eyes traveling up and down his body very slowly.

He seemed to be a bit off already with one hand to his neck, lessening the knot of his tie. He brought the glass to his mouth and chugged the rest of it, probably feeling warm, “I like my women honest, straightforward, it’s a big turn on.” He chuckled, placing his hand on mine. A shiver of disgust ran through my entire body at the ickiness of his hand along the scraping of his too long nails.

A few more minutes. Just hold on for a few more minutes, let it take effect, I kept repeating in my head like a mantra.

“Is that so?” I hummed in a sultry tone, looking behind him when the waiter arrived with the wine we had ordered. He poured a small quantity at first for us to taste, but I told him to pour me an entire glass, which he did hesitantly. Once he was done, he placed the bottle neatly on the table, wishing us to enjoy the evening then he was gone. Grinning at Arata, I took a small gulp of wine, “I find myself a lot more frisky after a few glasses of wine, myself.” his eyes widened at my words, I even felt his hand gripping my thigh tighter, “And I’m very thirsty.” I added, finishing my glass in a few gulps before freeing my hand from his and pouring myself another drink. I already had a few glasses earlier, and perhaps that’s how I found the strength to be like this with him, but even if I was faking interest, I felt uneasy. I hated doing this, it felt wrong, even more so if it was to waste time to have the man pass out in my arms—would I even be able to get him outside without getting caught?

His eyes traveled up and down my body before settling on my chest. I wanted to cover myself, push him aside and get away, making sure to tell everyone how fucking gross he was—but I couldn’t. I was pushing him to act like that, it was all part of the plan.

But that so badly conceived plan didn’t say he’d be handsy.

Arata moved his hand to my arm and slid down my sleeve, leaning over to kiss my shoulder. He smelled wretched, his lips dry and another ick crawled up my body, it was hard not to shiver from how repelling he was, “We have the whole night… you know, it’s nice to see you dressed pretty for once.” His speech was starting to be slurred, inarticulate from the drug slowly taking effect. His words caught me off guard, but I played it safe and chuckled, gently moving his face away from me, “What do you mean, Shou?”

“You work at Silas&Sons, I’ve seen you around,” He started, his eyes slow to blink as he spoke, his smile broadening in way that made it all unsettling, “I kept thinking when I saw you, if she didn’t dress like a feminist, I’m sure she’d be a looker—and I was right!” Whatever happened to this man in his life could probably be blamed on how he ran his mouth off, or how little he cared that his words were completely inappropriate. If that was his way of flirting, no wonder he was single. Backhanded compliments never truly were my thing, but neither were men like him, yet here I was. Doing all of those things simply so that the man I had taken a liking to could be proud of me.

“Oh, it’s true, I do work there—oh, I knew you seemed familiar, you’re one of the chairmen!” I exclaimed in fake surprise, giggling, making myself sick in the process. But he was buying it, eating straight from my palm. “Guilty as charged, haha.” He slurred, leaning over once more, his lips resting on my shoulder, an action that he stopped to lean back and look at me, “Did you hurt yourself?” He asked, trying to look at my back, there was something on my shoulder blade that had alerted him. “You have a bruise…” “Ah, right!” I quickly said. It did not take me long to understand how it had gotten there, the most surprising was that I hadn’t felt him do it when he was cleaning up the blood. Or perhaps I was so dazed by his touch, his presence, that I chose to ignore whatever he was doing to focus on the feeling of his touch…

I’m sure Hanma was laughing right now, I had to lie to cover up that little mark he had left and that was peak entertainment to him. “I’m a bit clumsy, see those hand dryers in the restroom?” He nodded, smiling sleepily. Funny how even as he’s losing control of himself, his hands still find themselves on my hips, I thought with disdain. “I was startled by a woman leaving the stall and bumped into it, truly a stupid story if you ask me.” I explained, making him chuckle. His head was lolling forward and he was mumbling something but I couldn’t quite catch what he said since his head hit my chest and soon enough, he passed out. I tried to move him off of me by grabbing his face, but all I managed to do was feel his sweaty face—except from that, he wasn’t moving. He was a dead weight.

I waited a moment to make sure he was fully passed out, then hit the back of the seat with force, “Shuji, get him.” I said loud enough for him to hear, but not enough for others to think there was a problem. Thinking Hanma was listening, I waited for him to get up and help me but he didn’t. I had the full weight of a grown man on my body but couldn’t escape because of the table and he was not helping. With a sigh, I repeated my actions, except this time it was done with more anger and stress was rising in my chest from fear of getting caught. This time, I tried to reach over the seat to touch Hanma and when my fingers grazed his hair, I gripped it and grunted, “Will you please help me out?”

That’s all he needed to hear to force my hand out of his hair and get up. At first he rested his elbows on top of the seat, looking down at our two laid forms on the bench seat, “You look pathetic like that, it’s funny. I don’t know if I’ll help.” He shrugged, so I hit his arm and frowned at him, “You said to drug him! I did that, so get him off of me. He’s disgusting and—” Patting the exposed part of my chest, I winced in disgust, “And he’s drooling, pleaseget him off of me!” I insisted, this time I heard the desperation in my voice. I was trying to hide it but it felt oppressing to not be able to do anything, to be paralysed by the weight on my body. I was starting to get warmer from the panic but before it could go wrong, I got a reaction out of Hanma who stood up with a sing-song sigh, his hand caressing the seat as he walked around it and stood in front of us, “My helpless little doll cannot get rid of her victims?” He cooed mockingly, a playful smile on his lips.

Meeting his eyes, I insisted this time without words and he huffed a silent laugh before dragging the man halfway off the seat before hurling him onto his shoulders, “Get up.” His expression now dead serious. I didn’t need to be told twice that I was on my feet, trying to hide the man Hanma was holding. But it was all in vain when he opened the door to the corridor from which we came, and told me to go ahead. Rolling my eyes, I gestured for him to go ahead, “I’m walking behind because you’re not discrete, you go ahead.”

“It’s not discrete ‘cause you have the exact face someone would have after drugging someone for the first time.” He said off-handedly, stepping in front of me with the utmost calm. I wanted to laugh at how at ease he was in such a situation, but I couldn’t help but feel everyone’s gaze on us. Looking around before closing the door, I quickly understood I was making up scenarios in my head since everyone seemed to be busy and unaware of what had happened.

Once we were in the quiet corridor, I spoke up again. “It feels wrong.”

“Yeah? That’s cause you let that man assault you instead of forcefeeding him that fucking pill.”

I stopped dead in my tracks when his voice reached my ears. What could I say to that? I wasn’t talking about it like that, but also how could he say such a thing when I did it so his little gang could get what they needed? How could he be so rude and yet… somewhat right? I didn’t think about it for one second as I was doing it, but it was also wrong to have let him be this handsy with me, no matter how much I argued it was for the plan. My chest was suddenly heavier, I needed to take a deep breath before answering him.

“I was talking about drugging him. That feels wrong.” Suddenly, he turned around and smiled in a way that was anything but sweet, “Now’s not the time to have a working moral compass, doll. You killed people, don’t draw the line at drugging them, yeah?” He then wrapped a hand around my bicep and yanked me to start walking by his side. Shaking his hand off my arm, I huffed in outrage, “Killing was different! It—it was fast. I didn’t… I didn’t have time… to feel the guilt much.” I mumbled the last part, shaking my head to focus on something else. He was right, now was not the time to think about this, no matter how strong the feeling of guilt was and how much it made me sick. But my words made Hanma laugh, a loud boisterous laugh that somehow brightened the mood and darkened it at the same time. “Time was too slow for your liking? I’m sure if you had closed your eyes and enjoyed his touch it would have gone faster, doll.”

Another hit, another attack, another spike in my chest—or so I thought—but even if his words hurt, there was something he wasn’t saying, something I had to understand but didn’t seem to get. Instead of trying to understand him, I defended myself from his uncalled attack, “I did what I thought was the easiest thing to do, okay? The moment he had a hand on me I felt fucking sick, do you get that? Do you know how hard it was for me too? It was what, 20 minutes? And it felt like fucking hours—and he didn't even do shit!” I said, meaning people had it worse than I did.

“Didn’t do shit?” Hanma reiterated my words, turning around and stopping me by placing a hand in front of me, “Didn’t do shit you say? He put his fucking hands on you, that’s something—shit, you should’ve heard yourself,” he then smiled fakely and mimicked my voice, “You’re lucky I’m fond of well-aged wine, I get more horny when I’m drunk on wine,” Hanma then leaned over and looked me dead in the eyes, his tone now empty of anything, “If it had taken any longer, you’d have stripped out of your dress, I’m sure.”

Tears of embarrassment prickled in the corner of my eyes as my face heated up, but I did not avert my eyes. I kept my voice steady, my ideas clear and I said, “It’s called lying. It’s called playing along. It’s called giving men what they want so they don’t get violent. I needed to get him to drink, I got him to drink.” I then stepped closer and gripped his jaw tight, like he did oh so many times to me, “I don’t know if you’re acting insecure or just like a piece of shit, but either way pick a side—either you tell me I’m a whore for letting him touch me, or you tell me I’m a victim, but you can’t attack me on both sides.” Then I let go of him. What did I expect by opening up? Why did I tell him it felt wrong? What could he even do to help?

After staring at each other for a moment, Hanma resumed his determined stride and led us outside. I made sure to stay one step behind him to check if Arata woke up but perhaps also because I didn't want to be by Hanma's side after his overreaction. Being able to blame me after I had done the job was quite hypocritical, there was no setback, no problem. So why was he mad?

The sound of the car door brought me out of my reverie as Hanma gestured for me to get in the passenger seat. Doing just that, I gripped the door to balance myself and got in; I barely had time to sit when the door was slammed shut. Soon after, Hanma was seated next to me in the driver’s seat and was resting his head on his forearms that were now placed on the steering wheel. A silence settled. I did not want to fasten my seat belt thinking it'd ruin his moment so I waited, mute, not one word escaping my lips. He was quick to break that silence.

"Next time don't let anyone touch you, I don't care what's the plan." Hanma looked up and gestured at my form, startling me when he continued with an anger that was not aimed at me, "I let you do your shit, but it's the last time I do that. Look at you! Fucking tense just cause that bastard put his hands on you." Pushing his hand down, I furrowed my brows and corrected him, "I told you I’m only tense because I don't know how to feel about drugging a man." But he never listened since it was always about him so I continued, with a challenging tone this time, and maybe a dash of desperation, "And if you're that mad that he touched me, fix it! Do something about it! You're the one who talked about conditioning me, right?" This time, it clicked in my head and my voice dropped, now wavering slightly, "So fix me, because I feel icky, I feel dirty and I don't like that feeling at all." I finished, on the verge of crying.

Tears were threatening to fall ever since he had made me realize that it was technically an assault, but I still felt like it was supposed to be treated as nothing because I hadn’t tried to stop him. It was on me, I was to blame, it had been my entire fault and there was no lasting damage; all that I was feeling was gross, I needed to shower and it’d be alright, I’m sure. So I looked straight ahead and clenched my jaw after wiping the corner of my eyes. Crying wouldn’t help, and yet it seemed like a recurring position I’d be in when I was in his car. With him by my side. “What do you want me to do about it?” He said without any melody to his voice, his head also looking ahead.

Throwing him a look, I wanted to tell him to kiss me, to touch me more than Arata did, to erase any feeling of that bastard’s hands on mine. But Hanma seemed out of it. I did not know if he was angry or annoyed, or none of those, I couldn’t read him at this instant. I wanted to reach out for him, to tell him to keep me as his pet project, but I did not know how it’d go.

So I fastened my seatbelt and scoffed, “I’m done begging for tonight, I don’t know why you’re mad at me when it went well.” “Wouldn’t you be mad if someone kept touching up your piece of art while you’re painting it?” He asked in disbelief and with some thundering tone to his voice. There was only a short pause between his speech, but long enough for him to force me to look at him, his hand gripping my jaw roughly, “I can’t have you break yet, do you get that?” He brought his face closer to mine, this time his eyes seemed to be drowned in something close to worry but his smirk wasn’t portraying that at all. It was malicious, and I hated being on the receiving end of that smile. “I’m not patient enough to start all over just cause you thought it’d be necessary to be assaulted for the job!” He hissed this time, his hold on my face tightening just for a moment before he released it.

Just as his hand fell, I gripped it with force and brought it to my chest to hold it, “Ok, feel my heartbeat.” I started. He splayed his hand on my chest and waited, it was beating fast from how riled up I was right now, “Do you realize you blamed me for every fucking time Ran assaulted me? That you’re mad I did the job like I was asked to? I’m pretty sure you once threatened me to never fuck up an errand so… do you realize how selfish you are to get mad at me for doing the job right?” I said in the calmest tone, his eyes widening only a few moments before turning his face completely expressionless. “So yes, as you can feel, I’m angry too and yet, I’m not yelling at you. I’m not blaming you for shit.” I finally stated.

Hanma, of course, did not listen to much and only smirked, “Then get mad, lose your temper. We’d be on the same level—not that you’d care since you’re so much better than me for not letting your feelings take over.” He cooed mockingly.

Hanma moved his hand from my chest to my face and splayed it on my cheek, “Cause you know, I’d apologize for what I said, but now I’m curious,” His fingers threaded through my hair and he tilted my head to the side with force, “Why are you surprised that I’m selfish?” Then he bit my neck, the pressure much stronger than he’d ever used before—it made me cry out in pain. He didn’t seem to care and continued, “Is it really better to act all tough and shit instead of screaming your anger out? Aren’t you frustrated? Aren’t you furious that I blamed you? You are, so scream. Let it all out, hit me, tell me how you really feel.” He hissed, smiling maliciously but never letting go of me. If anything, his grip only got tighter and he approached his face to chuckle tauntingly. “Give me a show, doll.”

It had done the trick.

I don’t know how he had made it so easy to get under my skin, I don’t know when I let him get such a strong hold on me, but he had it. And he knew how to use it. “Stop. I know what you’re doing, I’m not falling for it. Take it all back.” I whispered, looking away even if I could not move my head. He laughed once again, sending shame coursing through my body. “All? What is all? Those late nights with your legs around my hand? Or those with my dick in your mouth?” “None! Why do you bring those things up! I don’t regret any of that shit if that’s what you’re acting insecure about! I’m just asking you to stop being a piece of shit!” I finally let out in anger, hating that he was talking about things that had no need to be mentioned here, “Everything was going well earlier and now you’re just—just being rude for no damn reason! All I wanted was for you to touch me so I could forget that man’s disgusting hands on me… I wanted to kiss you, maybe even make out, I don’t know!” I continued, forcing his hand away from my face to turn around and stop looking at him, not caring about his reaction. I was also looking away because his words had hurt me, and I was now crying. After having fought those tears for so long, they had won and were now running down my cheeks.

I continued on my stride, speaking faster and less clearly from the tears, “Because the entire night I wanted to fuck you and you acted all high and mighty—and now I’m the problem?! How much more do you need me to submit to be satisfied, Shuji? I’ve begged for you to fuck me, to touch me, and you still manage to find something to fuck with me.” “Finally.” He sighed before forcing a kiss on my lips—the surprise made me whimper, his tongue entering my mouth without hesitation as it explored it.

Why was I kissing back after all he had said?

Why was my heart lighter with his lips on mine?

Both of us cradled the other’s face, desperate for some touch, for some warmth but I didn’t know if he wanted it or if he was playing with me. Either way, I needed it.

It made the bad thoughts go away and for just a few moments, there was a calm in my head if not for the constant panic of why he was kissing me now of all times.

Finally breaking the kiss, Hanma pulled back, a string of saliva connecting our lips, “Doesn’t it feel better now that it’s all out?” He asked with a fake sweet smile—something almost condescending. I stared at him in silence and tilted forward only slightly, it was enough to make him smile and meet my lips once more, kissing me more passionately than earlier’s desperate, desperate kiss. “Greedy, needy, angry, I like that a lot more than when you’re composed.” He breathed against my lips, our noses brushing roughly against one another as he dipped his head once more to mine, laughing darkly in the kiss that I returned recklessly, eagerly, impatiently. So much so I pushed him without ever breaking the kiss, having undone my seatbelt, and started to move to straddle him, “What? D’you mean you disrespected me just to make me lose it?” I asked out of breath before kissing him again, with smaller kisses this time but the hunger and the need for him remained at each peck. I needed him to balance, to regulate this outburst of emotions he had caused. And the only way to do it was to feel him, in my core I was convinced it was the best and fastest way to deal with the situation. And feeling his hands raise the hem of my dress quickly demonstrated it to be the best choice.

“Believe me or don’t, I don’t give two shits cause you’ll thank me later.” He chuckled. Once I was seated on his lap after he had slid his seat back to give me more room, he grabbed the back of my thighs and pulled me right against his crotch. As he did so, I glanced at the backseat and was hit by a whiplash upon seeing the man passed out in the weird position Hanma had left him in when throwing him there. Just like a cold shower, whatever hot thoughts I had about the man I was straddling were gone down the drain, “It’s not polite to stare.” Hanma berated playfully before tilting my head towards him, kissing me with a toothy grin, “What? Your little attention-seeking kink doesn’t work when they’re passed out or dead? It’s a shame really, that’s something I could definitely get behind.” It was good that he could still surprise me, and I’m sure he would still do so a lot more as long as I stuck with him, but I don’t think I was ready to hear him say he’d be ready to fuck me around dead bodies.

I did not have time to reply that he started the car, making me quickly move off of him, “What? Don’t wanna ride my dick while I’m driving? It’s a must try!” He exclaimed, turning the wheel with the hand that wasn’t in my way while I sat back on my seat. Once seated, he stopped me from pulling the hem of my dress down by placing his free hand on my thigh. Before he could say anything, I pried his hand off and covered my skin, “You need both hands to drive, focus on the road.” As I spoke, I finally paid attention to the road while Hanma drove off from the casino and I exclaimed in surprise, “Shit, it’s pouring? When did it start raining like that?” I asked, looking at the cloud-covered dark sky. Turning around to look at Hanma, I fastened my seatbelt and asked all while reaching for my phone in the inside of his jacket, “Where are we going?” “You’re seeing first-hand how I take care of the bodies, isn’t it exciting?” He asked with a huge manic grin as he reached in his pocket himself to hand me my phone.

When I tried to take it, he raised it out of my reach and tutted me, “Don’t do anything rash—who do you wanna call?” He asked, now dead serious.

“No one, I need to tell Shiho I left with you. I don’t think she’ll answer if I call her, so I’ll just text her.” I explained, quickly taking my phone from his hand and doing exactly what I said I would. The task was done fast enough that I now had my phone resting on my lap while I looked at the road in silence. I was feeling a bit cold from only wearing my dress, but surely I’ll be home in a few and I’ll be able to get changed and sleep. All that was said was Hanma muttering under his breath, “The rain’ll help, it’ll go faster.” Not caring enough to ask what he was talking about, I closed my eyes and rested my head against the cold window, trying hard not to think of all that he had said, of all that had happened tonight.

Doing so was a lot easier when he turned on the radio. Opening my eyes half-way, I focused on the lyrics while watching him drum his fingers on the wheel, his elbow resting on the window while his head rested on his fist. He looked bored, but I would be too if I had to drive this late to take care of things I did not want to—or at least I assumed he wasn’t enjoying doing it, which could be a wrong assumption of mine. Even if he had carried a grown adult on his shoulder and beat up a guy, his suit was almost speckless if not for the few droplets of blood on his white shirt that had probably splattered when punching Takeomi over and over again. Seeing how he could act as if nothing had happened at all, not even our fight in the car, made me wonder what could throw him off. Killing would not faze him, drugging people clearly was not uncommon seeing how off-handedly he acted when I mentioned it feeling weird.

But I wanted to see him break too… I wanted to see what would be the last straw.

What would make him lose it to the point of tears? The mere fact that the question crossed my mind caught me off guard and made me look away from his beautiful face. I could not allow myself to think of such a question because those were things that I would usually never think of. I needed to get my mind back to some sort of normalcy—but I had had that monologue already, the one about what was normal anymore. Redefining my routine, what was now part of my day to day, would help me get through it better, right? Sighing, I covered my eyes with one hand as I mimicked Hanma and placed my elbow against the window. What had happened in their lives to make them so desensitized to the crimes they were committing? I knew personally that my tolerance for gruesome things was getting higher, but I also knew I was far from the entirety of Bonten’s tolerance. They were not as careless as they were disinterested, indifferent to their own crimes.

“You’re thinking so loud I can almost hear your thoughts, stop it.” Hanma complained, never looking at me.

“It? Thinking? How am I supposed to stop thinking, Shuji?”

Throwing me a side glance, Hanma smirked, suddenly speeding up the car under the pouring rain. The action in itself scared me, the road was slippery and he had decided to accelerate thinking it was fun; I knew that’s what he was thinking from the manic grin on his lips. I immediately grabbed my seatbelt and held onto it tight, tentatively reaching for his arm to grab it and get his attention. With a fearful tone, I called out his name and said, “Slow down now, it’s dangerous—” “I know! But you trust me, right?” He asked with something underlying his tone, something that I could describe as a challenge. If I said no, he’d take it personal. I stared at him in silence for a short moment, surrounded by only the sound of the engine and the rain hitting the windshield so hard it sounded like rocks.

“Enough to trust you wouldn’t kill me, but you’re not against some theatrics, are you?” I asked, moving my hand away from him to put both of my hands on my seatbelt, feeling a bit light-headed from not eating earlier tonight and all the adrenaline that was coursing through my body at the speed of light. Without ever slowing down, Hanma only barked out a laugh at my words. “Like this?” He asked, letting go of the steering wheel. With wide eyes I lunged forward and gripped the wheel, pure panic flooding my body as the belt brought a searing pain when digging in my shoulder from the abrupt movement. “Yes! Like this! Now take it back!” I yelled, trying to look at the road. With how fast he was driving and how much it was raining, the wipers were barely of any use. Hanma then placed his hand on mine to hold onto the steering wheel and as the hand closer to my side rose to hold my neck, he suddenly hit the brakes. The whiplash had the seatbelt dig further in my skin—my breath caught in my throat, or perhaps the force at which we had stopped had made my heart jump to my throat. While it was impossible, it still felt like it as I slowly brought a hand to my neck and moved Hanma’s. I took a shaky breath.

When I was sure the car was stopped, I unfastened my seatbelt and looked away from him, shaken, annoyed, trembling with adrenaline. Slowly, I rubbed my shoulder and focused on the sound of the rain on the car, hoping it’ll calm me down, but all it did was make me wonder, “Why did you do that?” I asked in a small voice, I had no energy to raise my tone.

Chuckling, Hanma placed a hand behind my head and brought it to him, kissing my cheek, “You were falling asleep.” He said sweetly, “Now get out, we have shit to do.” He added, taking his jacket off as he rolled up his sleeves before opening the car door.

I took a moment before joining him. First, I let my head hit the back of the seat and brought my hands to my face, groaning—I hadn’t had any moment of peace, or rest, in so long I was starting to burn out. All I wanted was one day without anything, any errand, any threats, any fear of getting attacked by someone that was technically on my side. But it was too much to ask. I knew that. I needed to get myself together. “If you wanna cry, wait until we’re done. Now get out of the car.” Hanma called out from the opened trunk, startling me in the process.

Seeing the rain outside did not give me much will to move, but I had to. I needed to help him do whatever he had in mind to do, so I pushed the door open and slammed it shut, the downpour drenching me in the few seconds it took me to join Hanma’s side. I had to cover my mouth when seeing the dead body I had forgotten about in the trunk. Without saying anything, Hanma grabbed shovels from under the body and handed one to me, “You take the tarp, you find a fresh grave and I’ll join you with—” “You’re expecting me to dig a grave?!” I asked in shock, putting the shovel down against the car to look at him in disbelief. With a bored gaze, he looked me up and down before smirking, “I’m so proud you could put two and two together, well done.” He mocked.

He then grabbed my shin and lifted it, forcing me to hold on to the open trunk to balance myself, “Those come off.” He said, taking my shoes off then throwing them on the dead body. He then gripped the hem of my dress and with a knife that he grabbed from the trunk, ripped the sides of it and cut it shorter, “There! My ragged little doll, ready to help.” He said, slapping my ass before handing me the tarp. I was so caught off guard by his rapid actions that all I could do was stand in shock, rain never stopping and making the fabric of my dress stick to my skin. “Digging a grave takes hours.” “That’s why you’re gonna stand by one that is freshly dug!” He exclaimed, handing me the shovel once more.

“I’m not going to desecrate a dead body—I’m not about to dig up someone’s grave, that’s sick.” “Yeah yeah, heard that already,” He rolled his eyes, lifting Masato’s body and throwing it over his shoulder before pushing me out of the way and slamming the trunk shut, “But we all know how it ends, don’t we?”

“Not well?” I asked jokingly, already shivering a bit from the cold and hoping he wouldn’t force me to do exactly what he wanted me to do. When he smiled, I watched him intently, my hair now flat on my head from the pouring rain. He ran his hand through my hair, tucking it behind my ear, “Of course it’ll end well! I’ll make sure of it. Just smile and have fun.” He cooed, once more in a mocking manner.

Running my tongue over my teeth annoyedly, I clenched my jaw before giving him a resigned look. With all the energy I could muster, I slowly let a smile form on my lips—they said that when you felt sad, all you had to do was smile and you’ll slowly feel happier. Maybe if I smiled now, I’ll start to enjoy doing those morally wrong things with him, right? I tried to keep my smile sincere, even if it was tiring, and went inside his pockets to get the keys and lock the doors in case the chairman woke up and decided to get out, “Do you promise it’ll go smoothly?” I asked, putting the keys back in his pockets as we walked towards the cemetery. Seeing how late it was, there was no one around—but it was just a coincidence, the time at which we were done drugging the man and the time at which we arrived here were never calculated. Hanma had just gone with the feeling, but I was still grateful there was no one to be seen.

“Dig fast, leave fast. That’s as smooth as it can go.” He said over his shoulder, walking in front of me to look at the graves and find the one he wanted to use, like it was a flea market. I could not believe the situation we were in but here we were, in the freezing downpour, trying to find the perfect grave to desecrate to hide a body. For some reason, I let out a laugh as I swung the shovel back and forth on the side as we walked. What else could I do but laugh? Tell him no? He was right, I could not tell him no, I could not step back and leave, I was too involved now. And why would I draw the line at messing around with something—someone—that was already dead? I had killed. What wrong was there in adding ‘gravedigger’ to my criminal curriculum vitae? Another dark chuckle escaped my lips, my smile ever so present. “Having fun already?” Hanma asked, catching my attention, making me look up at him and shake my head with a smile, “I was just thinking,” I shrugged, hating the feeling of the wet fabric on my bare arms, “You know, I really love how you’re testing boundaries! It truly is the core of our… dynamic. I mean, a month ago I wouldn’t have imagined myself walking bare-footed in a muddy cemetery under the pouring rain on my way to bury a body on top of another one.” I said sarcastically, but also without much annoyance. If I could make jokes to cope, I could make it out of here with my sanity.

“It’s a dream come true, Shuji.” I said, leaning over to whisper it the best I could under the deafening rainstorm.

Something seemed to have lit up in his eyes, a challenge? Or was he getting in a teasing mood? Whichever it was, he grinned wickedly and lowered his face, stopping us dead in our tracks, to reply, “Gotta ease you out of your comfort zone, babe. How else am I gonna fuck you after a kill if you’re disgusted by corpses laying around?” “Big plans for a man who didn’t fuck me in an empty corridor.” I started, placing the tarp on the ground so he could wrap the body in it. I had to keep my eyes on Hanma to not throw up when he dropped it on the floor, “You’re talking big is where I’m getting at. So, first, fuck me… then I’ll take in consideration everything else you’ve ever promised. Yeah?” I smiled in fake sweetness, taunting him. I was utterly thrilled when he smiled with the pure elation my words brought him, “Hearing you talk like that—shit, you’re practically begging to be put in your place and, fuck, if I didn’t have a dead body on my hands I would have done it right here.” He laughed excitedly before pointing at the freshly tossed dirt at the head of a tombstone.

I made sure to not look at the name to avoid feeling guilty for desecrating it; after all, a job needed to be done. I couldn’t wallow in guilt, not right now at least. With my back to the tombstone, I started digging with Hanma mirroring in front of me, both of us now focused on the activity. The little fun we had a minute ago was now forgotten and we had to hurry in digging this—two pairs of hands were a lot faster than only one, but it still gave us hours to dig before getting to the necessary depth for an additional body to be properly buried.

So we dug and dug. I could feel my movements getting slower as time went on, my hands freezing and gripping the shovel as tight as I could to not drop it.

After a long time, we already had to step inside to make it easier to dig, to easen the pain in our backs. When we stepped in, I asked with a weary face and small eyes, “How much deeper?”

He looked up, slicking his drenched hair back with an out of breath smile, “Until you hit something. Once you do, you grip me tight and you say ‘we’ve struck gold partner!’, then I’ll know.” He said with some humor to his words, but it was clearly dryer than usual. Perhaps he was as tired as I was, so I didn’t press and continued digging, ignoring the searing pain in my muscles and how loud my body was telling me to stop and lay down.

More time went on and nothing was said. Exhaustion was too strong for any of us to be able to do any small talk, and I didn’t mind. The repetitive pattern of shoving the shovel in the ground, pushing it with my heel and lifting it out of the hole had become so consistent it was soothing, I was losing myself in it, forgetting to think. After what felt like ages, I heard a thud coming from Hanma’s side and saw him push more dirt aside, a white lacquered texture under his feet.

Looking up to meet his gaze, I waited for him to say something and he just nodded with his chin my way, “Finish your side, we’re opening it up.” Was all he said. If I hadn’t been so tired, I’d have told him I couldn’t do that, but as numb as I was, I nodded and got rid of the remaining dirt. My arms were shaking as I put the dirt out of the grave and could finally see the entirety of the white coffin under our feet—seeing how I was bare-footed on a coffin made the situation even more disrespectful, so I hurried out of the hole, struggling to lift myself out of it.

Creaking it open, Hanma raised both his eyebrows at the stench and got out of the grave too, “He goes in,” He said pointing at Masato, “Come on, take his feet and aim just right.” He ordered. I hesitantly walked around, a gooey sound echoing at each of my steps as mud threaded between my toes, then I reached the body of Masato and took his feet. Hanma carried most of the weight once the countdown reached its end and we lifted the man off the ground. I groaned at how heavy it was and while staring at the man’s head that was tilted back, I felt tears building in my eyes. With a shaky breath, I stopped them from falling and followed Hanma’s gestures to drop the dead man with a much unnecessary roughness as a strong thud was heard even through the heavy rain when it hit the body already buried.

Once that was done, I was ready to shovel the dirt back in but waited for Hanma to finish what he was doing. He had stepped inside the grave, both feet on either side of the casket to not step on the corpses, “Shit, it’s not gonna fit.” He groaned, closing the casket on his way up. I was confused seeing how the casket closed properly, we had been lucky enough that the person buried here was almost as tall as Masato, so what was the issue?

A dry laugh escaped my lips at finding two dead bodies being the same height a relief.

“Stay here, I’m gonna grab the rest.” Hanma said, grazing his hand from my shoulder to my back quickly before walking to the car. I wanted to relish in his touch but I couldn’t; I could barely feel my body from the cold but I was still aware of how drenched I was. I was also more than aware of what we had just done.

Staring at the grave in a trance, I took in Masato’s features but did not really observe. I only let my eyes bore on his colorless, lifeless face—the more I stared, the faster my heart was beating and the more I wanted to let it all out. And if tonight the rain was battering me, draining me of all my energy and will, it was my ally for just a moment when it hid the tears that were streaming down my face. I wasn’t sobbing, no. I was past that point, it wouldn’t get me anywhere, but I needed to let this frustration out, this helplessness. This feeling I had of becoming something I could not change or could ever hope to fix was becoming more and more real, it frightened me.

Hanma had been right in saying he was going to mold me exactly how he liked it. I was his little clay doll, his hands on my body shaping the person I was becoming with each of his well-placed touches and words.

But even if I enjoyed being around him, the fun I had in following his orders only lasted for things that hardly hindered who I was as a person—Iknew better than everyone that he wouldn’t stop there. Bonten would not stop there, at the ‘fun stuff’. Finding comfort in those stupidly qualified fun moments would not keep me sane, I had to find some sort of balance, some anchor—because I couldn’t be my own anchor, I was too weak, I knew it. To fix losing my sanity I either had two choices.

Making him my anchor or…

Redefining sanity in my own way.

When I heard Hanma humming on his way back from the car, I wiped the tears from my face—an action rendered useless from the rain still pouring from the dark, cloud-covered sky. As I turned around to look what he had brought back, my eyes widened and I let out a weak, “No.” when he dropped the chairman that we were keeping in the car on the casket. “Took a bit of time since our dear,” He paused, thinking, “Arata, here,” he patted the chairman’s head once he had pushed him on his knees on the casket, “Thought it’d be good to fight back. Had to tie him up and gag him.” Hanma then looked at him with a bored expression and added, “There was an opportunity for a BDSM joke, you should have taken it, babe.”

Without mentioning his words, I met Hanma’s eyes and with a determined look asked, “What are you doing? What’s this?” With a movement of his head, Hanma told me to walk around to his side, then he raised his hand for me to take and helped me inside the grave. The gesture in itself looked kind, warm, like helping your partner walk down the stairs—but at the bottom of those stairs, a man out of his mind waited, grinning wickedly while looking at me. “That’s the man you drugged, did you forget already?” He laughed, clearly making fun of me. When I joined his side in the grave, I feared the casket would break from three adults standing on it so I balanced my weight like Hanma had, on the sides of it.

“You know what I’m asking, why is he out of the car?” I insisted.

Plopping his head on my shoulder lazily, Hanma was still holding Arata by the ropes that tied his arms behind his back and smiled sweetly, “Did you want to hold him hostage? It could be fun, but I don’t have enough space,” “What do you fucking want!” I said, having had enough of him avoiding my questions; I’m sure it would have been funny if I didn’t have this feeling in my guts that he wanted me to— “Kill him.” Hanma whispered, his cheek pressed against mine as he looked down at the man with his back turned to us.

I didn’t answer at first.

“I want him dead by your hands.” He reiterated, “I want you to kill.”

He then turned my head towards him and kissed me softly, all while placing a gun in my hands.

“For me.”

[Chapter 18]

[empyreanwritings]

Old Habits Die Hard

Pairing: Yelena Belova x GN!Reader

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: violence, mentions of kill orders, blood, strangulation, slight angst with a hopeful ending, language

Summary: After a year of running and fighting your ex, it's finally time for a conversation.

A/N: This was written for @envoyofyagami for winning my 3k giveaway! I'm sorry this took so long but I hope you enjoy it bby! Also first fic of 2021, let's celebrate a little!

Feedback is always welcome and appreciated (: x

The heat was unforgiving today. Your position on the rooftop did little to shield you from the sun. Sweat stuck your back, your skin felt feverish, and your throat was dry. You wanted nothing more than to pack up and go home, but you couldn't. It was the first time in months your target showed her face in public. You couldn't lose her now. 

Your relationship with Yelena Belova was complicated, to say the least. Five years you had spent with her, convinced you were soulmates and ready to marry. But life never turned out the way you hoped - not for two assassin's with too much blood on their hands. 

Instead of planning a wedding, you were planning a murder. 

It wasn't your choice. The agency you worked for put a hit on her after word got around the Black Widows wanted you dead. You wondered if that was her doing or not. The break up had been messy, but it wasn't messy enough to want you dead, was it? You didn't think so, but you weren't going to wait around to see what happened. You needed to take her out before she got you. It was only fair. 

You adjusted the rifle resting on your shoulder and sighed. Through the scope you saw her enjoying breakfast at a small streetside cafe. She was blissfully unaware that she was being watched. All the training in the world, and she wasn't looking over her shoulder every few minutes? It was too good to be true, too easy for someone who hunted you as well. 

And if you knew anything about Yelena, she never made anything easy. 

You glanced through the scope again, and a familiar glimmer just under her chin reflected as she lifted her lips to meet the rim of her champagne glass. A mask. She was wearing a fucking mask. 

"Fuck!" You hissed. 

There was no time to process you being duped as a wire wrapped around your throat and yanked you backwards. A strangled yelp left you lips, and it was the last bit of air you managed to suck in. 

Your attacker left no room for you to slip your fingers under the wire, so you needed to think of another strategy. Fast. Your oxygen was rapidly leaving your brain, and your eyesight grew more blurry by the second. You swung your arm back, tapping around until your hand met any body part you could find. Once you found her calf, you slipped your knife from under your jacket sleeve and jammed it into her muscle. 

She shouted and released you instantly. The rush of air into your lungs stung but was welcomed. You didn't have long to catch your breath, though. Having your back turned on someone who wanted you dead was a rookie mistake, and you were no rookie. 

You spun around, bloodied knife still grasped tightly, and paused when the barrel of a gun met your gaze. Your eyes trailed from the glint of the silver to Yelena's pained expression, and you smirked. Despite the situation, she still managed to make your chest feel warm. You only hoped that happened to be the air filling your lungs and not your feelings. 

"The decoy was a nice touch," you praised sardonically and slowly lowered your knife. Yelena's brows shot up to her hairline as you tossed it onto the ground, and you shrugged. "If you really wanted to shoot me, you would have done so already. Let's talk." 

She watched you silently walk over to your bag and pulled out a first aid kit. It wasn't until you slid it over to her that she finally lowered the gun. 

"Figured I'd be able to distract you long enough with her," she replied. 

You grumbled and rubbed at the raw throat. "Feels like you were actually trying to kill me this time." 

"I can say the same to you." 

You leaned against the edge of the roof, digging the heels of your boots into the gravel. You were exhausted. It seemed like every time one of you closed in on the other, someone disappeared. The hits had been put out at the beginning of last year, and the longer you played this game of cat and mouse, the sloppier you became. Maybe it was simply because you knew it would end eventually, maybe you were just done running. Yelena’s loyalty to the Widow’s wouldn’t allow her to leave this rooftop without killing you, and you had no intention of dying today. The fight would need to pick up once she bandaged her wound. 

Even if part of you wished it didn’t need to. 

“So, how do you want to do this?” You asked dryly. “You want to have a stand-off and see who draws first, or do you want a fight to the death? I’m all about the dramatics, but I am getting old.” 

“Neither.” 

“Yel-”

“I said neither!” She snapped and roughly tossed the pack of antiseptic wipes to the ground. 

You rolled your eyes and huffed. “We’ve been hired to kill each other. You know how this ends.” 

Yelena stayed quiet, choosing to focus on her wounds rather than your words. You didn’t understand her. She dumped your ass when you showed interest in getting married - claimed she wasn’t ready for a commitment so big. She was also the one who agreed to pick up the bounty on you and just finished trying to strangle you with a wire! But she wanted to pout over the idea of killing each other? 

As a feminist, you hated to say it, but women were fucking complicated. 

“Then what are we supposed to do?” You croaked, not making the effort to look up at her. “Cause I can’t keep doing this.” 

A beat of silence passed before she finally leaned back against her hands and let out a sigh. It sounded more like she was trying to remember to breathe rather than get out her frustrations, but you refused to comment on it. Why did you care so much? 

“Perhaps there is another way,” she finally murmured. “Perhaps I can say I lost sight on you today, and I hear rumors that you’ve headed back home to Greece. A foreign land where our agencies don’t have footholds is quite a place for two people to disappear under the radar.” 

You chuckled quietly. “You suggesting we run away together? Live the normal life we always wanted?” 

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

[tobiosmilktea]

umpah umpah! smau

↪︎ bokuto x f!reader x iwaizumi

[008] — we meet again!

masterlist | prev. | next

a/n: i was listening to hozier while writing this which explains why both bokuto and iwaizumi is whipped for the mc ✨

asking if you were okay was a good question. really, it is—too bad you didn’t know the answer to that very question no matter how grossly interchangeable the words were tossed around and scrambled into nuances phrases. if anything, it made your mood turn even more sour as your two best friends tried their best to calm you down. keyword: tried

kaori was too busy dying of laughter as she would tease the glaring look on your face. “you’re going to pop a blood vessel, honey.” she snickered, holding her stomach as it ached under the constant tension.

meanwhile akaashi was still profusely apologizing beneath the latter’s amusement. a sigh left your lips for the umpteenth time in the span of five minutes as your arms braided over each other in frustration. “what the fuck are you trying to get at, keiji?”

a gasp practically escaped kaori as she slapped her hand over her mouth, “(y/n) used your first name, that’s how you now she’s pissed off.”

akaashi could only roll his eyes. it was to his best bet to ignore any of kaori’s quips as she’s known to escalate things just by the power of that witty brain of hers. “nothing!” the editor exclaimed as he turned back to you, “i just figured it wasn’t a big deal since you and bokuto both said you guys ended on good terms. besides, i warned you to check the list.”

“okay, but that doesn’t explain the fact that iwaizumi is here!” it was at this moment that you were glad the music was pumping loudly through the venue speakers to hide over your shouts.

“i told you they work for the same team, but i didn’t know they were friends until i saw who bokuto wanted to invite!”

you groan, “unbelievable.”

“i just don’t think you should let their presence ruin the rest of the night, (y/n).” akaashi mentions flatly.

“i agree,” kaori suddenly cuts in, “it’s your party, you could kick them out if you want.” she suggests with an impish tone and an expression laced in provocation.

“i’m not going to kick them out, kaori—” you’re interrupted then as she swiftly elbows you in the breast, “ouch! what was that for?”

 “sorry, i was aiming for your ribs not your titty.” she laughs briefly before motioning to a familiar figure making it’s way towards you three. perhaps it was his height that triggered a response in you to cause your heart to rapidly thump against your ribcage, but honestly, it was probably his spiked hair with white tips that was the perpetrator. “is that bokuto? oh fuck, he’s coming, act natural.”

great, you thought. you had to fight the urge to just walk away a leave, but you knew it wasn’t going to end well whatever you did. knowing your luck, you were going to stumble upon this man one way or another.

“akaashi, there you are!” bokuto calls out over the crowd, serpentining his way through groups of conversating individuals to reach his best friend. but in all honesty, akaashi knew what this guy was doing. bokuto didn’t listen to a word he said in his text messages as the volleyball player ended up coming over here either way just to talk to you.

you’re over (y/n) my ass, akaashi thinks to himself, feigning from rolling his eyes again because at this point, it was just a matter of time before everything came crashing down.

it almost felt like a target was on you, perhaps a red laser shining right in the middle of your forehead the moment bokuto flickered his attention to you. “(y/n)! it’s so nice seeing you again!”

you nod as an awkwardly smile melted on your expression, “it’s nice seeing you too, bokuto.” despite your meek demeanor, what you said certainly wasn’t a lie. you would be lying to yourself if you said that you didn’t miss bokuto and his warming aura. you suppose it was the sudden meeting that caused your fight or flight response to suddenly kick in.

bokuto’s eyebrows furrow slightly, “bokuto? what happened to calling me kou?”

as if the situation wasn’t already difficult being in, it was as if he flicked another match into the burning dumpster fire of a party. “well... we haven’t seen each other in years, so i thought it was appropriate.”

“ah...” his voice trailed on as a few beats of silence ensued.

“oh shit,” kaori suddenly curses under her breath as she nonchalantly spilled his drink all over her arm. “um, akaashi could you come and help me clean this off?” she asks in faux concern, not bothering to give the guy a chance to answer as she tugged him away.

you couldn’t help but feel a faint smirk forming on your lips as you watched the two disappear into the crowd. kaori was always good at acting herself out of awkward situations that you honestly had to applaud her. maybe later you would teasingly remind her to audition for the webtoon’s live action just to spite her. it was just a little mindless payback for leaving you alone with your ex-boyfriend.

your striking gazes met again as you turned your attention back towards bokuto. at first glance, he looked exactly the same as you last saw him—then again, the last time you did see bokuto was when you two decided to break up on the day before graduation, you couldn’t remember much of him as it was dark under the midnight sky as tears blurred your vision. even when things ended up mutual with no hard feelings, you still couldn’t help but feel a tug at your heart when you recalled the way bokuto looked at you then.

it was hard to sleep that night. 

it was a bizarre juxtaposition of comparing eighteen year old bokuto to him now. rather than appearing before you with messy hair and tears streaming down his face, he was beaming in some contagious lightheartedness. it was a feeling you never thought you would feel so nostalgic in as he still smelt like fresh chamomile. he was much bigger now, more buff as one would say and not to mention taller as well.

perhaps going professional really treated this man wonders as you had to admit how increasingly more attractive he has gotten.

“you look great, by the way.” bokuto says, pulling you out of your thoughts as you realize how long you have been staring.

“thanks...” god, this is awkward. this certainly wasn’t leaving a good impression on your part, “you don’t look too bad either.”

a red tint burned at the tips of bokuto’s ears as he scratched the nape of his neck like it was some kind of nervous tic. he usually doesn’t get nervous meeting people, new or old, yet there was something about the way you look at him even after all these years that would send his heart rate into the extremes. he hated how this all ended due to your differing aspirations. “congrats on having a successful webtoon. love cemetery is amazing and i’m obsessed if you couldn’t already tell.”

“i never really pinned you to be one of my biggest fanboys, you know.”

“i’ve always been your biggest fanboy,” bokuto assured with a smirk, “how about you, are you still my biggest fangirl?”

you playfully scoffed at his statement, “um...”

“um?” he pressed, finding the amusement in your eyes adorable.

“i dunno, i haven’t really kept up with volleyball after high school.” you chuckled, swirling the contents of your drink in your hand. “besides, i think you have enough fangirls drooling over you.”

“who needs all of them if i have you?”

you rolled your eyes as you took a sip from the alcohol in your hands. “you’re flirting again.”

“isn’t that the reason why you dated my in the first place?” bokuto jested, feeling the burning in his cheeks as he couldn’t stop smiling. this was progress to him knowing that this playful banter was enough to surely get you two to reconnect again.

you peered your eyes at him suspiciously, “you’re planning something, aren’t you?”

“you’re making it sound like i’m evil!”

“well, are you?”

“of course i’m not,” said bokuto, “i just wanted us to be friends again.”

“you’re kidding.”

he shook his head, “never in a million years.”

you weren’t sure if it was his words that made your chest feel warm or if it was the alcohol in your system. regardless, you refused to let bokuto affect you so easily in a span of a couple minutes even if you took your alcohol well.

“at least you weren’t kidding when you said you were going professional.” you hummed, leaning against one of the smaller round tables as you stared into the crowd. you were hoping bokuto would do the same, but he’d rather look at you than a congregation of random strangers.

“and you weren’t kidding either when you said you wanted to become an artist.”

“i mean, becoming a webtoon artist wasn’t exactly what i thought i was going to be, but i’m glad where i am now in life.” you answered as your eyes wandered the room.

“even without me in it?” god, what a flirt.

that infamous laugh of yours emitted from your cherry-colored lips. it was the type of laugh everyone found themselves attracted to and never annoyed, in fact, it was the laugh bokuto hadn’t even realized he missed so much until the moment it left you.

his mindless attempts at flirting was catching up to you now as you couldn’t fight the feeling of the heat rising to your cheeks. “well, you’re right in front of me aren’t you?”

“things are different know, though...”

“right but—” you tried to respond, but was inevitably interrupted by yuko.

she came up to you in a slight hurry, calling out your name before apologizing to bokuto. “sorry to cut your conversation so short, but i need (y/n) to come take care of something for me.”

confusion melted upon your expression as you turned to her, “we do?”

“we do,” she huffs.

“it’s alright,” bokuto says while motioning for you to follow suit of your manager. “let’s catch up more sometime, yeah?”

you smile at him, one that’s less mediocre and awkward and a bit more genuine. “of course,” was the last thing you could say before yuko yanked at your arm once again until you were in just another body in the crowd.

despite yuko’s hand firmly gripped around your wrist to ensure you wouldn’t get lost in the sea of people, it was difficult trying to focus at one thing at a time. at first it was the worry about your manager and her sudden interruption, but now it was trying your best not to spill your drink due to all the drunken bodies bumping into yours. were there really this many people on the invite list?

grumbling to your self, you threw your head back as you finished the last bits of drink in your hand while you were pulled through the crowd like a ragdoll. having to pay for a stranger’s dry cleaning due to a spilled drink was the last thing on your mind right now.

“what did you want me to help you with?” you shout over to your manager once she slowed down.

“nothing,” said yuko over her shoulder, “i was watching you and bokuto talk and you kept getting redder and redder i thought you were going to pass out.”

embarrassment flushed through, cheeks heating up again at the thought. “ugh, was it that obvious?” you groaned as your head fell from the utter humiliation that was coursing through your body at that moment—far too distracted that your humiliation could only worsen the moment you bumped into another.

“sorry, i wasn’t looking—” the apologetic tone in your voice subsided as your eyes flickered up to whoever’s chest it was up to a yet another familiar face.

“(y/n)?” he says.

“iwaizumi?” you say.

your names were jumbled up in unison just as much as your thoughts immediately dissipated into thin air. just my luck, huh? you swore you were dreaming. nothing in the absolute world could possibly make such a ironic turn of events as if you were in some melodrama yourself. call it fate or destiny, but bumping into both of your exes within a span of ten minutes was something you never would’ve wished upon yourself.

“it’s um... fancy meeting you here.” you start the second you flicker a look over to yuko as she could only give you a pitiful smile. “it’s been a while, right?”

regardless of the confident aura you were extruding right now, you were completely freaking out for the third time this evening. you knew today was going to affect you emotionally, but you wasn’t expecting it to be like this. you were expecting to get a bit emotional due to the fact your webtoon that you poured your absolute heart and soul into has come to an end and not because two attractive dudes from your past just coincidentally came back into your life.

and yet it didn’t matter, it wasn’t like iwaizumi could see through that little façade of false confidence in your expression as it felt like he was meeting you for the first time all over again. it fit all down to a tee from the way his adam’s apple bobbed up and down in his throat to his breath hitching from the sight or to the infamous monarch butterflies tickling his gut.

“it’s nice to see you too, (y/n)...” his words trailed as you couldn’t help but notice how deeper his voice had gotten since the last time you’ve seen him. granted, he was fifteen back then and had a lot of time to grow up and become this absolute adonis.

iwaizumi certainly wasn’t planning on coming across you this evening either. if anything, you two both shared that internal panic when your eyes briefly met at the start of the party. however, he couldn’t help but feel a bit relieved knowing that in the end you two did manage to cross ways. he supposes that after seeing you and bokuto talk as if you two have known each other for years created an inkling feeling in his gut.

he hates the way you distracted him the majority of the night. it wasn’t like you two were on talking terms especially after years of not seeing each other, yet it felt strange for him to even let himself feel this way.

besides, iwaizumi felt absolutely terrible knowing satomi was trying her hardest to capture his lingering attention by making conversation about anything—literally anything.

anyone who had been friends with iwaizumi in the past know he’s an absolute sweetheart, but at the same time, he’s honest. he’s not the type to hesitate in telling someone the cold hard truth even if it meant hurting their feelings, yet whenever he would look at satomi, he couldn’t bring himself to say that he wasn’t interested in the conversation.

you cleared your throat, pulling iwaizumi back from his thoughts, “so... i heard that you became the new athletic trainer for the black jackals.” the man before you nods as he was stilling taking you all in. was he staring at you for that long? “i thought were living in california, why the sudden change of plans?”

iwaizumi shrugs as he took a sip of his beer, “i ended up getting a better job offer here, so i decided to move back. why? have you missed me?”

the moment those words left his lips, he immediately wanted to slap his hand over his mouth and cringe. why was he suddenly so flirtatious with you? was it because he saw you and bokuto flirting earlier, was that it?

you chuckled in amusement as you nod. you honestly weren’t going to lie that his words did catch you off guard for a second. something like this was definitely not in iwaizumi’s handbook his (more or less) complicated personality, yet you decided to play along anyway. “of course i have, iwa! i’m not soulless, you know.”

iwa? the man before thought to himself, what happened to haji? he shook the thought out of his as he opened his mouth in attempt to speak, but he noticed your attention leaving his and onto the person beside him.

satomi cleared her throat as she looks at him innocently, waiting for iwaizumi to introduce her to you.

“oh uh,” he motions his head to the team’s physical therapist next to him, “this is yahagi satomi, she’s my—”

“—date for this evening,” she cuts iwaizumi off and answers for him, catching him a bit off guard and confused, yet he doesn’t correct her. granted, satomi was his plus one so it made sense.

you purse your lips as you took in her features. she was a bit on the shorter side with her long copper hair pulled back into a sleek high ponytail as her bangs were styled perfectly to fit her face. semi was right, she is pretty. it was then you stuck your hand out for her to shake, feeling who cold her palm was compared to yours. “it’s nice to meet you. how long have you two been together?” you ask out of the blue.

i mean, what’s wrong with a little curiosity?

“oh no, we’re not together.” iwaizumi is quick to answer, not even noticing satomi’s slight change in expression when she parted her lips to answer herself. “she’s just my plus one because bokuto told us to.”

you nod at his words, trying your best to ignore the intravenous relief that was coursing through you at that moment. you realized how long you had been standing there then, failing to notice that yuko was still by your side the entire time. if anything, she was just trying to help you out once again as she could literally feel the rising tension in the air. if you were to talk to satomi any longer, it would surely go wrong knowing your luck. luckily, she spots sugawara’s silvery hair just a few feet away.

yuko wasn’t entirely sure how in the hell she was going to get his attention to save your asses, but it was going to happen one way or another. she was just glad you were too preoccupied talking to iwaizumi and satomi that yuko was able to text sugawara to come over.

she watched sugawara feel the buzzing of his phone in his pocket, observing his every move as he pulls it out and read the text as the screen light shined over his face. he looked up then, eyes scanning the room briefly before landing upon yuko’s familiar figure standing next to yours.

the manager widens to eyes a bit at him like a warning to come over here.

she wasn’t sure what was so hard to understand from the pure helplessness in her expression, but sugawara was taking his sweet ass time.

yuko grumbled to herself. at this point, perhaps she was just trying to save herself.

it was then sugawara was finally making his way over to you and yuko. “oh hey, iwaizumi! long time no see, sorry to interrupt but i need to borrow (y/n) and yuko for a second.”

you gave sugawara a confused look as it washed over your expression. again? ugh, give me a break. however, before you could excuse yourself from the conversation, iwaizumi grabs your upper arm lightly.

“(y/n),” he stops you in place, “we should catch up sometime.”

you open your mouth to respond, but sugawara interjects before you could. “why not catch up now?” he suggests, causing all four of you to snap your head towards him, “i’m sure i’ll just yuko’s help will be enough, plus (y/n) has tons of time to talk to more guests.”

the silver haired man gives you a sly wink before taking yuko with him and leaving you behind. great.

you honestly couldn’t excuse yourself now as it would be obvious why no matter how many excuses you come up with, so you had to power through. besides, what could go wrong with talking with your first love and some random girl that somehow gives you a weird vibe?

“so how do you guys know each other?” satomi questions you, suddenly interested in your relationship with iwaizumi. it sounds suspicious, yet she was genuinely wondering if she was attempting to make moves on someone like iwaizumi was a good idea.

“we went to middle and a little bit of high school together,” you answer as a matter-of-fact. there was surely no need to lie.

her eyebrows rise in curiosity, “that makes sense... you guys must have been really close, huh.”

you flickered a look to iwaizumi, examining his reaction if he was also noticing her off words. “yeah... really close.” his expression melted into confusion then as you placed your gaze back to satomi.

iwaizumi scratched the back of his neck as the words remained at the tip of his tongue. why weren’t you mentioning that you two dated before? it wasn’t like it was a crime nor secret. he hated to think this, but could it be because you regretted your relationship with him?

he shook the thought out of his head quickly. the obvious answer was no as the breakup was mutual, yet after all these years of drifting apart, was that really the truth?

if he recalled correctly, one of the last words you said to him before you inevitably left for tokyo and never looked back was that you love him and would always be there for him no matter what. you even promised to text him as much as possible, yet after months had passed since you moved to your new life, it was as if the promise was nonexistent. however, iwaizumi couldn’t bring himself to blame you. if anything, he had himself to blame considering how many times he had written that same text over and over again, yet never had the courage to send it.

“(y/n) had to move to tokyo after our first year so we kind of drifted.” iwaizumi answers. even now with the chance open for him to mention your previous relationship was out in the open, he was still do cowardly to say it.

perhaps somethings never change.

fun facts! —

iwaizumi wasn’t really keen on using social media back in high school, which explains why he never really found out about (y/n) and bokuto’s relationship

it wasn’t like (y/n) and bokuto liked posting about their relationship either at the time

satomi and bokuto have always been homies after they have gotten closer when bokuto injuredhis knee and had to go to physical therapy, but he never really talked about his past relationships, hence satomi not knowing about (y/n)

taglist: (comment or send an ask to be added!)

@moonlightaangel @elianetsantana @k4tiepie @memorableminds @skyguy-peach @suhkusa @kitsunetea @airybby @noeminemi @truly-a-snitch @keichan @cosmicmermaid25 @bap-kingdom @saturnfarie @kwdflash @ennos-baby @dinablossom @chrisrue15 @seikamuzu @nestlevanilla @chasekudo @yammmers @pixcldust @iwaizluv @h0ngh0ngh0ng @emogril @tiredandkindaoverworked @atsunakaashi @underratedmage @bokutosuwus @kellesvt @kaiju-teeth @oh-tapeworm @scrappydaisies @alittlebitofrain @mxngy @tpwkatsumu @atsumuwoah @macchiatoast @dicerawr @kageyamasbabygorl @some-random-stranger-007 @vhskenma @wntrmn @little-plants @stargirlara @kissungjae @je11yfishwriter @sbaepsae

[jaggedlittleteacup]

Three Acts

Note: @call-me-moo I hope you like this one!

Act One

My ears are still ringing as my sluggish brain struggles to comprehend what has just occurred. A gunshot, an exceedingly loud one at that, and a smoking gun held aloft by none other than Mary Morstan-Watson.

How can it be Mary? John...but...John...this is impossible...Mary is harmless, Mary is sweet, Mary is…

...A liar.

Magnussen lies dead on the floor, a neat bullet hole between his eyes, a steady trickle of blood leaking onto the grey carpet. His glasses are askew, but there’s no expression of any sort of astonishment or surprise on his face. In fact, there’s no evidence that it was not an entirely planned execution, and yet…there is no way he could have predicted this, known about this. Yet his dull eyes seem to hold a secret knowingly above my head.

No, no, no, no- this is all wrong.

“M...Mary…? What the hell…?” I whisper, a million thoughts racing through my head. This wasn’t possible.

Mary was…Mary was good, wasn’t she…?

Mary sighs and clicks her tongue as she casually reloads her weapon. Her blonde hair is tucked beneath a black cap, and every trace of friendliness and cheer is gone from her icy, stone-like gaze. It hardly even looks like the woman John had wedded only a year prior…

Please, this is a nightmare, let me wake up…

“You have questions,” Mary says softly, her eyes softening for a moment as she flashes an uncertain smile. For a moment, I catch a glimpse of the old Mary- but that’s all it is, a glimpse.

Understatement of the century.

I nod, dazed, as I stare at her. “Mary, whatever he has on you...I can…”

I can do what, exactly? Wave my magic wand and make whatever she’s done- whoever she’s killed- go away?

She seems to read my mind and her smile quickly disappears. “You can’t do anything, Sherlock,” she murmurs, a pang of regret heavy in her voice.

He trusted her.

I try to reason with her, to appeal to her senses. It’s what John would want. “Please, I can, just...put the gun down. We’ll figure something out, John is in the other room-“

Mary is a liar.

“Actually...one thing. Please, will you do this for me?” Her tone is pleading, desperate. I almost feel sympathetic.

Liar.

I nod again, feeling a vague sense of alarm and wariness, but I don’t move.

Liarliarliarliarliarliarliarliarliarliar-

She raises her gun. “Tell Jim Moriarty I said hi.”

I feel the bullet before I can even react. It lodges in the cavity of my chest. Warm, sticky blood soaks my white shirt. I fall backwards, I know that’s what I’m supposed to do. It seems like everything’s in slow motion- it must be, I can see it all happening so slowly, every minute detail…

Think, don’t go into shock, focus, remember-

Female window-cleaner, her 3K diamond ring scratched the corner, but wasn’t pulled away quickly and left a long scratch, so clearly engaged to someone she doesn’t care too much about- cheating with the IT man-

Liar. She’s a liar.

Don’t go into shock, think.

Janitor has a cane- strange for someone who’s on his feet all the time. It’s a scam to claim disability- the indents by the door shows that he comes in with a cane, looks around to check if someone’s there, and drops it by the front door.

Mary is...a liar. She lied about everything. She fooled John, she fooled Mrs. Hudson, she fooled me.

Think. Think. Think.

Magnussen. Magnussen was killed by someone- no, not someone, Mary- he knew. Or thought he knew. Obviously, she pretended to be a friend of Janine’s, but it was a ploy to gain access to Magnussen. She used her the same as I did. Does that mean I’m just as bad?

No, no, focus.

She set out to kill me. Does she love John?

It’s raining, it’s pouring…

Focus!

Why did she kill Magnussen?!

...Sherlock...is boring…

Stop, just focus!

Why did she need Magnussen dead?! She’s pregnant!

Isn’t she?

...I’m laughing...I’m crying…

No, no, no, NO, NO!

...Sherlock...is dying…

John...I don’t...want...to die...

I gasp for air like a drowning man. John is next to me, desperately trying to plug the wound with his violently trembling fingers. It isn’t working.

I’m dying, Mary killed me, I know it. I’m bleeding out and he can’t stop it. I can only hope that someone can stop Mary before she kills John…

“Sherlock? Sherlock, stay with me. I’ve called an ambulance, just...please…” His voice breaks and I see tears spilling from the corners of his eyes. “Stay with me. Keep breathing...I can’t...not again…”

Mary...where is Mary…?

“M...Mary…” I breathe, my chest burning from the sheer effort. My eyes nearly roll back in my head.

“Mary’s okay, she’s at the flat.” He lets out a laugh that sounds more like a choked sob. “Now’s the time you want to think of my fiancée?”

No...he doesn’t understand...John, please…

“M-Mary…” I try again, weaker than before. “M-Mary...k-killed…”

“No, Sherlock…” John’s mouth is pressed tightly in a thin line. His hands are shaking violently, especially the left one, I realise almost drunkenly. “Mary’s alive. Don’t worry, just...Christ! Please, don’t go to sleep…”

Suddenly, I can’t die. I’m reminded of what I asked John the very first day we met. The drug bust. The murder. Everything.

“If you were dying, if you’d been murdered...in your very last few seconds, what would you say?”

“‘Please, God, let me live.’”

“Oh, use your imagination!”

“I don’t have to.”

I’m flatlining. If there is a God, They’re not listening.

Murder. Murder. Murder.

A steady pulse. Wasted time.

I am going to die.

Things are getting so dim...dull...boring...

Not before I...save John. Please...I have to...stop Mary…

I can vaguely feel something- someone?- shaking me, but it feels like a numb rattle, something I’m witnessing rather than feeling firsthand. “Sherlock? Sherlock, no, stay with me!’

My body doesn’t want to work anymore. I can’t trust transportation. I never could. John…he laughed when I had to take the Tube instead of a cab…

Please…

“SHERLOCK!”

John’s there...but he’s not…

“Please, PLEASE!”

It’s warm, but I’m cold…

“I CAN’T LOSE YOU AGAIN!”

My heart beats for you…

“Sherlock, you can’t...Please...stop this…”

...soon...it will beat...no longer…

“Stop it!”

Somehow, I thought dying would hurt more. It feels more like a gentle haze, sliding into a calming and endless sleep. Inviting, almost. I feel my eyes involuntarily slipping shut. I’m so exhausted.

Just a few minutes…a few minutes wouldn’t hurt, right…?

Everything is fairly dark, but that’s certainly expected. Perhaps Death has finally caught up to me. I couldn’t run forever, just like the...merchant…

Samarra…

Mycroft was wrong. This doesn’t hurt.

...Only everyone else…

They can wait. I just need a few minutes of rest.

“Sherlock...Sherlock…”

What’s Mary doing here…?

“I’m in your head, Sherlock,” Mary whispers, her voice a low hum, a grim smile on her unusually serene face. She’s in her wedding dress, but she looks...dangerous. A gun is in her normally gentle hands. She seems so focused…intense in a way I could never have imagined…

Veiled intentions…

“I am going to kill John Watson,” she says calmly. “You need to stop dying before I shoot him.”

I...can’t…

Mary looks oddly disappointed. “He loves you, you know? Probably more than me, if we’re being honest. I never did like competition. It’s a shame...I really liked you, Sherlock. You were so fun, and so, so smart.” She raises her gun with a deep sigh and points it directly at my heart.

Mary...don’t…

“Just a bullet,” she murmurs sweetly, “and then we’ll be all clear. No more John…”

My body is failing. It has to be. I’m choking. I’m in anguish. There’s something in my throat, strangling me, stealing my air, and I can’t breathe-

Mary pulls the trigger with a self-assured chuckle. It hurts significantly more than it did before...like a powerful electric shock coursing through my body- It feels like my brain is crumbling around me, as though my very soul is convulsing in agony.

“I owe you a fall, Sherlock…”

“Clear!”

“I...owe...you.”

“Clear!”

I need to save John Watson.

The monitor beeps loudly. I can breathe again. Mary still looks disappointed, but she’s rapidly fading, fading far from my line of sight. I see faces, worried, pressing down firmly on my wounded chest, telling me I’m lucky to be alive. That it’s all right.

It’s not.

“John…” I say hoarsely, wishing he were beside me. I don’t want to be alone.

Once the shock subsides, my eyes slide shut and the wail of the ambulance vanishes, along with all of my worries…

~

Act Two linked below:

https://benaddicted-linfanuel.tumblr.com/post/656968775195934720/three-acts

[ditttiii]

Enchanted To Meet You || 02.

​◈ summary: no one ever told you that you had a soulmate or—soulmates for that matter. humans don’t have soulmates but shapeshifters do. what are you supposed to do when the seven members of the worlds biggest boy band turn out to be your soulmates—only for you to realise that they aren’t even human.

the band is on a hiatus and army thinks they are completing their mandatory military service. you believe that too, at least you did, until you realised that you had adopted them and that one way or another they were gonna live with you—as hybrids because apparently you all are soulmates. 

◈ (hybrid au // soulmate au // idol au) (fluff // humour // smut // angst  // eventually nsfw) (nc-18) (ot7 x reader) (slow burn)

☆ chapter two.

series master-list

warnings for this chapter: none.

"Ohmygod! Are you DYING?" 

At that, you come to, croaking out a soft 'No' as you gulp in air to replenish your depleted lungs. Far too breathless to do anything more, you shake your head and grip Tiffany's wrist in an attempt to reassure her that you aren't dying. Regardless of how you felt like you were just a few seconds ago.

"W-water." Wincing at how frail your voice sounds, you watch from the corner of your eye as Tiffany scrambles to fulfil your request. There is a steady buildup of pain behind your eyes, accompanied by a mildly uncomfortable prickliness in your throat, as though you have swallowed something on a dry throat. Topping the physical discomfort is confusion. You can't figure out what just happened—was it a stroke of some sort? Migraine? Tumor? 

The med student in you can't help but consider all the worst possibilities—maybe you are dying. You came to adopt a pet, and now suddenly, there is a very real possibility of you dying. 

Great.

Lost in abysmal thoughts as you come to terms with the fact that you might be dying, you fail to notice when a figure creeps closer. It's only when you feel a warm and strangely wet sensation on your forearm that your head twists to come face to face with a rabbit.

His silky soft white fur looks smooth and clean; the uniformity disturbed only by the random pale brown fur patches all over his body. For some reason, your heart twinges when his big chocolate brown eyes peer into yours with what seems almost like fondness?

With a puff of exhaled breath, your head tilts back, eyes locking onto some point on the ceiling.

"Oh, isn't this just fantastic! Apparently, now I am delusional too." You vent to no one in particular with a roll of your eyes. You would have shaken your head at the sheer stupidity of your thoughts, but afraid to make the ache worse, you stop yourself preemptively. 

The thump of rapidly approaching footsteps lets you know that Tiffany is coming with the promised glass of water, and you try to straighten your torso up into a sitting position, grimacing when your body violently protests the motion. The pounding behind your eyes has now dulled into an irritating but bearable ache, and other than a little drained, you feel mostly fine. 

"Here you go, sweetie," comes Tiffany's concerned call as she hands you the glass and kneels beside you. With a murmured thanks, you take the offered glass and then promptly choke when she wraps her arm around your shoulders and pulls you closer, letting you rest your weight on her. 

This is weird, you think, as you sit there sipping after a choking induced coughing fit.  

You are virtually snuggling up to a stranger and even in your half-delirious state, the fact that she is under no obligation to care doesn't escape you. Albeit you are probably dying, and considering how painfully single you are, this is quite possibly the only action you will get. 

With that rather glum thought, you push aside the strangeness of the situation and gulp down the entire glass, letting out a relieved sigh as the last drop goes down your throat. You had been parched. 

"I am okay now." You reassure Tiffany, straining yourself to stand up straight, only to almost topple over, wincing at the pins-and-needles feeling in your legs.

"You sure? "she questions as her worried eyes track your movements, arms outstretched and ready to catch you if you fall again. 

Humming, you shake your legs and shimmy to get the blood flow going to all your extremities. Once you are sure you are as good as you will be, you turn and smile. 

"Thank you so much! I don't know what happened, guess my blood pressure dropped or something. It's fine, don't worry about it, I am okay now!" you quickly reassure her again when the lines of concern on her face deepen and give her a grin and a tiny jump to drive your point home.

"If you are sure...," Tiffany hesitantly responds. You hear the scepticism in her voice but don't do anything save shooting her another smile. You don't know what that was either and are currently entirely too drained to bother coming up with an explanation. 

A tickle against the soft skin of your foot forces your gaze down. It's the rabbit from before nuzzling gently against your pinky, his eyes more like a doe than a rabbit, gazing back at you. Hearing a gasp, you look up to see Tiffany looking at your feet—presumably at the bunny, disbelief etched onto every crevice of that pixie-like face.

"That's so strange. He never associates with anybody—human or rabbit. I thought he would need time to get close to you, but guess not..." she mumbles the last part so quiet you aren't sure if you were supposed to hear that or not. Glancing down at the rabbit near your feet, you quirk your brow in interest. 

You recall your rabbit being fidgety at the start too. He would scamper away whenever you would try to come close to play and was just generally a furry ball of anxiety for the first month or so. And yet here he is, another rabbit, evidently anything but flighty. If anything, he seems to be physically restraining himself from jumping on you, fidgeting and letting out restless tiny huffs of breath that you feel on your ankles. 

You have to repress a squeal at that, a mixture of your loneliness and his adorableness leaving you giddy. 

Crouching, you observe as he inches even closer. Raising his paws to rest on your knee, he hops up on your left thigh and looks up at you. His ears floppy and adorably long, twitch and stand straight, taking every sound in. His eyes, big and almond-like, continue to gaze at you unblinkingly as if waiting for something. 

Blinking, you grin and raise your left hand to gently pet him, and as though waiting for your confirmation, he springs up and hops closer to you. Nose twitching and quivering, he pushes his face against the flesh of your stomach breathing your scent in. 

You coo at that and wrap your arms around his tiny figure, cradling him close to your chest. Your heart essentially melts as you hold him close, letting your head drop over his back as you melt over how wholly warm and soft he is.

Your little moment is shattered when you hear a giggle and find Tiffany biting her lip and unabashedly grinning. You would be more embarrassed if you weren't feeling just as giddy, and so you just laugh. Let the happiness that is bubbling inside you and melting your viscera into a puddle; consume and escape you in little bursts of giggles and unintelligent babble. Tightening your embrace, you feel him nuzzle his face closer to your neck and over your pulse point and feel more so than hear a purr. 

Mind made up, your gaze swings up to catch Tiffany's, "I'll take him." 

At that, you swear, you feel him lick your neck before he nuzzles even closer, whiskers tickling your sensitive skin.

another chapter re-written! as always thankyou so much for reading 🥰 if you enjoy my work please let me know so by dropping any kind of feedback that you’d like because it keeps me going!

have a lovely day ahead 💕

[chaseatinydream]

pirate king (13) || atz

“Master!” You burst into the sickbay, eyes brimming over with tears as you desperately search for that head of green hair that has grown so familiar to you. You ignore the stunned faces of some of the pirates who are getting their wounds treating, the concerned glances that some give you, only to see Seonghwa standing there with a basket of dirty cloths in his arms and a startled look on his face at the commotion.

Then he sees the tears tracks winding down your face and his expression melts into one of horrified concern, he puts the basket down and moves to reach for you.

You simply throw yourself into his arms without waiting for him and sob into his chest, openly weeping in full view of all the pirates in the sickbay. The cook staggers back a couple of steps from the force of your embrace, but manages to upright himself before the two of you go bowling over onto the floor.

Seonghwa is warm. He always has been. Gentle, kind, compassionate and tender-hearted. And you’ve never been so grateful for a man like him. He lets you cry, hands softly winding in your hair, a little confused as to why it’s suddenly several inches shorter and out of its usual braid. You hear Jongho’s heavy footsteps behind you on the wooden floor, and his face must say something because Seonghwa’s body stiffens, his embrace around you tightening just a little as he folds you into his arms.

“What did you do, Jongho?”

Seonghwa’s voice is deliberately neutral. He trusts Jongho, of course. But the last person you were with was indeed the young battlemaster and he knows Jongho is terribly awkward with new people. He wouldn’t be surprised if Jongho had said something silly on accident and ended up causing you to get upset.

But Jongho merely exhales uncomfortably, looking down at his boots. “We should talk about this in private.” His voice holds no room for argument.

Seonghwa frowns a little at this apparent need for privacy, long fingers gently stroking through your hair as your warm tears soak into his shirt sleeves. “Jihyun, help me call San and tell him to come to his room immediately.”

A tall pirate nods, rising to his feet. “Of course, Seonghwa-sunbae.” He moves off quickly, disappearing from sight. Seonghwa then puts an arm around your shoulders, sweetly ushering you into the backroom where you’ve been sleeping for the past couple of weeks and sits you down on San’s bed, wiping the tears from your eyes with a tender hand. Jongho follows behind, shutting the door firmly behind you.

You feel weak, boneless, as the words run through your mind again and again on repeat.

“You will never find what you so desperately seek as long as you live.”

You reach out a hand. Seonghwa looks puzzled for a moment, but you think the experience must have at least made you and Jongho closer somehow, because he understands immediately and clasps your hands gently, almost timidly in his, as if afraid that you might break if he uses too much force.

Jongho probably could crush a man’s skull with his bare hands, but he cradles your hand like it’s a newborn baby chick.

“Just before you get the wrong idea, hyung, I didn’t do anything.” The young battlemaster says firmly, but there is guilt lingering in his voice. You know it’s not because he did anything to you, but because he regrets making you visit the fortune teller in the first place.

Seonghwa frowns in confusion as he moves to light the lamp in the room. “Then why is s-” He coughs lightly as the smoke from the lamp gets into his eyes and nose. “Why is he so upset, Jongho?”

You curl up on San’s bed, wrapping your arms around yourself as if that can stop you from falling apart.

The maknae opens his mouth to explain, but then San enters the room.

His face is smoothed over, carefully blank, but you can feel the pulse of his energy spiking erratically, feeling more like a burning stove rather than a warm radiance. Jongho and Seonghwa must both feel it as well, because they both stiffen minutely.

“Hyung, we need to talk-” Jongho begins to say, but San ignores him and makes a beeline straight for you, sitting next to you on the bed and patting his lap.

“Here.”

You don’t decline the invitation, laying your head in his lap and curling up beneath the sheets like you do every time you get nightmares. You press your nose against his side, and immediately the smell of him fills your lungs. Green tea, honey, and floral notes of ylang ylang and lavender mixed with the odd herb he’s been experimenting with combine to create a scent that is uniquely his, one that never fails to calm you down even in the fiercest of storms.

His hand comes to rest in your hair, carding through the strands gently.

Only when he’s sure that you’re no longer in hysterics and on the verge of a panic attack does he turn to Jongho with sharp piercing eyes.

“So, would you mind explaining to me why my apprentice is in this state?”

You feel bad for Jongho, having to endure all this questioning by himself when he technically was only trying to help you and encourage you, but San shushes you the second you open your mouth.

“I want to hear this from him.” His eyes don’t leave the young battlemaster.

“Well, do you guys remember the first time I came to Tortuga, I visited a fortune teller?” Jongho asks slowly. His hyungs exchange looks, and then Seonghwa nods hesitantly.

“Why?”

“I brought him to visit the fortune teller.” Jongho mutters quietly, his voice small. You realise that even though Jongho may be the strongest, best fighter on board, he still submits himself to the authority of his older brothers. “And the fortune teller said some things…”

San’s eyes narrow as his fingers continue to brush through your hair. Seonghwa seats himself at San’s work table to listen to what Jongho has to say.

“She something about a jar of clay… and some secret that would ruin our trust in her...” Jongho mutters, shaking his head.

San’s fingers freeze in your hair.

“I mean… The secret that stowaway’s actually a woman isn’t quite secret, am I right?”

A terrified squeak leaves your mouth, momentarily pulling you out of your daze. You jerk up, staring at Jongho with wide eyes and your mouth hanging open in horror. Seonghwa shrugs in response to the maknae’s words.

“I did find out rather recently, so I suppose it’s no longer secret within us three then.”

You gulp. San stiffens slightly, but then you can feel his muscles relaxing next to you. “How did you find out, hyung?”

“When she hugged me earlier.” Seonghwa replies easily, much to your shock. Then he pauses, glancing at you hesitantly. “I could feel her… ah, chest through her clothes. I apologise deeply for any inappropriate actions I might have done under the impression you were a man.”

Your cheeks catch aflame as you stare at the cook in a mixture of both horror and embarrassment, your mouth opening and closing like a dying fish. Jongho’s nose scrunches up at his words.

“That’s gross, hyung.”

Seonghwa sputters incoherently at his dongsaeng’s words, looking like a rapidly reddening tomato. “Well, excuse me for not knowing she was a woman! How about you say how you figured it out?”

Jongho halts in all action immediately, jaw working furiously. His own cheeks have started turning apple red, and he looks away to the side, mumbling under his breath.

“When the fortune teller grabbed her shirt, I saw-”

You bury your face in a pillow to hide your embarrassment and scream. At this point, you don’t know what you are. Confused, shocked, mortified, everything. All you know you want to do is to crawl into a hole in the ground and slowly rot away, but then you then you remember you’re at sea in a ship and there is no hole in the ground for you to die in.

To your surprise, however, Jongho and Seonghwa don’t seem to be very affected by the fact that you are a woman. Jongho continues rambling on in spite of your mounting embarrassment.

“-her chest, okay? Well, not really her chest, but the bindings around her chest and I kind of guessed-”

“Okay, okay, we get it!” San covers your ears frantically before you can hear any more. “Let’s get back to the fortune teller bit. Jongho, do you remember everything she said?”

“Pretty much.” The young battlemaster turns to Seonghwa. “Hyung, do you think you could help me write it down before I forget?’

The cook picks up one of the stray quills on San’s worktable, pulling over a piece of blank paper. “Alright.”

Taking a deep breath, Jongho begins to recite the words from memory.

“Oh nameless one, child of the sea, you’re missing something very important to you.”

“Stowaway doesn’t have a name, so it does seem accurate.” Seonghwa mutters grimly, San nodding in agreement. The two of them are completely focused, intent on figuring out what the cryptic words of the fortune teller mean.

The sight warms you immensely despite the daze you’re in.

“And she is a pirate now, so the part of her being a child of the sea fits.” San adds, leaning his head on your shoulder. You shrug.

“She’s an amnesiac, so she’s missing her memories. We’ve solved the first bit. That’s good.” Jongho glances at the page as Seonghwa scribbles down their interpretation of the fortune teller’s words.

A frown tugs at his lips as he continues. “The secret you keep will ruin the trust you built. That’s the bit about her being a woman, isn’t it?”

Seas, it was weird hearing Jongho referring to you as her instead of he.

“I don’t see anything else that could be it.” San mutters thoughtfully, but Seonghwa cuts in.

“She could hear the voice of the sea monster that was chasing us the other time.”

Jongho’s jaw hits the ground. “You could do what?”

It almost amuses you how the young battlemaster is more shocked at the fact you could hear the sea monster’s voice as compared to the fact that you are a woman.

“Yeah.” You mumble under your breath, but Jongho’s eyes are huge with awe.

“That’s so cool!” For a moment, Jongho looks like the eighteen year old boy he is, still young, excitable, not quite a man yet, but he quickly catches himself and clears his throat. “Well, moving on. To pass the trial, one must cross into death and awaken into life. The biggest obstacle to overcome is yourself.”

He glances around at all of you. “That sounds cryptic and completely unhelpful. And I have absolutely no idea what it means.”

“What trial do you think the fortune teller could be talking about?” San scratches at his hair, frowning as he racks his mind. Seonghwa shrugs, just as confused.

“Well then. I suppose we could just leave this here for now.” Jongho mutters, shaking his head in disappointment. “A jewel resting in a jar of clay. That was when she went bat shit crazy and started shaking our stowaway here, demanding to know who’d made her.”

“Who made her?” Seonghwa questions, looking utterly bewildered as he jots them down. You feel your skin crawl at the words again. There seems to be some sort of significance to it that you can feel, something your mind screams at you to remember, but you can’t.

“She referred to stowaway as a ‘vessel that has only existed for a moon’, whatever the hell that meant.” Jongho supplies helpfully, and you feel San stiffen beside you.

Seonghwa looks equally uncomfortable as he glances at you. “A moon?” He repeats, hesitantly. You don’t know what the fortune teller was indicating when she said you had supposedly existed for a moon, but you don’t think she was referring to the silvery orb in the sky.

Your master frowns. “What I guess the fortune teller was referring to was a moon cycle. A vessel that has existed for a moon cycle.”

“Yes,” Seonghwa begins to argue, gesturing at you. “But how can she only have existed for one moon cycle?”

The two stare at each other for a while, both having some sort of internal battle as to what it could be. You tap Jongho’s arm frantically.

“How long is a moon cycle?”

At your question, Jongho swallows uncomfortably and looks away from you. “A little over twenty eight days.”

You feel like someone has just slapped you across the face.

Twenty eight days?

Your face must be a real sight, because San and Seonghwa immediately rush to comfort you.

“It could just mean that you’ve been without your memory for that long.”

“Yes! I mean, you can’t be that young. Don’t worry about it. It must be interpretation.”

You nod your head absentmindedly, still in some sort of daze. “Right.” Seonghwa gives Jongho a chastening look for revealing something that affected you so much. The young battlemaster mumbles an apology under his breath.

Then San sighs, rubbing his temples. “Honestly, we should ask Yeosang for help with this. No one on this ship is as good with cryptic nonsense, long, complicated words and obscure references as he.”

Jongho nods agreement. “Sometimes I don’t even understand what hyung is saying.”

You nod slowly. To be honest with yourself, you don’t really know what you’d do without these people by your side. Even Jongho, who you’ve just begun to talk to today, has been nothing but infinitely kind and helpful to you. You almost want to slap your past self for being such a fool, for even thinking he could have a bad bone in him.

“Thank you.” Your words come out a little choked with emotion, but the three of them accept it all the same. San doesn’t say anything, but just pats your head as usual.

Seonghwa beams at you gently. “It’s no problem, stowaway. You’re part of the family now. We’d do anything in our power to help you.”

Jongho looks at you seriously. “Wait… but we forgot one last thing. The sea witch.”

Sea witch.

Seonghwa flinches while San shudders, shoulders curling inwards. You frown at the two of them, a little unnerved by their reactions towards the word. The sea witch can’t be very terrifying, can she? Magic tended to be nothing more than the arcane, and from what Jongho has told you, only rare people like San are able to use this inner energy to their benefit.

“What is it?”

“The sea witch.” San echoes, drumming his fingers on his thigh absentmindedly. “We should probably ask Yeosangie more about this before you start to get any ideas, but if the myths are true… the sea witch is a being of immense power that lives on an island that only people in great desperation can find, surrounded by the sirens who serve her.”

“I read the legend of her when I was a child.” Seonghwa turns to you with a mixed look of both pity and worry. “The sea witch bargains with many beings, both supernatural and mortal, to make a deal. In the story I read, she gave a mermaid legs to be with the man she loved but took her voice.”

A deal.

Jongho meets your gaze, both your eyes drawn to the same object, the tiny crystal hanging at the end of your necklace.

The symbol of your bargain with the sea witch.

A headache starts throbbing at your temples, and you furiously rub at them, trying to ease the pain. Seonghwa notices almost at once and rises to his feet.

“We should let him-” He corrects himself. “-her rest.” San and Jongho nod agreement as they both rise to their feet.

“We’ll talk about this another day, apprentice.” San murmurs softly to you as you lie back on his bed, pulling the covers up to your nose. “We’ll talk to Yeosangie about this first, alright? He has a lot of books in Hongjoongie-hyung’s cabin, I’m sure we’ll find something.”

“Ok.” Your voice is small, and San gives you a warm smile before leaving the room, Jongho behind him.

But only Seonghwa lingers in the room for a moment, looking conflicted once more.

“What’s wrong, hyung?”

The cook looks at you for a long, silent moment before he speaks.

“You should tell the crew you’re a woman soon.”

Your chest seizes up. Yes, you know that Seonghwa and Jongho didn’t especially mind that you were one, and neither did they begrudge you for keeping this secret, but you knew not everyone would be this understanding.

“Especially captain.”

You swallow nervously.

“I will.”

Seonghwa manages a last, weak smile at you before turning to leave. As you lie under the covers, you wonder what might happen if Hongjoong did take the fact that you were a woman badly.

What if he left you in some town like he’d promised to do the last time?

No. No. You couldn’t have that. Not when you’d just started finding constructive clues to your past, not when you’d just started gaining family.

You needed to wait. Not now. You couldn’t tell them now.

The secret you keep will ruin the trust you built.

It was a decision you would later come to regret.

[let-them-read-fics]

Happiest Year(s)

Pairing: Jisoo x Fem!Reader

Word Count: ~ 1,759

Warnings / Misc. -- Angst, Character Death, Illness, Crying

Disclaimer: This writing is a work of fiction, and no disrespect is meant for those mentioned herein.

A/N: OMG!!! This writing absolutely wrecked me... I’m so sorry Jisoo 😭 I promise that I have some fluff in the works to make up for this one. Regardless, I hope you enjoy! 

PS ~~ I listened to the song “Happiest Year” by Jaymes Young when I wrote this (hence the title). I highly recommend that you check it out -- maybe even play it in the background while you read this.

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

The pain was something you had grown accustomed to, especially within the past few months. It was nothing you couldn’t handle, though it sure gave you a run for your money sometimes.

One fateful night, everything changed: Hot, excruciating jolts shot through you, burning and raging like a fire within. Jisoo found you in the bathroom, curled up in the fetal position, and immediately called for help. To her, this was something totally unexpected -- you had always worked hard to hide what you were going through from her, not wanting to give her any added stress. She had enough to worry about; you didn’t want to be another thing on that list. Perhaps that had been the wrong thing to do, judging by the panicked look on her face as she cradled you in her arms. Surely her stress had increased tenfold now.

~~~~~~~

The soft click of the door to your hospital room grabs your attention, and you open your eyes. 

“Y/N, why did the doctor just tell me that you’ve known about your condition?” Her voice is quiet, unbelieving; she sounds tired. For the first time in a long time, her eyes are unable to meet yours. She swallows thickly, eyebrows furrowed in confusion and fear. Tears threaten to spill from her beautiful eyes, and you curse the universe for not giving you enough strength to reach up and wipe them away when they inevitably fall. 

“I was going to tell you… I just never found the right time. How was I supposed to tell you something like that?”

“You should’ve.” The reply is simple, but her delivery is profound: her voice is laced with pain, a hint of resentment mixed in. Who could blame her? She’s having to witness her world crumble before her eyes, and she has absolutely no way to stop it. Her jaw clenches as she finally gives in, little by little, allowing her tears to fall. You can tell she’s trying to stay strong, though.

“Would you have lived as fully if I had? No. You would’ve spent every second with me worried about that, looking at me different. Like I was fragile and would break at any moment. Maybe you wouldn’t have meant to, but I would’ve felt it. It would’ve been at the forefront of your mind; you wouldn’t have said what you meant and did what you wanted. I needed to make those memories.” 

~~~~~~~

As you faded in and out of consciousness again, the distant sounds of monitors served as a beacon for you. Fighting sleep was growing harder every time, but you held on for Jisoo. She wasn’t ready to let go yet, and neither were you; although, the two of you never really would be.

“What am I supposed to do without you, Y/N?” Her hands are cradled around your left one, lips pressing against it as the words roll off her tongue. She’s looking down, attempting to wrap her head around what’s about to happen. Hot tears drip onto your skin, and you pray to have enough strength to hold her one last time. You want to leave this world embracing her, feeling her warmth for as long as you possibly can. You have to. 

“J-Jisoo.” Within an instant, her head snaps up, her eyes searching your face, waiting for your command. 

“Hold me.”

As she moves to lay next to you on the bed, she makes sure not to hurt you. One of her arms supports your head and wraps around your shoulders, while her other comes to circle around your waist. Her soft skin rubs against your own, and a hum of happiness leaves your lips.

In an instant, it hits her: she won’t be able to hear that sound again. She won’t be able to hear your laugh… God, your laugh. It’s always been one of her favorite sounds in the entire universe; after tonight, she’ll have to settle for listening to it from videos on her phone. Those captured memories, frozen in time for her to replay as often as she wanted, could never compare to the real thing. 

Soon, you’d be gone from this world, leaving her behind as a shell of what she once was. How could you keep this from her? Everything the two of you had spent so much time creating -- the stable life you were going to keep on living well into your 80s -- is crashing down around her. That dream of passing away together in bed, a long and happy life replaying as you fade away, is rapidly disappearing into nothingness, and she doesn’t know how to cope.

She tries to make sense of the situation -- to rationalize like she always does -- but it’s not possible this time. Why were you burdened with this terrible disease? Why you? You’re one of the greatest people Jisoo has ever known, always doing right by everyone you come across. So what kind of higher power would damn you in such a way? 

“Stop thinking about it. Just be here with me, please.”

As hard as it is to do as you ask, she does her best to push those thoughts away. 

“I can’t do this without you, Y/N.” Her sobs get in the way of her words as they struggle past her lips. She’s a mess: streaks of tears are running down her cheeks again, her hair stuck to her face in various places. The mascara she applied earlier that day is smudged underneath her eyes, mingling with the salty liquid spilling from them without restraint. 

“Yes you can, baby. It’s gonna be alright; you’ve got the girls, and you know I’m gonna be there, too. I’ll always be with you.”

She presses a kiss against your forehead, and you can feel her lower lip tremble against you. 

“I’m not afraid. You don’t have to worry about me anymore, I’m not hurting.” You try your hardest to remind her of that and soothe her, even in the state you’re in; seeing her like this hurts you more than any sickness ever could. Both of your hearts are breaking at the same time, attempting to figure out how to go on without the other. 

A rather violent cough racks through your body, and she holds you once it’s over. In that moment, it’s clear that your time to go is rapidly approaching. 

“Jisoo--” You begin, mustering up all of your strength to utter some parting words.

“Don’t. Don’t say it. You’ll have to go once you do. I’m not ready.” She shakes her head in protest, still unable to accept what’s happening. 

“I have to, jagi. Just let me get it out.” 

With a shuddered breath and fresh set of tears replacing her previous ones, she nods. You take that as your cue to continue.

“Thank you for the happiest years of my life. Knowing you -- being able to love you -- has been the biggest privilege I’ve ever had. There’s no one I would have rather spent my time with. I know it’s hard baby, but please don’t hate me for not telling you… I think you’ll understand why I didn’t, in time. Just be happy, Jisoo. For me. Remember me and the times we shared; those aren’t going anywhere. I’ll love you forever.”

Her lips are against yours in a flash, gentle passion burning wildly. The feeling takes away all of your worries, and you sigh against her. She doesn’t want to stop, but she has some words for you, too. 

“You’re all I’ve ever wanted, Y/N… that’s what makes this so hard. I could never hate you, though. I just wish we had more time. I’ll love you always, even through the distance that separates us. You’re my happiness.”

“Ooh baby…” The words come out through your tears, your voice unstable from all of the emotions you’re feeling. “I wish I could stay. God, am I gonna miss you.”

She kisses you again, and some of the pain is alleviated from your heart immediately. It still hurts, of course, but her kisses soothe you in a way that nothing else can -- part of you is healed now.

“I think I’m gonna miss that most of all.” She mumbles as her forehead rests against yours again. Her tears are at bay for the time being.  

“Not as much as I will.” The faintest chuckle is drawn from her; even as you lay dying, you’re still just as competitive as ever. 

You wrap your arms around her and let your face rest in the crook of her neck. You’re at peace in her arms, warm and comfortable in every way possible. Only she could do that -- no one else made you feel as safe and protected as her. The realness of the situation is hitting you again, but you try to focus your mind on the feeling of her heart beat against your chest. Yours is slowing down, the process becoming unnecessary now.

She can feel you slipping away, right between her fingers, and it’s almost too much to handle. Her entire world is fading right in front of her, and she just has to be a passenger in the process. If she could save you, she would; if there was a way for her to trade positions with you, she would do it in a heartbeat. Every other type of pain pales in comparison to seeing you, the love of her life, so weak and frail.

“I love you. Now, kiss me one last time.”

She does as you ask, whispering her own declarations of love against your lips in between kisses. 

In stark contrast with her broken state, your mind is running wild with memories from the life the two of you shared. All of your “firsts” replay in a flurry of various emotions and colors. It’s difficult to explain, but your mind is aglow with the vivid hues of a life well lived -- one with no regrets, no stones left unturned. It’s all playing in your head like some sort of slideshow, and there’s no other way you’d want to be sent off. 

“It’s beautiful, Jisoo.”

Just as she looks down at you, ready to ask what you’re talking about, the monitor flatlines. You have a content, peaceful smile on your lips, your eyes closed in comfort. 

“I’ll see you later, my love.” She whispers to you -- and those are the last words you hear before leaving this world, beginning your journey to the cosmos.

[charming-2d-boys]

angsty hisoka sceanrio??? leaving the imagination up to you but i love angsty situations that would give my anxiety irl but like angtsy to fluff situation type thing ahaha

Ooooh, my favourite kind of thing: drama, spice and everything nice 😂💕

Thank you for requesting this! Enjoy! 😄💕

A/N: The song that I used for inspiration is Forever by The Amity Affliction. God, I love those guys ❤ Also, I suck at describing fighting scenes and coming up with fighting strategies, but I'm actually pretty proud of this one 😄

Warning: somewhat graphic descriptions of serious, fatal (for normal people, that is) injuries; also slight spoilers in case you haven't read Ishida Sui's Hisoka's Past

We can't live forever - Hisoka x Reader

   Hisoka couldn’t believe it.

   He had just talked with you the previous night about this match. He had bragged about how much fun it would be to break his opponent and about the reward you were supposed to give him after he won. You had laughed as he hugged you to his chest, both of you still sweaty from your previous trysts. You had assured him that you’d definitely reward him, like you always did, and also promised to give him a massage for all the hard work, ending your promise with a kiss on his cheek.

   And now, it was like everything was flashing right before his eyes. Strangely enough, it wasn't the way he'd heard it would be. It wasn't his whole life flashing before his eyes - there was almost nothing from his past, from when he was a child.

   He briefly saw his mother as she was showing him the Ace of Hearts. He chose that card when she was shuffling them and she guessed it. That was one of the first card tricks he had ever seen.

   Then, he remembered his time at the circus, with Moritonio and Abaki. The smell of popcorn surrounding him and the taste the Bungee Gum left in his mouth.

   An amalgamation of people’s faces, places and blood as he travelled and developed his Nen.

   Then the first time he saw you. Your first date and the way you laughed when some kid's cotton candy got stuck to his clothes. The many kisses shared and hours spent together...

   All going rapidly through his head as he was stuck to the ground by pointy poles of steel that his opponent managed to catch him with, one of them jutting right out of his chest and between his symbol suits. Hisoka could barely breathe, no matter how much Aura he was projecting to stop the bleeding. The sound of the rainy weather outside seemed somehow foreboding now, compared to how he felt about it in the morning, as the two of you were getting ready - a slight inconvenience.

   His opponent was wiping his mouth of blood as sweat rolled down his face, eyes blazing at Hisoka’s figure on the ground as he made another pole with his Nen. This guy hated Hisoka. That much was clear from his bloodlust.

   You were watching them. Hisoka could feel your eyes and he saw you, in the stands, in the first row to his left. You were crying and he could see your hands clasped together as you were praying for Hisoka to get up, to not die on you, not now. Your eyes moved to the opponent, watching as he started advancing slowly towards Hisoka’s body, his own injuries and fatigue slowing him down considerably.

   Am I really going to die here?

   Hisoka looked away from you and to the ceiling, wishing he could see the clouds and feel the rain on his face - just wash the blood away. His fingers were either torn off, broken or crushed; both of his arms were broken and pierced through because of the poles, rendering them pretty much useless; he couldn’t feel his right leg from the knee down and he was sure that a few of his ribs were broken.

   What could he do? His enemy was coming closer, intent on winning and possibly even killing Hisoka. He could feel your eyes on him. Those beautiful, teary eyes of yours. God, he always hated when you cried. What would you do if he died? He couldn’t just leave you alone like that. One of the few truly good things in his life. Always so happy to see him. And now you looked like your very heart was breaking right in front of his eyes.

   I'm not afraid to die.

   He really wasn't. Hisoka always felt that he'd rather die doing something he liked rather than dying from anything else. Too bad you had to witness it.

   “Lovely! If I die...” His voice was loud and harsh, blood going down the left side of his mouth as he turned his head towards you. It was hard to breathe. His opponent was still approaching. If only his other hand wouldn't have been broken and now falling limply at his side, Hisoka was sure he would be carrying two poles, mostly as a way to make sure he ended the magician forever.

   He wondered how many knew about the two of you. With how affected you looked now and all the looks you were getting, probably enough.

   But I'm so afraid of leaving you here.

   "If I die... I'll see you on the other side~ ♥️" He winked and smirked at you. You could only shake your head and mutter no as you saw Hisoka turn back to face his opponent. He was back to his usual self - despite the blood, the pain, your tears. Hisoka felt lighter already.

   "Ready to die, Grim Reaper?" His enemy asked, pole up over his head, ready to go through Hisoka's face.

   "Only if you lead the way~ ♣️" Hisoka responded with a smile, faltering a bit with a wince as he moved his left leg just a little.

   "I'll wipe that smile off your face right now!" Hisoka thought he heard a scream right before the pole struck.

   You couldn't watch. You didn't want to. And you almost felt like collapsing to the ground when you heard the thud as Hisoka was declared winner. You jumped over the wall and ran to Hisoka's side, ignoring the audience's cheering and the commentator the second you snapped out of your shocked state.

   The pole embedded deep into the ground besides your boyfriend's head was heavy and didn't seem like it would budge anytime soon. You listened to Hisoka's instructions as you pulled his opponent's body off the pipe in Hisoka's chest and then slowly got his broken body upright, trying to support his weight as much as you could. Several staff members had shown up to help you and you thanked them as they carried Hisoka to the hospital wing in the arena. He'd have to use a lot of Texture Surprise and prosthetics for these injuries.

   You were soon left alone when the doctors made sure Hisoka was stable. You wouldn't let him use his magic tricks that easily - for now, at least. First, he'd rest for a while. The rest could come later. Only that Hisoka didn't want you to go. Not that you would.

   "You're such an idiot! I thought you were going to die." You scolded him while wiping your tears, hand holding onto his broken one gently.

   "Hmm~ So did I, lovely. ♣ But I had to get him close enough so I could use my Bungee Gum~♦" You had seen the entire thing and were thankful the commentator didn't say anything before Hisoka struck.

   Just as his opponent was about to kill him, Hisoka used his left foot, that wasn't broken and only had a sprained ankle, to catch onto the edge of one of his opponent's poles. By pulling it with high speed towards the two of them, there was a high chance of his enemy noticing and moving out of the way, thus resulting in Hisoka killing himself.

   But tired, dizzy from blood loss and probably thinking that all of Hisoka's limbs were broken and unable to be used, he had let his guard down. And just like that, he got pierced by his own pole, going straight through him and deviating slightly to the side in the process, striking next to Hisoka's head, while his body slumped over and fell onto the pole in Hisoka's chest.

   "Tell them the Grim Reaper sent you~ ♠️" Hisoka had said as he watched his opponent die, face set into an incredulous expression.

   "I'm so happy you're safe..." You hugged Hisoka and kissed his cheek, then his lips, thanking every deity you could think of for helping him survive this time as well.

   "I'm not leaving you that easily, lovely~ ♥ You're stuck with me for a long time~ ♥" He hummed in delight, wishing he could wipe your tears himself. But seeing you smile down at him and knowing that you were by his side was satisfying enough.

   "Good, I only love one clown. And that's you." You kissed him again when you saw his teasing grin. He never liked being called that, but you were an exception.

[deepdarkdelights]

Stay (Jimin x Reader)

Pairing: Jimin x Reader

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: None really, this isn’t yandere babes. Uh, I guess the topic of death and dying? Yeah, we’ll go with that.

This is NOT a part of my current series I am writing, this is separate much like “The Darkness of The Night.”

A/N: This is just a little something I made a while ago when I was not feeling the best, tbh I was really depressed. So, this is something to give everyone while I work on the next part of my series. I hope you enjoy it, even though it’s short and nothing like my other fics. It’s pretty corny tbh and most definitely been done before lmao.

There was nothing, that much I knew. And by nothing, I mean nothing. The sky was an absent stretch of swirling dark grey clouds, no light able to permeate through their thick cover. The world was one that had been plunged into darkness, devoid of the sky, devoid of the ground, and devoid of life. It was just the dark mist overhead and me. 

It was quiet, not that soothing deep quiet kind, but the kind that made your ears ring, the kind that reminded you that you were completely, utterly alone. But, it wasn’t scary. Just dark, and quiet, and familiar.

I felt numb, my limbs buzzing like they had fallen asleep and my lips were left tingling. It felt like I had been asleep for a very long time or maybe awake for far too long. It was this strange limbo in between the two, almost indiscernible. Was I even alive, had I ever been born? What is this strange but familiar place? This place that held no name, no life, and no meaning was now harboring me. But, I was left without an explanation. 

“Hello?” I called, “Is anyone there?”

My voice echoed out into the void, bouncing against an invisible force before returning to me once again.

“Hello?!” I tried once more, only to be met with the same response. An echo and a void, my own voice being tossed back to me in a way that sounded foreign. Like it wasn’t fully mine. 

What is this place? My mind felt as if a thick fog had curled around it, squeezing and tightening as if it were trying to subdue me back into that calm and apathetic way I had felt upon awakening. It was as if this place was aware of me and that I didn’t belong there, like it was alive. Was I not supposed to be awake, or whatever it is that you call this? 

“Can anyone hear me?!” I cried out, grunting as the pressure in my head doubled. The mist hovering in the empty seemed to thicken, darkening the veil around me as I stumbled about like a newborn deer. The pressure in my head was pounding now, harder and heavier than before as the mist began to swallow me whole, pressing me down closer into myself as I struggled to stand and force the invisible foe away. This place was awake and I was not supposed to be. In the span of only a few moments the calm had raged and turned into a storm.

“Please!” I gasped, “Please, let me go, I need to go! I can’t stay, I don’t want to stay!”

The mist only grew thicker, heavier, and angrier, pressing down into me and forcing me into submission. It did not care about what I wanted, that I had this feeling that something was horribly wrong and if I chose to stay then something bad would happen. My mind was foggier, it felt like an invisible force was pressing down into the curve of my spine and folding me into the deep mist surrounding me. I felt like I was drowning in the depths of the ocean where no one could hear me, where no one could save me. 

“I want to live,” I whimpered. “I want to live.”

And suddenly, there was a shift. What had felt like hundreds of hands holding me down became weightless and gentle. And there was light, beautiful, beaming, golden light that was so bright it burned my eyes just looking at it. I raised my forearm to shield my eyes and settled my weight onto my knees. Before, it had felt like I was dying. Now, it was like air was rushing into me and lifting me up, cradling me and comforting me. But it was far too bright and far too beautiful. It was painful all the same.

“Come to me.” A voice whispered so quietly it was like it was barely there. I held myself still, eyes closed and waiting, anticipating the sweet lull of the voice to call me again. And sure enough, it was there.

“Come to me.” It cooed, its sweet trill beckoning me to come forward and into its arms. 

I stumbled to my feet, spinning around wildly in an attempt to see the user of such a melodic voice. The person I could only assume was my savior. 

“Where are you?” I whispered, turning on my heels once more in search of the voice so rapidly I couldn’t see once more. Not only blinded by the stunning light, but the desperate spirals I was making in search for the voice. 

“Come find me.” It called back, this time sounding even softer and farther than before.

First I took one step, then another, and another, and finally I was running. I ran straight into the golden mist, stumbling through the blinding light in search of the siren that called to me. I still did not know where I was, what this place was, and who called to me but I did know one thing, I needed to find them. I needed to know who called to me and who wanted me to find them.

The light stretched onward, touching the entirety of the misty emptiness but seemingly extended with no end in sight. 

“Won’t you come find me?” It spoke again, this time a little clearer and a little stronger. 

“I’m coming! Please, don’t leave me alone, please!” I gasped, urging my legs to move faster through the veil of mist that curled around my calves, still begging me to stay in the depths of the void.  

“Please come find me, I need you.” The voice continued, it was like I could feel it reaching out towards me even though there was only the blinding light in front of me and all around me. I wanted them so badly, I needed to feel their touch, their embrace, and to see their face again.

“I miss you so much baby, please come home to me.” It urged, the voice becoming even clearer than before. I could tell now, this was a man and his voice was so familiar it made my heart ache in my chest, pounding as I ran even faster towards him. I could make it through, I would make it through for him. 

“Live for me, God I’m begging you to live for me because I can’t take one more day without you.” He said, his voice cracking as he continued. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there, and I know this is so selfish but please come back sweetheart, I can’t live without you.” 

“You’re not selfish!” I yelled into the light, my legs working even harder than before. “I want to come home, I want to come home to you! This was my fault, I was the one who left but I don’t want to leave anymore!” 

Tears were running down my face, blinding me even more than the light had. So many memories of him were there, hidden in my mind. Soft blonde hair, a sweet smile, and deep brown eyes that begged for me to stay. But I hadn’t and I ended up hurting the both of us in the end. 

“I was scared! I thought we were moving too fast and I was the one who left, I was the one who was selfish!” That was right, he wanted to marry me and I had left. It was dark that night, the fog was so thick that I couldn’t see anything. 

“You look so small.” He whispered, the skin of my hand bursting to life with tingles. “So small compared to all of this stuff you’re hooked up to.”

His voice was closer, the closest its been this entire time. But with the clarity of his sweet voice, there also came the pain. It was terrible, excruciating, pain. It stung throughout my jaw and head, sliced at my legs, punctured my arm, and punched me straight in the sternum. It hurt so bad to be this close to him, this close to the sun but it was worth it beyond measure. The pain was terrible but his voice was beautiful. I would take all the pain in the world if it meant I could be with him again, if I could start all over again. 

“When they found you, I was so scared.” He cried. “They thought you were dead and I felt like I was dying too. But you held on, baby, you did so well. If you want to go, I’ll let you but I’m begging you to try for me because I don’t want to live in a world where I won’t see you everyday. Where you won’t make fun of me, or kiss me, or wake me up with that beautiful smile.”

“I don’t want to go!” I screamed, falling to my knees as the pain worsened. I reached forward, fingers curling into the mist and pulling me forward, the pain splintering off down my fingers and up my arm.

“I want to see you every morning, I want to stay with you, and I want to marry you! I don’t care how much it hurts because I love you!” I panted, dragging myself forward with what strength I had left. The light burned brighter and ignited the pain, bringing me down to the absent ground. A loud ringing sounded through the air, becoming louder and louder as my eyes began to flutter tiredly. 

“Please, I need him.” I insisted as my body became heavier, the darkness rushing up behind me and attempting to latch its tendrils to my weak limbs. “I don’t want to go back to sleep, please let me go.”

“I’ll wait as long as you need me to,” he sobbed, “just please don’t go.”

“Don’t take me away from him, not yet.” I mumbled as the light dimmed and the darkness began to swirl around me again, pulling me deeper into its welcoming embrace. “I love him.”

The ringing only became louder and constant, jarring me as I felt the darkness wrap itself around me even tighter. His voice was gone, and the light was gone. Now, it was just me, the ringing, and the thick coat of darkness that swaddled me. 

“Go.” It whispered. 

The ringing became solid, melding into constant and consistent beeps. The air was light and smelled sharp and the lighting was dim and soothing. My hand was warm and my body was stiff, immovable from the immense pain that wracked through me. With all the effort I could manage to muster, I slowly opened my eyes again. They were heavy and puffy from sleep, struggling to fully open and take in the world around me. The walls were white, the floor was white, and the sheets on the bed were the same shocking shade. But he was there, with soft blonde hair and big sweet brown eyes staring at me in shock. 

“I’ll stay, Jimin.”

[theredraccoon]

A Desperate Proposal - Ch 2

The soft snick of the heavy office door closing was overly loud in the quiet room and Simon raised his head, blinking rapidly. Like breathing, blinking was still a habit that Simon had yet to shake in his five years as a vampire, but whatever, he had time. Oodles of time, apparently; a fact that still threw him on a regular basis. He blinked again, actually registering the quiet— when had his music stopped? Wasn’t his playlist something like five hours long? Had he really been working that long? What time was it?

This time it was the creak of the chair in front of his desk that got his attention. Simon finally snapped back to the real world and took in the sight of his Sire, sitting prim and proper as usual. Raphael’s face was a mix of resignation, amusement, and irritation; in other words, it was his “Simon Face.” 

“Good afternoon, Simon. How are the books looking today?” Raphael’s voice was smooth and dry.

Simon automatically straightened and his hands started to shuffle the papers around on his desk, moving his laptop back, rearranging pens, voice getting brighter and louder as he talked. “Oh! It’s going well. The numbers for last month look good, we've made some necessary adjustments. Forcing you to let me buy Quickbooks is paying off, I’ve been able to sort through the mess from, err, before, so much faster and I think that if make a few strategic changes we’ll be able to set up the new vampires with like, an income that will let them not be whiny assholes about what they’re missing from their former lives and I think… that you are not actually here to talk about accounting, are you.” 

Simon thought he could detect at least a hint of “impressed” in the lines of Raphael’s face now, but the irritation was also stronger. Simon shifted in the ornate chair and bit his cheek as he kept his mouth shut and let the silence grow. 

Finally, Raphael spoke. “No, Simon, I’m not here to talk about accounting. I’m here to relay the latest news from the Downworld Cabinet. Decisions have finally been made and they affect you. Directly affect you, in fact.” Raphael tugged at his cuffs, the crisp white shirt peeking out from the dark blue of his suit jacket. Simon’s eyebrows rose; he wasn’t used to any signs of nervousness from his Sire. His curiosity grew, along with some burgeoning apprehension.

Rapael continued, his voice firming as he went along. “The Cabinet has had a series of emergency meetings with the Clave. After much negotiation we have what we hope is the start of a solution to the... problem we are facing. There will be a series of marriages, between the Downworld and the Shadowhunters of New York. These alliances, if they prove effective, will then take place across the world as we attempt to figure out what is happening and how to counter it. If, and only if, our help is essential to defeating whatever is causing the Shadowhunters to drop like flies, we - the Downworld - will be able to renegotiate the Accords in a manner that is fair and equitable to us and not the Clave. So. We are obviously very invested in making these marriages work and be productive.” 

Simon was blinking rapidly again. He felt his brain kickstart into a different gear as he struggled to comprehend what Raphael was saying and the implications of what he was hearing. Marriages? The Clave willing to renegotiate the Accords? Really? Those stubborn assholes? He knew the situation was serious, but really? Marriages? Who was getting married? Wait, why did Raphael say that he, Simon, was going to be directly affected?

His mouth popped open and Simon heard himself say, in a strange tone he’d never heard himself use before, “Who am I marrying, Sire?” Then Simon froze in his chair, his body startled by the leap his brain had made. He watched Raphael twitch slightly.

“The Second in Command of the New York Institute, Jace Lightwood. Alexander Lightwood’s brother.”

The words fell like dead weights in the middle of the room. Simon’s muscles felt locked in place, while his thoughts started to race forward like a bullet train.

The events of the past few months flicked through Simon’s head like a movie on steroids. Simon noticing expenses for the Hotel Dumort increasing suddenly for no discernable reason. The realization that Downworlders and foreign vampires were quietly flooding into New York at rates that surprised even the older vampires in the Clan, causing them to spend more and more money to hide their presence in the city. Raphael taking his concerns to Magnus. Magnus talking to Alec about the increased number of Downworlders in the New York Institute’s territory. 

And then the horrifying knowledge that Shadowhunters were dying, dying everywhere, and it was forcing Downworlders into the city as they sought the protection of the Nephilim that remained, the protection that they would have fiercely denied ever needing in the past. Finally, endless hushed meetings between the various contingents of the Downworld as they struggled to make sense of what was happening. Simon, as Raphael’s reluctant Second, had attended several before his annoyance at the Seelie representative and his general impatience at the slow pace had led to Raphael kicking him out. 

And now here they were, and Simon was beginning to realize that hiding his head in the accounting nightmare that was the New York Clan for the last month had probably been a mistake.  

“I’m sorry, what? I’m marrying who? Why him? Why me? Who else is getting married? When are these marriages happening? What about the fact that I’m a vampire? The Seelies agreed to this? The werewolves? Is that what you’re saying? Really? I’m getting married? But my mom won’t be there. Or my sister. I never thought I’d get married without my mom there. What am I going to wear? Are the marriages taking place at the same time? Is this really the only way? Is Jace the hot blond one? The one who always looks constipated? I’m getting married?”

Raphael’s hands were suddenly on his face, cold brands on his cheeks, and Simon realized that at some point during his semi-hysterical rant he’d gotten up and was standing in front of his Sire. His body was vibrating.

“Simon. Child. I am here. I know that this is a shock and I am sorry for it. But yes, this is the only way. The Nephilim have been hiding their true situation, or they actually didn’t realize it until now, it’s unclear. Regardless, their numbers are now so low that the Downworld is legitimately in danger. We need them and for the first time in forever, they are admitting that they need us. Alliance through marriage has worked for Mundanes for millenia, we might as well try it. This is happening.”

“But why me?” Simon’s voice was a whine that he couldn’t control. Simon stayed still even as Raphael let go of his face and moved back to the chair in front of Simon’s desk. Watched Raphael settle back down, adjusting his suit for the second time. Finally, he spoke.

“Simon, I’m not sure if you have ever fully realized your power, or your responsibilities, as my Second. When I Turned you, you automatically had greater status than most as my Child, but when you presented as a Daylighter… Simon, the only reason that the New York Clan is mine is because I am your Sire. If I were not here, the other vampires would follow you. That is how powerful the draw of a Daylighter is. Especially because we have no idea why they exist, why you are one. If this plan is to work, each representative has to be of high importance, someone that proves that we are committed and have power to offer.” 

Simon’s mouth opened. And closed. And opened and then closed again. He felt like a fish out of water, trying to grasp the full weight of what Raphael was saying. He’d known that the other vampires treated him differently but he’d thought it was just because he was young. And a bit of a spaz. And a nerd spouting pop culture references to creatures that were around when the only entertainment was going to see P.T. Barnum and his fish-monkeys. This was different. Slightly scary.

A brief wince crossed Raphael’s face and Simon’s focus sharpened. “What else, Raphael? What aren’t you telling me?”

“The Shadowhunters— Alec— put Jace’s name into the negotiations first, as a sign that they were willing to offer their best and brightest, and someone near and dear to the Institute. But we still weren’t sure how desperate they were and if the Clave was actually committed to changing some of their… prejudices. So we offered you. And they agreed. They are serious. Alec Lightwood is the one that discovered the depth of the problem in the first place. He seems level headed and not as willing to put up with the Clave’s bullshit."

The hits kept coming, apparently. “Does Jace even like guys? Do I have to get married to a straight guy? I thought this wasn’t supposed to be a complete sham?”

“Alec has assured me that his brother is bisexual and I believe him. But Shadowhunters are notoriously homophobic and it might be... difficult for a while. You remember the scandal when news of Magnus dating Alec broke. I think the Nephilim were more upset that Magnus was a man than he was a Downworlder. Or maybe it was equal, who knows. Regardless, no, you will not be marrying someone who isn’t interested in men. These marriages are meant to be alliances, they need a chance to work. ”

Simon drifted back to his own chair and sat down. “Well, at least there’s that. Although he could just be an asshole. The few times I’ve seen him lurking around Pandemonium he always looks angry. Maybe he just has Resting Bitch Face. Hopefully.” He met Raphael’s eyes. “This is really happening? It’s the only way? I feel like a broken record, but I need to know. I kinda gave up on marriage when I became a vampire, I’m not sure how to feel about this.”

Raphael leaned forward and kept Simon’s gaze. “Yes, Simon, this needs to happen. We don’t know what’s killing the Shadowhunters and it’s affecting all of us worse than we could have imagined. We need to figure out what’s happening and stop it, hopefully without too many more casualties. And we can use these marriages to make a better life for ourselves afterwards. If there is an afterwards.” His voice faded away and there was silence again.

“Shit. I guess I’m marrying a Shadowhunter.” Simon let his head rest against the heavy wooden chair and closed his eyes.

“Yes. Simon. Thank you. We’ll talk more soon.” 

Simon heard Raphael get up and walk towards the door, enhanced hearing picking up every footfall and swish of cloth, knowing that it was deliberate, that Raphael was a master of silent movement, that his Sire wanted Simon to know that he was leaving, that he was retreating to give Simon space to absorb the bombshells dropped into his life. 

The door shut soundlessly this time, just a whiff of displaced air. Simon swallowed hard.

[foulserpent]

The Palace of Kings was near unrecognizable from the last time Delphine had stepped foot within.

For a start, it no longer had doors. Its occupant was far too large for that.

The throne had been converted into one gigantic dais, lined with furs and pillows and white feathers. It was ringed by guards sporting a unique scaled armor, and a scattering of servants and attendants. They moved amongst a pile of offerings to the king that lined the platform. Furs, worn war axes, armor and gold collected into piles. Lain in reverence, or perhaps fear fear. Atop it lounged the reigning high king of skyrim. Ysmir, Dragon of the North. 

She was gigantic. She was barely recognizable as having ever been anything but a dragon, instead long necked and longer-tailed, and far too top-heavy to stand on two legs. Her feathers had lost their tan mottling, and now shone bone white in the firelight. She wore no crown but her horns, and a pillar of flame over her head that burned a royal blue. 

Delphine had known her by a different name, and different title. There was a time in her life where she was sworn to her, fought alongside her. There was a time that she even loved her.  This all had long since passed with the years, as the world around her transformed out of recognition, with this dragonborn emperor-pretender being the weight at the very center of it.

The Blades were dead. Esbern had been taken by age three years before. Sky Haven had been taken by some dragon as a roost, and may as well have been destroyed. He had smashed the outside relics of Akaviri architecture with his voice and his tail, and now his sheep grazed among the mountain scrub that grew in its place. 

Whether she lived or died, she was already merely a relic of a world that was long dead. And so she approached the throne. 

Ysmir turned to look at the visitor. 

Delphine froze under the weight of those fiery eyes. The gaze was hollow, mere pinpricks under the towering blue flame. No, not hollow. Far too full. 

She felt the same sensation she had experienced all those years ago, as the shadow of the World-Eater blocked out the sun over Kynesgrove. He had, ever so briefly, looked upon her- and in that moment she was tiny and naked and frail under the talons of his mere glance. He had seen her and acknowledged her, and in the same moment had written her off as something far too tiny and trifling to be bothered with.

This was much the same.

"Greetings, Ysmir." she said, and she cursed her wavering voice.

The dragon did not blink. Her tail- and by Talos, it was the size of an oak tree - twitched its tip in a feline languor. 

"I take it you did not just come to stare?" She said. This voice was familiar. Strangely soft, deep, and sporting the thick-tongued accent sported by only the northernmost Nords. This familiar voice now shook the stone with each flick of the tongue, more like the distant rumble of thunder than anything that would come out of a living creature. 

Delphine's grip on the sword tightened, and Ysmir seemed not to care. She steadied herself, and met her steady gaze.

"We have unfinished business, don't we? Solvej?"

Ysmir lifted her barbed chin in irritation. 

"I doubt it." She rumbled. "And it is quite presumptuous on your part to think I would be interested in resolving anything with your little group of spies.”

“It’s not about that.” Delphine said. “I just wanted to ask you something, before I lose my chance.”

Ysmir raised her head even higher than before, looming pillarlike above the woman. 

“Speak.”

"Could you just tell me why you've done this? All of it. Everything since we last spoke."

Ysmir gazed down unblinking for a moment, then leaned in until the tip of her snout was inches from Delphine’s face. Her hot breath singed the air between them.

"The gods are dead, or being killed as we speak, or turned to stone." She said softly. "Do you understand?" 

Delphine raised an eyebrow.

Ysmir lifted a massive hand. Its terminal digits had stretched and warped outwards into the bud of a wing, complete with the delicate barbs that were yet to be flight feathers. Delphine allowed herself a moment of amusement; it was naked and gray, not unlike a baby bird's wing. 

"Everything lies on a knife's-edge of destruction." She brought two hooked talons together, showing the tiny void between to the woman before her. "The Thalmor of course. You know the Empire has been too thoroughly declawed to stand a chance. But this is more than just the trifling wars of mortals. That will only be a means to an end.”

Ysmir now looked into the distance, ignoring Delphine entirely. “I can save us all. I have done it before, and now I will do it again. Is it so wrong that I try to hold balance in place?"

Delphine shook her head in disbelief. 

"What in the goddamn hell are you talking about?" She threw her arms out. "No- Do you realize how insane this all is? What you've done to yourself? How the fuck is this god-king nonsense helping anyone?!" 

There was passing moment where something resembling indignation breezed across Ysmir's face. It quickly passed, returning to a distant placidity. 

"Unfortunate." Ysmir said, pulling away from the woman to lay back on her throne. "I am not unaccustomed to mortals being ungrateful. And I suppose I should expect that much from you. But it's still quite unfortunate."

Delphine deflated. Her hand returned to her sword. She had lost her touch for subtlety with age, it seemed. 

"May I at least pay homage?" She asked through gritted teeth.

"Do as you will. I have nothing more to say to you." Ysmir huffed, and lay back down, baring her massive breast to the woman before her. 

Delphine approached the dais, white down feathers kicking up around her feet with each step. She had heard of those loyal to Ysmir doing as such. They would be allowed to approach, lay hands on their king, prove to themselves that she is as physical as she is divine. 

Delphine now did as such, lifting a lithe hand and placing it amid the feathers. She was as warm as she had ever been, skin a wrinkled velvet under the soft down. Delphine felt the heart beating between the ribs. It must have been the size of her torso, the way it thundered slowly against her palm. It made what was to come far easier.

Delphine swore a quiet oath on the grave of her order.

The dragon did not react as Delphine drew the sword. She thought she saw the slightest ruffling of brow-feathers, a raised eyebrow over eyes that had already long-since lost interest in what the little human had to say or do, but there was nothing more. 

The dragon did not react as Delphine took aim in one fluid motion, praying her age not betray her, that the strength in her now wiry arms would not fail her.  A guard shouted something.

The dragon did not even stir as the blade slid through her thick hide and slicked its way between her ribs. Several people around her cried out in shock. Delphine gritted her teeth, and pushed until the hilt met flesh and blood welled up to kiss her trembling hands. 

The chest heaved in a massive gasp. 

Ysmir let out a strangled roar. Delphine stumbled backwards, leaving her blade behind as the dragon began to thrash against the pain. Two braziers were snuffed with a swing of her tail. One attendant was crushed as the great dragon crashed off of the dais, and the rest scattered away from the dying king. 

Garbled words tore from her massive throat, and they begged fire and death into the uncaring air, then pleaded everlasting life and healing against a rapidly collapsing body. Delphine had stood transfixed for too long, and one of the Words caught the edge of her and sent her reeling against a stone brazier. Something in her body made an awful crunching noise, and she crumpled to the ground. 

Ysmir's flailing had now quieted, and now she lay sprawled across the hall. Her legs twitched pitifully. Heavy slabs of muscle were caught in spasm underneath feathers that seemed to bristle and flatten outside of her control. Her head flopped to the stone with a thud, bare of its flame. 

Her eyes fell towards Delphine, but they were distant, wide and so very Mortal with terror. Delphine held them where she lay, body broken against the hard stone and fighting with consciousness herself. The guards and attendants and stewards were now crowding in on their king, some fruitlessly casting healing magic, some just staring in awe. Delphine stared as well, face taut with pain and a grim satisfaction. Whether she was taken dead or alive, whether this was the right thing to do or not, this was the end. 

There was an irony to it all. The last of the Blades and the Last Dragonborn. Delphine was too tired to worry about what it all meant. Whatever would be, would be. 

Ysmir took in a shuddering gasp through a foaming mouth. She looked somewhere far away yet, eternally transfixed and small under something only she could see. It looked back at her across all that distance, and she was gone. 

Delphine took a breath, and let her own eyes slide shut.