#i'm sorry it took me more than a thousand words to get past the hurt to arrive at the comfort

[holylulusworld]

TOL - Like a virgin (1) - Bucky Barnes

Summary: You need money. Hansen’s agency offers the right kind of trade.

Pairing: DBF!Bucky Barnes x Virgin!Reader

Characters: Lloyd Hansen, unnamed other reader (Hansen’s girl)

Warnings: money problems, sex for money, selling your virginity, blindfolding, sex with a stranger, groping, oral (fem rec), fingering, teasing, dirty talk, loss of virginity, slow sex, smut, unprotected sex, possessive Bucky, undefined age gap, dad’s best friend trope, Lloyd being Lloyd, language, mentions of past death of a loved one, fluff

A/N: This story is part of my: Traders of love (lust) masterlist

A/N2: It's also a request fill for my 16.666 followers celebration masterlist. Sorry, this took me so long. I'm working on all the requests left for this celebration.

Words: 3,9 k

“Do you know what you get yourself into if you sign this contract?” Lloyd Hansen, the devil with blue eyes asks.

“I need to money and uh…I tried anything else. I worked my ass off and even sold my car. It’s no use,” you exhale deeply to calm your racing heart. “The debts are eating me alive, and the only thing left that I could sell is my…virginity.”

He watches you squirm in your seat, amused, and aroused at the same time. “Aw, you’re a cute little cupcake. I’d love to have a taste of you myself, but I don’t shit where I eat – you know.”

Lloyd cocks a brow when you reread the standard contract he handed to you. “So, you will put me on your website and your customers will buy me?” You blink a few times to not cry. This feels so surreal and wrong. How did you stoop so low that you sold your body to a stranger?

“Kinda,” Lloyd gets up from his chair to show you his iPad. “We don’t sell you off to a random douche. I don’t want a cute muffin like you to end up under a sick bastard. All my clients are gentlemen.”

You nod slowly and try to remember every detail he tells you. “Okay.”

“You can choose ten out of my clients and, if you want to, a wild card.” Lloyd hands you the tablet. “If you choose only ten out of my clients one of them will have the honor to fuck you first.”

You fight the urge to scrunch your nose up. “What’s the wild card?” You look up from the iPad to meet Lloyd’s eyes.

“If you choose ten men and the wild card, you will get more money,” he explains. “The start offering will be one million dollars. You’ll get six hundred thousand dollars, and I’ll arrange everything for your safety.”

You gasp loudly. This amount of money would save you and allow you to live a better life. You don’t care Lloyd will have almost half of the money. He provides the hotel suite and will make sure that you’ll come home safely.

“The men will attend an online auction. They will bid on you. If you get lucky, they will pay more than one million bucks.”

“Wow!” You exclaim. Even if it’s the worst thing you’ll ever do, this arrangement will help move on from your past and pay your debts.

“Now, I’ll tell you about the wild card,” Lloyd sits next to you. “The wild card is special. You cannot choose this man, but you’ll get two hundred and fifty thousand bucks more. No matter who wins the auction. You’ll get eight hundred and fifty thousand bucks.”

“He’s not a creep, right? I don’t want my first time to be with someone hurting me or ignoring my safe word,” you wring your hands.

“The wild cards are my special clients. These men have my trust, sweetness,” Lloyd says. “The inner circle of my organization. It consists of ten men. You will find none of them in my files.”

“I could need the extra money,” you ponder. “You promise that they are not crazy or shit?”

“I’m the craziest guy in this organization,” he flashes you a smile. “And you are not scared of me, right?”

“You’re intimidating,” you shyly admit as you glance at Lloyd. “But you didn’t hurt me or scare me. You were nice.”

“Hah, did ya hear that, sunshine?” Lloyd yells, making you flinch. The door immediately flies open, and his assistant walks inside. “See, she thinks I’m nice.”

“Yeah, because she doesn’t know you like I do,” she puts her hands on her hips and glares at Lloyd. “Sweetie don’t let him talk you into this wild card shit. His buddies are the worst, and he’s the king of shit!”

“Darling don’t be rude,” he gets up to wrap his arms around her waistline. She squirms in his hold, giggling while pushing against his shoulders. “Give your man a kiss.”

“Not until you get rid of that mustache!”

“You love the mustache. It makes your clit all tingly when I go down on you,” he steals a kiss, and gropes her plump ass. “If not for my new client, I’d fuck you right here and now to put a little Lloyd inside of you.”

“You’ll take care of the sweet girl first. You better not pressure her into this shit,” she grunts and pushes Lloyd off her. “I expect you to be on your best behavior.”

She walks back outside and closes the door with a loud thud.

“A hell of a woman,” he hums and adjusts his pants. “I found her—” Lloyd clears his throat. “Never mind. That’s a story to tell later.”

“Can you tell me what the men will expect? I mean, aside from having sex with me.”

Lloyd smirks. “You don’t have to worry about kinky shit. The contract includes vaginal sex  - missionary, or doggy style. Maybe a blow job. Protection is a must. If you want it to be pleasurable for you too, play with your pussy, or think of something nice.”

“I’d imagine Bucky,” you blur out. “I—fuck.” You curse when Lloyd cocks a brow. “He’s my dad’s best friend, and a little older than me. Not a gramps or something.”

“Bucky, huh?” He nods thoughtfully. “That’s an interesting name.”

“It’s a nickname,” you hastily say. “His real name is James Buchanan Barnes.” You swoon now. “He never looked at me twice, but if I want to get off, I always imagine him.”

“As long as you don’t moan his name, I don’t care what you do to get into the mood,” Lloyd says, but there’s something in his eyes you can’t quite put a finger on. “Back to the options. Wild card yes or no?”

You look at the iPad again. What is one more stranger, right? “Yes.”

“Barnes,” Lloyd grins like the devil. “Hey, no swear words, sunshine. I got a nice little deal for you.” He grunts and mutters into the phone. “Would you just listen for a moment? A nice little bird came to me. I think you know her…”

“Y/N!” Your dad’s best friend jogs next to you. “Hey, long time no see.”

“Uh-hi,” you squeak when he wraps you in a hug. “Nice to see you, Bucky.”

“How have you been?” He releases you to lock you up and down. “You look a little stressed. Is everything alright? You know that you can always come to me. I’m like an uncle to you.”

“Uncle,” you wrinkle your nose. “Right.” You shake your head at the naughty thoughts wanting to force their way to the front of your mind. “I’m good. Really. Nothing to worry about.”

“You sure?” He presses on. “If you are scared to tell your dad, tell me. I won’t say a thing.”

“I said that I’m fine,” you snap at him as a woman gets out of his car and calls his name. “How about you go back to your arm candy and leave me alone? We haven’t heard of you for two years.”

You twirl around and storm off. You don’t need anyone to help you. Lloyd offered more money than you’ll need to pay the debts your dad left you when he passed away.

Bucky didn’t even know about it because he just doesn’t care…

“Pumpkin,” Lloyd claps his hands as you walk inside the expensive penthouse suite. “You look stunning.” He grins as you squirm under his gaze.

He walks toward you to hand you the iPad. “The wild card won the auction,” he casually says. “I transferred the town hundred and fifty thousand bucks to your bank account. This is the point of no return. If you want out, say it now.”

“I know,” you released a shuddery breath. “I don’t want to do this, but I need the money. It’s one night with a guy you trust. So…let’s get this over with.”

“On the bed is something the wild card got for you. OH, and he wants you to put the blindfold on. It’s his special request,” Lloyd gently pats your shoulder. “I promise he’s a good guy, and won’t hurt you, pumpkin. Just remember the only two rules. Never ask why they pay you for sex, and, never let them do anything you don’t want to.”

“Thank you—” you close your eyes and take deep breaths. “I can do this. Please leave me alone now. I need to get ready.”

“If he crosses a line,” Lloyd says. “You say Lloyd, and I take the door down.”

“What? I don’t understand.” You furrow your brows.

“Just say Lloyd.” He whispers in your ear.

“Lloyd,” you say, and the lights in the room turn red. An alarm shrills and you need to cover your ears. “Oh…wow.”

“See, I take care of my girls. Do not let him gag you, though,” he warns. “If he tries anything you don’t agree to, yell my name and I’m there in a split-second.”

You nod and give Lloyd a shy smile. “Thank you.”

“I make money with my girls. I don’t want them to get hurt or worse,” he says. “I’m not a saint or a good guy. But no one hurts my girls.”

You watch him leave the room and release another shuddery breath.

He’s right. This is it. The point of no return…

The gift from the wild card is a silky nightie dress in your favorite color. Midnight blue. It has a plunging back and lace-lined cups. It fits you like a second skin.

You close your eyes and count to ten to calm your racing heart as you put the blindfold on. It’s the wild card’s special wish, and you don’t want to piss him off right away.

Maybe the blindfold will make things easier. You can imagine any face, while the stranger is inside of you.

“You look breathtakingly beautiful.” You shudder as his voice is deep and rough. He entered the room without making a noise, and now he’s already so close you feel his breath fan over your neck. “I see you are wearing my gift.”

“Yes…Sir…” You breathlessly reply. His hands ghost over your arms, touching you gently. “Or do you want me to call you something else?”

“Hmm…” He hums. “We will see, doll.” You whimper at the pet name. “Can I call you doll? Is that alright with you?” His lips press against your neck, he nips at the sensitive spot behind your ear. “I need you to answer me.”

“Yeah, that’s alright with me,” you are already enchanted by the stranger. His scent is intoxicating, and his voice goes straight to your core.

“I’m gonna make you feel so good, doll,” he wraps one arm around your waistline to bring you close to his body. His chest is bare, and you feel his skin pressed against yours. “I dreamed of doing this with you.”

“You did?” You purr and lean your head against his shoulder. “What do you want to do with me?”

“You’ll see,” he chuckles as you press your butt into his crotch. “You’re eager to get me going, huh? Don’t worry. I’m already so hard for you it hurts.”

He releases you and steps away to admire your wrecked state. You’re a panting mess, and your legs quiver. “Beautiful and so responsive.” He’s back on you to slide the thin straps of the nightie down your shoulders. The stranger nips at your neck, leaving little love bites on his way. “I can’t wait to have you.”

“You have me,” you move your hand behind you, blindly grasping for his hair. He’s a stranger but feels so good against you. “I want you to have me.”

“I know, doll,” he whispers in your ear while shoving the nightie down your shoulders. The fabric drops to the ground and pools around your ankles. “I love how you feel against me. I bet you feel even better around me.”

His hands cup your breasts. One warm and soft, the other cold and a little rougher. He gropes your soft flesh and pinches your nipples. This stranger plays with your body and pulls all the right strings.

You don’t have to imagine someone else. His lips nipping at your earlobe, and his hands, those skilled tools press moans and whimpers out of you. “Sir…”

“It’s alright, doll. Be as vocal as you want to,” he smirks against your skin. “Relax and let me take good care of you.”

“Yes—” you hiss when he meaningly tugs at your nipples. “Ouch.”

“You are a big girl and can take it, baby doll,” he grinds into you to rub his aching cock against your butt. “I bet your pretty cunt is wet for me.”

Your voice fails. He’s moving one hand between your legs and pinches your clit through your soaked panties. “I knew it.” He teasingly pinches your clit, igniting another spark deep within you. “You’re mine now. Only mine. After tonight, you’ll never want another man. Say it!”

His other hand rips your panties off of your body, taking you by surprise. You squeak and giggle as he twirls you around. “You’re all I imagined you’d be,” he cups your face and presses his lips to yours.

You’ve been kissed before – but not like this. His lips are soft and tender, but the kiss gets heated when his hands move to your ass to hoist you up.

You end up in his arms and sling your legs and arms around his body out of instinct.

“Your lips taste like heaven.” He purrs while walking toward the bed. “I bet your sweet pussy tastes like sin.” You end up on the soft mattress, the stranger on top of you.

He kisses you again, slowly, and sensually this time. “I’m gotta have a taste, doll.” You wish you could watch him kiss his way down your body. It feels like his lips and hands caress every inch of your body they can reach. “It’s alright. You don’t have to be afraid.”

The stranger moves lower, kissing you right above your belly button. He moans against your skin, making you shiver at the slightest touch.

His hands move over your thighs, spreading them wide so he can settle between your legs.

“Let me have a taste of heaven,” he presses a searing kiss to your pussy. “I’ve got you, doll.”

You shudder feelings his nose brushes your clit. “So pretty down here too,” he murmurs against you. His breath tickles your folds, leaving you wanting more. “Shhh…” He shushes you. “I only want to eat this sweet cunt out.”

He spreads your pussy lips, to look at your clit. “Ah…S-ir.” You stammer. “What are you doing?”

“Did no man ever put his mouth on you?” He looks up at you from between your legs, groaning loudly when you shake your head. “Good. I’m your first for everything then.”

Your mouth falls open. Why would he want to do such a thing? Isn’t this night all about him, not you? “Why?”

“I love eating pussy, doll,” he laughs. “And I want you slippery wet so I can shove my dick right into your tight little hole.”

You grab your tits, squeezing your flesh to do anything but lie there and wait for the stranger to rule your body.

He teases your pearl with the tip of his tongue, eager to please you. A shudder runs through you. You are so lost in his touch that you nearly forget this is about him and that he paid you to touch you.

This is not love-making, but a business transaction. “Please just fuck me…”

“Not yet,” he slaps your pussy lips. “I want you to be a good girl and let me enjoy every moment. “This includes tasting your cunt.”

“Oh-“ It never crossed your mind that a man could be interested in eating you out before getting off. “Be my guest.” You sass and spread your legs wider. “I’m on the menu tonight.”

“That you are,” he kisses the inside of your left thigh, caressing the soft skin with his lips and tongue. “But only for me.” He turns his attention toward your right thigh.  

He wraps his arms around your legs and pulls you closer to his mouth. “Fuck, you smell so good, doll.” You gasp the moment he licks up your sex. It’s a new sensation and you already love it. “Use my face, come on.”

You bite your lower lip. Can you do this? Lloyd said this is all about the man’s fantasy, but he wants to give you pleasure too.

“Fuck,” you nod and start grinding your pussy against his mouth, hoping to get more of this new feeling. “Please.”

“Soon, baby doll,” he purrs and flicks his tongue to play with your little nub. You wiggle on the bed, grinding as he uses his mouth to send sparks of pleasure through your body. You don’t think, just feel.

You whimper and moan hearing him groan against you. He throws your left leg over his shoulder, spreading you wide as he teases your soaked hole with the tip of his index finger. “Oh God, yes. Please just put it inside,” you become impatient. “Fuck…please.”

He laughs but doesn’t say anything. Instead, he pushes one finger inside, curling his digit inside of you. “Relax, doll. I’m gonna give you my cock soon enough.”

“Y-es…p-lease,” you can’t think straight. Your body is on fire, and you need release, or you’ll lose your mind. “Please I want you to…”

“Baby,” he purrs while slowly starting to fuck you with his finger. “Soon…I’ve been waiting to have you for so long.”

He adds another finger, now pressing his fingertips against your sweet spot. “Fuck,” you exclaim loudly. “Ah, there…I need… I want…”

“No,” you don’t get to cum. He scissors you open, ignoring that you beg and plead. “Not yet. You’ll cum on my cock only. I want to feel you fall apart for the first time while I’m inside of you.”

“Fuck!”

“Oh baby doll,” he coos when you sniffle, and slam your fists into the mattress. “I don’t want to be cruel, only to make it easier for you to take me.”

“Please, I only want to feel you,” you hold out your hands, sniffling louder. “I need you to do it now before I get scared.”

“Shit,” you feel his fingers slip out of you. He crawls up your body and kisses you slowly. “Baby doll, tell me if you want me to stop. We don’t have to do this.”

“You pai—” He silences you with his lips and makes you forget that you are only here for him to get what he paid for. “I want you.” You don’t know why, but it’s true. All you want is to feel him inside of your body.

“Are you sure?” He asks against your lips. “Baby doll?”

“Yes,” you blindly grasp for him. “Please fuck me. I don’t want to wait any longer.” You don’t tell him that the man you wanted to be your first would never even look at you twice.

“You don’t have to beg me.” He angles his hips to run the tip of his cock up and down your folds. “I’ll give it to you.”

Your breath hitches in your throat, and a high-pitched shriek escapes your throat feeling his length slide slowly into you. He stills his hips, groaning loudly as your walls strain against his intrusion.

“Fuck, you’re so tight, baby doll.” He buries his face in your neck, murmuring your name as he moves back and forth, always pushing a little deeper. “Open up to me, pretty doll.”

It hurts a little, and you hide your face in his shoulder, whimpering any time he tilts his hips. “I know, baby doll. It will feel good soon. Let me just,” he breathlessly whispers in your ear. “I’m gonna make love to you, Y/N.”

You bite his shoulder when he slides all in with the next thrust. A whimper escapes your lips, and you claw at his back. “Shhh…you are doing so good for me, baby. I’m proud of you, my sweet princess.”

He wraps one arm around you and removes the blindfold with one swift motion. You gasp and dig your nails into his back. “Bucky?” You can’t help but whimper his name. “What?”

“I couldn’t let you do this. I wanted you for so long.” He claims your lips in a soft kiss. “You refused to take my help so I…”

“It’s you,” you cling to Bucky. “Not some stranger…it’s you…” you sniffle. “You’re here…”

“Yeah,” he breathes against your lips. “Do still want to…”

You wrap your legs around his waistline. “Yes…hell yes…” You grunt. “Please don’t stop now. We can’t stop now.”

He nuzzles his face in your neck and digs his knees into the mattress. You melt into his arms, knowing it’s not a stranger, but the man you adored and loved for years.

“We already broke all the rules, Y/N,” he slowly starts rocking his hips. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.” Bucky curses as you claw on his back. “My doll.”

He’s pushing harder into you with every thrust. It doesn’t matter that you feel like you are in a limbo of pleasured pain, or that you forgot the condom. All you are capable of is to stare up at Bucky as he takes you apart.

Your body belongs to him and opens up to Bucky like a flower finally deciding to bloom. Your core burns with desire for more of him. “Please.”

“I’ve got you, Y/N,” he sinks his teeth into your shoulder, causing you to cry out loudly. Something drops to the ground in the room next door, but you don’t care.

You rock your body in sync with Bucky, urging him on to claim you, and your whole being. Even if you should be mad at him for tricking you, you can’t. Not when he pushes you over the edge, his name on your lips nor when he spills into you, cursing your name.

“Baby,” he worriedly looks down at you. You are panting heavily and are unable to open your eyes. “Y/N, are you alright?”

“Yeah…I’m good…” 

Bucky slowly pulls out to lie next to you. He opens his arms and watches you lie on his chest.

“Why did you never come back?” You run your hand over his sweaty chest. “Bucky?”

“Your dad found out that I had a thing for his beloved daughter,” he runs his hand over your head. “I’m sorry. He left me no choice but to stay away from you. I had to keep my distance.”

“You could’ve come to his funeral,” you sniff. “Why did you leave me all alone?”

“I had problems with the law, and I was in the middle of a divorce. You didn’t need a drunk wreck longing for you,” he whispers. “I had to wait until I’m better and then Hansen called, telling me about your problems.”

“That fucker,” you grumble. “I knew he was going to trick me!”

“Don’t worry, baby doll,” Bucky softly says. “I paid all your dues before coming here. I just couldn’t resist you any longer. I had to have you.”

He lifts his head to look you in the eyes. “Can you forgive me, Y/N?”

“I’ll consider forgiving you if you explain everything to me later. Like – how do you know Lloyd Hansen? And what is going on with his assistant?”

“You will get to know everything.” He pecks your lips. “For now, all you need to know is that I love you…always have…”

Tags in reblog.

[cobaltperun]

Lost (14) - Collide

Tara Carpenter x female Reader

Summary: To anyone on the outside, and to Tara’s friends, you were Tara’s fierce protector, the MMA fighter who’d take anyone on for Tara. The Guard Dog, as Amber called you. You had no idea you’d have to protect her from people who claimed they loved her. It didn’t matter. As long as you and Tara had one another there was nothing you wouldn’t be able to survive.

Story warnings: Scream violence, family issues, trauma, angst, certain sensitive topics

Word count: 6.3k

Story masterlist / First part / Previous part / Next part

-Where do we go from here when they're tearing down our lives?-

The steaming mug of hot chocolate, a warm blanket, and another night all alone. If only there weren't so many memories tied to this house she would have moved somewhere, at least to an apartment or something. It would be more manageable, that was for sure. It was just too hard to think of anywhere else as her home. Even now that she had a second chance in you.

In a way, at the very least.

You've said it once, you're not Zack. You're still the only family he had beside her. At least as far as the family that accepted him goes. So, in a way, you were the only living reminder of him. You made her so happy when you visited her. And you brought the most wonderful, loving girl, with you. Watching you happy, in a healthy, wonderful relationship with someone as kind and loving as Tara, even after everything the girl went through, made Susan feel at peace.

Her phone suddenly rang. Maybe it was you, she rarely got calls from anyone else, but you made sure to call every now and then. Then she'd get to talk to you, Tara, and sometimes even Sam. Now that she thought about it, she had an unread message from you, she got it while she was at work and then it slipped her mind to read it later. That was probably why you were calling. So, Susan picked up her phone.

"Hello, Susan," she didn't recognize the voice. Maybe it was one of the patients from the hospital, or a doctor or a nurse she rarely talked to.

"Hello, I'm sorry, but who is this?" she took a sip from her mug, the warmth easing her loneliness as she waited for the answer.

"Oh, no one important. I was actually calling because of Y/N, she told me you are her half-brother's mother and that if anything happened, I could call you," Susan immediately sat up straight at that. No matter what, no matter how close you and Susan got over the past year you did not share that information with anyone other than your closest friends. The fact that whoever this man was knew about Zack was alarming.

"Did something happen to her?" she wanted to hang up and call you right away.

"Not yet, no, but it could. So, what's your favorite scary movie?" Susan, having read the books after what happened to you, recognized the line. She remembered the state you and Tara were in when you came to her house.

If what she heard was true she was done for. The killer was with her. So, she hung up, quickly opening the messages. She didn't even get to type a single letter before a knife stabbed her back. She cried out, dropping her phone. The piercing of her flesh continued as the figure of a masked monster in black robes came into her line of sight. The stabs would have been enough, but the killer made two deep cuts on the crooks of her arms. She'd bleed out slow enough for it to hurt, but quickly enough so that no one could help her.

And then the monster left her, lying on the floor, with Zack’s gloves in hand.

She could barely move her arms, but the adrenaline still pumping through her veins helped her reach the phone. She managed to type exactly three letters as her vision became blurry and hit send. She wouldn't be found until two days later when a neighbor noticed her doors were left wide open.

Thousands of miles away, all the way in New York you were woken up by your phone. You groaned, reaching over to your nightstand, and blindly grabbing your phone to look at the message. You smiled. Leave it to Susan to respond with only one word.

"Mhmm, Y/N," Tara complained sleepily as she hid her face from the light coming from your screen.

"Sorry, Love,” you kissed the top of her head as an apology. “It's Susan. I'm guessing she's down to spend Thanksgiving with us," you couldn’t help but pull her a bit closer when you felt her smile against your neck. It was Tara's idea, really, because not only did you have spare room, but Susan was important to you, and Tara liked her a lot as well, so it was a logical suggestion as far as Tara was concerned. Once you heard that you went and invited Susan to spend a week in New York, since you hadn't seen each other ever since you came to New York.

Her response? Fun. You figured that was a 'yes' and sent her a thumbs up, which she immediately read. No response came, but you expected that, as Susan wasn’t too big on texting. You'd just call her after you figure out a proper plan for that week. Which would have to wait, because you had another exhausting week ahead of you.

~X~

Nine, god damn, hours. You felt like you were just about ready to kick Thomas' ass for just dropping a two-week-long vacation on you out of the blue. If only it was your vacation.

So, instead of canceling his classes you were replacing him. Instead of doing the morning sessions and the second afternoon training session, which would mean 4 and a half hours at the gym, you were stuck with Thomas' sessions as well. Which basically meant you were at the gym from 6:45 am to 10:15 a.m., then again from 11:45 a.m. to 3:15 p.m., and finally from 4:45 to 8:15 p.m. So, nine hours of training people and an hour and a half to keep the gym running. By the time you came home after the third training session, you were too exhausted to do anything. And you meant anything! Cooking? Cleaning? Almost all of your chores were now split between Sam and Tara and you. The best you could do was wash the dishes or do some light cleaning, and you were done.

Tara hated it even more than you did. You tried, you really did, you'd go back home after each double training session, and you'd buy flowers, things like that, but it didn't help much. You loved how needy Tara was, how she wanted to spend time with you, to be held by you. Right now, her neediness proved to be a double-edged sword.

You tried to watch a movie with her, but you fell asleep. Tara understood that. She did not understand how you fell asleep last night while she kissed your neck. She wouldn't even look at you or speak to you when you dropped by after morning sessions.

That's how you ended up right where you were now. Parked near the building where Sam’s therapist worked. It was a busy night, which was to be expected, people were partying and wearing costumes, and the usually busy streets got even more hectic. At least the night was clear, though maybe a bit ominous, or maybe you were just too tired. You would have liked to be at home, with Tara, apologizing for last night, but you were waiting for Sam instead, because you had a feeling it would be better if Sam was with you when you came home. You couldn't be more thankful when she came out of the therapy much sooner than she was supposed to.

"Aren't you a sight for sore eyes," you greeted the moment Sam got into the passenger seat. Then you noticed the look on her face, that defeated look that told you she opened up a bit and it didn't go well. "Rough therapy?"

Sam looked at you, her eyes softening as she noticed just how tired you looked. "Rough day?"

You turned the engine on, loving the way the car came to life. "You have no idea," you sighed, just ready to get home, take the coldest shower possible to keep yourself awake, and hopefully make up for the last night's inability to stay awake. At least driving wasn't an issue. You never bothered to seek an explanation, but whenever you were driving you were completely awake, no matter how little sleep you had, or how tired you were. Step out of the car, sleepy, behind the wheel, completely awake. Maybe it was as simple as being responsible and not wanting to get into an accident, frankly, you only cared that you could drive and not worry about falling asleep.

"Tara?" Sam guessed, though that probably wasn't difficult, you saw how cranky Tara was this morning. Sam must have seen it as well.

"Uh... let's just say I fell asleep when I shouldn't have," you blushed, hoping that Sam wouldn't question it further.

"You've been exhausted ever since Thomas left, I'm sure Tara understands that," Sam did not avoid further questioning. Even though she was mostly trying to comfort you.

"Yeah, not when you fall asleep while your girlfriend is kissing your neck," you grumbled through clenched teeth. You didn't need to turn to look at Sam, you could feel the incredulous look on her face. In your defense, Tara was warm, and lying on top of you, and you were tired, and the kisses felt really comforting and good. Comfy and sleepy was a combination not even you could beat.

Sam suddenly began stifling a laugh. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, it's just funny," well, you'd probably laugh about it once Tara gets over it. "You two will be fine, Tara just misses you, you know?"

You nodded, not taking your eyes off the road. You knew better than anyone how Tara was, you knew how much she missed you, and she knew you missed her too. She was just being salty at the moment. "I know, Sam, I miss her too," you couldn't help but smile, it was just a small lover quarrel, not even that, really, since you didn't have the capacity to participate.

"I have an idea," you were vaguely aware of Sam pulling out her phone. Was she calling Tara? Probably.

No one answered though and you were suddenly reminded of what happened roughly four months ago.

"You know you're supposed to pick up when I call," Sam's concerned voice made you even more worried. "I got out of therapy early and Y/N is driving me back home. I was thinking we could cook dinner tonight. I mean, if that's what you'd like," she left the message and sighed.

"She probably, ah, I don't even know, maybe her phone is charging?" you were grasping at straws, but you weren't ready to think of the other options just yet.

"Or she's at a party, Omega something," Sam buried her face in her hands, trying her best to not get frustrated right away.

"What party?" shit, you were starting to think falling asleep last night was the worst possible timing, ever.

"There's a frat party tonight, she really wanted to go, but I begged her not to," the arrangement you and Sam managed to get Tara to agree to, remained unspoken.

After Tara first disappeared and went to a party the three of you came to an agreement. She could have her parties, as long as you or Sam were with her. Mindy or Chad wouldn’t do, Tara refused to listen to them, she refused to stop unless you or Sam made her stop, and as worried about Tara as they were, they didn’t exactly want to go to parties to babysit her. You wouldn't stop her from having fun or drinking until she reached a very specific point between drunk and no longer aware of what was happening.

You hated just watching over her, but you tried to step in sooner exactly one time before she got drunk. The next time there was a party Tara went and disappeared again, so you just figured it was better to stay by her side and make sure she was fine than to drive around the whole damn city looking for her.

"I don't know how to reach her, Sam," you confessed, the mental toll of watching Tara cope in one of the worst ways possible was slowly getting to you. You'd do anything to get her to stop drinking like that, but she just wouldn't listen to you. "Should I just drive straight to that party?"

Sam thought it over. "Let's check if she's home first."

You both knew it was extremely unlikely, but you still hoped.

You hoped even as Sam unlocked the apartment, but you couldn't hope once it was clear Tara wasn't there. You leaned against the wall, completely awake now. "She didn't even bring her taser," you pointed out, huffing as you began pacing the apartment. You knew you should already be heading out to find Tara, but you just needed a moment.

"I'll go get her, rest for a bit," you wanted to argue when Sam said that, but honestly, you just felt relief. "I'll call you if she's not at that party."

"Thanks," you just let her, not sure how drunk Tara would be, or if you were ready for another hunt all over New York, so if you could delay it even for ten or fifteen minutes, you'd accept that opportunity. You sat down on the sofa as Sam left the apartment.

"How the fuck am I supposed to help you, Tara?" you leaned back against the sofa, letting your eyes close just for a moment.

~X~

She was annoyed, not nearly as drunk as she would have liked and the party was running out of alcohol. You were working, and you were covering Thomas’ classes as well, so you were exhausted. Tara understood that, hell, she was thankful that your job functioned the way it did, because you normally had plenty of free time. And you had every other weekend off, seeing as you’d work one weekend, and Thomas would take the other. You had enough time to study, attend most of the classes and still had time for her.

If she wasn’t drunk, she’d admit she overreacted this morning, that as strong as you were you weren’t superhuman and that all the exhaustion just caught up with you last night. That it wasn’t what you wanted, but you just couldn’t fight it, and she knew what kind of effect she had on you, she knew you got really comfortable when she was on top of you.

She’d apologize tomorrow, because she knew you’d get worried if you come home and see she wasn’t there. She still had at least half an hour left until Sam was done with her therapy, and if she was lucky the two of you would take your time coming home, which would let her go back home and pretend she was asleep, so maybe she could avoid making you worry. Neither you nor Sam would know she was at a party, and everything would be just fine.

She had enough time to find a few more drinks, so when a guy that clearly wanted to fuck her offered her drinks, she figured she could just grab the drinks and go back to Mindy and Anika. She’d get drinks, he’d get disappointed, but she wouldn’t have to deal with him too much. At least that was her drunken reasoning.

~X~

When your eyes opened again it was because of your phone ringing. "Did you find her?" you answered without quite looking at who was calling you, it had to be Sam, and you immediately got up, ready to get the car keys if Sam didn't find Tara.

"I did. She's pissed though, she should be at the apartment in a minute or two," Sam warned you.

"She's pissed? Brilliant! Just perfect!" you hung up just as you yanked the doors open and saw Tara climbing up the stairs. You noticed they were all dressed like they went to some costume party, which, given it was Halloween wasn’t much of a surprise. Tara looked like she was dressed up as a pirate.

"Don't you even start!" she yelled the moment she saw your mouth opening.

You felt really close to snapping as you stepped outside the apartment to meet Tara. "Oh, I'm sorry, did your party get interrupted?"

You could see she was going to walk by you and get inside, but the mocking in your tone made her halt right next to you. "It did! And you know what? I was about to hook up with a guy!" if you were any less tired, any more attentive to the way her eyes immediately filled with regret when she said that, then maybe you would have been able to control your temper.

Not tonight though. "Well, it certainly wouldn't be the first time you were with someone while loving me, now, would it?!" a low blow, reminding Tara of her relationship with Amber, but you were reaching your limit.

Tara recoiled as if you slapped her. "Do not bring Amber into this, Y/N!"

“Then do not make me worry and say you were going to cheat!” you fired right back, by this point you were exhausted by Tara’s behavior, by her need to go to the parties and get blackout drunk.

"Hey, come on, this isn't like you," Chad tried to get between you two.

"Stay out of this," you warned, but Tara was already heading inside.

"No need! We're done talking!" she yelled while marching to your room.

"Oh, no, not this time, Tara!" you went after her, catching the doors just as she was about to slam them shut. She didn’t even try to close them, even as angry as she was she just scoffed at you and let you come in after her.

She turned to you the moment you closed the doors. "What do you want, Y/N?! I'm living my life, you hear me?! it's mine, not ours!" she screamed, pushing her finger into your chest. She took a step back, puling the headband she had on off and tossing it aside, she just began changing out of her costume, her breathing getting faster as she pointed at you again. "You're possessive, you won't let me go to any party alone; you've become even more controlling than Amber!"

You threw your hands up in the air, just for a moment looking anywhere but at Tara. "Maybe I wouldn't have to be if you had an ounce of self-control! Or do I need to remind you how I found you the two times you were at a party on your own?!"

"What of it? I ended up in a bad place twice, and? Surely, I've run out of all the awful things that can happen to me by now!" she was having difficulty breathing and the red haze that had overcome you faded away, the telltale signs of her needing her inhaler made you set your anger aside for now.

"And if you haven't? If someone takes advantage of how drunk you are?" you stopped shouting, even though some of the anger was still there.

Tara just shrugged, her breathing uneven as she clearly began struggling, but refused to use her inhaler, not that it would help her right now. "Add it to the list, I guess," you stepped away from her and went outside the room. "Y/N!" she gasped your name but didn't come after you, a coughing fit kept her in place.

You weren’t leaving her; you just didn’t get to take the new inhaler out of your bag. Just goes to show how hectic the past week was. You came back to the room to see Tara leaning against the table in your bedroom, her hands trembling slightly. You unpacked the inhaler you got a few days ago and took her hand gently. "Your current one ran out, right?" you pulled her down with you on the bed and brought the inhaler to her mouth. "I can't, Tara, I can't take it if something happens to you again," you could only hope she would finally hear you. Judging by the way she clung to you, gripping your shirt like it was the only thing keeping her grounded, a tiny bit of you hoped she would hear you this time.

"You're not angry with me?" she asked, tired of shouting as well, tired of being angry, of not having you around since you started covering Thomas’ part of the training.

You almost told a lie as you smoothed out the few strands of her hair that were out of place now that she took the headband off. "I am, but I'm more worried about you than I'm angry at you," especially when her asthma gets triggered. At that point, any argument can wait, and you guessed those pauses also made both of you calm down.

"I wasn't really going to hook up with anyone. I just wanted, I don't even know what I wanted. To make you angry, or to hurt you, I guess? I regretted it the moment I said it," she confessed, tentatively climbing into your lap for comfort and only relaxing when you wrapped your arms around her waist.

You took a deep breath, feeling the tension between you two dissipating with every moment. Tara was drunk, and pissed that Sam just showed up at the party, and something probably happened there as well that caused this much anger, so, given last night, she wanted a payback, and so she said something she knew would make you angry. “We’ll be fine,” you muttered, leaning your head against her shoulder, you weren’t completely fine, but you would be.

"I'm not messed up," she whispered into your ear, and you pulled back to look at her. The desire to continue what she started last night was more than evident in her eyes, but you shook your head.

"No, you are. You are still drunk," you weren't about to do anything with Tara while she was even slightly drunk.

Tara responded with a huff and pulled back from you as much as she could while still sitting on your lap. "Fine, fine," she knew better than to argue with you on that.

A knock on the doors caught your attention and Tara got off your lap so you could go and open the doors.

"Oh, thank God you're not fighting anymore," Anika said as soon as she noticed neither one of you was frowning.

"Told you love birds would be fine," Mindy patted her on the back.

Chad coughed. "More important things people," he reminded the two and you tilted your head to the side. "You need to see this," he pointed toward the TV, and you felt a shiver run down your spine due to the worried look on his face.

You and Tara went into the living room, Tara sat down while you leaned onto the sofa as all of you listened to the news. You couldn't believe the nightmare was starting again. Someone was brutally stabbed and a Ghostface mask was found at the scene of the crime. Even worse than that Mindy recognized the names and from the look on Tara's face so did she.

"You know them?" you asked as you sat down next to her. She immediately reached for your hand, grounding herself before she could start panicking.

"Barely, not that it matters, this isn't about us," you could see the worry in her eyes, the fear that it actually was about all of you.

That's when Sam came in, followed by a guy you came across every now and then. Danny? Tara thought something was going on between Sam and him, but she didn't have proof and you weren't about to ask Sam if she wasn't going to talk.

The moment Sam figured out what was going on it was like someone flipped a switch. "Pack a bag, we leave in ten," you and Tara just looked at each other before Tara jumped to her feet.

"Sam! Wait, Sam!" Tara went after her into the kitchen.

"We're leaving town," Sam ordered, not even for a moment considering Tara's objection.

You walked in, hugging Tara around her waist from behind to calm her down, she just had an asthma attack and you wanted her to feel safe. "Sam, you know running away didn't work last time," sure, you came back to Woodsboro willingly, but Amber and Richie were going to use Chad, Mindy, and Liv as bait anyway.

"It'll work this time," Sam picked up the biggest knife you had and went back to the living room.

Tara got out of your hug but began holding your hand. "Hold on, let's talk for a second. 'Cause this might not have anything to do with us," Tara followed after Sam, pulling you along and trying to reason with her.

"Are you serious?" Sam demanded, finally turning to look at Tara.

"It's a big city! It's Halloween. Everybody's wearing masks! You don't know-"

"Tara! Tara, this isn't a coincidence! You knew him!" Sam interrupted.

"Barely," Tara leaned back into you, prompting you to once again place your arms around her waist.

"Chad, Mindy, back me up," Sam turned to the twins, purposely not looking at you for support.

"I mean it is a bit..." the expression on Chad's face showed he agreed with Sam.

"Too close to home," Mindy basically finished for him.

"Sam, we finally got our lives together here," you took Tara’s side, yes there were issues, yes, Tara wasn't handling things properly, but you were building something here.

"We'll do that again, somewhere safer," Sam assured you, not even wasting a second to push back against any arguments in favor of staying.

"So, you're just making the unilateral decision to abandon my and Y/N's college education and flee the fucking state!" Tara clenched her fingers around your hands. The weaker grip in her left hand nearly made you reconsider.

"Y/N," Sam turned to you, looking for support. "Please don't take Tara's side just because it's Tara."

You shook your head. "Sam, I'm not going to run every time there's a hint of danger. If we do that we'll always be on the run, I won't live like that and if Tara doesn't want that-"

"Which I don't," Tara quickly chimed in.

"Then I won't let you force her to live like that," you could feel Tara's anxiety rising as Sam remained silent. It felt a lot like back when you decided you’d take Tara to Sacramento, and you and Sam briefly went back and forth on where to go and if Richie should go with you. Tara didn’t want to choose between you and Sam, she didn’t want to see you two arguing, and you didn’t want that either, but Sam needed to know she couldn’t make this decision for Tara. No one but Tara could make it.

And then the phone rang, and Tara nearly jumped in your arms. She wasn't the only one affected, everyone was put on edge by Sam's phone ringing.

Sam went over to the phone and rejected the call. "It was Gale," she said, which wasn't a good sign. Especially since Gale's book didn't exactly make any of you the fans of the reporter.

"Why did everyone freak out when her phone rang?" you almost forgot Ethan was there.

"You gotta keep up, my dude," Anika just told him.

Sam's phone rang again, this time from an unknown caller, and though anxiously she still picked up. "Yes?"

There was a pause for a few moments. "Yes, it's me," Sam replied to whoever was on the other side of the line. "Okay, okay, I'll come," she hung up. "It's the police, they want me to come down to the station," she didn't waste a moment and picked her jacket up to leave.

Tara just looked at you. There was no need to talk, you grabbed your jackets and you turned to Chad. "You guys be careful," you went after Tara, grabbing the keys on the way. You considered driving, but the police station wasn't that far, and it was late, it was Halloween and people were partying, so maybe walking was a better option. Not to mention you were still tired, and maybe you didn’t have it in you to drive to the station and back as you were.

You caught up with Tara at the bottom of the stairs and she gave you a quick, though a bit uncertain, smile. "We'll be fine, Love," you quickly leaned down to kiss the top of her head and then she led you outside, after Sam.

"Sam, slow down," Tara called after her sister.

"Tara, no, get back inside, lock the doors," Sam immediately rejected the idea of Tara coming with her.

"Are you serious? Now you don't want to stick together? Besides, I have Y/N," and both you and Sam knew Tara would feel better if you were there for both her and Sam.

"You heard the boss, Sam, don't fight this," you offered Sam a cheeky smile and she just shook her head.

"Fine, let's go," she gave in and motioned you and Tara to follow her.

~X~

You were about ten minutes away from the station when Sam's phone rang again, and you saw that the caller was... Richie?

"The fuck?" Tara said exactly what you thought.

"I never deleted his contact," you raised an eyebrow at that. Really, Sam? "This is coming from his number."

"Don't pick that up," Tara told her, but you were already tuning the conversation out, instead looking around the three of you.

Whoever was behind this now couldn't appear out of nowhere. You couldn't see anything suspicious behind you, but you felt Tara quickly grabbing onto your forearm. You turned around and saw a man approaching, holding a phone, so you stepped in front of Tara and Sam, ready to act the moment he made any move.

There was no need for that, the man just walked by the three of you.

The police sirens put you on edge as you made sure Tara was close to you.

"You shouldn't believe everything you read on the internet, asshole," just as Sam said it you noticed a movement to your right.

And there it was. The familiar robe and mask coming almost out of nowhere, hidden by the darkness of the night and shadows. You pushed Tara toward Sam and stepped between the two and the reoccurring nightmare. You did a quick jab followed by a hook, sending the figure into the bicycles behind him.

Something felt wrong. He fell too easily. As if he decided to fall. "Run!" you ushered Tara and Sam, not that you needed to as Sam was already getting Tara away from the could-have-been fight.

You turned back when you caught up to them, to see the Ghostface chasing after you.

"Y/N?!" you saw fear in Tara's eyes, the confusion caused by you of all people running.

"Something's different! I don't know what, but it just feels wrong!" you liked to think years of fighting gave you a good sense of what someone can and can't do in a fight and you didn't like one bit what happened right there.

Your words only increased Tara's fear. "Help! Please!" She cried out, hoping maybe someone would hear her.

"In there!" Sam pointed at a bodega just around the corner.

The three of you ran in, with Tara and Sam cutting the line and pleading for the clerk to call the police. You just stood with your back turned to them, waiting for Ghostface. You saw him at the door, looking much bigger than you. Tara, probably still thinking about what you just told her, grabbed onto your forearm, and tried to pull you back. "Please, Y/N," you glanced back, seeing the fear in her eyes. That one moment was enough for everything to go wrong. Ghostface quickly killed two men, tossing them aside and advancing toward the three of you.

"Sam! Don't!" judging by Tara's screams you figured Sam was pulling her back.

You relaxed, easily shifting into a fighting stance. As wrong as it felt, you knew there wasn't a way out without a fight. Besides, if you could end this now, you'd have only one more Ghostface to worry about.

"Hey!" the man working at the bodega shouted and raised a shotgun, firing it at Ghostface. As the Ghostface vanished behind the shelves you couldn't help but wonder why the man didn't just shoot first. You know, without warning the clearly armed and dangerous masked individual?

"Go out the back!" he told the three of you.

Well, you weren't about to waste that.

"Thank you!" Tara said, but as the three of you got to the back doors you realized it was locked. "Shit! Keys! We need your keys!"

The man turned to give them to her and Ghostface took his chance. Stabbing the man and taking the shotgun, shooting the man that tried to help you.

The three of you ducked behind shelves and you glanced at Tara. You've fought Ghostface before. You were afraid before. But back then you were afraid for Tara. Now you were afraid of the killer. There was nothing you could do against a shotgun. There was no way you could get shot and survive, let alone continue fighting. There was no way Tara or Sam would survive and just for a moment, between fight, flight, or freeze, your body chose to freeze.

Ghostface shot the freezers behind you, shattering the glass. Sam began moving again, trying to crawl to safety, trying desperately to keep Tara alive. Tara, however, wouldn't move an inch without you.

Another shot knocked a bunch of cans down, halting your escape and making Tara squeeze your hand. That snapped you out of it and you pulled the two of them back toward freezers. From the looks of it, you did that just in time as Ghostface came to the side you were on mere moments ago. You looked at Tara as she silently cried and moved, staying crouched as you moved toward Ghostface. You'd go around the shelves and try to take him down from behind.

Your heart hammered in your chest when you turned around the corner and saw a shotgun right in front of your face. You weren't fast enough to get it out of the way, no, you were allowed to grab it and lift it up. "Run!" the last time you screamed as loud as you just did Amber was holding Tara at gunpoint.

"Y/N!" Tara screamed your name, but you didn't look at her, you looked at Sam.

"Take Tara and run, damn it!" you yelled, pushing the shotgun up to make sure Ghostface couldn't shoot any of you. You couldn't focus on anything else, not on the screaming or Sam's frantic attempts to get Tara out of bodega, you could only focus on the fight. You felt a small sense of relief, knowing that as long as you kept holding the shotgun Ghostface wouldn't be able to let go of it either.

The moment you vaguely heard the doors opening you yanked the shotgun down and kneed the man in his stomach. There wasn't even a grunt, but he tossed the shotgun away so that neither of you could use it. You let him, using the small opening to land an uppercut to the jaw, followed by several hard and fast punches to the face. You pushed him into the counter, continuing the assault. It felt wrong. It felt like your punches barely affected him. He was moving, reacting to your punches, but it was too much, it was as if he was moving on his own, and not due to your hits.

A hard hit to the side knocked all the air from your lungs and he easily pushed you back. He slammed his shoulder into you, taking you to the ground. You gasped for air, barely having time to put up a guard before a fist could connect with your face. You recognized this feeling all too well. You were in this exact position plenty of times. You raised your elbow, hitting his jaw and getting up just enough to put him in a chokehold.

Another hit to the side nearly made you let him go, but you squeezed harder, trying to find a way to snap his neck despite the mask. The third hit to the side loosened your hold enough for him to get on his feet and slam you back down on the ground. You felt like everything was spinning as he repeated the same motion again. Lifting your entire body up and slamming it back down on the hard floor. By now you were too shaken to even hold onto him, your body was limp in his hold, and you knew there was nothing you could do unless you had at least a bit of time to recover from the impacts.

And then you went flying, right through the glass and onto the pavement. You skidded across the pavement, unable to stop until your back hit the fire hydrant and you gasped as the impact knocked what little air you still had in your lungs out.

"Y/N!" that was Tara's voice. Shit. She didn't get far enough.

"Run, you idiot," you wheezed as you rolled over, trying to get on your hands and knees. You watched as Ghostface stood there, but he wasn’t approaching you. He didn’t need to, you were still at his mercy.

The police arriving saved your life.

Tara was immediately with you, yet you barely heard her saying your name, you barely felt her worried touch. A single thought went through your mind as the police officers scattered around the perimeter and all you could see was a mask on the store's floor. 'I can't beat him.'

Story masterlist / First part / Previous part / Next part

[horseshoegirl]

Set Me Alight - Part 5: I Can't Go On Without You

📜.... I'm sorry... it's getting angsty in here... you guys aren't going to like someone after this...

❗️+18, Minors DNI, Strong Language, Enemies to Lovers, Original Female Character (s), Short OFC, Bradley Bradshaw x Natasha Trace, Verbal fights, bullying, camping, and pranks.

#4.8 k words

Part 4 | Masterlist | Part 6

Remember that tiny feeling of guilt building in the pit of your stomach? For doing something as simple as switching sugar for salt for Jake's coffee? 

Yeah. It got worse. 

Worse, as in it was eating your stomach alive. Worse, as in, your heart was leaping out of your chest. Worse, as in you wondered what the rest of the group thought about you or if they had caught on, such as Nat and Cora had done.

All because that asshole stayed silent the entire time you were leading the group to the waterfall.

It's not as if he didn't try to approach you - He did, or at least tried to. Every time you saw him coming, you'd either take Nat or Cora by the arm to start a conversation. Or you'd engage Bob in a talk about what artifact or item he was currently working on at the museum. The man loved to talk about his work, and you were all too happy to indulge him, regardless of whether it got you out of a confrontation with Seresin.

I guess you could say it was your guilt that wanted to keep you away from him.

But with the lack of heckling or hollering you've come to suspect from him, you honestly thought he'd at least try to keep up that facade. Hassle you over the map or something to do with the compass. Maybe even cause a fight when it came time to switch to a new trail marker.

You did it to him. You could only assume he'd do it to you. Even with his view at the back of the pack, the same spot you had taken to the past two days, he didn't. He only spoke when he was spoken to.

It was making everything that much worse.

As the group rounded the final bend on the trail, all of you could hear the sound of rushing water. Everyone perked up, seemingly finding a new energy and pace, eager now more than ever to finally see one of the sights that made this place so popular.

The moment the falls came into view, a collective gasp swept through the group.

Despite the clouds above, heavy with the promise of rain, the two twin waterfalls were breathtaking, one higher up than the other lower, both situated on their own angles. The water itself shimmered, cascading down the rocky cliffside into the pool below into a thousand shades of blue, and the sound was enough to mute the conversations of the other hikers. The surrounding forest was lush and green, making it a scene of pure, unspoiled wilderness.

You wanted to paint this place. The way the water fell over the rocks and how the two falls shone the light—the green in the trees - even the dirt and mud—the fact you couldn't hurt more than you could fathom.

You flexed your hand, the bandage tightening around your wrist. 

If you couldn't experience why you wanted to be here, you'd at least try to find joy in how happy your friends were to be here instead.

Dropping your bags down against a nearby tree after everyone else did the same, like a silent observer, you hung back on the outskirts of the group, trying to find some semblance of joy as everyone had their moment.

Cora, Grace and Nat laughed as they shed their clothing and jumped into the water. Mickey followed soon after, canon balling close enough to the girls so they might get splashed. Bob was trying to spot the fish and the rocks, hoping to find a mineral or two. Bradley merely stood still, watching Nat with loving eyes, and Rueben and Javy took the chance to sit and stretch their legs.

But Jessica and Veronica, in particular, stood out the most. With their faces full of makeup, seemingly more prepared for a photoshoot than a peaceful day at a waterfall. They spent that entire last break applying layer after layer, pluckering their lips with lip gloss into the screens of their phones. They were posed and preened by the water's edge, a view that had a complementary angle to both falls in the background.

Only you would notice the stark contrast between their carefully curated appearances and the natural beauty that surrounded them.

It's not worth something unless someone can get a photo out of it, right?

As you wandered away from your spot, you caught snippets of a video the two were filming. They spoke loud enough to cover the roar of the water, but it also appeared as if the two were trying to rally the attention of the other hikers and campers - as if, by some miracle, whatever they were doing or clearly saying would gather some attention.

They didn't mention names, not that you heard yet, but with the explicit references to 'someone's antics and attitude' at a campsite, you knew it only had to be you. 

"I mean, it's just so petty, right? But I'm the bigger person, and I wouldn't stoop to that level. Moving on and forgetting is better, right?" Jessica explained to her phone.

You rolled your eyes. They thrived on drama and the need for attention. And no matter what story they chose to share, they could have taken shit, disguised it as pecan pie, and people they had ever met before in person would still eat it and call it great. 

 While it hurt on some level, you didn't value their opinion. Never had or will. It's what made you so carefree in levelling their attacks with remarks of your own. 

The sun would still set, and you would still go on about your life long after this trip, without either of them ever having touched one influence of your life, should you have any real control over the matter.

No matter what, people like Jessica and Veronica would always find something to criticize or mock.

And standing here, in a beautiful park, they were on their phones, too wrapped up in their superficial social media world, informing people on the internet about every facet of their lives to experience what life had to offer.

There's more to life than the two-faced nature that is the internet.

Having felt dumb for even watching them, your gaze finally landed on Jake. He was kneeling, staring down at his own reflection in the water, lost to the rest of the world around him.

Why did he try to approach you? Why did he stay quiet? Why did he defend you against Jessica's words? Could you go as far as to say it was guilt-shadowing his usual cocky confidence?

In your mind, Jake was still the quintessential jock, the privileged rich kid with an air of frat-boy arrogance, someone who found amusement in driving you up the wall. 

He didn't deserve your sympathy, nor did he deserve to feel guilty—if indeed he did—because, in your eyes, he had always been the one taking pleasure in causing pain, not the other way around. If guilt was indeed the cause of his actions, a part of you fiercely rejected the idea that he deserved to feel that way. Despite everything, you couldn't reconcile the boy who had once hurt you with the man reflecting on his reflection, showing hints of vulnerability.

Shoving your hand into your pocket, you let out a hiss when something sharp poked your skin. You pulled the object out, looking down into the palm of your hand to see the stowaway fish hook from Jake's bag.

Grace let out a scream as Mickey splashed some water in her direction and Cora's faces. You lifted your head at the sound. You watched them for a few seconds as your hand closed over the piece of metal. That was until your eyes drifted to rather large clumps of algae floating nearby.

Toying with the hook, a horrible, terrible idea began to take shape.

The urge to draw Jake out of his silence, to elicit some sort of reaction from him, became almost irresistible. You wanted to draw him out. You wanted to break through this silence. It wasn't like Jake to be this quiet, and honestly, it irked you more than his usual antics ever could.

He didn't deserve to feel guilty. Not when he didn't back then. 

You just hoped the asshole was afraid of snakes.

The task was slightly more challenging with your bandaged wrist, but you were determined. You scouted the area carefully and soon found what you needed – a flexible, skinny-looking stick. Making sure nobody was looking, you dipped one end into the water, collecting the green stuff before pulling it out, trying to resist the urge to gag.  After racing over to where you had left your bags, you dug through them to find the other object you had taken from Jake's fishing supplies that morning.  

After making sure the close was clear, and with one hand doing most of the work and the other providing clumsy support, you crafted your gathered materials into a makeshift but realistic-looking snake.

The trick was to make it move believably. You hastily attached one end of the fishing wire to the stick, creating a simple rig that would allow the faux snake to slither when tugged. The other end of the wire, now knotted to the fishing hook, was kept ready to be discreetly hooked onto your unsuspecting victim.

By the time you stood up and returned to your observation point, your prank hidden at your side, Veronica and Jessica had roped Jake into taking a group photo. Nat had been called into the fray, now out of the water and dressed, and then suddenly, she was shouting for you, Cora and Grace to join them.

With a casual smile, you approached the group, keenly aware of Jessica's subtle maneuvering with the camera, likely intending to edge you out of the frame. You didn't mind one bit, purposely settling next to Jake. It made for what you were about to do that much easier.

While pretending to adjust your position for the photo, you discreetly reached out with the wire and hook. It caught on to the edge of his sweater, and you let go, your grin widening as the girls counted down.

 Or, so you thought.

Once the photo had been taken and everyone had been satisfied with the result, Veronica stepped forward.

Then, she screamed.

You could only watch as she bolted forward, the fake snake you had rigged for Jake chasing her with each stride. In her panic, she didn't see the edge of the bank leading to the water, and she tumbled in with a loud, heavy splash.

The group erupted in a mix of shocked gasps and then laughter as Veronica finally emerged, wretched head to toe and makeup running down her face.  Even the rest of the tourists couldn't help but laugh, a few wondering a lot loud what happened. 

You watched, horrified she'd catch on to what you did, but you sighed in relief when Javy helped her from the water. The wire had come loose in the fall, effectively freeing you from the immediate blame that was surely meant to follow.

As everyone tried to convince her there wasn't a snake, you shot Cora a glance. Of course, she was already watching you with suspicious eyes, and of course, she had seen what you did, knowing just who exactly that prank was meant for. You could only give her a sheepish shrug, somehow acknowledging the unintended target of your prank.

But were you sorry for how that turned out?

Nope, absolutely not. Not one bit.

Basking in the relief of not being caught, you are blissfully unaware of Nat and her hardening expression, solely directed at you. Her eyes are narrowing with each breath, and her displeasure is evident to any on-looker brave enough to see.

She stepped forward, ready to call you out on your bullshit promise of not trying to pull anything else, when Jake suddenly looped his arm through hers, pulling her away and over to Rueben. 

It is then Bradley suddenly jumps and grabs you by the arm.

Using Veronica and the commotion as a distraction signals Jake and Rueben, who give him a hidden thumbs up in return. When you ask him what's wrong, Bradley only sushs you and pulls you away to a path nearby.

You let him guide you, following it down and then up a slight hill, one that stops at a mid-over look of both of the falls. It's surrounded by lush greenery and trees, and even on an edge, you couldn't see the rest of the tourists below.

It's perfect for what you suspect Bradley is about to do. After all, you and Nat were the ones who purposely picked this spot for him to take a hint and pop the question. And your thought is only confirmed when he lets go of your arm to reach into his pocket and pull out that tiny blue box.

"I'm going to do it," he blurts out, running his hand through his hair. "Right now. Jake and Reuben are leading her here."

You can't help but feel utter joy, smiling so wide your cheeks start to hurt. "Bradley, she's going to be so happy!"

Bradley, however, looked like he was on the verge of a panic attack. "I just... I need this to go right, Midge. I can't mess this up," he stammered, his hand trembling slightly as he lowered it down to his side. His eyes shot up to the path, and you could hear Nat's voice laughing at something as she unknowingly approached the two of you.

You took his hand into yours, letting it curve over his grip on the box, offering a reassuring squeeze. "Bradley, you've got this. Just remember to breathe, okay? Nat loves you, and this will be perfect because it's coming from you. Nothing else matters. Not the place, not everyone else. Just the two of you."

He forced himself to take a deep breath, closing his eyes and letting his shoulders sag. When he finally seemed to regain his composure, he offered you a nod. "You're right... I just need to keep it together."

Letting go of his hand, you gave him a gentle pat on the back of his shoulder. "Go get her, you big chicken."

He took a deep breath and squared his shoulders, motioning for you to hide. You squealed in delight, running to take cover in a thick, overgrown bush. Natasha emerged from the path, Ruben and Jake trailing close behind and you crouched down in the overly dense bush and hidden from plain sight.

Reaching into your pants to grab your phone, you turned it on. You had been saving your remaining battery life for this, both you and Bradley knowing Nat would want pictures to remember the day, hence why he came and got you.

Once it was booted up, you unlocked it, peering over the bush as Bradley greeted Nat with a hesitant smile. Jake and Rueben side their arms out from where they had been looped against hers and sent her on her way. 

She went willingly, a soft and warm smile on her face as she pressed herself deep into Bradley's chest. As much as he tried to calm himself down, and as much as your words had somewhat helped, nothing could have helped him more than a hug from the person he loved the most. You could see the second the stress, the tension, and the worry seemed to evaporate from his body. He fell into her, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.

Sliding forward, you held your phone between a gap in the brush. Watching them through the screen, you attempted to use your bad hand to try and zoom in for the right angle, the right depth of the two of them with the waterfalls in the back.

As they shared a soft laugh about something, you felt a surge of affection for the two of them. It was obvious there was no better couple and nobody else in the world better suited for either of them than each other.

All you've ever wanted was to see Nat happy, and in Bradley, she's found that happiness. It's a comforting, reassuring thought that brings a sense of peace to your heart amidst all the utter disaster that was this fucking trip.

"I know it was you who swapped my sugar this morning."

God, Fucking Damnit, Jake!

Titling your head back, there he was in all his fucking glory, standing above you with his hands on his hips like some middle-aged, snarky woman being cut out of line in a grocery store.

You want to scream. Nat and Bradley would merely have to twist back to see him standing there, in plain sight, in the middle of the forest, glaring down at you from behind the bush.

He was either denser than a fucking brick wall or simply decided, in a stroke of questionable judgment, this was the perfect moment to confront you over a petty prank.

"Get the fuck down, you idiot!" you whispered harshly. "They are going to see you!"

Swapping your phone into your injured hand and biting down on your lip as your wrist aches, you find a solid grip on his shirt, yanking him down toward the ground. Jake falls with a severe lack of grace, and you grimace, wondering if Nat or Bradley heard him.

You check through the gap, sighing in relief when you see they are standing with their backs towards the two of you, off admiring the waterfall. But with the relief came the turmoil, and the reality of your current predicament is blatantly obvious.

Jake is kneeling next to you in the dirt, the both of you behind a very small bush, while your best friends are getting engaged just on the other side. He's so close you can feel him breathing down your neck, and his eyes are pinning you down with his stare. Every visible piece of your skin is simply burning from his presence alone.

And the fact you can't leave. Neither can he. Not until Bradley has gotten down on one knee and Nat has answered that famous question with nothing but a joyful, happy yes.

"You've been avoiding me all day."

You could only roll your eyes and snort. "You don't say? I can only wonder why."

As you're unlocking your phone again and placing your phone back inside the bush, Jake leans forward to mummer in your ear. "I know that 'snake' on the fishing wire trick was supposed to be for me, too. You did a shit job of covering up your robbery heist."

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Jake trace his fingers over the palm of his other hand. Had you looked, you would have seen faint, red scratch marks marring his skin. 

You can't help but snicker at the memory of Veronica falling into the water and of her climbing out, looking like a drenched raccoon. "Can't say I'm disappointed it didn't happen to you."

News flash - You're not.

"Good to know I'm not the only one on your hit list."

"You are the list, asshole," you grumble under your breath.

Thinking he'd have some common sense and leave it at that, you lean forward, observing through your screen as Bradley discreetly reaches into the back pocket of his jeans and pulls out the box.

It's a stupidly optimistic thought.

"Can you just talk to me for once in your life?"

He never learns when to shut his trap, does he?

"Can you just shut up for two seconds?" you snap, not taking your eyes off your phone. "Bradley's purposing!"

"I'm sorry, Midge, Okay? I'm sorry for the bear trick. It wasn't supposed to go like that. I'm sorry you hurt your wrist. Is that what you wanted to hear?"

You shake your head. "Jake! Shut the fuck up!"

He frowned. "Why won't you let me apologize?!"

"Turn your fucking head and look Jackass." You gesture with your bandaged hand. "This isn't the time!"

He shifts in the dirt, drawing closer to you. "When is the time? Cause you've been running from me since we set out this morning. Actually, the entire trip so far."

"We're hiding in a bush, watching our two best friends get engaged. Of course, it's not the right fucking time!" you rush out in a single whispered breath.

"They are over there and can't hear us... I just need you to hear me out, Midge. I didn't mean for any of this to—"

"Seriously, Jake?" you hiss, finally taking your eyes off your phone as your patience wears thin. "Now is not the time."

But Jake is too caught up in his own need to clear the air to stop. And his voice grows louder despite the need for the utmost discretion.

"I just want to fix this, Midge! I hate that we're like this. I've always hated this! This thing we have going on, and I have no idea why!"

You couldn't help it when your voice suddenly boomed out, "You don't know why? Really? Let's start with that fucking mouth of yours!"

"Seriously?! You two couldn't can it for one fucking minute for this?!"

You slammed your eyes shut, wincing hard.

Fuck.

Nat's voice cut sharply through the air, her words laced with anger. "Get the fucking hell out here, the two of you! Now!"

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!

Reluctantly, Jake and you unfolded from your crouched positions. Your movements were hesitant as you both stepped out from the relative safety of the bush to face the weight of Nat's furious gaze.

Standing tall and with her shoulders squared, Nat was the epitome of fury. Her eyes could have melted steel, and each breath she took was measured, controlled, and laced with the increasing difficulty of maintaining her composure. She had yet to speak another word, but you knew.

She was barely holding it together, holding off the inevitable bomb that had been building up since she pulled you aside this morning.

But the worst thing you could have seen in this very moment? Bradley, still frozen mid-kneel, the expression on his face equal parts a mix of shock and heartbreak. And in his hand, grasped between two fingers, is Nat's ring - the one you helped to pick out.

You half expected him to shoot you a hateful glare, but he was only staring at Jake, coming to a stand and placing Nat's ring safely back within its box.

"What's so fucking wrong with the two of you?!"

You drew in a sharp, shaky breath. Nat continued to yell, first setting her wrath onto Jake as he let out an awkward cough.

"Jake, don't think you're innocent in all this!" she snapped. "Always egging her on, playing these stupid games. It's like you're both in some twisted competition to see who can be the most infuriating."

Her eyes bore into him, Jake obviously scared of her. She took a step forward and pointed to the ground. Bradley swung his arm out in front of her in fear she was on the verge of violence.

You were grateful. Nat would be capable of murder at this point.

"You could've been the bigger person, walked away, but no, you just had to keep it going. It's like you enjoy this drama. Well, congratulations, it's ruined a moment that was supposed to be about Bradley and me, not your petty feud!"

Jake ducked his head like a child getting scolded by a parent, his Adam's apple bobbing with his harsh swallow.

"And you!" she spun, now pointing her finger at you. You reeled back, scared at her snarl and the sheer rage she was projecting onto you, something you've never been on the receiving end of since you met her.

"I don't know what stick he's metaphorically shoved up your ass, Midge," she mocks your nickname in a deliberate tone, "but you need to get the fuck over it. How long has it been?!"

Your heart snaps. You are pretty sure it's been shattered, too.

"It's like one day you just woke up and decided he wasn't worthy of your attention! That he was too good for you!" Nat spins in frustration, running her fingers through the roots of her hair before she's back to unleashing her wrath onto you.

"Do you know we can't have proper get-togethers without the two of you causing some sort of scene?" she shrieks. "Here we were thinking that maybe, just maybe, forcing the two of you together for once in your life would get you to be fucking nice to him? Maybe they can communicate and figure their shit out. Maybe she won't run away every single time she fucking sees him."

"Nat..." Bradley tries to reason, turning to face her and trying to place his hand on her hip. She slaps his hand away, too far gone to care.

You know what, I was wrong! I was fucking wrong!” She threw her hands up in the air, letting them slap hard against her thighs as she let them fall. “You just can get your head out of your ass to realize this isn’t about you and your feelings and some selfish vendetta. It’s downright selfish, Midge!”

This is the reason why you've never told Nat - told any of them. Because what Jake said that faithful night is smacking you back in the face. Not that they didn't ever ask about it - they did - but because nobody would truly understand it.

They'd tell you it wasn't true. To not judge him for something he said in his youth. To grow up. To get over it. To give him a second chance or deep down, he secretly had a crush on you - as fucking if.

Or worse... Someone would confirm it.

Nat is confirming it. And for the four years you've been fighting against Jake, against the words he uttered to that girl in the bathroom of your college apartment, they meant nothing in this very moment.

The idea, Jake, was right after all struck like a blow to your chest, the weight, the force, sucking all the air from your lungs and replacing it with a heavy, undeniable truth.

"Having the both of you on this trip was a mistake," she mumbled angrily under her breath, shaking her head. With a swift, frustrated turn, she stormed off, each step pounding hard on the dirt trail.

You could no longer fight it. Tears overwhelmed the corners of your eyes, and you let them fall after years of running, finally allowing Jake the privilege of seeing the damage he caused and the death glare he damn well deserved.

"None of this," you seethed, pointing to Nat's retreating form, "would have happened had you not shut up the first time I told you to, Seresin."

Jake was visibly stunned, the shock in his eyes clear. "You can't honestly believe I wanted this to happen?!"

"You'd be pleased anyway it went regardless," You seeth. It's nothing but pure venom spilling from your lips, and Jake even finds himself taking a step back at the pure anger you're aiming toward him, only matched by Nat's previous rage.

You retreated towards a nearby tree, wiping the tears from your eyes as you laid your forehead against the bark, taking long, deep breaths. With sad eyes, Jake watched you go until there was shuffling in the dirt, and he spun, intercepting Bradley with an outstretched arm.

"Bradley... I didn't..."

"Just save it, man," Bradley replied dejectedly, slapping his arm out of the way as he dodged past. "There's nothing you could say that would make this better than what it already is."

He took off after Nat, his hand tightly clasped around the tiny blue box, and Jake couldn't do anything but grow roots into the ground, wondering how things went so incredibly wrong so incredibly fast.

Bradley had been coaching him on how to approach you. He thought last night, before those two showed up, there had been some progress. But now, standing amidst the aftermath of a failed proposal, Jake felt more lost than ever.

He knew he shouldn't have approached you while Bradley was down on one knee. The guilt he felt, even knowing how nervous he was about fucking it up, was incomparable. But you... you rebuffed him. Every single time he tried to approach you, you played the same damn game, and he felt like he was left without any other choice.

He just wanted to apologize to you before things got worse. Worse than you falling and hurting yourself because he couldn't man up and ask Jessica and Veronica to leave him alone.

There you were, crouching behind that bush, and he had the overwhelming urge to ask. And to say sorry that you had been hurt when he never intended for that in the first place. He just wanted to know why. Why did you so desperately hate him? Why, with every word, do you find fault with everything he did or would do?

But when Jake turned around to ask, you were already long gone, and he was left with nothing but the remnants of a failed proposal, Natasha's disappointment in the two of you, and the lasting impact of your anger.

Long may he rejoice in his ever-lasting ability to fuck things up further, especially when it came to you.  

So... who do we hate? Let me know 😅 (Not the writer, please not the writer)

Taglist:

@desert-fern @startrekfangirl2233 @sarahsmi13s @kmc1989 @fanficfandomlove @hookslove1592 @dakotakazansky

@teacupsandtopgun @lynnevanss @dizzybee03 @keyrani

@shanimallina87 @wildxwidow @dempy @stargazer-88 @alldaysdreamer @the-dark-and-mystery @bookchik15

@atarmychick007 @tinytotontheoversizedpony @buckysteveloki-me @wretchedmo

@redbarn1995 @a-court-of-roscoe-and-baby @yuckosworld @wren5650 @mrsevans90 @bellaireland1981 @tgmreader

@halibshepherd @essie1876 @formulafun @memoriesat30

Part 6 - Running up that hill - In progress

[xxladyballadxx]

To Love and To Cherish

(Richter Belmont x f! reader)

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

||Sequel to Reunited||

⤹ (Read the first part 'Reunited' before reading this one.)

Summary: A few months has passed ever since Richter finally reunited with his long lost childhood friend. During vampire hunts with (Y/n), his adopted little sister Maria couldn’t help but notice Richter looking at his friend very differently. Leading to Maria believing Richter sees her more than just a friend. Even Tera noticed a spark between Richter and (Y/n)

The day after when Maria spoke to Richter about that certain someone...

Richter finally realizes that he is deeply in love with (Y/n)...

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

(Y/n) and Richter had a lot to catch up on since they haven’t seen each other for nine years. The two talked about their tragedies, about how (Y/n) got this strange god-like power out of nowhere. Her heart shattered into pieces finding out that Richter lost his mother that got killed by this vampire that haunts him in his dreams. 

“Oh Richter, I’m so sorry that happened to you…” Says (Y/n), giving him her sympathy. She felt terrible for not being there for him. 

Richter placed his hand onto hers, he lifted his head to look up to her with a sad face and asked, “What happened to your family? Did they survive?” 

This was very difficult and heart-breaking for (Y/n) to tell him but she told him anyway. (Y/n) lost her entire family, everyone she loves were killed by a herd of vampires. More of a clan, a cult. 

She watched her loved ones die right in front of her. Richter felt his heart breaking apart while listening to what happened. 

A vampire who appeared to the commander, tried to hurt (Y/n) and get rid of her. That was the moment this incredible power awakened within her. A bright glowing light burning that vampire’s flesh, ashes to dust. Not only can she bend the power of light, she can also control every element. 

After every vampire witnessed what (Y/n), they took her and made her a weapon for their wars. Using her as a puppet. “I still have no idea how I got this power. There are times where I wonder if I'm controlling it… or it controls me.” her words dipped out into a spiral of darkness where she felt she was still trapped somehow. She continued to tell Richter about her past, “I had to obey them. If I don’t, they will kill those innocent people and suck them dry. Even the children…” 

Richter clenched his fists, swallowing himself up in anger. He was very pissed off that the whole clan of vampires kidnapped (Y/n), making her into a weapon. “If only I could have been there…but everything happened so fast…” he placed his hand onto hers, his face lifting up to hers sorrowfully.

(Y/n) squeezes his hand, her (e/c) orbs focused on him, “I’m here now, Richter. Never again will we ever get separated.” The two smiled at each other with comfort. (Y/n) sighed, moving away from Richter for a moment, “There’s something I have to show you…something’s that-” she couldn’t find the right words for it somehow. So she closed her eyes and began to change as Richter sat back and watched her transform into some sort…of a goddess. 

Her entire body glowed into a shimmer of gold, bright as a sun. Her hair shone radiantly, floating in mid-air. A short dress with shades of red, yellow and orange appeared on her, the colours of a flame. Her eyes were flaming gold, glimmering like thousands of lights. 

Richter gasped in a spark of shock, seeing her transformation for the first time. It was like he’s seeing a goddess right in front of him, standing before her, “W-woah..”

Tera and Maria barged into the room without knocking after noticing a bright light from a gap of a door, both were flabbergasted after seeing (Y/n)’s transformation. (Y/n) switched back to her human form, all the glow disappearing on her skin as she dropped to her knees,  “Ugh..” 

“(Y/n)!” Richter rushed to her in worry, his hands gripped onto her arms as he pulled her up. “I’m fine, this happens a lot when I transform.” 

Maria stepped forward to take a closer at (Y/n), she asked her, “What are you? How did you come across this…power?” Tera was just as curious as her daughter, they wondered the same thing. 

(Y/n) wish she knew how she claimed this strange power, “I don’t know. It just appeared out of nowhere. I have no idea where it came from…” she motioned her head down, her eyes set on her bruised-sore hand, “Perhaps it has something to do with me being torn away from my loved ones, my family…and..” she moved her sight onto Richter. 

Richter scooped her into his strong arms, holding her in a tight embrace “I thought I lost you forever…” 

Tera cleared her throat, the two turned to her, “This reunion is a blessing, truly. I’m very glad for both of you but right now…” she looked at (Y/n)’s ruined clothing, “(Y/n) needs to change her attire. Poor thing has been wearing that for god knows how long.” 

(Y/n) chuckled lightly with a short smile. Maria ran out of the room to get a new set of clothes for her. She returned quickly and passed them to (Y/n) kindly, “Here you go.” (Y/n) takes it from her, “Thank you..Maria and…Tera.” 

Tera and Maria smiled warmly with a slight nod. “(Y/n), I-OW!” Richter got punched in the arm by Maria, giving him a scowl, “I know you’re quite very happy to see her but bloody hell Richter! This poor woman needs to get fucking changed and we wouldn’t want you to continue your conversation with her just yet while she puts on her new clothes...” Maria had a little bicker at him, her arms folded into her chest, “You fucking pervy wanker…” 

(Y/n) blushed, dipped her face into the fabric of the clothes that she was given. Tera put her hand to her lips and giggled. A reddened-faced Richter scratched the back of his head, “Y-you’re right, I’m sorry. I-I will see you in a bit..” he walked past Tera, heading downstairs as he waited for (Y/n). Tera and Maria became the last ones to leave the room. 

As soon as (Y/n) slipped into her new attire. She swung open the door and headed downstairs to see Richter and the other two. Richter stood up from the table, gazing upon her. (Y/n) walked over to him, smiling gracefully. 

Richter couldn’t get his eyes off her for some reason, “You look…you look good..” he was going to say ‘beautiful’ but the word escaped from his lips. (Y/n) gave a little giggle in return. Tera and her daughter noticed the way they looked at each other. 

They didn’t want to say anything about it…yet.

━━━━━━━━·.༶❍༶.·━━━━━━━━

Months had passed ever since (Y/n) was finally reunited with her dear childhood friend Richter.  However, the word ‘Friend’ doesn’t seem to fit the case as Richter has been looking at (Y/n) very differently, he’s been at it since he came back to her, even during vampire hunts with her and Maria. 

The way (Y/n) strikes down vampires with her magic abilities, along with her rapier sword swinging towards the neck as their heads come rolling. Whenever she's in her other form, she uses her beam of light to burn out the vampires, their burning flesh dripping. 

Richter tries to stay focused in the ruthless fight with the vampires, he can’t seem to get his oceanic eyes off her. Maria took a quick notice, seeing the way Richter gazes at (Y/n). 

“Watch out!” (Y/n) flew down to the vampire that was about to attack Richter from behind, piercing the enemy’s head. She kicked it afterwards, watching it roll onto the ground with blood making a small swirl. 

She sheathed her rapier sword, making her way to Richter, “Is everything okay, Richter? You haven’t been very…” (Y/n) wanted to know what’s on his mind, appearing to be concerned. 

“I..uh…” For some reason, Richter’s heart began racing whenever (Y/n) walked close to him. Her presence somehow triggered his heart to flutter, causing him to feel a hint of awkwardness, “E-everything’s fine, (Y/n)..” Richter finally responded, his eyes looking away. 

(Y/n) sighed, she smiled and lifted her hand to caress his face which set his whole body and heart in an explosion of fuzzy warm feelings. Richter was stunned by her touch, his body felt unmoving. “Try to stay focused, Richter, wouldn’t want a vampire to sink their fangs to your neck now do we?” With that, she walked off down the path, heading home as she disappeared through trees. 

Richter took a deep breath, feeling his heart cooled down. As he calmed down, he earned a strong punch towards his arm by Maria, “WHAT THE FUCK, MARIA?!” He rubbed his arm, “WHAT DID YOU DO THAT FOR, HUH?!” 

Maria scoffed, crossing her arms, “You can be such a fucking dick sometimes. I have seen the way you look at (Y/n), did you think I would not be aware of that?!” she brought it up, turning Richter’s attention to the fact he couldn’t move his eyes away from (Y/n). 

Why does his heart beat so wildly whenever he’s close to (Y/n)? 

Or whenever he thinks about her?

“Richter…” Maria puts her hand onto his shoulder, squeezing it, “She’s more than just a friend, isn't she?” she sensed the bond between Richter and (Y/n) had blossomed into something more special. 

“You have feelings for her…” 

When that popped into Richter’s head, he came to a realization that he is in love with (Y/n)...that he has strong feelings for her…

━━━━━━━━·.༶❍༶.·━━━━━━━━

Back at home, (Y/n) lends a hand to Tera, helping her with cooking which she appreciates. (Y/n) has actually been helping around the house a lot. Cooking, cleaning, picking up flowers. Tera didn’t want (Y/n) to overwork too hard. She doesn’t seem to mind at all, (Y/n) rather do something then just staying still and doing nothing. 

With them keeping themselves occupied, Richter chilled in his room thinking about what Maria just said to him. 

‘You have feelings for her…’

Richter heaved a sigh, slammed his head gently onto the desk. His thoughts of (Y/n) began to appear in his mind, scattering everywhere. He wishes to love her, to cherish her and to stay by her side. But what if (Y/n) doesn’t feel the same way?

“Richter?” His heart skipped a beat by the sound of (Y/n)’s voice, his whole face glowing red. “Shit, shit, shit…” Richter mumbled under his breath, clenching onto his beating heart. He slowly took a breather and went up to open the door for (Y/n).

“Richter, are you okay? You seem…a little red.” (Y/n) pointed out, spotting a faded colour on his cheeks. She stepped inside as Richter shuts the door behind her 

“I..I’m fine..” Richter sat down on his bed, looking down to the ground. (Y/n) knew that was a lie coming from his mouth. She sighed disappointedly, “You’ve been distant towards me ever since I began going on vampire hunts with you and Maria..” settling herself next to Richter so she can face him properly. 

“Richter, please look at me…” (Y/n) urged him. Richter believes he doesn’t deserve to look her in the eye but slowly he gains courage to turn his face towards her direction. 

“We’ve known each other for so long ever since we were childhood friends. You can’t keep hiding things from me forever, Richter.” She added, moving her hand to hold his, “Please…tell me what’s bothering you.” 

Richter tried to find a way to tell her, he worried that he might mess it up real bad. His heart weighed heavily, having a bad thought where (Y/n) rejects him. He shakes his head, trying hard not to think about it. 

A sigh slipped across his lips, having no choice but to tell her, “(Y/n)...I began to have feelings for you..” he continued on, “I like you more than just a friend, I can’t fucking get you off my mind and ever since we were separated, I thought I would be alone forever.” 

At long last, he poured out the words from his heart and confessed to her, “I love you, (Y/n).” his eyes gazed upon her. (Y/n) felt her whole body and heart melting away. She inched herself closer to him, cupping his face and locked her lips with his.

This led to Richter wrapping his arms around her, he held her close and deepened the kiss in a slow passionate motion. (Y/n) pulled away for a moment, her thumb caressing the side of Richter’s face, “Oh Richter, I wanted to be the first one to tell you. I love you so much, you’re been in my thoughts lately and I just realized that you’re the one I want to spend the rest of my life with.” (Y/n) hugged him, burying her head into his chest, “You, Richter Belmont, are the one that I shall love and cherish forever.” 

Richter tightened the hug, never wanting to let her go. Their hearts connected when they had their first kiss, they came to realize that they were meant for each other. Richer moved away, motioning his hand to move (Y/n)’s hair out of her face. He leaned in to kiss her until their moment together was interrupted by a certain someone barging into the room. 

“About fucking time you told her, you wanker!” Maria ranted on, “it was so fucking obvious you liked her more then just a friend! The way you set your eyes on her just gave it away!” (Y/n) and Richter separate from each other, their faces going all red. Richter snarled at her, “Can you just knock on next time for fuck’s sake!” he rose up “Were you fucking eavesdropping?!” 

“For god’s sake, Richter, I only heard the part where (Y/n) said to you ‘You, Richter Belmont, are the one that I shall love and cherish forever.’...that’s the only thing I heard..” Maria folded her arms in irritation. 

Tera sighed, entering the room. She smiled at the two people who officially became lovebirds, “You know, you two make a very fine couple. I’m glad both of you figured out your feelings for one and another.”

(Y/n) goes over to Richter, wanting to hold his hand. The two smiled warmly with their shooting gazes crashing together. A serious-looking Maria swooped in to Richter, pointing her finger at him and said, “If you ever fucking dare hurt this poor lady, I will have my magic birds tear you to shreds.” 

Richer gulped humorously, his body trembling. (Y/n) let out a chuckle, giving a quick peck towards Richter’s cheek, causing him to jump a little. Tera gripped Maria’s arm, dragging her away, “Alright, Maria, let’s leave them two alone now. You, young lady, shouldn’t have barged in and ruined their moment.” With that, they left the room and closed the door on their way out. 

Richter tackled a giggling (Y/n) to bed, tickling her neck with kisses. (Y/n) cried in laughter, “Richter, you know that tickles!” 

“You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for this, (Y/n). Bloody hell, I’m so lucky to have you!” 

(Y/n) cupped his adorable face and kissed him, her head attached to his “And I am lucky to have you, Richter..” 

ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻ੈ✩‧₊˚

(A/n) - HOLY FUCKING HELL I WROTE A LOT FOR THIS PART! I DIDN'T EVEN REALIZE UNTIL NOW. Well, I was thinking about writing a special last part for this. Not quite sure yet. You might encounter a few mistakes on here since I was writing this like a madwoman, trying to finish it. So, I hope you all enjoyed this ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ I will be sure to write more of him in the future!

UNTIL NEXT TIME 𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔

ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻ੈ✩‧₊˚

[hongtiddiez]

Tharn hissed slightly at the twinge of pain in his abdomen, instinctively moving his hand to gently cradle and protect the spot. He hadn't expected the warmth of Phaya’s hand against the back of his or the way he so gently stroked his thumb over his knuckles. He wondered if he would ever get used to the way Phaya’s touch drew an electric current through his veins. 

“I'm… I'm sorry. You got hurt because of me.” he sounded so mournful, as if he was taking the weight of everything on his own shoulders. Tharn couldn't allow that, not when he’d acted entirely of his own volition, his own drive to keep the people he lov- to keep the people close to him safe. 

“It was just a coincidence. It wasn't your fault,” he sighed under his breath, wondering how many more times he could get away with calling it a coincidence, how many more times he would have to lie to Phaya. “I was just doing my job.” 

Why can't you understand that the thought of losing you is worse than any injury I might receive? I can't watch you die, I can't lose anyone else. My job is to keep you safe. 

Tharn watched as Phaya also sighed softly, clearly displeased with his answer in some way. His thoughts were interrupted as he watched Phaya’s tongue wet his lips, just the smallest slide back and forth. It was enough to drive him to distraction, to remember the way they’d tasted against his own that night in the garden. A goodnight kiss Phaya had called it. He wondered if a goodnight tasted the same as a goodbye. 

“Tharn.” 

His eyes snapped back up, meeting Phaya’s own concerned gaze and he swallowed down the guilty sensation welling up in his stomach. Why did Phaya bring this out in him? This constant craving for more he couldn’t quite suppress? Sometimes he felt like a different person entirely when he was around.

“When you got hurt I was really afraid you'd die. I don't want to feel like that anymore.” 

Tharn choked down the apology he wanted to give. He couldn’t apologize, couldn’t say he wouldn’t do it again. He’d do it as many times as it took to keep Phaya safe. This was his role in life, a role he’d accepted long ago. 

“I promise that from now on I'll always listen to everything you say. Please don't leave me.”

Oh. 

Those four words brought an insurmountable ache to his chest, one far stronger than the dull throbbing in his side. He’d been asked before not to put himself in danger, to worry less about making amends for his past. He’d never been asked to stay. Phaya could have said anything else, could have urged him to be safe, to be careful. Instead, he’d asked Tharn not to leave him. The words begged a thousand questions but Tharn found himself far too afraid of the answers.

“I'm not going to leave you. We're on the same team. How can I leave you?” The answer spilled out before he’d truly thought it through, one question sneaking past his grasp. And how could he? He finally felt whole, as if half of his soul had slotted back in place and allowed him to take the first full breath in his life. Perhaps he was selfish, but he couldn’t simply walk away from something like that, not now that he’d finally found it.

“What about… you thinking that I told Chalothorn about your dream?” Tharn still had no idea where that notion had come from, what had sparked such rage in Phaya. He would never divulge his secret, not when it was so very close to his own. He knew what Chalothorn thought of him, thought of his visions, even if it came from a place of gentle concern.

“Are you still mad at me?” Phaya’s anger towards him had been more painful than any knife to the gut. 

“Tharn.” 

The warmth of Phaya’s palm against his neck was startling at first, then comforting, and then impossibly confusing. Tharn couldn’t help the way his mind wandered to that fucking dream. The memory of soft purple lights and the warmth of the shower, of the gentle pressure at his back and the intoxicating squeeze around his neck. It lit a fire in his veins, clawing and hungry, and he quickly did everything he could to push it to the back of his mind once more, to give Phaya his undivided attention in the moment.

“I don't care anymore. I already told you, I'll listen to everything you say.” 

Tharn had to believe that, had to believe Phaya had forgiven him or perhaps never truly blamed him in the first place. Fear was a powerful thing, it could drive people to lash out, to blame, to hurt. He was only glad he still had Phaya's trust, the relief like a weight lifted from his chest.

“I'm sorry for being an asshole.” 

Phaya looked so repentant, so filled with remorse, and yet Tharn had never been angry with him. He ran his tongue along the inside of his lip, the taste of copper on the tip of his tongue as he ran it against where his teeth had cut into him. He knew immediately it had been an accident, had seen it in the way Phaya's face had morphed into quiet shock. No, he'd never blamed him for an instant.

“It's okay. I'm glad you're safe.” It was as much a reminder for himself as for Phaya, because the reality was Phaya very nearly hadn't been safe. Because of him. Always because of him.

Before he could overthink it he reached up and curled his fingers around Phaya's wrist. He wanted so badly to turn his head just slightly, to press his lips to the strong and steady thrum of Phaya's pulse. He settled for gently stroking his fingertips over the fluttering point, over the proof that he had done his job. He'd kept Phaya safe.

Slowly, Tharn lifted his eyes and met the intensity of Phaya's gaze. He was always struck by it, by the way it felt like he could peer past the cool facade he kept up, past the walls he'd erected to keep people from getting close. And perhaps he could, because each day it felt like Phaya brought a chisel to those walls and dismantled them brick by methodical brick.

He wanted Phaya, wanted to press their lips together, to linger in each other's embrace, to soak up the warmth of one another. It was a simple truth he could no longer deny, no matter how badly he wanted to.

Perhaps in another life they could have had that. Perhaps in another life Phaya was his and he was Phaya's and they loved with their whole selves. Perhaps in another life their story ended differently.

(disclaimer: none of this is from the novel, i haven't read the novel, i just like doing character studies of them and rotating them in my head like a skyrim loading screen)

[craacked-splatters]

"I know"

"Do u want to see what I added today?"

"Sure buddy"

(insane rambling below!)

Scrapbooks! Scrapbooks! Hell yeah!!

Hello to the 5 ppl seeing this👋 Ima be real Im running on 7 hours of sleep after 5day grind brain mushy rn and I scribbled everything maniacally by memory at 3am after having one of those revelation moments so I have no idea what I'm missing lmao. This is actually the first time drawing them like this 2. Really proud of it

and B4 u ask anything hear me out.

So like tmnt2012 mutant apocalypse am I right?

Yeah it's flawed and pacings off and stuff BUT! The implications it left behind are haunting and it has been stuck in my brain for years. One of the things that stuck with me was the fact that Raph and Don had stuff like April's tessen, Mikey's stuffed bear head, The Creeps containment jar, and Casey's skull(horrifying btw) with them and that it's like :((

I fully believe it was Donnie who collected and carried them everywhere in their car. Not only for Raph(to help with this memory)but also for himself.

Why? Well maybe I'm reading 2 much into it and it's also partly a HC of mine but also bc canonically Donnie has a bit of a hoarding habit collecting trinkets and pictures and stuff. He likes to keep things around that hold a lot of significant value to him.

We see this in The Creeping Doom during the intro

AND I swear he's got a literal wall of family photos in his lab somewhere I can't for the life of me find it but I know he did! He even took some to the farmhouse with him when they escaped during the invasion.

They're memories yk? Reminders..

Ok im having difficulty expressing this shit rn words r failing so like give me ur brain 4 a sec.

Imagine ur donbot.

You're stuck in a cold metal limbo for the rest of ur last remaining family members life. Everything and everyone you knew and cared about is dead and gone. Over thousands of species and ecosystems that made ur world unique wiped out. No more animals no more wild things no more blue clear skys. Death can't come for you. Not in a way that matters anymore.

And no matter where u go you are haunted by shadows of what once was. There are so many echoes and ghosts and cultures and stories and lives that were buried & left to rot by the gaping maws of fear & the desperate need to survive. No one cares for the past and the only other person around you can't remember it. Time will claim its domain again and there will be nothing left except empty metal husks to show sentience even existed in the first place.

Like holy shit he was just a kid bro and he never got the chance to even reach full adulthood!!! I can't possibly imagine the grief and guilt he must've carried with him all those years. He lost EVERYTHING

His family. His home. His world.

Did Donnie even get the chance to mourn??? Do u think his new body allowed it? Do u think he even ALLOWED himself to mourn? He had a hurt amnesiac brother who still needed to eat, who could still starve and bleed and die if they weren't careful enough.

So between his habits and the ✨Angst✨ and human pollution, him hoarding random ass things Wall-E style and making these shitty little scrapbooks or keepsakes didn't seem so far fetched to me. I also highly doubt there was enough time or resources to build shrines or graves in the middle of apocalypse. But yk honoring/preserving the memories of the things and ppl we love is natural for us so like SORRY if its a bit cringe of me wanting him to have SOMETHING to comfort him during the really bad days.

Even if its more bitter than sweet

Bonus doodads cuz I was indecisive:

The 1st was purple tinted cuz of donbot vision get it hehehe

[eclectics-world]

Other World, Other Person

Part 8 of the "Gabriel Returns" series

Summary: The reader finds out what happened in the other world.

Pairing: Past Gabriel × Reader; eventual Gabriel × Reader again

Word count: 931

Genre: Angst

Warnings: Alcohol mentions; what could be considered parasuicidal ideation from one of the characters; serious injury to one of the characters that they've already survived

You found everyone in the library. "So, boys. Time to talk shop." You sat, taking the drink Dean offered you. "That sounded like quite the fight that Abbie and I walked in on."

"I'm sorry, Y/n. We didn't mean to get into it in front of the kid --"

You held up your hand, cutting off Dean's apology. "I don't love that you did that, but she didn't get scared by it. Besides, if you want to apologize to someone, it's not me who needs it." Dean nodded.

Dean and Sam looked guilty, while Cas looked sad and Gabriel looked... uncertain, you decided. Like he wasn't sure what to do next. It wasn't really a face he wore often.

"Who died?" It was the best guess you could make.

"Nobody, exactly." Well. That made a lot of sense.

"Well, thanks for clearing that up for me, Dean."

"I think what he's trying to say is it was only sheer, dumb luck that they didn't get me killed." You looked at Gabriel. You heard Castiel sigh, and saw both the Winchester brothers avoid anyone's eyes. What the hell had happened in the other world?

"How close?" You weren't sure why that was the question you asked. Nobody looked you in the eyes -- they all seemed reluctant to answer.

"About a second and a half." A second and a half. It took more than a second a half to say that -- Gabriel had been that close to death?

"Are you hurt?" Gabriel frowned. Something was off here -- what you had asked wasn't a difficult question, but nobody at the table seemed quite sure of how to answer it. "What happened?"

"We fell behind." Sam was picking up the story now. "Dean and I, we fell behind. And Gabriel -- Gabriel got us through the opening to get back home. He held off Michael for us. And the opening, uh. The opening closed behind us." There were a thousand thoughts spinning through your mind. They left Gabriel alone, stranded in the other world? How did he get back? He was back -- sitting at the same table as you, looking at you -- so why was everyone acting like something was still wrong?

"There's more. What else am I still missing?" When nobody answered you immediately, you asked your next question. "Gabriel, how did you get back?"

"I used up what was left of my grace. All of it." You heard the harshness in his tone. You knew why it was there, what it meant for an angel to lose their grace.

"You're human." He nodded. You nodded back, processing what that meant. You'd known he was low on grace, that Asmodeus had been draining him of grace for years, but you hadn't realized that he was low enough on grace to be in danger of running completely out. You didn't know what Gabriel would want as a human -- you'd barely known what he'd wanted, really wanted, as an archangel. "So, what's next?"

Silence. He probably didn't know, you realized. "Well, considering I didn't have the luck to get killed --"

You meant to keep calm and collected, whatever had happened. But with that statement, you started crying. "The luck? The luck!? You -- you left me, alone, for years for reasons I still don't really understand, or even know about for that matter; you let me think you were dead, and then -- what? You show back up, I show back up, I come back for you, and you, what, want to get yourself killed, is that it?" You saw, from the corner of your eye, Sam gesture to Dean and Cas that this was probably their cue to leave.

"It wasn't just Kali I was trying to protect. I didn't want my brothers to know about you, to know what you meant -- what you mean -- to me. I figured if I went into hiding that I could find a way to take my brothers down. Something they wouldn't see coming. That just didn't exactly go according to plan."

You nodded. That had always been a point of contention between you and Gabriel: his desire to protect you, and your desire to have independence. "I really am sorry for what you went through, Gabriel. I -- I know it wasn't easy. That you went through -- through things you didn't deserve." You swallowed. "But it was hard without you. Having Abbie around and -- and not you. And now you're back and -- and -- Gabe, I don't want to lose you again. I can't lose you again. I know that you don't know what to do next, but --" You didn't have the confidence to finish the sentence.

"I can't go with you." Apparently he knew how that sentence was going to end anyways. "Y/n, I -- I don't have anything. I don't have a job, or an education, I don't even have a legal name." He was rarely so serious: only when he had his mind made up.

"Come with me." You didn't know why you had the confidence to say it now. "Do you think I don't know? I know you don't have anything. But you're going to have to work that out somewhere, so work it out with me."

Gabriel shook his head. "What could a runaway with nothing offer?"

You sighed. It had been a long day, and it was wearing on you. Gabriel seemed to have his mind made up, and you didn't know how to feel about that. You needed some time to yourself. "I'm going to bed. Good night, Gabriel."

[beebeetheclown]

Can I request one? <3

I'm imagining kendall and Rava (or any female charcter/reader), without kids, at the very end of their divorce process, reconciling a bit? Just something flourishing?

Might sound a bit more emotional than smut maybe but do whatever you want with it <3

Hi anon😊 this took me longer to write than I hoped for but it’s finally done!! I really liked this idea as it is not the type of thing I usually write. I like to change things up.

Thank you for requesting this! The start is not really my favorite but I promise it gets more interesting as it goes on! Also it is quite short, shorter than how long I usually make them but maybe not everything has to be so long haha. I hope you enjoy!

Kendall Roy x Rava - Request

Angsty one shot

Word Count: 1.9k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~🍊~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kendall and Rava stand in the penthouse they lived in together for the past year and a half. When they first stood together in the penthouse, nothing but joy and excitement was written all over their faces. They were both so excited to start a new life together as Kendall had just married her. They have been dating ever since he first met her in college.

The longer Kendall would work at Waystar, the harder it would get for Rava. As they both stand in the big living room, it is nothing like how it was the first time they stood in the room. Rava is holding the divorce papers in her hand and Kendall is just a few feet away from her looking at his shoes.

They both had already done everything at the court to break apart from one another. Rava had only come back to the penthouse with him to take all of her stuff. Once practically all of her stuff was packed away in the back of her car, the two stood silently in the living room, not really sure what to do next. Kendall can’t just let her leave just like that, he needed more answers. He had gotten many answers from her ever since the whole idea of divorce started, but he needed more,

“Does it mean nothing to you anymore?” Kendall asks.

“Does what mean nothing?”

“All those times in college, don’t you remember how much fun we had?”

“Kendall, that is in the past. We aren’t young anymore. You have changed Kendall, it’s not the same as how it used to be.”

“Well I’m sorry I can’t be that young college boy anymore. I’m taking my job seriously now, I’m a hard worker, is that not what you wanted? I still don’t understand.”

“The thing about you Kendall is that you don’t know the difference between a hard worker and an obsessive worker. You are obsessive Ken. It’s not good for you and it’s not good for me, it’s not good for the both of us.”

“No- no, you’re wrong. I’m not obsessive, I’m a hard worker, I am. I stay focused on what is right. I am a hard working, successful man, how do you not see that? Work is stressful, okay? Sorry I couldn’t be so full of joy all the fucking time.

“Even when work is stressful, you didn’t even tell me about it or let me help you. You go and get drunk and don’t even talk about it with me. I’ve told you this a thousand times now.”

“Come on, I didn’t even drink that much, you are overreacting here.”

“No, I’m not Kendall. I am done with you,” Rava holds up the divorce papers, “It says so here. We will never be together again, we will never love again. I don’t think I can ever love you again.” Her last words hurt both herself and Kendall. The room went quiet for a moment, the silence was filled with anger, regret, and sadness.

Kendall spoke up very quietly, his gaze was down at the floor, “You love me Rava.”

“Ken-”

“Paper proof or not, I know you still love me, you can’t just throw it all away like that Rava.”

Rava’s voice is quiet now too, she doesn’t want to believe him, but it’s hard not to, “Maybe I love you, but I can’t love you. I can’t love you anymore Kendall. You’ve hurt me enough.”

“You can’t but you want to.”

Rava feels teary now, she keeps her voice quiet, “Kendall, stop.”

“You love me Rava.” She begins to cry softly now, “Please don’t cry.”

“I think I need to leave now.” She replies as she wipes her tear away.

It gets quiet for a moment, Kendall doesn’t know what to say right away but then he speaks up, “Before you leave and this turns into something else, can I at least kiss you once more?”

“That’s not a good idea Ken. Really, I need to leave.”

“Just one kiss. Please.”

When Rava doesn’t answer, he walks over to her and cups her cheek so she looks at him. He looks at her for a moment then leans in to give her a kiss. She hardly kisses him back at first, but after having his lips on her own for a few more seconds, she can’t hold back and kiss him back with the same passion she did when they had their first kiss back in college.

He now puts both hands on the sides of her face and kisses her more deeply. He only really wanted to give her a small peck, but he couldn’t seem to pull away, he didn’t want to. He only pulls away to talk again. He rests his forehead on hers as he speaks, “Before you walk out, before we break apart, just let me love you once more, just a while longer.”

They both knew that it wasn’t good to love each other, but that didn’t mean that the feeling of love for each other was completely gone. Knowing that there was still a small spark that survived through everything only made things worse, it only made things harder. The spark made it hard for them to let go.

“Ken,” She whispers softly, but she can’t finish what she wants to say because Kendall begs to have her love for just a second longer,

“Please, please Rava.” With his soft, saddened pleads, she kisses him again. The two continue to have their feet planted still into the ground as they kiss, but he soon begins to move her over to the large couch that was just a few feet away from them.

She sits down and Kendall leans down to continue to kiss her pink lips. She still has the papers in her hands but they soon drop to the floor as they fall out of her grip. When the papers hit the floor, Kendall pulls away. He looks down at her then lets his hands slowly untuck her blouse out of her jeans, wanting to pull it over her head.

She watches his hands for a moment before looking back up at his face, “We can’t.” Her voice is still very quiet, it’s close to breaking and cracking as she still feels so doleful.

“Just let me love you once more, once more and then you can walk out that door.”

“What if I regret letting you do this?”

“You won’t regret, I can make you feel good.”

“No, that’s exactly what I’m worried about.”

“Why?”

“Because it’ll only make it harder for me to go.”

“Then don’t go, not yet.” He kisses her again and leans his weight onto her a little so she lies down on the couch. He’s on top of her now and kissing her so gently. He soon stands again then begins to unbutton her jeans. Rava just closes her eyes and her breath is heavy, she wants him just as bad as he wants her, but she is holding back her tears. She lifts her hips for him and he very slowly pulls down both her jeans and panties. He soon drops them to the floor and leans in to kiss her again.

He wants to take her shirt off but he doesn’t want to make her sit up again, he just wants her to lie back and relax and enjoy the moment. He now begins to take his own bottoms off and as he does so, he asks her, “Will you let me love you just one more time?”

Rava knows how bad of an idea it is, but she can’t help but comply and give in, “Yes, Kendall.”

“I want to make you feel good again,” he replies. His bottoms are off now, “Let me make you feel good again.”

“Kiss me Kendall.”

He leans in again and is on top of her again. He gives her a long and deep kiss before pulling his lips away. His hot breath is on her lips and his forehead is touching hers as he ever so slowly grinds his hips forward, making love to her before she can walk out the door forever. She moans quietly and he does the same shortly after her. Him being inside her again just felt so good for the both of them, there was no denying it. The last time they had sex was so long ago, she missed his touch and he missed her beautiful sounds.

He continues to make love to her, setting a slow rhythm. He is in no rush, he wants to make it last as long as he possibly can. He brings his lips down to kiss her neck and shoulder. Rava puts a hand on the back of his head and lets her other arm wrap around his back and sets her hand on his shoulder. She holds him close to her as they make love.

“Rava,” he whispers in her ear, “I love you.”

“Ken,” her eyes shut now, “don’t.”

He hums into her neck, “But I do. I love you so much. You are so beautiful.”

His slow thrusts never change, he doesn’t bother to move faster, he just continues to love her gently. He was usually always so fast when it came to sex, but this time, he takes his sweet time with her. The feeling of her around him again makes him moan quietly into her skin.

Rava can’t tell him that she loves him back, but she continues to let him love her with his body. She can’t get enough of him at the moment. His name comes out of her quivering lips, sounding like a pleasured whimper, “Kendall.”

“I’m right here.” He replies in her ear, “I’m right here for you.”

She ends up crying a little as she cums. She cries from both pleasure and pain. She cries from the loving pleasure he is giving to her. She cries knowing that she won’t ever be able to love him back. She knows that Kendall will always be the same, he is too damaged to be fixed.

He follows soon after her, finishing inside her. His moans are quiet and weak. He too almost feels as if he could cry. He pulls out of her carefully and soon pulls his dress pants back up. Rava just lies still as he dresses himself again. Her heavy breathing along with her sad sniffles is heard. Kendall takes her hands and helps her sit up and sits down next to her. He brings his thumb to wipe away her tears.

A pained smile appears on his face, “Still loving you means that I can’t hurt you.” He says, “So if leaving my ring on your finger and making you stay with me hurts you, I must let you go.”

She gives him the same pained smile back, “Just because I leave doesn’t mean I want to see you fail. I want you to grow from this.” She takes his hand in hers, “Please Kendall, just promise me you won’t let him ruin you anymore.”

She didn’t say his name but he knew that the certain ‘him’ was his father, “I won’t let him, I promise.”

Rava wants to believe him so badly, but deep down she feels if his answer sadly cannot be true. She kisses his forehead before she dresses herself again. He watches her the whole time, getting one more look at her before she can leave. Her eyes fall down to the divorce papers that are on the floor and she kneels down to pick them up.

They look at each other once more, Kendall now has big, teary eyes, “Goodbye Rava.”

Her reply is so quiet, it’s almost hard to hear, “Goodbye Kendall.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~🍊~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Notes:

I kind of made myself sad for them haha.

More Kendall requests will be published soon👀 stay tuned!

[flockofcrowsinatornadoofcreation]

Birdcage, Chapter 13

Novocaine

Morro glares at the door, listening to Kai stomp down the hall. Only once he hears a door slam does he relax.

He was sure that Kai would attack him when the Master of Fire found him sitting on the couch next to Lloyd, who was showing him a strange book he called a "comic".

In hindsight, Kai probably had been about to attack him, judging from the way Lloyd leapt from the couch to block him.

Morro grits his teeth as he remembers the things they screamed at each other.

Lloyd puts a hand on his shoulder to catch his attention.

"Hey, are you okay?"

Morro glares at him, wrenching away.

"Why do you even care," he snaps as he turns to the door.

"Morro, wait-"

Something in his chest snaps, and he whirls on Lloyd.

"Don't even," he snarls. "I'm not your bud, I'm not your friend. Stop acting like it."

Then he stomps away, but not before he sees the hurt on Lloyd's face.

▪︎<◇>▪︎

That night, Morro slides the medbay window open.

He doesn't spare a glance at the sheer drop below the window sill as he climbs out. Latching onto the wall next to him, he leans out into the abyss and closes his eyes, feeling the night breeze whip through his hair. He sighs and turns back to the wall, beginning the climb to the Monastery's tower.

He's done this climb a thousand times. He'd discovered how to grip the wall not long after Wu had taken him in as a boy. As soon as the pain in his ribs faded, and he didn't feel so dizzy all the time, Morro took to climbing to the roof.

But that night, as he climbs, thinking about his most recent argument with Kai, he can't help but wonder...

What is Morro still doing here?

He reaches the tower roof and drags himself over the edge, sitting at the tallest part so nothing is higher than him.

Looking up at the stars, Morro lets the wind wreathe past him, like an endless river in the sky. He knows what it wants, but he worries that it won't let him join it. After his fall from the Monastery, he's reluctant to test his powers in fear of being rejected.

So he listens to the wind play, watches the stars turn in the night sky, and tries to calm his raging thoughts.

I'm doing no good staying here. I keep hurting people. I wish I hadn't blown up at Lloyd. If I leave, no one else has to get hurt.

But will I do any better leaving? What if they come after me? What if I'm found and put back in Kryptarium? What would my fa- Wu think of me?

What should I do?

A sudden sound reaches Morro's ears: the sound of roof tiles shifting as someone walks over them. He jumps to his feet and looks around.

A beam of the moon's light reflected off of metal; someone is walking around on the roof below the tower.

"Who's there?"

The figure stills, looking up at him. The moon illuminates their face, and Morro blinks in surprise.

It's Zane... but it's also not. Two golden eyes shine at him, like stars in the dark. His skin gleams like bronze -- probably because it is bronze, Morro realizes as he looks closer. He's shorter than Zane, too-

"Hello!" The person says, startling Morro enough to make him slip on the roof tiles and fall off the tower.

Ow.

The bronze guy yelps and runs over, trying to help Morro get to his feet. Morro isn't sure his brains are intact from the fall, so he lets him.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to startle you, I was just- oh." The bronze guy blinks at him, his eyes glowing brighter.

"What?"

The -- what was that fancy word Pixal used? Nindroid! That's it! The nindroid reaches up to touch Morro's temple.

"You're bleeding," he murmurs.

Morro shrinks away from his hand, but raises his own to his head.

His fingers come away wet with blood.

He stares at the liquid, bile rising in his throat when more begins to trickle down his face. It suddenly becomes very hard to breathe.

I'm fine. This is fine. It's just a little blood.

"Are humans supposed to bleed this much?" the nindroid asks in concern.

Morro's heart pounds in his chest, drowning out all rational thought.

Next thing he knows, he's being swept off his feet by the nindroid, who's carrying him from the roof down to the courtyard.

"What-"

The bronze nindroid hushes him, nudging open the door with his foot.

Morro's face heats with embarrassment. He fell off the roof, is being bridal-carried by a guy whose name he doesn't know, and was just shushed.

Of course, that's the perfect time to run into Cole in the hallway.

"Wha- Echo? Morro? What's going on? Why's Morro- is that blood?"

"I startled him and he fell off the roof," the nindroid explains swiftly, carrying Morro past Cole and into the medbay. He deposits Morro into his cot and begins rummaging in the cabinet.

"What- the roof?" Cole yells. Morro winces at the volume, headache growing with every word.

The nindroid shushes Cole, returning to the cot with a roll of bandages.

"I suspect he has a concussion, but I do not have the capability to scan him. Please go get Zane or Pixal."

"I'm here," Zane says, appearing in the doorway, the rest of the Ninja crowding behind him.

"You!" Kai shouts, glaring at Morro with blazing eyes. "I knew you were trouble!"

Kai pushes past Zane and charges at him, only to be tackled by a flash of bronze.

"Don't hurt him!" The bronze nindroid cries. "It's not his fault!"

Kai only seems to get angrier.

"Echo! Did he hurt you? I swear, if he hurt you, I'm gonna-"

Lloyd suddenly materializes at Morro's side.

"You're bleeding!" Lloyd yelps. "What happened?"

"Lloyd, get away from him!"

Morro stares at Lloyd. His head feels like it's been stuffed with cotton to the point of bursting. Everyone's yelling. He's bleeding everywhere. Lloyd is probably gonna yell at him for snapping earlier.

The world spins-

"I think I'm gonna-"

The world blinks out.

[hklnvgl]

For the fic prompts! Pynch + You’ve said you’re going to leave, but I don’t want you to go and if I don’t say something now… AND/OR Just please be my friend right now, not the guy i just confessed my love to

(this is set the same night of that church scene in bllb)

Ronan wasn’t going to pick up. He’d actually been planning to throw his phone as far as his headphones cord allowed as soon as he managed to make his hands stop shaking for the second it would take to plug the stupid thing.

But he’d involuntarily looked down at the screen when his phone had gone off in his hand, and the screen read St. Agnes.

He let it ring.

He just wanted to make sure his phone didn’t die on him, put on his music and forget the past few hours. He maybe needed a beer for that. He didn’t trust his legs to carry him to the bathroom to get one, though, so he stayed put, still looking at the now-blank screen.

It started ringing again.

He picked up.

There was, of course, no nun on the other side. It was three in the fucking morning.

“Parrish?” he said, because all he could hear was a kind of muffled sound he really didn’t want to identify. At least Adam was breathing—unlike the body he’d just buried, behind the barn where Ronan and Matthew would always hide when playing hide and seek with Declan, before Declan stopped wanting to play—

“Ronan,” Adam finally muttered. It was a ragged sound, very unlike Adam Parrish.

Ronan stood up.

“Parrish?”

Adam didn’t have time to answer before Ronan’s battery ran out on him.

Ronan threw his phone against the wall his room shared with Noah’s, and then he also threw the jacket he’d just taken off—still splattered with mud and dirt and maybe dried blood that would perfectly match Ronan’s DNA—for good measure.

Breathing deeply, Ronan tied his shoes. He took another jacket and put it on. He didn’t wake Gansey when he passed by his bed.

His hands were still shaking when he parked in front of St. Agnes.

He found Adam kneeling in the office, still clutching the phone pressed to his right ear. For a moment, Ronan thought he was maybe talking to Blue. But Adam didn’t look up when Ronan came in—he kept staring into space, like when he was scrying.

“Parrish,” Ronan said. Adam blinked. When Ronan came closer, he could hear the disconnected call tone coming from the phone. Adam didn’t fight him when he removed the handset from his curled fingers. “Adam.”

“Yeah.”

“Good. You’re there. What the fuck.”

But Adam didn’t seem to be there. He just nodded when Ronan suggested they go upstairs. The door had been left open, which was something Adam never did.

“You lost your key or something?”

Adam seemed to wake up then.

“Ronan,” he said, as if surprised to see Ronan there, as if Ronan wouldn’t come after a call like that, after a day like that. “You died,” he whispered.

Ronan didn’t need a reminder.

“Yes, I was there, fuck you very much. The fuck happened here?”

“I made you kill yourself,” Adam said, still in a too-brittle voice, “and then I left you alone, and I wanted to call you and I know I really should not have because—”

“You called me.”

“I did?”

“I’m gonna close the door,” Ronan said.

“What for?”

The night was getting weirder by the minute. Ronan opened Adam’s tiny fridge, to see if Blue had left yogurt around here like she did at Monmouth all the time.

“Wouldn’t want you to get robbed.”

Adam didn’t smile at the joke. Ronan was about to try again, about how Adam should find himself a bigger fridge to be able to fit a total count of one butter stick and three eggs and a beer can that Ronan was pretty sure he had left there himself something like a month ago, but something made him pause.

“Did someone rob you, Parrish?” he asked.

“What? No, of course not. What would anyone want to steal from here?”

“Dunno. You’ve been acting weird.”

“I haven’t,” Adam said.

“Why did you call me?”

“I shouldn’t have.”

“No refunds.”

“Sorry, then.” After that, Adam stayed quiet.

“You didn’t make me kill myself. It was a dream. Shit happens,” Ronan said, because he didn’t want Adam to start drifting away again, like he had before.

“That’s—I can’t be what you need me to be. I’m not even who you think I am—This is just—”

“Some of us can’t follow that brilliant brain of yours, Parrish. You’re gonna have to slow down.”

“I know, Ronan.” For maybe the first time since Ronan had arrived, Adam looked at him. “I know how you feel. About me, I mean. And I’m—I’m sorry. I’m really sorry, because I really cannot—Right now, I can’t—I couldn’t—”

“Shut the fuck up,” Ronan said, because apparently he had driven here just to be rejected to his face, but Adam was the one blinking suspiciously fast for whatever reason.

Adam didn’t listen.

“I just wanted someone to be here, and all I could think was about you, and how you make me feel better when you’re here, but the very fact that I wanted to ask you to come and comfort me after what happened earlier, after what I just told you—God, shit, I’m such a terrible person, why can’t you see that? You died and still I call you here to—”

“To what. Why did you call me? Why did you want me to comfort you,” he sneered, “tonight?” Tonight, after they’d fought, after Ronan had left to bury his own body, after something had shaken Adam so badly that he’d felt the need to uncover all of Ronan’s secrets and poke at them until they bled.

Adam smiled. It was not a happy smile—he looked exhausted and miserable and like he was in pain. Suddenly, Ronan remembered when Adam had also looked like that—back before he’d moved out of the trailer, when he got back to school after missing class for a couple of days, walking stiffly and saying he had migraines when Gansey asked him about it during lunch.

“You should hate me, Ronan Lynch.”

Ronan came to sit down next to Adam.

“I’d need a very good reason for that.”

Adam nodded. “I can’t date you,” he said, with such a severity that Ronan wondered if he truly believed Ronan would just stand up and leave him in the middle of this breakdown he was having because he had just been friendzoned, or something.

“I can get over you not liking me back, Parrish.”

Adam shook his head.

“But I like you,” he muttered. “I just can’t date you.”

Ronan would be having nightmares about this moment for the foreseeable future. That was fine. What was one more thing to add to the pool, right?

“Okay,” he said, even though nothing was okay. “Look, man, you don’t gotta tell me shit. But something’s clearly not okay and I don’t really know what you’re talking about but—shit, Adam. What the fuck.” Yes, Ronan was totally panicking now, because Adam Parrish was crying.

“My dad came earlier,” Adam whispered, and furiously started wiping at his eyes, as if he was embarrassed.

“Fucking shit. Adam.” Ronan was also whispering, but he actually felt like yelling, it was just not enough air in the room for that. Adam was supposed to be safe here. That was the whole point. Adam needed to be safe and happy and very far away from pieces of shit who looked at him and for some wrecked reason their brains told them it was a good idea to hurt this marvelous boy until he believed the marvel had fled from him.

“You okay?” Ronan rasped, leaning closer so that he could inspect Adam better. “Did he hurt you?”

Adam’s breath caught on a sob, but he shook his head. Ronan of course didn’t believe that for a second—Adam’s face might not have been spurting any fresh bruises, but he had gotten hurt all right.

“Okay. Okay, shit. What do you need.”

“Just—please? Can you be my friend right now, and not the guy I just confessed to?”

Ronan snorted. Yes, now was not the time to talk about that. Holy shit.

“Of fucking course, dipshit. Come here. Hug time.” He opened his arms. Adam fell into them. There, the easiest thing in the world—why couldn’t everyone else see that? Adam sniffled and buried his nose deeper into Ronan’s clavicle. Ronan tightened his embrace around his waist, hoping Adam would guess right and take it to mean Ronan was not going to leave.

[dreamcubed]

death by a thousand cuts | fred weasley x reader

song; death by a thousand cuts [taylor swift] pairing; fred weasley x ravenclaw!gender neutral!reader genre; mild angst, fluff, ex2l word count; 3k timeline; prisoner of azkaban warnings; implied insecurities, mentions of relationship neglect summary; past relationships were meant to stay in the past, hence the name. however, it soon became clear that fred weasley wanted you back, and was willing to do whatever it took to fight for your love

masterlist

"i look through the windows of this love even though we boarded them up."

——————————————

Potions was already a bad subject as it was taught by Severus Snape.

The fact that you sat next to your ex-boyfriend only made it worse: it's not like moving was an option, as Snape would simply tell you to get over your petty personal conflicts if you asked. You weren't even on particularly bad terms either, it was simply awkward, although he acted like it wasn't. After all, he was Fred Weasley, one of the infamously confident and extroverted Weasley twins.

You often wished that the relationship hadn't ended, actually, despite the fact you were the one that broke up with him. In your defence, you hadn't done it out of nowhere, as he had neglected your relationship in the favour of pranks one too many times. It sucks when one of the things that made you fall in love with a person is the same thing that ruins your relationship.

He greeted you with a warm smile, like always, when you entered potions for the millionth time in your school career. You gave him a polite smile in return as you took your seat and pulled out your books, processing the awkward atmosphere that really seemed to only be on your end.

"How are you, love?" he asked, like usual.

"Fine, thanks, Weasley. You?"

A streak of hurt flashed across his eyes at your use of his last name, but you weren't looking so you didn't notice. He quickly brightened up again, though, and replied, "Good, actually. Not as good as I was with you, of course."

You graced him with a judgemental glance, "Really? Seems like the best times you had when we were together was when I wasn't there."

"You make it sound like I cheated."

"You know that's not what I meant."

Fred placed his hand on your arm to get you to look at him properly. After you obliged, he spoke, "I'm really sorry I didn't spend enough time with you, Y/N, it wasn't intentional."

"I know, Fred," you sighed, "But I also know that George and your pranks will always be the only things that matter in your life - and that's fine - it just means I can't date you."

"Bu-"

"Alright, silence, everybody," Snape's drawling voice resounded, catching the attention of the class with ease.

You turned away from Fred to get your equipment in order and face Professor Snape, as the last thing you needed at that moment was a house point deduction. Fred didn't try to keep your attention, but he did bring his lip between his teeth in apparent thought.

He had to resolve the situation between the two of you.

***

The following Sunday, you were more than surprised to see Fred in the library - and without George, for that matter. He was perusing the shelves of the charms section; on a normal basis you would have assumed he was looking for aide on pranks, but George would likely have been with him if that was the case. Curiosity got the better of you, so you got up from your study table and walked over to him.

"Fred, what are you doing?"

His eyes were lit up when he turned around to look at you, "Oh, nothing. Just a charms assignment."

You immediately frowned, "Since when do you do assignments?"

"Since you broke up with me and I needed an excuse to be around you."

Rolling your eyes, you pointed at a book called Charms: Gravity's Tricks, and said, "If you're in the same class as Owens, that book'll help you a lot."

He took it off the shelf and beamed at you, "Thanks, love."

Even though he admitted he was really only in the library for you, you were still taken by surprise when he followed you over to your table. He didn't say anything to you, however, and simply took out parchment, a quill, and ink, and began flipping through the book you had graced him with. You had always had a knack for reading upside down, so you were truly surprised to see that when he started writing, he was in fact doing the same essay that your friend Elma Owens had written the day prior.

After watching him write for a couple minutes, you finally turned your focus back to your own essay for muggle studies, but the bewilderment never left you.

His behaviour only got weirder during the next week.

Being a studious Ravenclaw, you were often spending your free time in the bookworm haven of Hogwarts' library: and apparently now Fred was too. It wasn't every day, sure, but about every other day he would join you at your table in almost complete silence. Then he would walk with you to the dining hall and sit next to you on the Ravenclaw table.

Everyone had assumed you were back together, and, to be honest, you weren't entirely sure where you currently stood with him.

***

"How can you tell the twins apart?" Elma asked you, sat next to you on the Ravenclaw table. It was lunchtime, and the Weasley twins were nowhere in sight - most likely up to mischief.

"What d'you mean?" you replied absently, chewing on your chicken drumstick.

"I swear you're one of the only people in this school who just immediately knows if it's Fred or George."

"I dated Fred, El, I had to learn who my boyfriend was."

She rolled her eyes, "But what about them is different?"

You remained quiet for a few seconds, pondering the topic. "They have small differences in their face if you look closely - and George is ever so slightly taller... but the biggest different is how they look at me."

Elma gave you a look that pressed you to continue.

"George just looks at me like a friend - you can see it in his eyes. He obviously cares for me, but there's no spark or adoration there like with Fred."

"Fred looks at you like he loves you?"

You pursed your lips. In your time with Fred, the I love you exchange never occurred, even though you had definitely been ready to say it - at least on your end.

"I don't know," you finally spoke, "Who knows what that boy's thinking?"

"George, probably."

You had to agree.

***

A prank hadn't been pulled in a suspiciously long time, meaning every student of every house - and even a lot of the professors - were on edge. Everyone nervously anticipated being the next victim, as even though the Weasley twins didn't know every person by name, a lot of their pranks were set up as a matter of chance in who came along that corridor next. A little known fact about the red-headed menaces was that they never forgot a victim.

You used to be someone that they would ask for advice on pranks from, as being a Ravenclaw you knew all too much about the ins and outs of the potions and charms that the twins could exploit. Those days ended when you parted with Fred, but for some reason, they appeared to be starting up again. Which made it all that more confusing as to why no pranks had been happening.

"Why is pink such a difficult colour to dye?" Fred asked with a huff, sitting across the table from you in the library, like usual, "This charm works fine with red but I want pink as well."

"That's because pink is a tertiary colour."

He looked at you confused.

"Red is a primary colour, as are blue and yellow, so they're the easiest to dye. With pink you have to simultaneously use the charm for the different colours that make it."

"How do you know that?"

"It's simple colour theory, Fred, you never seen a colour wheel?"

He shook his head.

You sighed, "Don't worry about it."

You watched as Fred continued to work, knowing all too well that it wasn't an assignment, but in fact a prank.

"What do you plan to do with that? Traumatise a first year by permanently dyeing their hair?"

He laughed, "No. Overdone. Amateurish."

"Don't think I haven't noticed the lack of pranks, by the way. Got something big planned?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

You rolled your eyes, ignoring the reminding jab of hurt in your chest. One of the things that had made you feel so distant from Fred in your relationship was that he refused to tell you about any pranks he was planning. It was his and George's thing, you knew that, you just wanted to be let in on the odd prank here and there - especially as you helped so much with the technical side of them.

Fred sensed your withdrawal and looked at you curiously, as if he was piecing something together in his head. The cogs in his mind were whirring back in time, like he was re-living all the times you looked at him like that and recognising the pattern. Guilt consumed him, and multiplied when he faced the knowledge that this plan in particular he couldn't tell you about - as much as he wanted to make up for that repetitive mistake he made.

He would eventually be able to make up for it - once the plan came to fruition.

***

A major problem with Fred hanging out with you so much was that your body's instincts were reverting back to your habits when you were together. You had to stop yourself from going to his table and greeting him at breakfast, from reaching out to hold his hand when walking down the corridor, and from calling him pet names. You were also struggling to move on from your feelings for him, which left you with only one option.

"Fred, can you please go somewhere else?"

The boy frowned at you, pausing in his movements of sitting down opposite you on the library table. "Why?"

"Because. I can't spend this much time with you."

"It's just as friends, lo-"

"I can't move on from you if you're always here, okay? I need time apart before we can hang out as just friends."

He opened his mouth as if to say something, but decided against it and clamped his lips together, before moving away from the table and into a different part of the library. You watched as he went, feeling guilty for pushing him away like that, but you knew that temporarily it was how it had to be.

***

"Don't feel bad, babe, you need to heal," Elma said to you during lunch, "He may not have been an ideal boyfriend, but he's not the type to take things to heart."

"I know," you sighed, "I just feel guilty."

"He's the one that should feel guilty."

"I think he does, El. That's why he's been spending so much time with me," you stared at your sandwich, "Him choosing George and pranks over me all the time was why I broke up with him, and now I'm pushing him away when he's prioritising me."

"Yeah, but he should've done that from the get-go. He's had his chance, you don't owe him forgiveness or a second one."

"I mean, yeah, but- like- I think he genuinely wants to make up for it and change for the better."

Elma shook her head, "Nope. He keeps up this amazing boyfriend façade until you take him back, and the second you do he reverts back to his old self. It's the classic cycle."

"That just doesn't seem like Fred."

"Face it, babe, your magical love story with him is over."

"Then why am I still writing pages?"

Elma deadpanned you for a few moments before you both burst out laughing.

"Now that was cringey," she said between laughs.

"I struggled to say it with a straight face. Just wanted to lighten the mood."

She nodded understandingly, "What say we steal some fire whiskey from the kitchens for tonight? It's Friday."

"Sounds like a plan."

***

Like any other morning, you walked down to the Great Hall sleepy and cold from crawling out your bedsheets. However, unlike every other morning, the people headed the opposite direction had their eyes glued on you. The closer you got to the hall, the more people were watching you, so after checking your reflection in a window and seeing it was normal, you concluded these people had seen something at your destination.

Your hypothesis turned out to be correct when you entered the place of eating.

Each and every head of hair sat along the benches was coloured a shade of pink or red: all eyes were on you. You turned around, as if in some desperate attempt to see if someone else was the subject of everyone's attention, only to notice how even the eyes of the people behind you were on you. You also noticed that the second a person stepped out of the hall, their hair resumed its usual colour.

Was your hair pink or red?

You pulled a lock of your hair into your peripheral, to see it remained its natural colour. Maybe that was why people were staring - no, it couldn't be, people had been staring since you left the Ravenclaw tower, and why would you be the one person that the charm didn't work on? As much as you didn't want it to be, this situation was obviously centred around you.

Scanning the hall thoroughly for the first time, you noticed Fred in all his red-haired glory sat on the steps leading up to the professor's table. Except, it wasn't his usual red-haired glory: it was the actual colour red, rosy and prominent when contrasted with the grey stone background behind him. You took the side of your mouth within your teeth and began chewing in anticipation of what was to come.

"Y/N, love," he greeted you as you walked towards him.

"What is all this, Fred?"

"An attempt to truly get your attention," he replied, "And a way of apologising and making new promises with hundreds of witnesses that can hold me to them."

You frowned, mindful of the silence within the Great Hall.

Realising you weren't going to say anything, he continued, "Y/N, I'm sorry that I neglected you too much when we were together. I didn't mean to choose pranks over you - and if I'd back then realised that I was head over heels in love with you, I probably wouldn't have. They do say that you don't know what you have until it's gone - and also that distance makes the heart grow fonder. I can't pretend it's okay when it's not."

You processed his words, and waited for him to say more.

"I know that asking for a second chance is already being selfish, but since I do now know how much I love you and how much I want to be with you, I figured I'd regret it for the rest of my life if I didn't at least try. I don't want you to be the one that got away."

"Fred, I-"

"And I don't want you to take this hall of witnesses as peer pressure to take me back, I'm fine being publicly humiliated, I just wanted them here as reassurance that I have full intentions to stick to my word and make you my number one priority. Seriously, if you take me back and I neglect you again, everyone in here has full permission to bully me and I won't retaliate."

Your expression was unreadable to him, which led him to say a concluding sentence.

"So, Y/N, my love, can I? Can I be your boyfriend again?"

Letting out a sigh, you met his eyes firmly and began speaking, "Fred, I never wanted to be your number one priority - even from the get-go it was obvious that your dream career and your unbreakable twin bond with George would be your main focus. It would have been selfish of me to demand a higher rank - I just wanted some time when I was all you looked at, all you cared about - Rowena, even just one day a week where I had you all to myself was what I wanted. And to maybe be let in on the odd prank here and there." You took a breath. "It just sucked to feel like I loved you but you didn't love me."

The sincerity in Fred's warm eyes as you talked was making you fold.

"I never stopped wanting to be with you. I never stopped loving you. The hurt just got too much... So, if I take you back, that's all I ask for. One day a week just for us, and an invite every now and then to do a prank with you and George. But, I can't say that we'll be alright, because I don't know - I can't be sure that you won't treat me the same as you did before."

"Love, I intend to give you so much more than that."

You smiled, finally noticing the tears pricking in your eyes: how your voice had remained so stable, you had no idea. "Then okay."

Fred's face lit up in the shiniest grin you had ever seen bestowed upon him. He was then rushing forward to pull you into an embrace, crashing his lips on yours in the process, as the hall burst into roaring cheers. When you separated from the kiss, you looked past Fred to see McGonagall, Dumbledore and Hagrid all sat at the professors' table with smiles on their faces, which embarrassed you more than the student audience did.

"I never thought I'd see McGonagall with pink hair," you said to Fred, still basking in his warmth.

"I think the only reason she hasn't told me off is because I've been driving her up the wall since the break up."

You hummed, "Someone has to keep you in line."

"And I'm so glad it's you, love."

———————————————

masterlist

written; 02/07/2022 —> 20/07/2022 published; 20/07/2022 edited; —/—/——

[cdroloisms]

Do you consider a possibility that c!Punz never betrayed c!Dream in the first place and whole "I'm sorry, Dream -- but you should have paid me more" thing was a facade and undercover for Punz? Like Dream said that Punz should not associated with him, so it was intentional-

staged disc finale theory my beloved !!! :D it’s definitely one of my favorite theories, though i’m still holding out (for now) as for believing super firmly in one direction or another (tho the staged finale is definitely the one i prefer for Many reasons, haha.) c!punz is so so fun no matter if the betrayal was intentional or not, but oh boyyyy if it was something planned ,,, man . 

*c!dream voice, after quackity starts visiting*: the risk i took was calculated, but man am i bad at math. 

anyway c!punz and c!dream interactions make me soft as heck so have this !!

tw: implied torture, abuse, violence, blood, injuries, emotional distress, panicking, dehumanization, unhealthy coping mechanisms, unhealthy mindsets, illness, trauma, flashbacks, starvation mention, suicide mention, death mentions, dark content, dark imagery, prison arc/pandora’s vault themes, c!quackity critical/dark portrayal of c!quackity

Dream comes to in vague moments and flashes. 

There’s a hand brushing over his forehead, too gentle to be Quackity or the Warden, not Techno because Techno is Gone and he has Left and won’t come again, running through the sweat-soaked locks and pulling them back out of his forehead. He’s unbearably hot, shifting around on the ground, only barely registering it moving beneath him. Water, cool and clear, is tipped in between his lips, quenching his thirst and easing the dryness of his mouth. Someone speaks, voice low and rumbling, and even though he’s unable to make out the words, there’s something about the cadence of them and the specific rhythm in which they move and rise and dip that is bone-achingly familiar, enough to lull him into a fitful sleep. Through it all, there is always something, someone, lingering in the edges of his vision, a shadow standing near and watching over him; part of him remembers Quackity, remembers the Warden, and recoils in fright; another part of him remembers Techno, remembers the barest flashes of a life before obsidian and lava and pain and hell, and wants nothing more than to get closer. 

When the fog in his head finally clears away enough to think, the first coherent thought he has is oh fuck, I need to piss. 

Which, out of all possible things to think, is probably up there as one of the worst, and he’s sure that when his head feels a little less like it’s trying to actively kill him (ha, let it- it’s far from the first to try) the panic will settle in as it always does. As it is, he’s exhausted, and hungry, and he really really needs to pee- so he forces his eyes open to move away from where he’s probably still stuck in a puddle of dried blood in the middle of his cell.

The second coherent thought he has is this: this isn’t Pandora. 

The realization has him thoroughly awake, eyes snapping open out of his previous fatigue to take in his surroundings, feet kicking out to the weight on top of them that he hadn’t even noticed was there, panicking against his restraints that end up not being restraints at all, giving way easily under his thrashing and resolving to what appears to be a thick blanket when he has the mind to look. With the covers gone off of whatever he’s lying on (a bed?) he’s suddenly, unbearably cold - the prison has always been hot, the lava baking into him and leaving his skin sticky with sweat, and he thinks that the room he’s in is probably not meant to feel like a fucking freezer, but after months of being one wrong step away from heatstroke, anything cooler than the goddamn Nether feels like literal ice against his skin. The room is wooden and cozy and oddly familiar, an open door leading to what appears to be a bathroom and a closed one going who knows where, window panes built into the opposite wall to let the sunlight in. It’s a nice room, all things considered, and Dream fucking hates it. 

He pulls himself to his feet, cursing at the wobbly edge to his stance when he finally manages to stand, his vision wavering dangerously in time to the spinning of his head. His eyes flick between the two doors - he still needs to go to the bathroom, and using it now will lessen the amount of things to get in the way of his escape in the future - but at the same time, there's no knowing when people will come to (hurt him, beat him, starve him, punish him, leaving him bruised and bleeding and half-dead on the floor just as he deserves) him and he needs all the time he can get to get the hell away. In the end, he slinks into the bathroom, ignoring the thudding in his chest as he does so - at the very least, the cabinets in the thing might provide him with some manner of a weapon. 

He’s only just past the door on the way out - a fucking broomstick in his hand because it’s all he could find - when his ears catch on the sound of metal clicking against each other and his eyes fall on the knob of the other door shaking as someone makes their way in. All at once, panic slams into him - goddammit, he should’ve just run when he had the chance - and he directs quick, desperate glances at the window. Maybe, if he’s fast enough, he can book it out of there and disappear into the trees; it’ll hurt, but it’ll be better than getting caught. Anything would be better than getting caught-

 “Dream?” 

Dream blinks. All at once, the same feeling of getting the air punched out of him returns, but combined with something warm and floaty wrapping around his chest, something almost a little like relief - and hell, if that isn’t something he’s not felt for a while. 

“Punz?” 

Punz is standing in the doorway, hoodie rumpled, expression more than a little frazzled; Dream’s breath hitches at the sight of the sword strapped to his side, but their face holds none of the harsh edges and cold-dark-hard hatred that had characterized the Warden and Quackity’s visits, mouth slightly parted and eyes shining with nothing but what appears to be shock and concern. The sight of them, again, nearly has Dream dizzy, a swell of tangled, unexplainable emotion rising to the back of his throat as he sways on his feet. He hadn’t thought that he would see Punz again, he realizes, had never thought he’d see his stupid gold chain and his stupid outfit he never bothered changing, ever, or that same lopsided smirk and pale blue eyes- the last time he’d seen them, it was in that vault, their mouth twisted up in the act the two of them had decided on and eyes shimmering with unease and regret; as far as goodbyes went, it wasn’t the worst, not when Punz was one of the few to never leave him, not really, not when something ached in their expression other than the hatred that had colored all of the other expressionless faces watching him die. Months later, alone in Pandora, he must’ve grown resigned, or something, the repeated reminders that he would die alone and afraid and it would be nothing more than he deserved settling into his skin and against his bones; Punz’s expression twists, visible even across the room, and- oh. 

They must’ve thought the same thing, too.

“What are you doing out of bed?” Punz asks, finally, and Dream decides not to point out the way his voice cracks harshly in the middle, especially when the other man strides forward and starts to awkwardly herd him back in the direction of the bed - covers still thrown to the floor - in the middle of the room. Dream lets them, not replying because he doesn’t really know where to even begin describing the tangled knot of panic and shock that had strung his muscles tense when he woke up in a room he didn’t recognize, not knowing if he can really describe it all at all, trying his best not to flinch at the hands flitting in the corners of his vision as he falls back into a sitting position onto the bed. His fingers settle into the mattress, pressing into the bedsheets cautiously and marveling when they fall away under the pressure. Punz watches him, expression odd, gathers the blankets from the ground and presses them over and around him in a way that’s entirely awkward but does leave him warmer than he’d been before, before walking back on his heels with an odd expression that makes Dream’s insides twist. 

“You,” Punz says after a long second, voice wavering, “are a fucking idiot,” and it’s all the warning Dream gets before a white-and-black blur is rushing towards him, arms wrapping around his chest and his vision whites out in alarm and panic. When the pain doesn’t come, he comes back to his senses enough to realize that Punz’s arms are still wrapped around him, shoulders shaking as he holds him close but not painfully, careful not to pull too much against the places on his ribs and back that leave him gasping with small shocks of pain, head pressed against the crook of Dream’s neck and hair tickling his face. Dream can feel his heart hammering in his chest, but as the panic dies something warm and long-neglected stirs in the middle of his chest, and he melts forward with a quiet hum. This is- nice. Really, really nice. 

“What were you thinking?” Punz mutters, too quiet to really be directed at him, hands curling tighter into the folds of the hoodie - oh, he’s wearing one of those, not the same stiff, bloodstained material of the prison uniform that had chafed against his skin, another constant source of pain and discomfort of thousands in the hell that had been Pandora’s Vault  - on him, and Dream doesn’t really know what to do except sit there and blink dumbly, listening to the heartbeat of the person leaning against him rumbling against his ears. It’s oddly calming, has the pressure on his chest lightening enough to take a full breath, and then another, the warmth of someone leaning against him almost too much but not enough at the same time - his eyes burn, and he ignores them. 

“I-” he doesn’t really think that Punz was really asking a question, but just ignoring his question seems rude, too, and even despite the fuzzy warmth settling into his skin and into his bones from the pressure of Punz’s arms around his body and their head against his shoulder, he’s still unable to shake the anxiety of leaving a query unanswered, a constant murmur to listen obey do as you’re told or you’re going to regret it put on a damn good show or suffer the consequences remaining no matter how hard he tries to push it away. He wets his lips when his mouth feels too dry to keep speaking, eyes fluttering closed as he leans forward further, “I don’t know what you mean.” 

“You-” Punz cuts themselves off with a wet, incredulous-sounding laugh that has Dream jerking back despite himself, meeting their ice-cold eyes when they pull themselves back to look at him. He doesn’t really recognize the expression he wears, Dream realizes with a jolt, the way his lips are pressed together and the churning in his eyes, and his lungs seize in his chest. 

“Sir-”

If anything, Punz’s expression only seems to harden, and the warmth disappears as Dream looks into their eyes - cold, two polished shards of ice, frosted over pools of water in the middle of the tundra, flinty and sharp and brilliant blue. His hands shake as he pulls them back to his chest, trembling from the chill that’s made its home in his muscles and frozen them in place - sir sorry sir please don’t hurt me im sorry please I didn’t mean to

“Fuck, Dream,” he shakes his head, and only then does Dream see the slight wobble to their bottom lip, the waver to their words like they’re struggling to keep themselves together, “why didn’t you say anything?” 

 What?

You almost died, you know,” he keeps going, not meeting his eyes as they direct their gaze out the window, “Several times, honestly. Fucking hell- when Techno brought you out- I didn’t think you would survive. I didn’t think anyone could survive that.” 

Dream swallows. He doesn’t remember getting out, doesn’t really remember much at all if he’s being honest; there was the black of the cell, the heat of the lava, Techno promising to get him out before disappearing in a flash of purple, Quackity throwing him against the wall (Where the fuck did Techno go? You better have a fuckin’ answer, pal, if you want your death to be anything resemblin’ quick-) then nothing. Everything. His heart hammering in his chest and blood slick against his skin and the press of metal against his windpipe and pain, the only constant within it all, the only thing that made any goddamn sense when the room seemed to flip and turn and twist and his feelings knotted and frayed between anger-betrayal-distress-sadness-fear-grief, when reality swirled into a dizzying blur of colors and feelings and sounds carving themselves into the inside of his skull- then here. Dream flexes his hand experimentally, marveling at the feeling - the pain is almost gone. 

He’d forgotten how it felt, really, to live and not hurt. 

“Dream,” Punz calls again, voice low and worried, and Dream can’t help the way his head snaps up to meet their eyes and can’t help the flinch that twists his neck back when their frown deepens. It’d been a show, at least he tells himself, because Quackity would stop earlier if he screamed more, but- his hands tremble at his sides, twisted into the sheets of the bed, a near-constant litany of reminders and rules beating like they have a heart of their own in the back of his head. It was a show- he feels himself almost buckle, give in under the force of the stare leveled at him, and hates himself for how weak he feels, pinned under the eyes trained on his own. He’s not sure how much of a show it is anymore. 

“Dream,” Punz repeats, words even softer, and the ugly feeling of shame and anger twists inside Dream’s chest again. Punz- ever unflappable, deadly with almost any weapon and never letting anyone see him as anything but deliberately apathetic - is watching him with an expression so uncharacteristically and unbearably gentle that it makes his breath catch in his throat. “You could’ve died,” he says once again, and the look that paints his face is so terribly vulnerable, feelings pouring over like a cup overfilled, bubbling forward and bleeding from every corner, and Dream- can’t. He doesn’t know what to do in the face of such stark emotion, doesn’t know how how to handle the way his eyes burn and his heart throbs like an exposed nerve, the way everything yawns wide in the middle of his chest into void and emptiness and pain so deeply carved in the space within his ribs that he half-thinks he’s been hollowed out entirely.

“But I didn’t.” 

Punz pulls back, but Dream isn’t looking at him, is staring at the scarred surfaces of the backs of his hands and the knobs of his knuckles sticking out against the thinned-out skin and the yellowed nails he’s pushing against the blanket, the fourth and fifth ones of his right hand missing. They shake, no matter how long he looks at them and how hard he tries to make them stay still, and he can feel a voice whispering in the back of his mind, tone too familiar to ignore. Weak. 

“I didn’t die,” he says when Punz doesn’t reply, looking at his scarred hands, weak hands, broken hands. “So it’s okay. We can keep- we can keep going.”

“Dream-” their voice is a blade scraping against an anvil, nails scraping over his ribs, his hands clamping over his ears before he’s realized he’s moved and his brain screaming at him for doing so once he realizes that he has, “-what the fuck are you talking about?” 

Still, he hadn’t survived months of Quackity’s visits by bending over the second he was pushed, so he forces his tongue to move from where it’s fallen to the bottom of his mouth like lead, feels his eyes go steely even from under the way his vision has already begun to wobble. 

“It’s not over yet,” he continues, trying to keep his words even, “‘cause I didn’t die, so we’re not done. I gotta- we have to reevaluate, of course,” he can’t stop, because the second he stops talking is the second he falls apart, so he ignores the way that Punz stiffens and stills and doesn’t let anything stop the flow of words spilling out of his mouth, “because the vault and the prison- um, obviously didn’t go as planned, but it’s fine. Just a minor- um, minor inconvenience. A setback- but it’s not- it’s not unsalvageable- we just have to-”

“Are you kidding me?” Punz cuts him off with a sharp laugh, disbelieving and just on the wrong side of desperate, and the air in Dream’s lungs freezes into a solid block of ice in the middle of his chest, “you- you’ve got to be kidding me.” 

“Punz?”

Dream’s voice comes out small, himself shrinking back into the bed, keenly aware, suddenly, of how there is nowhere he can go to run - Punz doesn’t seem to notice that he’s spoken at all, one of his hands moving up to tug through his hair, which is - now that Dream is looking - fluffier and messier than he remembers, sticking up in all directions like they didn’t bother to smooth it down.

“You think this is fine? You think that because you didn’t fucking die, that this is all okay?” Punz’s voice rises in volume slowly, not loud enough to be a shout but enough to go hard and unyielding like a threat, and with each word every remnant of the vault comes crawling, clawing back up to the front of his head, a pounding reminder to play his role, put on a show, behave behave behave-

“Goddammit, Dream,” Punz startles him out of his own thoughts, looking straight into his eyes with their ice-blue ones, “have you seen yourself?”

 Have you seen yourself? Lying down in your own goddamn filth like a fucking mutt- prime, you disgust me. 

“Your ribs were basically shattered. Your legs had fractures on both sides, and your back was so fucking torn up that it looked like more blood than skin. You’ve been starved- enough for me to see every goddamn bone in your body, it feels like. Your throat was bruised to hell- I wasn’t sure if you were gonna be able to speak again, fuck, and like a day after we got here you got fucking pneumonia.” Punz’s breath hitches, “Your skin was a literal fucking oven- I thought you’d bake yourself from the inside out. You could’ve died- you should’ve died.”

 You should’ve died a hell of a long time ago, pal- should’ve saved us all the fucking trouble and offed yourself like Wilbur fucking Soot.

He flinches, and this, Punz seems to notice, eyes widening a fraction before they pitch their voce lower, clearly taking a few breaths to calm down and reaching forward to take one of Dream’s hands loosely in his own, thumb smoothing over the bumps of his knuckles. 

“You’re not fine,” he says after a long while, shaking his head. “Hell- I’m not fine. But we’re not doing anything like- like the vault or the prison again, dude. I told you they were shit ideas- fuck. We never should’ve done that.”

“It was worth it,” Dream butts in, because he can’t imagine a world where it wasn’t, can’t imagine a world where all of that was for nothing, “it was worth it-” 

“No it fucking wasn’t, are you out of your mind?” Punz replies immediately, voice overlapping over Dream’s own, “have you listened to a single thing I’ve said? You- look at you! How was that worth it?”

Dream shakes his head stubbornly, already feeling the way his jaw is trembling around the words he forces himself to speak. “The server- it was all for the server-”

“Fuck the server!” 

Punz seems startled by their own shout, drawing back at the same time Dream does, breathing ragged. He takes a few seconds to compose himself, bringing his hand to his face as Dream sits stock still, not daring to move, hardly daring to breathe. 

“Fuck the fucking server, okay?” Punz says, finally, voice cracking in the middle, “You lost two damn lives for this server. You got fucking tortured for fucking months for this shitstain of a server. Just- fuck them. I’m not watching you tear yourself to fucking shreds for this- not again. I can’t sit around and watch you fucking die again, Dream, I can’t drag you out bleeding out in my fucking arms again- fuck-” Punz shakes their head, and oh. They’re crying. 

“No more. Fuck the server. I’m done, Dream- we’re done with them.” 

Dream blinks, so thoroughly surprised that he thinks the shock knocked him straight out of the building panic attack, leaving nothing but a slight thrumming of anxiety still simmering beneath his skin. Almost instinctually, in a motion he doesn’t really remember but still has the muscle memory for, he opens his arms- and in a similar, near-unconscious response, Punz tumbles into his arms. 

He blinks, not moving his arms to curl around the other, feeling the weight of another person against his again and the sound of their breathing and relearning them both. This is- new, for both of them. Dream was never emotional, not before the prison, not that he wanted to be after it either- but Quackity always had a particular affinity for tearing him apart, shard by shard. And Punz- he’d never been like this, even back in the day, when things were easier and they didn’t bear the constant burden of netherite against their backs. They’d always been stoic, sharp, sarcastic, cool and dry in a way that chafed against Sapnap’s fire and always led to Dream laughing at them sooner or later. He sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth, feeling the heat behind his eyes finally sear too hot and boil over, tears squeezing through his closed eyes and falling down his face. 

“Okay,” he says, finally, and there’s nothing easy about the acquiescence, not when he had poured blood and sweat and the better half of himself into this place, salted the earth with his tears until no more would come and nothing else would grow. He thinks that he will have more to think and more to say and more to protest come the next days, that the binds between him and his goals have been weaved too deep with the fibers of his soul for him to tear them free without sacrificing what broken pieces of himself he has left, but all he can think right now is how fucking tired he is. He remembers Techno’s voice, going through myth after myth to pass time in the prison, and thinks with something like humor and something like grief - let someone else be Atlas for a day. The sky is too heavy right now. Punz’s arms tighten around his body, enough to remind him that they’re there but not enough to press at his still-healing ribs, and he thinks that they might understand. “Okay.” 

[ladydaemon]

SICK DAYS

kaz brekker x female! reader

A/N: Yes, I realize how cliché and very non-Kaz this is. I tried my best guys, but I am in the mood for fluff and only fluff so yeah.

Summary: After a night in the rain, Y/N has a cold and it's up to Kaz to take care of her, a difficult task indeed.

Warnings: swearing, really horrible writing, not proofread writing, just me spitting out Words™ at three in the morning

Dangerous assassins do not need sick days.

It was an extremely hypocritical thought, and Y/N knew it. She thought the thought anyway, because at this point, there seemed to be no aspect in her life that was not fueled entirely by spite.

"Please, for the love of the Saints, go to sleep, Y/N," Inej begged, forcing the woman back onto the bed. "You are sick. You need rest."

"I do not need rest, I need caffeine and waffles," the wheezing woman replied stubbornly, trying to get past Inej, who was blocking the doorway of her room. The Slat, usually thundering with noise and chatter, was silent as the grave - it was one of the rare days in Ketterdam where it was sunny, and everyone was either out enjoying the weather or enjoying pickpocketing someone who was enjoying the weather. "I am a grown-ass woman who also happens to be very good at using the bang-bang machines we call guns so please move aside, I need fresh air."

It was arguably entirely Y/N's fault that she was stuck inside in the first place - first, she had stayed out in the rain too long, despite Kaz's numerous protests. Second, she had, in a grave act of stupidity, gone down for breakfast the next morning. Normally, this would not have been a problem. However, on this particular day, her eyes were red and swollen and itchy and her lungs hurt and it was generally very obvious that she had a cold.

These were the deciding factors which led to her ultimate demise:

House arrest.

Though the fact that she was notorious for her spontaneous, impulsive, reckless, throw-caution-to-the-wind nature (along with the fact that Kaz, from multiple bad experiences he would rather not repeat, knew that she had nearly no self-preservation skills) probably had something to with it.

Also she apparently needed a chaperone. Which was probably a good idea, but Y/N wasn't about to admit that anytime soon.

"You are seventeen and you have a window, darling," the smooth voice of one Kaz Brekker, the devil himself, interrupted Y/N's feeble excuse of an escape.

"But Kaz," Y/N whined, pouting. Inej gave the man an exasperated look as if to say, See what I've been dealing with?

"Darling, you'll only have to stay here longer if you don't try and get better."

"Still."

Kaz, lips twitching in a very non-Kaz way, turned to Inej. "You can go. I suppose I'll play nursemaid."

The Wraith chucked darkly, already stepping out Y/N's window. "Good luck with that."

As soon as she had climbed out the room and was well out of earshot, Kaz turned on his heel and walked out. Y/N, thoroughly confused, took a second to contemplate whether this act was meant that she was officially free, or that she was supposed to follow him. Her question was answered a moment later when he called out, not sparing her a backwards glance, "Are you coming?"

She sighed dejectedly, following him up the stairs to hid room. With a flamboyant and smug bow, he opened the door for her. "Ladies first."

She rolled her eyes at him but entered the room nonetheless. Kaz closed the door behind him and strode heavily to his desk, taking the time to shuffle and order some papers. Y/N stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, unsure as to what in the hell she was supposed to do. Kaz flicked his eyes up to her and jerked his head towards the black-sheeted bed that occupied almost a fourth of the room.

She stared at it for a moment. "You want me to sleep. On your bed. While you watch." It came out more an incredulous statement than a question.

"Sorry to break it to you, but I can't devote all my time to taking care of you, and I also can't leave you alone unsupervised while ill. This is our compromise," Kaz explained somewhat impatiently.

"I am not going to get in that crusty-ass bed, that, in case you have forgotten, belongs to my boss, AKA you. For all I know you sleep nude."

One of Kaz's eyebrows twitched. "The sheets were changed this morning. And for the record, I don't."

"Still not going to do it. That takes the creepy-o-meter to like, a thousand."

"You're a criminal who spies on brothels. This is nothing."

"Still not doing it. This feels fundamentally wrong."

"I'll buy you a nice dagger if you just shut up and get in the damn bed." Saints, he was already exasperated, and he had barely been here five minutes. A new respect for Inej found its way into his being.

Y/N went quiet for a minute, considering. "One of the serrated ones with the fancy gilded handles?"

"Whatever dagger your heart desires."

"Two daggers and a gun."

"One dagger and a gun."

"Deal," Y/N decided, plopping down on the bed. It still felt wrong, but she did need a new dagger - Wylan had blown hers up in a previous job.

She carefully peeled the pristine sheets and blankets away from the mattress, half expecting a dozen poisonous things to pop out. The only thing it released was the strangely comforting smell of wood oil and ink (and a bit of gunpowder, but this was Kaz Brekker we're talking about).

Y/N slipped beneath the covers, her head resting comfortably on the cloud-like pillows.

I bet this bitch sleeps like a baby every night.

"I can still beat your ass, Brekker," she mumbled. Yeah, she was sick, but she also had a reputation to uphold.

"On a regular day, I have no doubt about it. Currently, you are prohibited from doing anything that isn't sleeping, peeing, or contemplating life. Doctor's orders."

"Well, I'm going to go pee then. More freedom." She attempted to stand up from the surprisingly soft bed but the in the second it took for her to try and stand, Kaz, moving surprisingly quickly for a man with a cane, pinned her to the bed by her shoulders with an exasperated sigh.

"Just stay still. Please," he breathed.

"Get me a sweet bun and maybe," she breathed back, but didn't move. Despite her almost child-like demeanor, she was one of the original Dregs, here as a child even before Kaz. He had been the only one her age when he had joined, so naturally, she had befriended him (well, as much as you can befriend Kaz Brekker). She knew about his phobia of touch, and how much it meant that he was touching her, even with his gloves on.

Kaz released her with a sigh and stalked over to his desk where he rummaged around for a bit until he produced a small tin that looked abut as old as he was. He tossed it at her and she grabbed it, opening it to see some biscuits that looked as hard as rocks. "That's all I have, and all you're going get. Don't break a tooth."

Y/N sighed, staring at the biscuits mournfully before taking one out of the tin and gnawing on it. It would have been easier to bite on the barrel of one of Jesper's guns. "You're mean."

"You're acting like a petulant child."

Y/N made a disgruntled noise from the back of her throat, sinking back into the silk pillows and wrapping the blankets tighter around her. She had made no visible mark on the cookie, and had only succeeded in covering it with slobber. She put it back in the tin and noticed Kaz wrinkle his nose at her.

She doubted the biscuits would ever see the light of day again.

She watched Kaz do his paperwork, a surprisingly interesting thing to do. He had taken off his hat and jacket, and rolled up his sleeves. He even took his gloves off, preferring to use a pen without the ridiculous slipperiness of the leather. The papers shuffled in a soothing rhythm, and soon, Y/N began to feel less cooped up and a bit more relaxed.

Ever since she had been taken away from her family and thrown onto the tiny slaving ship, Y/N had always had a touch of claustrophobia (well, it was a bit more than a touch, but she wasn't willing to admit that just yet). The tiny room with a mattress on the flooor was really just a decoration at this point - she slept on the roof most nights and every waking hour was in Ketterdam, simply walking if there were no pockets to be picked.

Drowsily, she watched as Kaz scratched something out on paper, his face creasing ever so slightly. The pen made a nice sound, she found, and paired with the strangely calming scent of his room and the rustling of papers, it made her feel almost like it was rainy day, the kind where you curled up by the fire and read a book or cuddled with someone.

"I doubt staring at my face will help you fall asleep, love," Kaz noted without looking up from his work.

"Your face is the most interesting thing here."

For the barest fraction of a second, Kaz looked like he had short-circuited. The moment was gone as soon as it came, however, and he simply raised an eyebrow at her. "You're very immature sometimes."

"Thanks!" Y/N said cheerfully. "It was the trauma."

"Trauma hardens people, it doesn't make them softer," Kaz dismissed.

"I agree wholeheartedly. However, there's a difference between an excellent mask and incompetence," she replied. "Now come over here and show what's bothering you, I can see it on your face."

Kaz looked up at her, noting the fact that she probably wouldn't shut up unless he did as she asked. He rolled his eyes, hobbling over to the bed. As he sat, she could feel his weight pushing the mattress down.

Before he could say a word, she snatched the paper in his hands and began scanning it. "What's wrong with it?"

"The numbers don't add up."

She stared at the document for another second, then back up at Kaz. "Who are you and what have you done with Kaz Brekker?"

He blinked at her.

"You forgot to carry the one. The numbers don't add up because you... well, added them wrong," she explained softly. She looked up at him, concern crossing her features. "Do you need a nap?"

Kaz huffed out a breath. "I'm fine. You're just distracting me, that's all."

"We're going to ignore the fact that you think I'm distracting and instead focus on the fact that you have not slept in several days."

Kaz's nostrils flared slightly in indignation. Before he could speak, however, Y/N cut him off. "Kaz, I have known you since I was eleven. I'm also not fucking blind. Yes, I know you are essentially running a mafia at age seventeen. Yes, I know you are under pressure. Yes, I know there is at any given moment a bounty on your head. Yes, I know I am sick and it is technically your job to take care of me. But can we please just make a deal or a truce or something in which you get some fucking rest?"

Kaz was quiet for a moment before the corner of his mouth twitched. "Always the mother hen for everyone except yourself."

She was startled into a laugh. "What can I saw, I was a born hypocrite."

Kaz did end up getting a couple hours of sleep, even if it was at Y/N's insistence.

However, he almost regretted it when Jesper barged in and, with a gleeful cackle, found them both sleeping in the same bed with one of his legs pressed up against hers - Kaz's version of flat-out cuddling.

Almost.

[buckybarnesdiaries]

; i'm coming home

© gif credits to the author, i found it on google. if you own it, send me a message with your @.

bucky barnes x reader ⎢ masterlist.

bucky and you met six years ago in romania, but he disappeared. now, he's back.

word count: 1.8k.

warnings/tags: none.

author notes: none of my stories contain reader’s body descriptions to be inclusive.

Join the tag list here.

requests are open.

Six years had passed since the last time he was with you, before disappearing overnight. He didn't give you any explanation, he didn't even leave a note. He needed to protect you, but he also knew how stubborn you were and that you wouldn't let him take that decision for both. So Bucky simply left, breaking your heart in one thousand pieces. You wanted to understand his reasons, but you couldn't. He promised you eternal love, a life together, moving out of New York —maybe to a remote place where anyone could recognize him and have peaceful days, without having to be worried about someone coming after him. About someone trying to hurt you.

Since the very first moment you met in Romania, Bucky fell in love with you. Sometimes you still remembered how he started talking to you in Romanian, guessing you were from there until you laughed and replied in English. The next few weeks were like a daydream. Walks, romantic dates, nights of stargazing. Then, you came back to New York and kept in touch by letters, as in the forties or fifties. Until one day. Your friends invited you to a museum and what you discovered there was unbelievable. James, your James, was Captain America's best friend. And he was supposed to be dead.

You wrote to him. You told him you knew it. You told him you didn't care, that you could figure out how to escape from that situation. Together. But he never sent you a letter back. You weren't able to forget him after all that time, still sleeping every night with his red shirt, stupidly fantasizing about the idea of Bucky coming back to you. And your hopes increased when you watched him on TV. The Avengers found him and, even if you tried to contact them somehow to defend your James, you never got it. Nobody believed you, not even when you showed them the letters, not the only picture you conservated of both of you in Bucharest. You prayed to God to help him. You begged God to the world seeing him as you did.

But when Bucky was released on parole, he never tried to look for you. He did know you lived in New York and, with his resources, he'd have known in less than five minutes. One year had passed, and you ended up losing the most minimal hope wrapping your heart. All those things he told you once, were just lies. Lies to inventing a parallel life until you left Romania. Only replying to your letters to have something to lean on for his own good. That's what he demonstrated to you.

bucky's pov

Like every night since he earned part of his freedom, Bucky stared at the windows of your apartment, from the opposite sidewalk hidden behind a tree. Like a ghost. Like he was trained to see but not be seeing. Every night, he wanted to cross the road, call to your door, kiss you, hug you, feel your touch and your love —hold you, and never let you go again. But he knew it was risky, he knew he had to wait for the right time. And it came. Tonight it came. His year of therapy had ended and he was free. Bucky was free to come back home.

He had been watching you since it started, making sure you were safe and sound. He also was aware that you never rebuilt your life with another man, that you tried to find him. That you slept every night with his shirt. Bucky was also aware of all the times you cried for him, that you always walked the same way from your job to your apartment expecting to meet him in some street close to it. He knew you better than you knew yourself.

Taking a deep, deep breath, keeping his hands inside the pockets of his coat, the soldier put a step on the road. The first step to happiness. And then, no one could stop him. He continued to the front door of the building, not needing more than a push to open it. Third floor, fifth door at the right of the corridor. Bucky licked his bottom lip nervously, swallowing as he took a master key from one of his pockets and a small metallic stick to force the lock of your house. He needed to be fast and stealthy, ringing the bell wasn't an option for very obvious reasons. Breaking into the apartment, he closed the door quietly behind his back.

The lights were all turned off a couple of hours ago when you went to sleep, after sitting on the window of your living room waiting for someone who wasn't going to show up, as every night for the last six years. The whole place smelled sweet like you used to. Bucky never forgot your scent, using it as the encouragement he needed to continue fighting for his freedom, for a life together. Now, his heart was racing so quickly that the whole city could hear his beats.

Slowly, he toured the entrance, the living room, the hallway straight to your dorm. The door was half-closed. Not a single noise coming from the inside. Bucky walked towards it, pushing it in slow motion, trying to not wake you up. And if he knew before that could be that easy to watch you sleep —for creepy that it sounded— he would have watched you every night since he landed in New York.

Bucky wasn't sure about what to do. If he should wake you up, if he should let you sleep and come the next day after you finished your work. When he wanted to realize, he was running the nail of his index finger on your soft cheek. Your skin was still warm, which meant you fell asleep crying again. And that broke his heart, his soul. Being conscious of all the pain and the suffering he made you being through all that time was killing him from inside. And he wished he could have handled your relationship in another way. But there wasn't another way without you being collateral damage of his past.

Bucky was about to leave when he suddenly felt a hit to his collarbone, stumbling to the bed. He didn't have time to react when your right leg was beneath his cold arm and pinning down his neck, as your left leg was laced around it. Your hand gripping his wrist, immobilizing him, pointing at him with a loaded gun between your free fingers. Your breathing became erratic, your pulse was beating faster than ever, but you were ready to shoot if the occasion required it.

In the middle of the gloom you glimpsed at those deep oceanic blue eyes you had been craving to look at for years. The same eyes on the picture on your nightstand. It has to be another dream. Another nightmare where Bucky came to tell you that everything was going to be okay. But his touch felt so real that it hurt like a million flames burning down your body to ashes. You were paralyzed. Your brain collapsed. In a very slow motion, James —your James— raised his right hand from the mattress to above his chest, bringing it to the gun aimed at his head. You couldn't stop him. You tried with all your strength. But the commands sent by your neurons never reached the finger supported against the trigger.

His flesh digits made their way to your trembling hand, as the tears started to sprout out from your eyes. Bucky took the weapon, not needing to ask you to release it, to put it away from the two of you.

“It's okay, draga mea, it's me…” He whispered with such an angelical and melodic voice, over your dolorous sobs. “May I, uh… get my arm back?”

Bit by bit, you obeyed as if it was some kind of polite order, loosening the grip around his arm and over his neck. Stepping back till your body collided with the headboard, you curled up your knees to your furious chest rising and falling, hiding your face between the gap of both. Your cry became louder, agonic, painful, ripping your throat.

“No— Not again… Not again, please… I c— can't”. You implored sorely.

Bucky didn't need to be a genius to understand you firmly believed it was just part of another of your dreams. Another of your nightmares. He sat upon your bed, coming closer to you and landing his cold metallic hand on the back of your head, urging you to raise it. You did. You did raise your burning face because of the tears falling, running down your cheeks. Your blurry gaze focused on his pale blue eyes, begging you silently to forgive him.

“I'm here… I'm back”. Bucky murmured, gently touring your skin until reaching a side of your neck, caressing your throat by using his thumb. “This is not a dream, draga mea. This is real”.

His intentions weren't to scare you, speaking to you with such a honeyed tone of voice as he shortened the distance between his body and your legs yet curled. You pouted unconsciously, watching him leaning above your legs to press his lips on the bridge of your nose. Slowly, fondly. Wanting to transmit to you that the flame of his love for you never went out. Resting his forehead against yours, your right hand flew straight to the back of his neck. You had never needed more than you needed him at that precise instant, trying to believe that that wasn't a trick of your subconscious.

“'M so, so sorry… I had to protect you… I had to protect you”. Bucky explained while closing his eyes, lacing his free fingers with yours. “But, uh… I know you still drink black coffee with mocha and a stick of cinnamon every Thursday. I know you… rent a book from the library and sit on the stairs in your free evenings… I know you sleep with this same shirt every night”.

Discovering he had been watching you all this time provoked your lips to shiver, as your cry became lower and your breathing was calmer. He guarded your days, in the shadows, till the right moment. And it came. Tonight was the right moment.

“I'm free. I'm not an enemy anymore… I'm not a target”. Bucky couldn't help but chuckle to hold back his own tears. “I'm so sorry”.

“Will you…? Will you stay now? With me?” At first, you doubted asking, being afraid of his response for a second.

“No one will ever set us apart again. No one”. He promised you, his heart speaking, telling the absolute truth. “Everything I told you in Bucharest; everything was true. And I… I want it”.

Bucky leaned forward enough inches to make disappear the less distance between both of you, pressing his lips in yours, tenderly caressing your jawline with his thumb as his tears met yours in the corner of your lips. Neither of you could believe that you were reunited after all these years, after all the pain, the loneliness. And like James, your James, said so: no one would ever set you apart again.

feedback is appreciated, please, leave a comment to let me know if you liked it.

and support writers with a REBLOG!!! 🤍

tag list. @whatrambles @phoenixhalliwell @homesicam @marvel-diaries @amelia-song-pond @heartbeats-wildly @met4no1a @weenersoldierr @petlaufeyson @sillygamingartghost @wildflowergubler @isnt-it-loverly @zealouspursecowboydeputy @rvgrsbrns @artisancowbells @plagooey @tinylumpiaa @hemsbucky @bxmaaa @quxxnxfhxll @capxwinter @knowyourworth-sellyoursoul @hateinthemorning @asemistablehundredyearoldman @purpleelfwizard @twinerd14 @nikkixostan @stolenxkissess @wintersfilm @whoreforsamwilson @thatcrackheadsadbitchtm @baconmuffins1216 @28cnn @hxlyhoax @lieswithoutfairytales @angrybirdxx @clownerlyluv @kait-is-always-late @marvel-ousnesss @natashadeservedbetter @ebxny27 @fanofalltheficsx @spider-man-lover @masterlists101 @lewd-alien @warm-sensations @stealapizzamyheart @talk-on-the-street @theresnoplatypus

[imeternallylove]

Hurt You - BBC Sherlock (Part 2)

Sherlock x Reader

genre: fluffy

words: 821

summary: he wants you back

(gif not mine)

warning: mention of drugs use

part two:

part one

Days past and Sherlock still hadn't heard from you. John and Mary visited to make sure he was eating and sleeping. Mrs. Hudson has taken his gun away. Even Mycroft came here, tried to convince him to play a game, a chess or to deduce something. But. Sherlock was out of the mood. To anyone.

"Sherlock. I know you loved her but, you can't throw your life away over some woman," Mycroft said during one of his visits. "She isn't just some woman," Sherlock told him deathly quiet. "She actually meant a lot me."

If the eyesight can kill a person, Sherlock might be killing Mycroft in thousand times.

Mycroft tries to smile at his brother mine. "And you really think to sit nearly to die here on your sofa will bring her back? Just stop taking this!"

"Nothing is going to bring her back. I finally did it. I finally drove her away," With his back still turned to his brother, Sherlock speaks through gritted teeth. "Mycroft. I place that everywhere. I also have a list! Find it if you want!"

"Have you ever tried talking to her?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes and turned to face away of Mycroft. "Of course not," he muttered into the sofa. "Do you think she will talk to me? I hurt her."

"Well then, luckily for you. I had a little bit of tracing surveillance on our dear Y/N. She seems to be as miserable as you. I would suggest you get off the sofa, maybe take a shower first, throw your things and at least go talk to her."

Sherlock instantly turned to look at his brother, "Is she really miserable?" Mycroft reply. "Maybe better than you," he said, and with that. Sherlock hopped off the couch and ran to the bathroom to finally shower. He was really going to win her back.

"God's Sake! Mycroft! Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Sherlock raced out of the flat and over to Molly's house to finally make things right with you. You were gone, however not for long. Not Watson's house. Not Greg's flat! Molly is surely at St Bart's to work. He eagerly knocked on the door and eventually, you responded.

"What do you want?" you washed out asked. Almost dropped your food when you saw Sherlock in the front door. "I need to talk to you. Y/N," Sherlock holds you in his embrace, stroking your hair. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart."

You told him coldly. "Stay away from me," You put down the food on the living room table and take a few steps back as the memories of the fight flooded back into your mind. All you could think of was the angered look at his face and the stinging pain on your cheek that still lingered. "S-Stay away!" You stuttered, shaking in fear as Sherlock took more steps towards you. "Getaway!" You yelled, but still, he slowly made his way towards you.

"Y/N, I-"

"Get away from me!" You shouted, cutting off his attempts to speak. The tears that were gone came back as you broke down, sliding down through the wall. "Just leave me alone." You mumbled between sobs. "Y/N, look up at me." Sherlock softly asks. You felt your head hidden behind your arms, refusing his request. "Please?", Sherlock asked again, urging you to follow along. Slowly, you lift up your head. Your eyes widened when you saw his puffy, red eyes.

You watched Sherlock get up and go back to the entrance. Not knowing what to do, you wiped your tears away and stayed where you were at. The sound of plastic crinkling above you captured your attention, making you look up. Your eyes went to the beautiful bouquet of flowers in front of you then to he then back to the flowers. You hesitantly reached out to the flowers, slowly accepting them.

"I'm sorry, Y/N. I'm so so sorry, I never meant to do that.", Sherlock began as he swatted down to your level to look at you in your eyes. "Please don't leave m-me. I promise I'd never do it again." Sherlock stuttered as you watched tears slowly start to form in his eyes.

Are you kidding? Bloody hell. You already forgave him.

"Sherl-", you started.

"Please don’t leave me," Sherlock begged, wrapping his arms around you tightly. You tried to get him off you by tapping him on the chest with your hand, but his grip on you only got tighter. "Y/N, I’m sorry. I know you don’t deserve me, b-but please don’t leave m-me.", he cried on your shoulder, stumbling over his words.

"Hey… It’s fine.", you softy said, slightly smiling as you nuzzled your head in your boyfriend’s neck.

You two stayed like that, in each other’s embrace, with his sobs slowly quiet down with the fact that you won’t leave him this time.

Who were you kidding? You’d probably never leave him.

[julemmaes]

Payback

Rowaelin Month, Day Five

A/N: Yall I'm dying. I didn't even wanna write today and I kinda forced myself to and I'm not proud of myself for this but I just wanted you to have something so yep. Tomorrow's will be a lot angstier and sadder than this one, so soak up the very light fluff I'm giving you till you can

Signing off, goodnight yall

Word count: 3,614

Aelin hated the underground car park reserved for the residents of her building. It was dark, so narrow that you had to do at least a hundred swerves to avoid taking any corner and scratching off half your car, and it was impossible to find a spot when everyone came home in the evening after hours and hours in the office and parked as they saw fit while still thinking about the thousands of pieces of paperwork that would be waiting for them at their desks only nine hours later, sometimes taking up more than two spots at once.

The only reason she still tried to park down there was that there was a flock of pigeons in the trees just outside their block of flats, on the main road, which had made a nasty habit of shitting on anything - or anyone, on some unpleasant occasion - that stopped for more than five minutes under the thick branches. A perfect hiding place for birds, that no one had thought to warn her about when she had moved in only a few months earlier.

She had deemed herself lucky the night before, when she had returned before anyone else and found the lot completely empty. She'd been so happy that she'd driven around a bit down there just for the hell of it. She'd pulled up next to the exit, thinking it would be easier to get out the next morning.

She hadn't anticipated the three assholes who had parked so as to block her path in every conceivable way.

She grunted, banging her fist against the steering wheel when she realised she still wasn't clear, and put the car into reverse for the twelfth time, before changing gear and driving three inches forward. And so on, and on, and on, until she managed to steer the face of the car towards the exit and let out a satisfied howl.

She started up the slope towards the road, taking her eyes off the driveway and distracting herself for a moment to choose which radio to listen to, when the car hit something and the dull sound of the bang echoed throughout her body, propelling her forward.

Aelin squealed, hitting the brakes hard enough to cause a high-pitched squeal, and soon the smell of burnt plastic filled her nostrils.

The car shut off and she pulled the handbrake vehemently, getting out of the car and trying to figure out which wall she had hit, already cursing every deity that had ever existed. She didn't have enough money to afford a repair, and she knew perfectly well that the dent would be there for months before she let any of her friends help her.

She wrinkled her brow, noticing how no side of the car was touching walls or columns.

"What the..."

And then she heard it, a grunt of pain.

She opened her eyes wide, running around the car and finding a man on the ground.

To the view of a head full of stark white hair, the fear she’d just ran over one of the oldies that lived on her floor stuck her. But then the person got up on their elbows and she let go of a sigh of relief.

But still, she had just runapartment someone over. She hurried his way.

"Oh, fuck." said Aelin, approaching the stranger. The man pulled himself up to sit, bringing a hand to his face, on his cheek, where a cut was bleeding profusely on his shirt.

"Holy shit." muttered the guy, looking up at her, "That hurt."

Aelin was frozen in time, her hands to her gaping mouth, looking for the right words.

When he tried to stand, swaying a little, she pushed through the fog in her mind and truly looked at him, searching other injuries, but not failing to notice his sheer handsomeness.

The man looked like he’d been made in heaven.

She shook her head, mentally reprimanding herself – now was not the time – and started talking.

“I’m so so so sorry. I didn’t see you there and- oh god, you’re bleeding. You need me to rush you to the hospital? Fuck, you think you broke something?” the words just kept flowing and flowing. “Where were you even going? Why didn’t you just got out of the main entrance? This fucking parking lot. I swear we have to call the landlord and have him put some lights down here. Your shirt,” she grimaced, eyeing the blood standing out on the white fabric. Aelin looked him in the eye, “I have a very similar one upstairs? You want me to go fetch it for you, I could-”

“Jesus Christ!” he yelled, putting his hands in between them, forcing her to step back, “Shut the fuck up!”

Aelin’s mouth closed shut and her eyebrows raised so high she felt her skin pull on her temples. She crossed her arms over her chest. Her eyes popping out.

This man. Sure, she’d just ran him over, but no one had ever talked to her like that.

“I’m fine.” he grumbled, “And I live in this building, I’ll go take my own shirt, thank you.” He took a deep breath, brushing off his trousers and bending to gather his stuff that had scattered around during his fall. When he lifted his head again, he gave her a tight smile and his piercing green eyes stared at her with an intensity that had Aelin’s toes curling in her shoes.

“Have a nice day.”

He then proceeded to walk away, leaving Aelin alone in the darkish driveway.

She looked around, hoping to see someone who could confirm that it had just been a figment of her imagination, but there was no one.

Getting back in her car, Aelin started the engine and drove up to the street, chewing on her lips, “What the fuck just happened?”

***

Aelin had thought all day about the mysterious man. She hadn’t been able to focus during her meetings and hadn’t even finished one of her projects. Something that she sure as fuck knew her boss would make her notice and work her ass off to make up for once word got to him.

Her day had started off so bad she knew it couldn’t get any worse, but she’d been wrong.

Her assistant had spilled coffee over her only finished drawing and herself. One of her coworkers had decided today was the perfect day to quit her job and pile her projects on Aelin’s desk. Then she’d gone out for lunch with some of her friends and it had started raining so heavily she’d been forced to stay in the office, only eye-eating the mouth-watering dishes her friends had posted on their instagram stories. They’d made it to the diner just before the sky cracked open.

And, the cherry on top, someone had keyed her car.

She’d been on the verge of tears when she’d spotted the red stains of her neighbor’s blood on the parking lot floor when she got back home, but she didn’t let any fall.

She had a date.

And she wouldn’t let all these little things get to her and ruin what could possibly be the best night of her life.

One of her life-long best friends had set her up on a blind date with one of her boyfriend’s best friends. She’d promised the man was the perfect match, someone Elide thought would keep her on her toes and match her overflowing personality.

Aelin had been hesitant at first when Elide hadn’t wanted to give her a name, or show her a picture, claiming she’d go all FBI style on him and ruin their first meeting, but she’d also promised Aelin she’d met the guy a few times and he’d been nothing but a gentleman.

And she had heard so much of him she felt like she’d known him her whole life.

Some of the things Elide had told her, she’d liked better if she’d found directly from him, but Aelin was a picky woman and she wasn’t risking another date with a creeper.

She pulled up in the restaurant’s parking lot where Elide had reserved the four of them a table and turned off her car, clutching the wheel. She took a deep breath. And another.

She was still a little worked up and all the pent-up emotions of the day were threatening to spill over the surface any minute, but she could make it past dinner and then have her little monthly breakdown in the peace and quiet of her apartment.

She fixed her lipstick, tightened up her ponytail and let two strands of hair cascade on the side of her face. She blew herself a kiss in the mirror, “You can do it.” she whispered as a short pet talk.

She got off the car, pulled out her phone to check if Elide was already inside and she was so focused on the screen she failed to notice someone backing up right in front of her until it was too late.

The car only bumped into her hip, but it was enough to make her lose her balance.

Aelin merely had time to register what was happening that she found herself lying in a puddle of rain and mud. She closed her eyes at the dull pain on the back of her head, but she knew for a fact the hit hadn’t been that bad.

She lifted her arms up, looking down at the wet spots on her dress, darkening by the second. Her seventy euros purse soaking up the water all around her.

The tension behind her eyes just increased when she heard the driver’s door open and someone step out of the car. She couldn’t have stopped the sobs even if she wanted to.

“Miss? Oh god, I’m so sorry. Are you alright?”

Strong arms circled her waist and pulled her up in a standing position. She brought her hands to her face, her body now racked by her crying as she tried to get a handle of herself.

“Miss?” the voice called again, now nearer. “Are you hurt? I didn’t-” the man talking stopped suddenly and Aelin looked up, not seeing anything through the tears. “You.”

And then it hit her.

That voice.

She knew that voice.

She ran her hand over her face, rubbing her eyes and staring right back at the man she had ran over that same morning.

Her mouth fell open.

He was looking at her with an amused expression and Aelin couldn’t find the words once again.

What was it with this man and his ability to take her ability to talk by just showing up?

He had a transparent band-aid on his cheek, his cut far less severe than she had thought, and his eyes were glistening with mirth. He was wearing a simple black pair of jeans and a dark green t-shirt, but he was even more handsome than in his work clothes.

Aelin was taking rushed, trembling breaths, and she was about to kill this man with her bare hands. Shred his skin off his bones and have him beg-

“I guess we’re even now, uh?”

His attempt of a joke flew over her head and she charged at him, a scream lodged in her throat.

His eyes widened and he took a step back when she flung her arm at him, trying to hit him. His hands closed around her wrists, blocking her from causing him more harm that she’d already done.

“You asshole!” she was screaming at the top of her lungs. “You ruined my dress!”

Aelin lifted a leg, more than convinced to kneel his balls, but he managed to block her blow again, infuriating her even more.

“I was about to meet the love of my life and ruined my fucking dress!”

He tried to push her away from him, still squeezing her wrists, and his brow furrowed.

“He’s everything I’ve ever dreamed of. He’s a pediatrician! He loves children! And he has a cute fucking dog my friend said I would love and cuddle the shit out of! Her name is Fleetfoot and she’s a golden retriever and Elide knows I fucking love goldens. And he’s from Orynth, just. Like. Me!” she got louder and louder with every word she spit out. “And he’s tall, and handsome and he’s the perfect match! And I deserved this one night!”

The man was now looking at her with a dumbfounded expression, his hold slightly loosening.

“I’m so done with this dating thing and I’d finally found him and you!” she shoved a finger in his chest, making him retreat a few steps. “You wanted your payback so bad you ran me over with your car!

“And now he’s gonna take one look at me and think I’m a fucking psycho! I bet my hair are the most disgusting thing he’s ever seen and my make up. Oh fuck, I must look like a panda.” Aelin started crying harder, laying her hands flat on the man’s torso, pushing her head to his chest. “I look like a fucking panda.”

She tried to speak again but her mind just couldn’t form any coherent thought, until she felt the man’s arms closing around her shoulders. He stepped closer, running his hand up and down her back, whispering something she couldn’t really hear over her crying.

Aelin didn’t know how much time she spent in the stranger’s embrace, but when the gravity of the scene she’d just made in front of him downed on her, she felt her body flare up in embarrassment.

That was her life now?

Having mental breakdowns in a dark parking lot after someone she’d ran over with her car had returned the gesture and then making them console her?

She detached herself from the man and for a second she thought she’d felt him hesitate before he took a step back. And another, leaving her standing her in her soaking wet dress and her puffy, surely-red eyes. He bent down, picking up her purse and handing it to her.

She lowered her gaze, not even daring looking at his shoes and closed her eyes.

“I’m sorry.”

The man made a sound of surprise, “Why would you be sorry?”

Aelin wished she could die on the spot. Evaporate out of existence.

“For hitting you. Or at least trying. And crying all over you.” she said and then grimaced. She ran a hand over her face. “I just had a very hard day and I wasn’t even sure I wanted to come, but this guy seriously seems like he could be the missing piece to whatever the fuck my puzzle-life is. I didn’t want to take a raincheck and have him thinking I’m not serious about this.”

A beat of silence, “I’m sure he would have understood.”

She shook her head, keeping on talking as if he hadn’t even been there, “And now I can’t go in like this.” she passed her hands on her dress, the tears building up again in her eyes. “Plus, Elide didn’t tell me what he looks like, cause she thinks he’s a real snack and wanted to see my face when I saw him for the first time.” she was bordering on pouting, “That means he’s gotta be smoking hot or I’ll be so pissed at her.”

The man snorted loudly, “A snack.” he hummed, “Maybe I should meet your friend and thank her.”

Aelin’s head snapped up, “Oh no, she’s taken.” she shook her head vehemently, “Like so freaking taken. I swear she and her boyfriend have been together for a whole of three months and they already act like a married couple.”

He nodded, a lopsided smile on his face, “I know the kind.”

She’d been so absorbed by her talking that she hadn’t noticed she’d stopped crying.

She breathed through her nose and clasped her hands together, before reaching one out towards him, “I think introductions are needed. I’m Aelin.” she offered a tentative smile.

His hand engulfed hers, shaking it with impressive gentleness. His smile grew even larger if possible and Aelin was starting to think she was about to het murdered.

But then he said his name and the world ceased existing around them.

Their hands still moving up and down between them.

She tilted her head forward, “I’m sorry, could you repeat that?”

He licked his lower lip, “I’m Rowan.”

Aelin closed her eyes, holding her breath.

She squeezed his hand before releasing it. She took a step back, wishing for the ground beneath her feet to crack open and just eat her whole.

“I’m gonna go kill myself now, if you’ll excuse me.”

His laugh reached her ears with painful speed.

Rowan.

She couldn’t believe it.

Well, she could. The man laughing his heart out at her expense was probably the most handsome person she’d ever seen in her entire life.

At least Elide hadn’t lied about that.

“A tad dramatic, if you ask me,” he said as his laugh died down. He pointed at the restaurant behind him, “You want me to go fetch the married couple so we can go back at the appartment and you can change? I’m not against you walking in there with this outfit at all,” he gave a pointed look, matched by a shit-eating grin that seemed to be etched in his lips, “I’m not gonna think you’re a psycho, not for this at least, and I’m ready to fight everyone who looks at you the wrong way. But you look like you could use the comfort of a warm house.”

Aelin looked up at him with a questioning look, trying to understand if this man she’d just tried to maul was seriously offering her options, letting her choose after everything that had gone down so far between the two of them. As if still giving her a chance.

Rowan arched a brow, looking around and glancing back at her, “Aelin?”

Oh, fuck.

She had been oh so not ready o hear her name from his lips.

She nodded and he smiled, leaning down a bit.

She could smell his cologne from here.

“Yes to what? Me calling Lorcan and Elide or getting inside even if you dripping wet?”

Holy fucking shit, this man shouldn’t have been allowed to say the words dripping wet.

She stilled herself.

What the hell was she thinking? She brought her hands to her face, “Please call them and let’s head home. I’m so fucking tired.” a yawn broke her sentence, as to prove her words, “And I’m freezing in this skimpy dress.”

Rowan rushed to her side, “Oh, god, sorry for not offering sooner, here,” he opened the trunk of his car and pulled out a huge blue sweater. Without even waiting for an answer he snatched her purse from her hands and shoved her head in his sweater.

Aelin felt better right away and gave him a big smile.

Rowan answered with one of his own and of course he had to be this perfect and more.

“I’m sorry for ruining your dress, I’ll make sure they wash it carefully when I take it to the laundry. If you’d let me.”

She nodded faintly, exhaling the panty-dropping smell of his sweater.

“And I’m hoping to see you wear it again once we finally get to go on a proper date.” he smirked, “I bet you looked amazing before I went and ran you over.”

Aelin chuckled, shaking her head, “You truly are a gentleman. Elide wasn’t exaggerating.”

Rowan’s demeanor changed completely and Aelin feared she’d said something wrong, but he averted his gaze as if he was embarassed.

“I’m sorry for this morning,” he said. Aelin almost tripped on her feet. He was sorry? “I shouldn’t have talked to you like that but I was just coming back from the hospital and Elide was right saying I work with kids, but I’m not a pediatrician, I’m a pediatric surgeon.”

His gaze grew dark as he looked over her shoulder, avoiding meeting her eyes at all costs.

“Yesterday night we lost a eight years old and I wasn’t really there when you hit me with your car. I didn’t mean to yell at you like I did, it was just-”

Rowan couldn’t finish his sentence that Aelin lunged for him, hugging him as tight as he’d held her a few minutes before, hoping she could relieve some of the pain that was surely clutching his heart. She felt him sag in her arms and hold her in turn.

She was glad she could offer some kind of support.

“It must be hard.” she whispered against his chest.

Rowan nodded, hitting her head with his chin, “It is, but it’s part of the job. The only way you can live with something like that in your baggage is knowing you did everything you could to save them.”

Aelin could feel the emotion lacing his every word and tightened her arms for a moment before freeing him of her embrace. He silently thanked her and told her he’d be right back with their friends.

The second he was gone she realized she couldn’t wait for when he’d be back and they could keep talking.

She’d never felt this way before. Not this fast at least.

Sure, she had loved all her exes, but this. This was different.

There was something there, a connection.

And while he walked back to her, Lorcan and Elide in tow, a bright smile on his handsome face, she couldn’t help but think she was ready to find out all about it.

tog tag list (if you wanna be added or removed just dm me or send me an ask)

@maastrash @ireallyshouldsleeprn @sleeping-and-books @hellasblessed @thegoddessofyou @ghostlyrose2 @claralady @sayosdreams @perseusannabeth @letstakethedawn @terrible-and-proud @post-it-notes33 @booksstorm @nalgenewhore @queen-of-demons-and-hell @lanyjoy-13 @vasudharaghavan @cupcakey00 @bri-loves-sunflowers @queen-of-glass @thewayshedreamed @the-regal-warrior @fangirlprincess09 @januarystears @rowaelinismyotp @starbornsinger @bookstantrash @thegreyj @feysand-loml @autumnbabylon @a-court-of-milkandhoney @highqueenofelfhame @story-scribbler @mariamuses