#if there’s any major thing to gleam from them i think it’s like. look at how nd feels able to allow this happier ending now

[heartslobbf]

been having nimona thoughts for the past week or so since i watched the movie, just kind of reflecting on nd stevenson’s wider body of work and development as an artist and mulling over his statements about the movie having a more explicitly happy ending than the comic. and i think it’s so interesting and beautiful in a way that just makes me so fucking happy. like, nimona the movie is so nice. it is softer and warmer than the comic, rounding its edges (but not completely sanding them away) to turn into a kids movie, and what a kids movie it is! nimona the comic is cruel and gritty and complicated in much more uncomfortable ways than the movie, and its ending is so profoundly bittersweet and hopeful and just. deeply deeply meaningful to me. and then the movie’s like hey :) what if nimona saw ballister for who he was :) a friend :) and im like WAHHHHHHH. it’s so nice :’)

also just think it’s neat that goldenheart are overall a much happier, more stable couple in the movie, because whilst i personally prefer analysing crazy gay bitches (utena fan), watching gay people get to be gay in nice and fun ways is like :) like what’s a mainstream animated film with a gay protagonist who starts the film in a relationship and has that relationship be a central plot point throughout? and also they kiss and are in love at the end? it’s a big deal!!!! it’s awesome to see!! it made me incredibly happy !!!!! god fucking bless

[whatsk-poppinhomies]

Pairing : Lee Felix x F!Reader TW : pregnancy ; miscarriage ; major angst ; Word Count : 3.5k

“Felix!” You squealed as his arms wrapped around your waist from behind, his nose nuzzling against your cheek as the softest chuckle filled your ears that his lips were right beside. Kisses were peppered against any surface he could reach as he swayed your body’s side to side, your own instinctively relaxing against him. “Remember what I said, right?” You murmured, tilting your head up to glance at him, his eyes twinkling with excitement even though he was dramatically pouting at you. 

“I know, I know.” He grumbled, his thumb absentmindedly drawing circles against your stomach. “No telling STAY until the 5th month…” He sighed, his chin falling against your shoulder. “I’m just so excited, and I know they’ll be just as excited as I am when they hear about it.” 

You knew he was excited, you had recorded his reaction when you had surprised him with the news that you were pregnant on his birthday. The little “Congratulations Dad” card slipped in between the birthday card that you had gotten him, and you were so glad that you had decided at the last minute to film him opening the card. His reaction was genuine and precious, and the tears that filled his eyes as he looked up at you with a questioning smile, awaiting your reassurance that it wasn’t just some prank before jumping off the couch and engulfing you in a hug… It had all been enough to bring tears to your own eyes as you continued to assure him that yes, you really were pregnant. 

Sometimes you felt that he was even more excited than you were, and you were only just now entering your 3rd month. Felix had all but started the nursery for the baby by now, the names had already been picked out, and while you wanted the news to be kept from the fans just a little while longer, he was all too eager to tell the guys who shared in his joy about a new family member. He was the best partner to have, when you were feeling your worst and the symptoms were downright awful, he was always there to do his best to help you feel better. That is, until he had to go on tour. 

The announcement of the upcoming world tour was unexpected, and even Felix seemed a little taken back by it. The last thing he planned on doing during your pregnancy was traveling around the world, but you tried to think positively about it, hoping that your positivity would brush off on him and he’d be less reluctant to leave. 

“So you’re sure you don’t need me to stay here with you?” Felix posed the question as he stood by the front door, a duffle bag swung over his shoulder. Even though the question was meant to make it seem like you’re the one who’d need him to stay, both of you knew that he wanted you to say yes, he wanted you to give him any reason you could to stay with him. As much as you wanted him to stay though, you knew that it would be selfish, especially when so many fans wanted to see him. 

“I’m sure, babe.” You said the words through little bouts of giggles as you leaned against the wall, waiting to say those final goodbyes before he was gone. It used to be extremely hard to watch him leave, and you’d usually be the one trying to make up excuses just to delay his departure, but you were used to it now. It’s not that it wasn’t sad still, but after 4 years together, you were better at it, you both were, and you had figured out how to work around the time differences so that you could call each other and at least video chat once a day. This time would be no different, you both knew that. “Plus, by the time you finish the tour and you’re able to come back home, I’ll be close to 6 months, you won’t have to wait so long.” 

His head nodded, and as if you had just told him you were pregnant again for the first time, his eyes gleamed with just something else to get excited over. “Alright… You’re right, and then I only have to wait 3 months… Perfect… I don’t like waiting… I just want to meet them…” His eyes formed into thin crescents as his smile widened, his bag dropping to the floor as he walked over to you, his hands cupping your cheeks before pressing a deep kiss to your lips, the suddenness of it giving you a headrush. “I’ll miss you, angel… Keep yourself safe…” He lowered down just enough to brush his fingers along your stomach before giving it a small kiss that had your heart swelling. “And you stay safe too, my little nugget. Don’t give your mom too much trouble.” He rested his forehead against your tummy for a second, letting out a soft sigh, one last opportunity for you to just tell him to stay, but the silence out lasted the opportunity and he slowly got back to his feet, smiling softly to you. “Make sure you send me daily belly pictures, and video call me at doctors appointments so I can be there… Okay? Please?” 

Even with your reassurance, you knew that this was hard for him. This was the most exciting time of his life, not just career wise, but now at home as well. His family was growing, and he had to leave you when you were most vulnerable. It made him feel awful that he wouldn’t be there for you, and no amount of it’s okay’s would make him feel any less awful. It would be rough, but not without reward. He knew that once he got home he’d be with you again, and he wouldn’t have to wait as long either. 

“Felix, we’re about to go on…” Hyunjin whispered, his hand waving in front of the younger member's face to get his attention away from the video call that he was currently on with you. “We have like five minutes, and I know that you’re not going to just hang up on her, you need five minutes just to say goodbye because you do that back and forth thing that’s really cringy.” 

Felixs face scrunched up with embarrassment as his cheeks were flushed a light pink, his head turning to look at Hyunjin. “I do not take five minutes just to say goodbye, and we do not do the cringy back and forth thing. We promised we wouldn’t be like that…” His head quickly turned back to the screen when he heard your snicker that you attempted to muffle. “We don’t do that… Do we?” 

Your lips pursed and slightly turned up at the corners. “What if I said it totally isn’t cringe and I love our 5 minute back and forth goodbyes.” You posed, but your laugh sounded through the speakers as his head fell back and he let out a groan, especially when Hyunjin started laughing too, patting the younger man's shoulder and giving him an I told you so before walking off. “You really need to get out there though…” 

Now that Hyunjin was out of the room, Felix could return to the matter of the call, and as annoying as his hyung was at the moment, it was a welcomed distraction from what the two of you were talking about. “Call me… text me when you get to the doctors… let me know what’s going on, please.” He whispered, his stress sky high, the first time in a while that he’s felt this way before a show and it wasn’t even due to going in front of thousands of fans that he felt this way. 

“I will…” You sighed softly, and even though he could see it in your eyes, in the way you sat on the couch, you were just as worried as he was, you still tried your best to ease his mind and comfort him. “It’s probably nothing though. I’m sure it’s normal. The doctors are probably gonna think I’m silly for coming in for something as small as this.” Your weak chuckle filled the otherwise silent room, but Felix couldn’t laugh with you, he was panicking, and the worst part was that he was on the complete other side of the world right now when he wanted nothing more than to be with you, especially right now. 

“I’m serious, angel… I don’t care if I’m in the middle of dancing. Call me, let me know what’s going on.” He said, more sternly now as the knocks came against his door letting him know time was up. “I love you, I love you so much… And I love our little nugget too. Be safe, okay? Promise me that you’ll be safe, that you’ll let me know.” 

Your head nodded quickly as you blew him a quick kiss. “I’ll text you, pinky promise. I love you more. Call me when you’re done.” You whispered, and he watched you through the phone, wishing that he could hold you, that he could kiss you, that one push of that little red button at the bottom of the screen wouldn’t make your face disappear from his view. The stupid tour was keeping him away from you, and while you tried to hide it from him, he knew that you wanted him there now, you needed him there more than anything right now. 

Felixs mind was completely overtaken by thoughts of you, thoughts of his child as he stood on stage. He couldn’t even focus on the choreography, his steps out of place and he constantly bumped into the other members who, in any other situation, would have gotten annoyed by his continuous mistakes, but they knew he was lost in his own mind, in his own worries about what was going on back at home. 

It took a while for him to even begin to calm down, but the lack of buzzing in his back pocket was, in a way, more comforting than it usually would be. Things were fine, that’s what he kept telling himself, what the guys kept telling him whenever they passed him on the stage. Back pats and intermittent hugs were common, trying to keep him from thinking too much about what was happening or what could be happening. 

What he didn’t know was that back at home in the small little room with the flowers and the smiley faces on the ceiling, you were curled up on the hospital bed, eyes bloodshot from crying as you held the last ultrasound picture you’d receive from this pregnancy that had abruptly ended with no real reason. 

You didn’t call, not yet, not because you didn’t want to, but because you couldn’t. You couldn’t bring yourself to deliver the news to him when you knew he was already worried about you, when you knew he was standing on stage in front of thousands of fans. If you told him, he’d definitely run off the stage just to talk to you, trying to find the next available flight to make it home. 

So no, you didn’t call him, but you shot him a quick text, hoping that he wouldn’t check it until after the concert was over. “I’m so sorry, Lixie… Nugget is gone…” Was all the text said, truthfully, you didn’t know how to put it. How were you supposed to tell him something so awful when he was thousands of miles away? All you wanted to do was be held by him and cry with him over the future that was snatched away from the both of you without any warning. 

The vibration in his pocket was something that he had been waiting for, his hand quickly reaching into the back of his jeans to pull it out, pretending that he was about to take a picture. The smile that had been on his face at the thought of the new ultrasound pictures he’d be receiving quickly faded when he read the message notification on his lock screen. 

It took everything, everything for him to not collapse in the middle of the stage right then and there, his eyes already brimming with tears as his arms fell limp at his sides. Fans continued to cheer, adrenaline and excitement emanating from all of them, but he was in his own bubble, his sad, dark cloud filled bubble that all of those joyous emotions bounced off of. 

“Felix?” Chan was the first to notice, rushing over to him and quickly pulling him off to the side of the stage, and it was only then, once out of the spotlight, that Felix allowed himself to crumble under the crashing wave of emotions that washed over him. “Wh-What happened? Talk to me, Felix.” 

But he could only shake his head as the tears rolled down his freckled cheeks, his mouth opened but no words coming out, only small gasps as a shaky hand held out his phone to the leader. What was he supposed to do now? He felt like a failure, he failed to be there for you, to be the boyfriend that would always stand beside you even during the hardest times. This was the worst time for both of you, yet you were going through it alone. 

At this point all the other members were staring at him, the entire venue had fallen silent as every one there focused their attention on the crying man that was just slightly out of view. “I-I don’t know what to do… hyung… What do I do?” Felix whimpered, glassy eyes staring up at the man who, for the first time, didn’t have much of a suggestion. Chan didn’t know how this felt, none of them did, none of the other guys had ever been through something like this, let alone so far away. 

“If you need to go home, then go home, Felix.” Was all Chan could offer, a firm hand planted on the younger man's shoulder. “Y/N needs you way more than we do right now, way more than STAY needs you…” And Felix knew that, the problem was that he didn’t know the first thing to do once he got home. Of course, he’d hold you and he’d tell you that it would be okay even though he’d know that both of you felt the complete opposite of okay. 

How was he even supposed to step foot inside of his home when it would just be a constant reminder of the child that he had already prepared for, a child that he loved so much before even seeing them, a child that had been stolen away from both him and you before either of you got to even meet them. How was he supposed to keep composed enough to even be there for you? 

Even if he didn’t decide to go home, he wouldn’t be able to continue performing. He couldn’t even pretend to be excited, let alone pretend to actually care about the show right now. You, the love of his life, were experiencing what he could only imagine to be the worst possible thing that you could ever have to go through, and there was no way in hell he’d leave you alone any longer than you needed to be. Sure, he didn’t know the first thing he’d say to you, he didn’t even know what to think for himself to calm his own emotions, but the least he could be is there. 

“STAY…” He whispered into the mic, not wanting them to worry if he just ran off stage without a word, and he didn’t want to put the weight on Chans or any of the other members shoulders. They’d have to finish the show, the rest of the tour without him, the least he could do is say goodbye and apologize. “There’s… some things… going on at home right now for me… And I need to get back home to help take care of them…” He choked out the words, his eyes glistening under the spotlight that was casted down on him. “I’m so sorry… I promise to make it up to you when I’m able to… But I need to go now.” 

There were a few sounds of disappointment coming from the crowd, but he knew that the fans, the real fans, would understand and they wouldn’t hold it against him. He didn’t even wait for the words of the other guys as he rushed off stage, fingers working quickly to undo the mic that he was wired with. Now that that was over with, you were the only thing on his mind. 

Tears fell down his face in the solitude of first class on the plane that carried him back home, and most of the flight he slept, unable to keep his eyes open once they got too puffy from crying. He felt like the dictionary definition of a train wreck right now, the makeup that had been put on him before the concert had yet to be cleanly removed, the small amount of eyeliner and eyeshadow blotchy under his eyes from wiping them too much. He didn’t care who might see him or the photos that would come out if any were taken. One day he’d tell the world about what happened, and that day they’d understand why he looked this way, but for now, their words would mean nothing to him, their reports were pointless and false. They could say anything they wanted, nothing would ever hurt him as much as the small two sentence text that he had gotten on stage. 

He knew that you’d be upset, he had, in some sense, prepared for that, but he couldn’t have possibly prepared himself enough for the heartbreaking image of you curled up on the couch, your arms wrapped around your stomach and your entire body shuddering from the lingering sniffles that came after your sobs. Your head slightly lifted at the sound of his entrance, both of your eyes bloodshot as they met from across the room. “I’m… I’m so sorry, angel…” He said softly as he made his way over to you, dropping down onto the floor beside you on the couch. You were surrounded with balled up tissues that had been used to cry into and wipe whatever tears clung to your cheeks. 

Seeing you from a distance had been heartbreaking, but now seeing you up close, the way your upper lip was raw and puffy from roughly wiping your nose, your hair dampened by the tears that fell into it, your eyes barely even able to open from how much you’ve cried… It was heart shattering, like the broken pieces that had been left over were now being stomped on and kicked around. “They d-don’t know… why… it h-happened…” You shakily said between shortened breaths, your lips chapped from your open mouthed breathing. “You… were s-so ex-excited… and… I’m s-sorry… Lix…” 

He quickly shushed you, his fingers quickly brushing away the loose strands of hair that clung to your forehead. “It’s not your fault… It’s not…” He cooed, leaning his forehead against yours as his hands moved down to cup your cheeks. “And I’m not going to leave you. I promise, I’m going to stay by your side no matter what…” It was a solid promise, one that he wasn’t going to break. If you wanted to stay on the couch the entire time, he’d stay seated on the floor beside you. If you wanted to lay in bed all day and be held by him, he’d do that if it meant that even the slightest bit of pain you were feeling right now would subside. 

This is why he’s here… It’s for you and solely for you, because even though the pain he’s feeling right now is bad, he can only imagine how much harder it was for you. You had been told the news while you were by yourself, you had to process those emotions on your own, and then you had to go back to the empty house and continue to process those emotions by yourself. You had been the one carrying the baby, and even if it was only for a short 3 months, you had already loved the baby. Felix had caught you on many occasions smiling to yourself as your hand absentmindedly circled over your stomach. Now it was empty, you were empty. He had left for tour, excitedly awaiting coming home and only having to wait 3 more months to meet his child, and now that child was just… gone. There was no family to look forward to, not any time soon, not anymore. Home is where his heart is, you are his heart, you had it entirely. He loved coming home usually… But right now, home is where hurt is, hurt and devastation and shattered dreams. 

[withahappyrefrain]

The Heat is On

Summary: When the AC goes out in your apartment, your roommate Peter reveals he knows more about you than you think. 18+

For @blooming-violets, who asked for "AC is out" trope with blonde asshole roommate Peter Parker for my 3K celebration

Moving to New York, you hoped you would finally get to experience more mild summers.

What a joke.

"When did Frank say it would be fixed?" You asked your roommate after removing your head from the fridge.

Without looking up from his phone, Peter remarked, "Hopefully tomorrow."

"Hopefully?!" You gawked. There was no way you could live like this for more than twenty- four hours.

"What? You're not enjoying the view?" Peter motioned to his bare chest. Lying on the couch, he was clad only in boxers.

You rolled your eyes, "You're right, I forgot what a show all six of your chest hairs are."

He put a hand over his heart, throwing his head back as if he had just been struck by an arrow shot by you, "Ouch. You know, people usually have to jump through a lot of hoops to see this."

"Oh, like go to frat parties and pretend your jokes are funny?" You opened the freezer to find several ice cubes. You grabbed them, the coolness feeling delightful in your hand.

"You should be a comedian," Peter remarked, rolling his eyes before he returned to his phone.

You made your way over to the chair that was across from your roommate. You pressed an ice cube against your neck, relishing in the small relief from the heat.

"It's inhumane to let people go more than three hours with no AC," you muttered.

"I'm not complaining about the view I'm getting," His brown eyes motioned to your figure that was clad in only a sports bra and athletic shorts.

You rolled your eyes and chose to ignore his comment.

Living with a frat guy was not on your bingo college card. But your original housing plan had fallen through, the place was well within your budget and you were desperate.

Despite looking like a walking stereotype, Peter was actually a decent roommate. He paid all his bills on time, did his dishes, and kept the parties at his brothers' places.

The only thing Peter would not shake, despite the countless people you both had brought home, was his comments about how attracted he found you. Sometimes you just shut it down, sometimes you ignored it, sometimes you came back with a snarky remark that silenced him.

Peter was attractive, there was no denying that. All your friends wondered how you two hadn't fucked yet.

"Easy. I don't fuck frat bros nor do I fuck my roommates," you would tell them.

But sometimes, it was hard. Especially when he looked at you with a gleam in those honeyed eyes. Or when he just woke up in the morning and his dyed hair was sticking up in every direction and his voice was even deeper.

Thankfully, an alert from your phone saved you from having to make any kind of comment.

"Who's texting you?" Peter asked without even looking up from his phone.

"Chris, telling him about our lack of AC." The name briefly brought a scowl to Peter's face. One that he quickly hid as soon as he felt it.

"The Econ major who can't find a shirt that fits to save his life?"

You looked up from your phone, a smirk forming, "I'm not complaining about his too tight shirts. They show off his pecs quite well."

Peter muttered something about increased gym time when you had an easy major.

You chose to ignore his comment, instead reading the text you've received.

Peter noticed how a small smile appeared on your face as your eyes scanned the message. He also noticed how quickly you got up to head back to your room.

And he definitely noticed the sundress you were wearing when you came out of your room twenty minutes later. Along with the fact you had combed your hair and put on some makeup.

"Where are you headed?" He asked, knowing the answer. Jealousy twisted through his stomach, bubbling up to his throat.

"Chris invited me over to hang out, said I could use his AC," you remarked as you slipped on your shoes.

Peter scoffed, "You do realize he's not wanting to hang out, right? Or that he's not offering you AC out of the goodness of his heart?"

You looked up, trying to read his face. The most annoying thing about Peter Parker was that he was impossible to read. Was he jealous? Or simply judging you?

"Peter, I'm not an idiot. I wouldn't have said yes if I didn't know what he wanted," You leaned forward, "I also wouldn't have gone without a bra."

His amber eyes darted to your chest, the tops of your breasts now exposed thanks to the sundress you had on, combined with you leaning forward.

He chewed his bottom lip, "So you're aware he's just trying to fuck you?"

"Maybe I want to fuck him," You retorted with as much confidence as you could muster.

The truth was that you weren't crazy about the dude. He wasn't bad. Chris was just fine.

But the heat was awful and you needed an out. And maybe this time, you could enjoy it.

Peter turned his attention back to his phone, shaking his head. It wasn't the heat that was making the air thick.

Normally he didn't comment on who you brought home. It was an unspoken rule you two had. You wouldn't judge him for who he brought home and vice versa. So long as they weren't a dick, didn't overstay their welcome, and you weren't super loud.

So why was this time any different?

"Let me know if the AC gets fixed," You said as you grabbed your purse. His eyes remained on his phone. Whatever had put him in a foul mood, you wanted no part of it and were glad to be leaving.

It wasn't until you headed towards the door that you heard his voice.

"Have fun faking another orgasm."

You stopped dead in your tracks, a flash of heat coursing through your body.

"Excuse me?" Was all you could get out as you turned around.

Peter was now standing, his arms crossed over his bare chest, a smirk now on his face.

"I said, have fun faking another orgasm," he repeated.

"I don't know what-"

Peter scoffed, "What, you're still trying to hide it? I thought it was one of those unspoken roommate things where we both knew what was going on. Like that spider bite I got back in high school."

Your fingers curled into a fist, "Parker, I don't know where the fuck you get the audacity but-"

"The walls here are thin. I know what you sound like when you touch yourself versus when you're with someone. There's a huge difference," He walked towards you.

"Though, I will say that you have gotten a lot better since we moved in. Last week, when you brought Chris over?" He brought his long fingers up to his lips, kissing them, "Probably your best performance to date."

"What I do in bed is none of your concern. Also are you listening to me?" You deflected. If you could pin it back to him, you could get out of this.

Sure, you could just leave. But then that would make it seem like he was right.

Peter was right. But you couldn't let him know that.

He was now inches away from you, his arms still crossed as he looked down. Every mark, mole, and scar were visible.

"Again, the walls are thin. Should probably keep your voice down when you use your vibrator," He bent his knees, now at your eye level, "Or don't. You sound really pretty when you moan."

The grip you had on your keys was so tight, the metal was digging into your skin. You didn't care. All you cared about was trying to put on a brave face in front of Peter.

"Has anyone actually made you come while they fucked you?" He asked.

"Why the fuck do you care?" You gritted between your teeth.

Peter leaned in, which made you realize you had never been this close to him before. He didn’t smell like cheap body wash and bleach. Instead, the scent of spicy cinnamon flooded your nostrils.

It was the only pleasant thing about this whole ordeal.

“Well, based on what I’ve heard when you touch yourself, I think you’d sound even prettier coming apart with an actual cock inside you, rather than that dildo you use.”

The way he said it so casually with that smirk and a gleam in those amber eyes was infuriating. At least, it should have been.

You felt heat all over your body and it wasn't from the lack of cool air.

"What do you want Peter? You want me to admit it? Fine," you spat, "No, I've never come while actually getting fucked. You happy?"

He shook his head, "Actually I think it's a shame."

You rolled your eyes, "and what? You want to fix it?"

His lips were now inches away from yours, "If you want me to."

Peter's fingers ghosted over your bare arm, the tips of his calloused fingers brushing over your soft skin. They trailed upwards to your shoulder, moving to your neck.

"And what if you can't make me?"

"Then I'll cover utilities for the next three months." His eyes were on your body, his fingers now brushing over the pulse on your neck.

"With what money?" You stammered. The longer you could draw it out, the more time you had to avoid thinking about what your bleached blonde roommate was offering.

"New York's favorite friendly neighborhood Spider has some new pictures out." He explained, the smirk remaining on his face, his hand now firmly on the back of your neck.

Your eyes trailed down his bare chest to his hips. A smattering of dark hair trailed down his stomach, going below the waistband of his grey boxers. Your eyes widened at the sight of a now prominent bulge that was creating a clear outline in his boxers.

He was getting turned on by this. That fucker.

Before you could say anything, pressure was applied to your throat, forcing you to look up into Peter's eyes.

"So you do like being choked," He muttered.

"Don't lie. I can smell you," Peter said in response to your attempt to shake your head.

"So what do you say? Want to see if I can make you come with my cock?"

You heard the men and women he brought home. The walls were thin. You didn't hate how loud they would get because it kept you awake.

You hated it because they were enjoying it immensely. They always came. You wanted that, wanted to know what it felt like.

Plus, your lease would be up in a few months anyways.

"Fine, let's see if all the folks you brought home are better actors than me," You spat.

Peter chuckled, "You're so cute when you act tough."

He brought his other hand up to cup your face before sealing his lips onto yours.

It was gentle at first, which surprised you. His lips were soft, probably from the chapstick of yours that he keeps stealing.

The kiss was sweet. Something you knew was possible for Peter, but didn't expect to see it in the way his lips moved against yours.

Peter used his hands to tilt your head up, deepening the kiss. His tongue darted out, your lips parting without even thinking.

He was a good kisser, you could admit that to yourself.

Not to his face though. Peter Parker didn't deserve that satisfaction. He didn't deserve to know that he wasn't the only one who listened through that thin wall, picking up on how the other sounded when they moaned.

Be it due to pride or fear, he couldn't know.

"Thought you were going to fuck me," You said, taking a step back to lean against the wall.

"Do none of the guys you fuck do foreplay?" He's walking towards you with such focus, it makes your thighs clench.

"Foreplay would be like you going down on me, I thought you knew that."

"If you want me to go down on you, just say it." He's leaning forward, his lips brushing over the exposed skin of your collarbone.

"I already told you that you could fuck me," You mumbled. He looks up, his eyes on you. They're soft now, gone is the mischievous glint.

"I only want to do what you're comfortable with. But I'm not a fucking mind reader, you need to actually say it."

"You just want to hear it." You looked down, avoiding Peter's gaze.

"I want to make you feel good. Just say the word." You looked back up at him. His whole expression had softened, which you hated.

You were familiar with the smirks, the quippy one liners. Those were easy to deflect with an eye roll or snarky comment.

"Why are you doing this Parker?" Your voice was now barely a whisper.

"Have I not made it obvious that I like you?"

He looked genuinely confused, as if it was as clear as the sun rising and setting every day.

"Y-you're just flirting, like you do with everyone-"

"That's a fucking lie and you know it. You're the only person I've introduced to my Aunt and I tell you shit I haven't told anyone else. You're the one who keeps brushing it off like it's nothing." Peter sunk down until he was on his knees, both his hands gripping your thighs.

"So why don't you be a big girl and tell me whether or not you want me to eat you out? It's the least you could do." His admission was so casual, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Because it was. Peter hadn't brought anyone back to the apartment in over a month. He would find ways to spend time with you, whether it was while you were folding laundry or cooking dinner.

You saw the look in his eyes when you helped him patch up after a rough night. It was so intense that you found ways to avoid eye contact.

He kept those overly flirty comments because he knew that was what you were comfortable with.

You stared down at Peter, whose fingers were gripping the hem of your sundress.

He wasn't going to budge. You had to make the choice.

"You can eat me, but you can't make me come with your mouth. Defeats the whole purpose of seeing if you can make me come with your cock," you finally said after what felt like an eternity, the heat making you almost dizzy.

The hem of your dress was pushed up to your waist, a low groan escaping Peter's mouth from upon seeing that you had opted to forgo underwear.

A snarky remark formed on your tongue, but it died as soon as Peter buried his head between your thighs.

His tongue lapped greedily at your folds, your arousal mixing with his saliva. A gasp fell from your lips as you felt Peter's nose brush against your clit.

Your hands found themselves in his bleached hair, tugging on the surprisingly soft locks.

His mouth was good, which your body loved but your brain hated. You had bitten your bottom lip so hard in an attempt to hold back any pleasurable sounds that the taste of copper filled your mouth.

"Just let go. Probably why you haven't ever come," He muttered into your thigh before latching his mouth to your clit.

The grip you had on his fake blonde locks tightened as a strangled cry fell from your lips.

You could feel Peter moan against your cunt, the vibrations sending jolts of pleasure throughout your body.

"J-just get on with it Parker."

He took his mouth off of you, it taking everything in you not to whine from the loss.

Peter stood up, which was when you saw that his chin was glistening. His fingers gripped your chin, his other hand on the back of your neck. With his broad chest, he guided your body until it was fully against the wall, one of his thighs in-between your legs.

"Why don't you ask nicely, princess?" You could feel your slick against your skin as his lips ghosted over your cheek.

"T-thought you liked me," you stammered as his thigh pushed against your core.

"Doesn't mean you get to be a brat. That's no way to treat the one guy who actually wants to make you come on his cock."

He was right. He was the only one to realize you had been faking it, that you weren't satisfied. The only one to offer to try, to express not just interest but want in making you feel good.

"P-please, Peter," you whimpered.

"Good girl," he praised before gripping onto your thighs and picking you up. His words caused you to clench around nothing, burying your head in the crook of his neck.

When exactly you ended up in Peter's room, you were unsure. But as the back of your head made contact with his pillow, his fingers gripped your sundress, pulling the fabric up and over your head.

Peter muttered a curse at the sight of your bare body. Of course you didn't wear a bra either.

His lips found themselves on your chest, his teeth grazing your skin. Your nails dug into Peter's back as his fingers slipped through your folds, into your entrance.

"T-Thought- you said you would f-fuck me," you whined, your pitch increasing as you felt Peter's teeth against one of your nipples. The air was hot from the lack of AC, his cracked window doing very little to cool you down.

You could hear him laugh against your chest, "Put up such a fight only to beg for me to fuck you."

Peter flicked his wrist, his fingers hitting a spot that left you breathless. He saw how your eyes widened, your lips parted yet no sound came out.

That all too familiar smirk, the one you wanted to wipe off his face, the one that made him look almost boyish despite his stubble, the one you adored, returned.

He pulls his fingers out of you, pushing down his boxers to free his cock. His fingers are glistening with your slick.

You're staring, unable to look away as he uses those same fingers to pump his cock.

"Like what you see?" Peter grins.

You roll your eyes, "I thought you were supposed to stop being an asshole after you admit you like me."

Peter shakes his head, leaning down so his body is hovering over your's, "Don't you know it's bad to change yourself for the person you like?"

You lift your head up to capture his lips, your teeth tugging on his bottom lip. You clench at the deep groan that comes from Peter.

His free hand wraps itself around your throat, pushing your upper body back down to the bed.

A choked scream escapes your lips as you feel him enter you. You feel full, the sensation of Peter inside of you almost overwhelming.

"Just tell me when you're ready for me to move," He whispered softly before pressing his lips against your cheek.

"Move, please," you whimper.

"You wanna come so bad, don't you?" You nod your head at Peter's question, whining as you feel his cock pull almost all the way out of you, leaving on the tip.

"Don't worry princess," his accent shown through as he thrusted back into you, your back arching off the mattress.

It actually feels good, the way his cock fills you up and brushes against your walls with every thrust. Peter's lips are all over your neck, alternating between giving you bruising marks and soothing kisses.

You can feel sweat rolling down your chest, but for once you don't care. A coil is tightening in your stomach, a sensation that until now, you had only experienced when touching yourself.

"Feels good?" Peter asks, his face not even inches away from yours. You can feel the ends of his blonde hair brushing against your forehead.

You nod, but that isn't good enough for Peter, "Use ya words. Wanna hear ya."

A scowl forms on your face because of course he'd still be an asshole when he's getting you close to coming.

As if he could sense it, a large hand grips your chin, his fingers squeezing the sides of your lips.

"What did I fucking say about being a brat? I know you're close, can feel your cunt squeezing my cock."

His words only push you further and he can tell by how the near vice grip your cunt has on him somehow gets even tighter.

Peter grins, his eyes lightening up as realization sweeps over him, "You put up this tough girl act but you want someone to put you in your place, don't ya?"

It's all too much. His words, his cock, the sound of his skin slapping against yours.

How he figured you out in record timing. How despite the fact you both tried your best at the beginning of this lease to keep each other out, you were more comfortable around one another than anyone else.

"Don't worry, I'll take care of ya." Peter shifts so he's on his knees, his hands grabbing your thighs and pinning them to his hips.

The new position allows him to not only thrust deeper, but also gives him access to your clit.

Inhibitions now gone, you throw your head back as you feel his calloused fingers draw circles on your bundle of nerves.

Your hands find themselves practically clawing at Peter's thighs, desperate for him to keep going. You loved how good it felt. That he was actually fucking you, rather than treating you like a life-size fleshlight.

"Please don't stop," You manage to get out in-between the whimpers and moans.

"Not a chance. Wanna hear how loud you get when you fall apart on my cock."

You opened your mouth to call him an asshole, but then his fingers brushed against your clit again, pushing you over the edge.

Your nails dug deep into his back as you fell apart around him. Your whole body tightened and unwind over and over again. The neighbors next door were sure to draft up a noise complaint, given the way you were practically screaming.

Peter continued to fuck you through it, prolonging your orgasm. You never wanted it to end. Your eyes couldn't help but close, all you could focus on, all you could feel, was how your walls tightened around his cock.

"Fuck, you're so pretty when you come," Peter grunted, his eyes never leaving your withering body.

You opened your eyes again, unsure of how long you had them closed for. Holy shit, he was still fucking you. You could still feel your body spasming in pleasure.

"D-don't….don't stop," you begged, jolts of pleasure still running through your body.

"I won't baby. I'll make ya feel this good every night if ya let me." Peter's words combined with his fingers still drawing circles on your sensitive clit, pushed you back towards the edge of pleasure, further away from coherent thoughts.

"F-fuck, you feel incredible," Peter stammered as he watched you fall apart again.

His hips snapped against yours, the feeling of your tight cunt practically milking his cock becoming too much. The sounds of your wetness were loud and lewd, spurring him further.

Peter collapsed onto you, a deep groan falling from his lips as he slammed his hips against yours one last time before coming inside of you.

The two of you laid there, the only sounds in the room were of the small fan Peter had on and you two trying to catch your breath.

"So what do you get?"

Peter lifted his head up from your chest, his brows knitted in confusion at your question.

"You said if you couldn't make me come, you'd pay utilities for the next three months. You never said what would happen if you did make me come," You explained as you run a hand through his dyed hair.

A soft smile appeared on Peter's face, the corners of his eyes creasing.

"I get to take you out to dinner," He revealed.

You couldn't help but laugh, "Y'know, most people take folks they like to dinner first, then fuck them."

Peter shrugged, "Figured you needed to relax first."

You playfully swatted his shoulder, "Asshole."

"This asshole just made you come so hard, you blacked out for several minutes," he reminded you before pressing a kiss to your jawline.

"Yes and I'm sure this won't be the last time you remind me," You shook your head, though a small smile remained on your face.

"I'll stop once I get you to squirt. Then I'll make sure you never forget about that," Peter whispered, sending heat all over your body.

Perhaps you could renew your lease with him.

[ametrictonofaudacity]

yo you do platonic yanderes???? aroace yandere creator real??? love this love this sm can you do yandere platonic joker??? for like an artist reader??? maybe reader is rly nihilistic or rly funny or maybe they encountered once and he got fixated and wants to be buddies???

Absolutely!! Also thank you so much for the ask.

Trigger warning for: murder, violence, references to torture, manipulation, all around general bad times. This is, after all, the Joker, so this post will be more intense than the majority of mine will tend to be, I think. Also the use of the pet name Baby, but it’s strictly platonic.

It starts, as all terrible things do, at your college campus.

You were being held hostage. Which, while you were familiar enough with hostage taking in general, no one in Gotham wasn’t, you yourself had never been taken hostage before. You were also running on limited sleep, two redbulls, and the last dregs of your will to live.

So when the Joker points his gun at you and threatens to kill you in his strange, maniacal way, you throw your head back and groan, exhausted and frustrated and pissed. You tell him you wish he would, if it got you out of your finals. Something in his eyes light up, the acid green reflecting the light in an eerie way, and suddenly the gun is not aimed at your face but your leg, and he squeezes the trigger.

The last thing you remember seeing as you clutch your leg is the same hungry expression Joker always watched Batman with.

When you get out of the hospital, you have to attend therapy. You don’t have either the money or the patience, and leave after three sessions. The therapist was nice enough, but too focused on your lack of self-preservation and less focused on you being shot by the Joker. You do keep some habits, though.

You draw. You draw and draw as much as you can while you heal, and somehow, the Joker leaks into all of your works. A pair of scuffed up dress shoes on a menacing figure, a set of gleaming green eyes. Joker was haunting you, haunting your work, and you were fucking sick of it.

You don’t publish any of those pieces. You throw them in the trash, frustrated and angry, and crash on your couch, curling up to get some sleep. You ignore the rustling in your trash, positive it’s some raccoon or rat or some other vermin of Gotham’s street.

The Joker shows up again. He holds everyone in your job hostage, holds you hostage, and you are treat to the actively terrifying experience of having the Joker’s attention on you, solely on you. He’s not talking about Batman, or his plans, but is instead asking you questions with gleaming eyes and a gun nudging at your head. You answer all his questions as calmly as you can, even cracking a few dry jokes, and it does nothing to make the gleam leave his eyes but it keeps him from looking at the other hostages and you have to settle for that.

Batman saves you. And when Joker is carted away in cuffs, laughing, he calls your name, not the Bats.

He breaks out again. You know this because a dark shadow appears on your window, nearly every night, keeping watch. Sometime the shadows are smaller, sometimes they’re huge, and sometimes they watch with pitying eyes and a scarred face. You never speak to them, they never speak to you. You don’t mind your silent watchers.

Eventually, they leave, and you wake up in the middle of the night to rustling in your kitchen.

“What in the hell…?” You trail off, staring at the Clown Prince of Crime, who’s leaning against the counter with his jacket sling over his shoulder and a remarkably casual stance.

“You have absolutely nothing in your fridge, come onnnn.” He complains, before kicking your fridge shut. You wince. Your furniture could not withstand that sort of battering.

“Hey, don’t kick my fridge, I’ll lose my security deposit. You want me to make you something, after you broke into my apartment?” Your question is sarcastic, but it makes Joker grin, broad and victorious.

“Well, if you wouldn’t mind…” He teases, and you feel a shudder roll through your body. You don’t know if he sees it.

“Yeah sure, hold on. Hope you don’t mind ramen, I’ve got some instant packs I wanted to try.” Ramen was one of the few things you actually spent money on, getting the nice frozen packs with frozen broth and noodles.

“Baby, if you’ve ever eaten from the cafeteria in Arkham, you can eat anything.” Joker laughs, and the high pitched sound grates against your ears. You want to cover them. You don’t. You don’t know if he was arm, but judging by the way his shirt is pulled over his waist band, he was.

“Try eating from Gotham Community College’s cafeteria. It’s terrible.” You remark, putting both bowls in the microwave. Technically you weren’t supposed to, but there was so much wrong with this situation you figured you microwave could do you a favor and not explode this one time. Although with how the universe had been treating you, there was no guarantee.

“Eugh. College. Waste of time, if you ask me. Wasting time to learn to waste time, learning nothing at all! Experience is the best teacher in my opinion! Like those paintings!”

“Paintings?” You question, hissing when you almost burn your hand on the bowl. Joker snickers.

“Your paintings, baby! The ones you tossed, although I don’t know why ya did, I was so flattered being your muse.” He is suddenly RIGHT behind you, and you jerk, spilling hot broth on your hands and yelping. The scar on your leg aches with him so close.

You set down both bowls, hear him snicker.

“Are you telling me you’ve been going through my trash in case I tossed out a painting?” You blurt, turning towards him. He’s watching you, with those eerie eyes, and you know they’re going to fill your drawing pad and sketchbook tonight, insane and wide and terrifying.

“Well not me, not always! I was in Arkham for a bit, ya know, after the last time we got to see each other.” He drawls, finally leaning back, examining his nails. “I saw what you were doing there, ya know.”

“What?”

“Oh come onn. Batsy does the same thing. He doesn’t like my attention on anyone else, so he keeps me occupied. He’s obsessed with me.”

Your brain nearly stalls, because holy shit. You had known Joker was crazy with a capitol C, but you had not expected him to accuse Batman, of all people, of being obsessed with him. That was a level of so far gone it made your stomach turn.

“So do you have anymore paintings? I like the ones I got, don’t get me wrong, but sometimes the trash ruins them.” Joker asks, hopping up on your counter and grabbing his bowl. He doesn’t seem at all bothered by the heat.

“Uh, yeah, let me go get it.” You mutter, stunned. You still hadn’t recovered from the comment about Batman, the comment about you.

You manage to find it. You pass it over to Joker, hoping nothing in it gets you killed. He begins flipping through it eagerly, oohing and ahhing like a small child.

The rustle of pages stops, and you look up. Joker is looking at the pages with an absolutely hungry expression, eyes wide with a splitting grin on his face.

Your stomach turns. You slide your drawer open, silently, and grasp the handle of a knife, tucking it against the back of your thigh.

“Whatcha looking at?” You ask, trying not to sound too careful, instead passingly curious. You aren’t sure you succeed.

His eyes snap to you, and with a grin, he flips the sketchbook over, showing you.

It’s a sketch of you, and so many, many sketches of Joker’s eyes, all acid green and wide and maniacal. You don’t remember making it. But it makes your stomach churn and your heart race.

“Huh. Forgot I drew that.” You remark, brushing your hair back, keeping the knife hidden.

“Baby, come onn! We don’t have to dance around this anymore, ya know?” He complains, shoving the sketchbook into your hands. “No more of this pining from afar, we can finally hang out and do something fun.”

His vioce drops at fun, into something menacing, and you don’t stop, or think. You just act.

The knife goes slicing toward his face, ready to carve a new scar into it. He dips back, shrieking laughter escaping, and there’s a knife in his hand now, a gleaming silver blade that could bleed you dry, unlike the vegetable knife in your hand. He lunged forward, cackling.

“Oh come on! I know you’re not ready yet, but we’ll have so much fun! Come on, we’ll be buddies, it’ll be great!”

You’re dodging back from streaks of silver, which slash through the air, and then he dips low.

Buried his knife in the same place he shot you, in the thick scar tissue of your thigh.

You scream, the sound shrill and pained, and he shoves you to the ground, gloved hands covering your mouth.

“Shh!!! You can’t get Batsy running yet!!” He laughs, and you thrash against him, hot blood running down your thigh, fingers scrambling against his deceptively thin figure. “At least not until you’re like me.”

He presses a clothe against your mouth, and the world begins to flicker.

The last thing you see before passing out is acid green eyes.

[ang3lb1iss]

Notre Dame | paris paloma | Part 1 of 2 

Word count: 2.7k 

Pairing: James Potter x F!Bestfriend Reader 

Summary: Hogwarts years | You were James’ best friend since first year. Throughout your years at Hogwarts, you had started to develop a crush on James, but you refused to act on your feelings due to the fact James only ever had eyes for Lily. Now you're sitting at his funeral, reminiscing about the past and you can't help but feel regret and guilt. 

Authors note: This is my first fic /one-shot so forgive me if it isn't that great to read, I just found it fun being able to interpret lyrics into stories about characters I love. The story loosely follows the Marauders scenes in the HP movies. I picture James with either a scouse accent or a really chavvy London accent, but you can picture him however you want. I apologise in advance if the tenses get mixed up, the story is made up of the reader looking back on the past and reliving certain moments. 

______________________________________________________________

‘I'm in the rafters looking down  It's cold up here  Between walls of stone  I made my home’ 

The church is cold and dim. Especially in the upstairs seating, which is where you are situated. As you try to listen to the speeches full of childhood memories and happier times, you can't help but lose focus and think about the what-ifs and how things could've gone differently. If you had never met James in that cabin on the way to Hogwarts, you wouldn’t be feeling this pain and heartache, but you also wouldn’t have had such a joyful and exciting time at the school. Hindsight is a funny thing after all. “What if it was me and not Lily? Why wasn’t it me? Why did I have to fall for him?” You wonder what the answers to these questions could be, but the harsh truth is that you never will, and you will live with the never-ending ambiguity until the day you die. 

‘And the air hangs heavy with the incense  Feathers fall from pigeons  Cooing in the tower’ 

Your first year, you remember it all so clearly. You were looking to find a cabin for the journey to Hogwarts, but the majority were filled, and in the rest, there were stone-faced older kids that openly sneered at you anytime you walked past them. Until you found his cabin. 

 He was the only one in there and you thought that he looked somewhat friendly, so you decided to take a chance. It ended up being one of the best decisions you’ve ever made. 

 He welcomed you in with a bright smile on his face, despite looking like his face would split with how wide his smile was, he asked you the standard questions, “What's your name? What house d’ya think you'll be in? D’ya want to be mates?” Of course, I wanted to be friends with him, I probably would have been miserable without him in my life but then again, I wouldn’t be so heartbroken now. Hindsight is a funny thing after all. 

You can recall the way his eyes gleamed when he introduced himself as James. James. Tears sprung to your eyes, making your surroundings go blurry. You can't help but miss the way he proudly said he was a Gryffindor “where dwell the brave at heart” and how Slytherin was full of “evil prats and I'd rather die than be in Slytherin.” You had always admired his pride and how he never let anything upset him too much or for too long. 

That is of course until Lily Evans became more vicious and spiteful in her rejections and jabs. Whenever James was insulted by his “Lilyflower” he let it break down his nonchalant persona and let it cut him deeper than any knife ever could. His Lilyflower. The common factor in all your suffering, you couldn’t blame her of course, it wasn’t her fault that a big oaf like James Potter fell in love with her. But it's not like that fact softened the blow in any way. 

You decided to stop that train of thought before you cried even harder. Instead, you choose to remember when the Trolley Lady came to the door and being breath taken at the assortment of sweet treats. Upon looking in your purse which was just a pouch, you’d realised that you didn’t have enough to get the Bertie Botts Every flavour Beans that you would've liked, with disappointment quickly replacing your awestruck expression, you had declined and took to looking out the window instead of having to see the trolley taunting you with all its colours and designs.  

That’s when you heard him. 

“We’ll take the lot of ‘em” you heard him say and you had insisted that he shouldn’t be wasting his money on you, but he simply drowned out your pleas and focused on the shock of the Trolley Lady. He was always so generous. 

After much reluctance and countless Thank you’s, you'd decided to have a few cauldron cakes and indulge in a chocolate frog when a small timid boy opened the compartment door and asked if anyone had seen his toad, he introduced himself as Peter Pettigrew and he ended up sitting with the both of you for the rest of the journey while you had pulled out a book to read and ended up falling asleep with your head leaning on the compartment wall. 

‘I rarely go down there, the view's just so beautiful from here  And I can see everybody at their worst points  At their worst points’ 

You start to remember the moment you openly started looking at James differently. It was the end of third year, and he had just won the quidditch match between Gryffindor and Slytherin after declaring during dinner in the great hall that Gryffindor was 100% going to win and he would “wipe his arse with the slithering bastards”.  

You also remember his mumbling and moaning about having to go to detention and you remember him being too busy laying his head on your lap when you both were in your dorm and going to sleep while you read a book. 

 But there he was on his broom hovering above the crowd that had formed to celebrate the win with him. The noise of screams, chants and shouts reverberated across the entirety of the school grounds. The thought of it making you shiver. While James was practically the same shade as the snitch by how brightly his smile was beaming, you were perfectly content with watching him from the Gryffindor stands and away from the chaos that was the Quidditch pitch. 

To this day you can still feel the way your heart skipped a beat when he looked up and smiled at you. At least you thought it was at you. You noticed his wet hair, whether it was because of the rain, him sweating or a combination of both, you didn’t care. His curly dark brown hair that normally looked so fluffy and messy that you just wanted to run your hands through it and make it somewhat tidier.  

His arms that made his jersey look to be too tight, it made you picture scenarios with him being able to carry you places when you got too tired, fighting someone who tried to hurt you. You are still quite ashamed to admit the times when you got flustered at the thought of him using them to pin you against a wall and having a heated makeout session in a broom cupboard. 

Thoughts aside, you had decided to retire to your dorm for a quick nap. The cold can be very tiring. You gathered your things and stood up only to see Lily Evans, Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew sat together directly behind you. You hadn't even noticed them while you watched James previously. 

Lily and Peter said hello while Remus only managed an awkward tight-lipped smile. You and Remus didn’t become friends until your seventh year when you both bonded over being unrequited lovers. The reason for this being that you always felt like he could see through you. He knew things about people before they even knew it themselves which always made you paranoid that he could see your feelings for James and tell him, and as a result, ruining the best friendship you ever had. At least I don’t need to be paranoid anymore.  

Your mind skipped to fifth year, when you were sitting with the Marauders on a warm sunny day, exams had just ended, and you all were just waiting for the results to be calculated. That’s when you heard the boys get up and walk over to a nearby tree. You looked over and saw a mop of stringy black hair and a pale face with an expression of distaste painted on his face. Snivellous,, the foul git.  

You had chosen to stay far back enough that you could still see what happens clearly but ensured you weren't too close as to avoid McGonagall's wrath if she were to show up at the scene.  

The next thing you knew was that Snivellous was hanging upside down in mid-air. Levicorpus. You remember coming across the charm in the library with Sirius and James while looking for more spells for future pranks. You never got involved in the pranks because you didn’t fancy sitting in a silent room for an hour for detention or, Merlin forbid, whatever task Filch might've issued you with. 

There was always a slight rift between you and Sirius because of your refusal to get involved in pranks, he would never have outwardly said it in front of James or Peter because of their loyalty to you, but he disliked how you would only ever consider helping them if James had asked you. You were the only girl in Hogwarts he couldn’t sway with his charm and good looks. And Merlin did it get him jealous. Not that you had noticed back then at least. 

You ended that tangent before it made you spiral down a rabbit hole of confusion. You thought back the past, Snape was being held high by none other than James Potter. His fluffy green Slytherin socks and the sparse leg hair upon his dry ashen legs, were left on display for everyone to see. You had wondered what provoked James into performing such a spell. But your question was left unanswered as your attention had gone to Snape being dropped back onto the ground and Lily Evans being called a “Filthy Mudblood.” by her old childhood best friend. 

If anger meant seeing red, then James wasn’t seeing anything but of blind rage. “Don’t you dare call her that word you vile, disgusting creature.” There was an array of insults and cussing until Lily had brought him back to his senses. She told Snivellous to piss off and she waited until he was far enough away to round on James and unleash the anger that had been building inside her for years. 

You couldn’t hear what she said due to the fact she had put a silencing charm on the area but based off what James whimpered and whined about while he dreamt in your bed with you for comfort, she had probably said something along the lines of “I would rather kill myself then ever be your girl, Potter.” Hindsight is a funny thing after all. You couldn’t help but feel a pang of your heart at the fact that his soul had latched onto Lily and not you, not even giving you a chance.  

That was the night you realised that you would never get the guy. You will forever be condemned to loving James Potter. Your life will continue to be tormented with the possibilities that could've happened, the dreams that made you weep with despair and the everlasting longing and desire slowly encasing your heart until it breaks and shatters. James Potter was the light of your life, but he also caused the darkness that it left behind. James Potter was the sun, but now everything has gone dark. 

‘I'm not a sadist, I enjoy just being able to be witness of the loneliness and fear  I abhor in case there isn't one  In case there isn't one’ 

After that night, after your tragic discovery had become the only thing running through your head. You had pathetically tried to recover the way you saw James before you fell for him. You tried for 2 long years with no luck. He still had your attention and heart, and yet he didn’t realise he had either. So, when the Marauders split for the night, you decided to ask for help. 

You were suffocating with the grief and the mourning of what could've been. And you needed someone to help you breathe. 

With Peter and Sirius headed to the dorm, James doing his Head-Boy patrols with Lily, it was only you and Remus left in the library, the map and the invisibility cloak set to the side until you both decided to leave. It turns out you didn’t even need to say anything because Remus knew exactly what was going through your head. 

He saw the adoration in your eyes when you looked at your best friend, he saw the longing and upset you tried to hide when you heard him constantly talk about marrying Lily and having “Mini Potters” with her. No matter how well you tried, you couldn’t help but subtly display your inner turmoil. 

And Remus saw it all.  

“You're in love with James, aren't you, I see the way your eyes shine brighter, and your smile gets bigger when he enters the room. But he doesn’t love you back and you know it. I know you know it. And I know you’ve known it for years now. But I know what it's like, it feels like a constant weight on your chest and when they walk in the room, it disappears even if you try to hold it down, but then their presence, their joy, their affection for someone else, drains you, the energy you put in to try make them notice your love just gets brushed away until eventually it leaves you so empty that you become a hollow shell of the person that fell for them all that time ago.” 

“I can't tell you how to get rid of it simply because I don’t know how to, but I can offer you some advice that I should've taken before it was too late. Leave, Leave them alone. Leave their life. It'll suck balls for the first while I'm sure but by staying you're degrading yourself. All your insecurities and the suffering you're facing now will pass. This is doomed love sweetheart. You're slowly breaking down. Leave. Before you can't piece yourself together again.” 

And with that he leaves the library. 

How are you supposed to leave his life? How are you supposed to keep him out of yours? The questions won't stop plaguing your mind, do you take Remus's advice and move on, or do you ignore him and feel your heart pull and crack every time you see him. The choice will be the most difficult one you will ever make and yet it’s the one that needs to be made. 

You walk into potions the next day, you thought that it would help make a choice if you avoided him for a day as a trial. Instead of sitting in your normal seat, you walked over and sat beside a Ravenclaw who you believed was called Pandora.  

The Marauders walked in and sat at their tables; you avoided James’ gaze when you looked over to you in confusion, but Remus diverted his attention elsewhere. You had inwardly thanked Remus for helping you out. 

As the lesson went on everything got worse and your decision became clearer and clearer. 

Since the year started, James had started to think twice about the pranks, he acted more mature in general and overall started becoming a man. All of this was for Lily of course. You couldn’t help but ask yourself if he would do the same thing for you if he chose you in the first place. 

You were taking notice of all the little things that you're usually too delusional to notice. 

How every time he made a joke or laughed; he would glance at Lily. You could feel your heart in your throat. 

How he would wink and smirk at her when he got an answer correct. A tear forms in your eye. 

How he would look over at her to make sure she understood the topic. Another tear forms. 

How he whispers the answer in her ear if she doesn’t know it. Another one 

How he shines with pride when Professor Slughorn appraises her. Another. 

More tears form until you couldn’t stop them anymore. Thankfully the class was dismissed, and you quickly left before the tears fell and left a salty trail down your cheek. A representation of your life back then. Although in thinking that you can't help but notice that it didn’t get any better. Hindsight is a funny thing after all. 

[thepaintedlady00]

Burden

Chapter 14 |

Chapter 15: Forget Me Not

TW: some awkwardness, confusing visions, Daniel makes an appearance, mentions of major character death and spoilers for the comics, a bit of Dark!Munin, The Fates, some intense memories and mentions of violence, pain, and allusions to assault, a bit of trickster god energy (I'm not super familiar with Puck and Loki from the comics, so please don't crucify me if they're not great!), threats, some cryptic shit from Destiny, a pretty big revelation, and finally, some soft fluffy goodness to give our story a happy end before the rewrite.

I really struggled with this last chapter! 😅 I think because I already know I'm going to rewrite it the words just didn't wanna cooperate with me and I'm overall not super thrilled with how it came out. I do really hope y'all still enjoy it and are looking forward to getting the rewrite whenever I have the time to get that going. Thank you all so much for your love, support and patience with this series!

Awkward felt like an inadequate word to describe the stiff silence that now consumed Hector's home. You quietly took a sip of your drink, eyes darting back and forth between the two men as they stared one another down across the living room. You’d quietly hoped that the two would use this time to let go of the strenuous circumstances they’d previously met under.

Hector finally leaned back and spoke, “Make any pregnant women cry today?”

Or not…

Dream’s face tensed slightly, but his voice was steady as he replied, “No.”

“You could’ve given us a minute to say a proper goodbye, you know,” Hector insisted with a sneer. “She had to go through so much all alone… we didn’t even get a chance to talk about baby names. I don’t… I don’t even know how they’re doing.”

This made Morpheus soften, and for a moment, you wondered if he was thinking about his own son, that had been long lost to him. “Daniel. Your son's name is Daniel, and he is doing well. I’ve had my raven check in with them on occasion.”

Your friend smiled and looked out toward the trees. “Daniel. What about Lyta?”

“She’s been more…” Morpheus chose his word carefully. “Restless as of late. A just reaction, I suppose, after learning all she has.”

“Couldn’t you help her with that?” Hector asked. “Isn’t that your job or something?”

“I could, but she does not wish for my help.”

“Sounds like her,” his smile was soft and sad but filled with a restfulness you’d not seen in him for a long while. “Lyta was always the stubborn one between us.”

Morpheus glanced at you, an invisible smirk plain to your eyes. “A struggle I understand too well, spirit.”

Your eyes narrowed. “Are you calling me stubborn?”

“I said no such thing,” he insisted with a wicked gleam in his eyes that answered the question for him.

Turning your head away, you smiled at Hector. “Apologies for bringing up such painful memories. It was not my intent, my friend.”

He shook his head and waved your concern away. “It wasn’t so bad.”

Morpheus allowed the man to show him the home he’d built, taking in details he’d missed the first time in his haste, and, you thought, the two seemed less at odds with one another by the time you departed. Your beloved remained as long as he could, spending time with you to tell the children stories while you held Sirius and got lost in the sound of his silken voice. A loud screech and a string of curses echoed from the wood, bringing you and the Dream Lord to your feet, shielding as many ears as you could reach from the vile things being shouted.

The Corinthian stumbled out of the woods with Kat hot on his heels, talons bared and clawing at him with every swoop. Her feathers were ruffled, and the noises she made were ones you’d never heard before. “Kat!”

She heeded your voice, halting her attack on the nightmare to settle on a branch beside you. The Corinthian shook his clothes off, looking at the deep tear in his suit. “Your beast owes me a new suit!”

Kat’s eyes burned. “The only thing I owe you is a slow and painful death, nightmare.”

“What is the meaning of this?” You demanded as Morpheus distracted the children.

“Is this not the nightmare that betrayed you, my lady?”

“It is,” you answered honestly. “But he has been remade now. He will not hurt me again.”

“Once is more than enough,” She bit back. “This was something you knew once.”

Your eyes narrowed, and you tilted your head at her words. “What do you mean by this?”

Kat shook out her feathers. “Nothing, my lady. If you say the nightmare means no harm, then I shall trust you.”

“Thank you, Kat,” you answered, her words still rattling around your mind, but the golden owl took to the skies before you could question her further. 

The Corinthian bared his teeth at the shredded suit jacket. “Daunty, love the new realm and all, but you gotta get a tighter handle on your greeters.”

Rolling your eyes, you shook your head at him. “Relax. I’m sure your maker would happily repair your suit if you asked nicely.”

He scoffed. “I’d rather live with the tears.”

“Stubborn.”

“Always,” he replied with a grin. “So, you gonna give me the tour, or are you too busy for little nightmares now?”

Linking your arm with his, you smiled at Morpheus, who continued telling the children stories beside the fountain. “I always have time for you, dear Corinthian.”

*

It had been a few days since you’d spoken with Hector, but the sad look in his eyes when he’d mentioned not being able to see his son had stuck with you. You approached the young tree with a gentle touch and kind gaze upon the face carved into the trunk. Hector's son was still quite young, and his tree of memory reflected such. It was smaller than his mother's that stood beside it, but the roots were strong and ran far deeper than any mortal. Daniel, you quickly realized, was special. Different. Like you.

The face seemed to stare back at you, white leaves peeking out from beneath the lush green canopy. You approached slower, urging the roots to lift and open the young one's mind to you. His memories would be few, but there was no doubt much you could learn within them. Veins of white stood out in the darkness. Some roots, the ones that borrowed deeper, were pale and sung with power and immortality. The song of The Endless. But, the tune wasn't Dreams, or Deaths, or Desires. It was its own song, still unfinished.

You walked through the light, lush still forming along the walls of his memory, focusing on the memories he found joyful. You intended to share them with Hector, a gift to show your gratitude for his hard work and kindness. That, however, was not where the tree led you.

Stumbling into the blinking light, you found yourself kneeling in deep sand. Sand scratched your palms, sticking to you like sap, just as it had the first time. Except now that sand, once a deep void of black, was white. It sparked like tiny perfect crystals in your palms as you stood and looked out at the miles of glistening sand and bright cerulean waves.

You knew this beach better than any save its creator. You knew the placement of each stone and the feeling of the sand as it molded to your steps. This place felt different… All at once, the beach you knew and not. It was old and new and entirely confusing.

The fragile ground beneath your feet seemed to remember you as you walked toward where the Gates of Horn and Ivory should have been. The sand didn't swallow your feet or try to slow your steps. It felt as though you were walking on nothing at all. Before your eyes, the entrance stood, an entrance that was not the gates you knew at all.

Glossy white marble caught the light and cast an ethereal glow all around you. An aura of both light and color, beautiful and bright. The gates stood open, revealing a sight you'd grown to know well. "The Dreaming."

As you passed through, you admired the fine craftsmanship of the carvings in the marble gates. A story familiar and also not… Something that had not yet been told. Familiar things were more abundant here as you walked through the town and admired the dreamers. Dreams and Nightmares, old and new, greeted you like a friend and wished you good fortune as you made your way to the palace.

The regal and beautiful palace of The Dream Lord was quite similar to the one you’d known. Only some small changes in the stone and the statues caught your eyes, but as the doors opened to the throne room, a wave of unfamiliarity washed over you at the sight. The white marble of Dream’s palace was pristine in every sense of the word, reflecting the array of light and color that swirled around the room, drawing your gaze to the tiny crystals that hung in the air like drops of frozen rain. It was beautiful, marvelous, but not what you knew to be.

The stairway leading to the throne was wrong as well, far more winding and long, a path of almost transparent crystal. The stained glass windows above the throne shifted to reflect you, a perfect vision of white mist and black dogs and golden leaves. It was as if The Dreaming was trying to welcome you… trying to lull you into a feeling of peace or comfort at all that was not as it should be. And there, in the place of the throne, you knew Morpheus to have was something entirely not his. It looked far more organic, like a split geode holding an uncontainable cosmos of stars and cosmic clouds inside it. And sitting on that throne was a being that was not Dream of The Endless. Not your Dream.

The pale being lifted his head, and not a single strand of his cloudy white hair strayed. His black eyes consumed you entirely, two small slivers of starlight shining brighter as they looked upon you. The robes he wore were white, adorned with golden designs, and there, sitting proudly upon his chest, was a glowing emerald dreamstone.

“It is a great honor to meet you at last, Munin of the Emerald Wood.” His voice was silken and light, Dream’s but not his. 

“You are not my Dream… are you?” You asked with tears building in your eyes.

With a soft sigh, he rose from his throne slowly, almost as if he thought doing so any faster would scare you. “No, I suppose I am not.”

You didn’t dare look away from him as you asked, “Then who are you?”

“The name you would likely know me by is Daniel. Daniel Hall.”

Lies. “Daniel Hall is little more than a child. You could not possibly be him.”

“Not as you know him to be,” he said, slowly descending the winding staircase. “But, as you’ve already noticed, none of this is as it was. A future carved in stone, written in Destiny’s book of things, a future only you can stop.”

“Future?” You questioned, looking around at The Dreaming. “You mean to tell me I’ve stumbled into the future?”

“No,” Daniel replied with a light chuckle. “More of a vision.”

You watched him carefully as he stood before you, hands clasped and a soft, childlike smile on his lips. “So this is what is to come then? You mean to steal this realm from Morpheus?”

His brows furrowed. “I’ve stolen nothing. The Dreaming and the title Dream of the Endless was given to me by he who came before.”

“Morpheus would never just give his realm or his title away,” you insisted. “Unless…”

“He did all he could to stop it, but The Kindly Ones were relentless in their attack. His sacrifice saved The Dreaming and those that remained.” Daniel could see the pain in you, and with a sigh, he added. “He did not suffer. Death greeted him and showed him the way. He was at peace in the end.”

You shook your head, tears rolling down your cheeks. “And what of me? I did nothing while he perished?”

“There were… things complicating your involvement.” He shook his head. “It matters not. You are here now.”

“You’ve been expecting me?”

He smiled, chuckling softly. “No, more… hoping you would find a way here so we could speak.”

“Speak of what?”

"If the love you bare him is even a fraction of the love that lingers in me still…" he lifted a hand to your cheek. "Love he bore for you. Then you'll save him. You’ll ensure this future never has to be.”

With narrow eyes, you asked, “You would give up his power… his title, and his kingdom?”

Daniel nodded. “All I ever wished for was a normal life with my mother. Plots larger than me… Larger than him made that impossible. But you, you could change it.”

“How?”

“Seek out Loki and Puck. The end of your Dream Lord began with their plot and… my mother’s misguided actions.”

Loki and Puck - two tricksters that you’d only met in passing. Gods that were notoriously difficult to track down. “And how do you suggest I find them? They’re not known for making such easy.”

“Visit my mother,” he urged. “And myself, I suppose…” he chuckled again. “The two should be close by.”

You paused, listening to the faint sounds of The Forest calling you home. “What happens if I fail?”

Daniel only smiled, reaching out to lift your hand to his lips. “Then I hope this is not the last time we meet, Lady Munin. And that the next is under better circumstances.”

*

Lyta Hall lived in a modest apartment in a bustling city. Though you’d ventured into the mortal world before, it looked vastly different from what little you could remember. She was surrounded by those she loved, Rose Walker and Ged, and many familiar faces - faces you knew from memories alone. And while the apartment wasn’t large or lavish, she appeared to be happy aside from the large bags that hung beneath her eyes, telling you she’d not found any peace in her dreams.

For a while, you simply watched them, searching for some sigh of Loki and Puck’s coming mischief, but the longer you looked in, the more you felt compelled to venture closer. You wanted to speak with her, to reassure her that her husband was safe and loved. And so you found yourself in her apartment, standing in the kitchen and admiring the little notes, photographs, and memories each held. Lost in your own examining, you barely heard the sharp gasp and the sound of wood scraping against the floor as Lyta hurriedly rose from the table at the sight of you.

Suddenly you were reminded that it was not normal for people to appear in mortal homes simply, and you bashfully bowed your head to her. “Apologies. I did not mean to startle you.”

“Who are you?” She demanded, forcing her voice to sound firm and dangerous.

“We have met before,” you answered softly. “In a dream.”

Her face softened slightly. “You… you’re the one that took Hector.”

Nodding, you answered the question she had not asked. “He is safe. He misses you,” your eyes drifted to the small child in his high chair. “Both of you.”

“What do you want?” She demanded, wiping her eyes. 

“I simply wanted to apologize for my coldness that day. I was… I was not myself.” You sighed. “Were it within my power, I would have let him remain with you.”

“But it isn’t,” she answered bitterly. “It’s his power, isn’t it?”

You realized Morpheus was the he that she spoke so sourly of. “It was out of his power as well. The Dream Lord means you no harm, Lyta. This is why you’ve not slept, isn’t it?”

Lyta looked at Daniel and shook her head. “I don’t want him to come for my son… not while I’m under some spell and can’t defend him.”

“Dream of the Endless would not steal your son,” you said gently. “He means neither of you harm.”

“You don’t know that,” she replied bitterly.

“I do,” you assured her. As you watched her move to the child's side, you felt an odd power humming around her. The song of the Endless echoed from the boy, swirling around her, but beneath his song was power. A power that you knew. Lyta and Daniel froze, time halting as mist rolled in from unseen places, and their power engulfed the apartment.

"You are meddling in dangerous things, lost one." Their combined voices sent a chill up your spine, but not one of fear or anger… A feeling of familiarity.

The Mother tutted softly as she moved around the frozen figure of Lyta Hall. "Fate is not something easily changed, dear sun."

The Crone lifted her head, glaring at the babe in Lyta's arms. "And this fate is one you should not even attempt to alter."

"I won't let you do it," your voice was cold as mist rushed beneath your feet. The Forest bled into this illusion they thrust you in, dark, twisted trees casting long shadows over the three. Black engulfed your fingertips, and you could feel the darkness, the daunting power of it bending to your will. "Morpheus is mine. And none shall have him while I draw breath."

The Maiden tilted her head, eyes shining back at you in admiration. "You always were so determined."

"So headstrong and unafraid," The Mother continued, her eyes bearing a deep sorrow that surprised you.

"It is what led you to your doom the first time." Though The Crone's eyes were stiff, guarded, and unwilling to bend beneath your steady gaze, her voice trembled, lips quivering as she uttered a single word. "Mneme."

All at once the darkness vanished. You felt your power stripped away, leaving you trembling and bare before The Fates. Breathlessly you fell to your knees. Sparks of golden light and a searing, unbearable pain engulfed you until all you could do was scream.

Not a word. Flashes filled your vision, swarming like molten gold in water. A name. Fire blazed, and a burst of sickening laughter echoed in your mind. Your name.

Their hands offered you some comfort, albeit temporary. The Mother smoothed your hair back. "Do not fight it."

The Maiden stroked your cheeks. "Let it come."

The Crone looked down at you with tears in her eyes. Her palm pressed to your forehead. "Remember."

*

The first thing you saw once the blinking light faded from your vision was the orange hues of the sun setting over the ocean. You sat upon the edge of the cliffside, wind combing through your golden locks of hair, and a peaceful feeling settled in your chest. You were home.

"Mneme!" The Fates’ voices called out as one. 

Turning your head, you smiled at them. "Not too close to the edge, I know!"

The Maiden offered you a smile back. "The fall would be terrible indeed, even for one such as you."

The Mother waved, gesturing to you to come to them. "Come down from there, sweet child!"

The Crone rolled her ancient eyes and scoffed. "She won't fall! Our Mneme is far too surefooted to do something as foolish as that."

"Accidents still happen, sister self." The Mother reminded.

You squeezed her hand. "I'll be more careful."

"More careful!" The Crone laughed. "She's been careful since the day she was born, I doubt she's capable or more."

The Maiden lovingly braided a strand of your hair. "There's no harm in having fun every now and then."

The sky above had begun to shift to the deep star-filled night, your favorite. "I have to go."

"Back to that tree of yours?" The Crone asked.

"Back to the humans?" The Mother's question was far more bitter.

You kissed all their cheeks. "I'll be home before the sun rises!"

More light flashed, more voices echoed in your mind as your body felt like it would burst apart. You saw it through the slightly golden haze. The Great Tree standing tall amidst a bustling village. Its trunk was a rich reddish brown with golden leaves glistening in the low light of the fires the humans had lit to illuminate their festivities.

In the blink of an eye, you were in the tall branches, looking down at the bodies that moved below, watching the humans with wonder. You and the tree had been linked from the moment of your birth. A tree with roots that spanned across realms and lifetimes and a little spirit born of fate and memory. 

A rather simple pair when compared to the billions of other supernatural and immortal beings and creatures that existed. But, you were fine with simple. You enjoyed your time spent on Mount Helicon and watching the humans, quietly gifting them with long memories and thus making their marvelous stories last forever.

It had been centuries since you'd heard the lovely tune for the first time. The first song ever made. A simple and beautiful thing that planted a seed deep inside you. A longing for something real… Tangible… Something wholly yours. You had no idea what it would be, this thing, but some nights you could hear The Fates whispering. They must've known. There was little they did not see. So, you waited, hoping that it was something marvelous.

The memories raced by, quicker and more painful than before. You could feel the raw ache in your throat, a result of your screaming, but you could only hear the voices. It was all still fragmented, flashes of a happy life with The Fates that all shifted… The sour smell of decay stung your nose. These flashes were darker, the fragments blurry and hazed. 

You felt fire cracking under your skin, nails clawing at the wrong flesh that caged you. A laugh… A wide and villainous grin letting down at you. Unfamiliar hands touching you… Defiling you… The human's bright beauty slowly diminishing before your very eyes. You could taste the salt of your tears and feel the ache in your knees as you bent to the floor and begged. "Harken to me!" Your voice sounded so broken… Desperate. "Please, I beg of you! Deliver me from this place!"

The gentle hands that touched your head bore a somber tinge that answered the question you did not even ask. "Enough, dear one."

"You should rest," The Maiden said.

"You will need it for what is to come," The Crone finished.

"Help me," you begged them, lifting your drowning eyes. "There must be something you can do… Someone to intercede on my behalf."

The Crone's eyes turned cold as she sighed. "Foolish child. You are awfully bound. There are none that can deliver you from this place."

The Mother's eyes were filled with tears. "Not now, at least…"

The Maiden braided a strand of your dull hair. "Not when so much of you has been spent."

"I am so sorry, dear one…" The Mother pressed a kiss to your head. "Your prayers were wasted."

"No!" You cried out, rising to reach for them, but they were already gone. The chain binding you to this place scratched against the stone floor. "Do not leave me…"

The pieces fragmented further. Shattering like glass when you tried to hold onto them. All you could truly recall was a knife, blood, screaming, and fire. Darkness that felt warm and safer than what you'd known for so long and then breathlessness. You could see a rippling surface, bubbles floating away from you as the air abandoned you. 

As you sank deeper into an unknown abyss, you could see the golden strands of your hair fade to white, and a voice echoed in your mind as all else began to fade away. "You will never be rid of me!"

*

"Mneme," The Maiden's voice called out to you.

"Stop," you begged, voice raw and hardly understandable. This wasn't true… This was a trick. All of it. Their hands, cradling your head, felt too heavy. "Don't call me that."

“Mneme…” The Mother cooed softly as you shook their hands off you.

“Do not call me that! I… I cannot deal with this now. I… There’s…” You wanted nothing more than to sob, to let the information you’d just regained swallow you whole. 

Morpheus needed you. The events Daniel spoke of could still be years away, but you’d not risk it. Especially not now. Forcing your body upright, you looked into the eyes of The Fates. “I am going to change what is written. Morpheus will not perish, least of all at the hands of you.”

The Maiden’s tears were like diamonds upon her cheeks. “We take no pleasure in this.”

Your sound of disbelief caused The Mother to sigh, “Not much pleasure in it.”

“You cannot change this,” The Crone said, cold as ice once again. “Try as you might, what is will be and what will be is.”

“The only one you shall harm is yourself,” The Maiden replied.

"You will spend your power," The Mother warmed. "Spread yourself thin until all you are withers."

"Lost again to Lethe," The Crone finished.

“If anything happens to him… anything at all, it is you that I shall harm. Consequences be damned.”

You didn’t give them the chance to speak again, vanishing from the apartment and from their presence with a mere thought. The world felt both heavier and lighter, and with it, you felt both more powerful and less. Forcing the memories… the past from your mind, you put your plan into motion. It was just as you’d told The Fates. None would have Morpheus.

The meadow was quiet. From what you’d seen of the human world, there were few places like this that remained. Calm and untouched, reeking of old fairy magic and buzzing with godly power. Two tricksters lurking in the shadows. The combination of their power was dizzying and stunk of mischief. A warning to any that drew too near to turn back and hope you’d not caught their eye. You, however, would not be so easily deterred.

“What have we here?” An old and giggly voice purred from the shadows.

“A little witch?” Another chimed in, smug and prideful and filled with echoing laughter.

You showed no emotion as you addressed them. “I am Munin, Queen of realms of memory.”

A figure appeared a greenish beast with scales and fur and long pointed ears. Sharp teeth gleamed back at you as the deep red eyes of the spirit Puck glowed. “Queeny, Queeny, Queeny… why are you so far from your castle?”

Bright hair and an angular face examined you closely from a safe distance away as Loki grinned back. “Come to play with the old tricksters, have you?”

“More like come to talk sense into you,” you replied calmly, urging the wood around you to slowly shift.

The two laughed loudly, clutching their guts as they looked at each other. “Sense? Oh, we’ve not had sense in ages!”

“So I’ve been told. But, kidnapping a dream-touched child is a new sort of stupidity I thought even you two would be above.”

“Careful now,” Puck growled. “I’d surely hate to have to get blood all over that pretty white dress, Queeny.”

“It would be quite the shame,” you agreed. “Though the dress could be a trophy of sorts stained with your blood.”

Puck giggled, deranged and gleeful. “I like you!”

“Focus,” Loki insisted as he languidly stalked forward to circle you. “What’s this about a kidnapping?”

You followed him for a moment but chose to keep your eyes on Puck; he was the one you’d have to be most mindful of. “Your little plan to kidnap the boy… Daniel Hall.”

“How would you know about that?” Puck questioned.

“I have my ways.” That was the only answer you offered them. “The how is hardly the point. I’m far more interested in skipping it all together so we can focus on the bit where you both use your brains and forget about this half-baked scheme.”

Mist slowly began to seep between the trees, a low groan echoing in the air that signaled your plan had worked. Loki shook his head. “We aren’t exactly known for listening to threats from little girls.”

You smiled. “I’ve not even threatened you yet, Odinson.”

“Do not call me that!” He hissed, pointing a long elegant finger at you.

“I’ll call you whatever name you see fit after you’ve agreed to leave Daniel and his mother alone.”

Puck tutted, clawed nails digging into the branch he leaned on. “Greedy, greedy. You’re getting boring, Queeny! Perhaps we should just be done with you… After all, you look so tasty!”

Sirius dove out of the mist and snapped at the spirit. “Mind your tongue, beast. Though I shall gladly rid you of it should you insist.”

Loki pulled two daggers from their sheathes as The Corinthian appeared somewhere off to the side of you, calm and collected as he casually leaned against a tree. “Naughty puppy!”

Rolling your eyes, you lifted a finger, calling forth the tree roots to bind them. “Enough of this.” The trees wound around their limbs, squeezing hard enough that were they not immortal beings, their limbs would have snapped. Loki sneered while Puck laughed. “It’d be in your best interests to leave the child alone.”

“Best interests,” Puck laughed harder. “I care little for interests.”

“You may not care,” you began, eyes turning to the god. “But he does.”

Loki shook his head, chuckling at the notion that he cared about anything at all. “You think you know me, little wood witch?”

You shook your head and walked along the tree roots. “I do not care to know you, trickster. But, I see more than just your eyes…” Memories swirled inside them, good and bad, joyful and not. “We may not have met more than in passing, but make no mistake, Loki, I know you.”

Puck was the wildcard, the mischievous being that none could reason with or bribe unless he so sought, but Loki was a god. He was shrouded in golden pride and a deep-rooted desire to make Odin love him. Loki was the one you needed to convince. Puck would follow, or he would die, a choice you’d not have to spell out for him, especially with Sirius’ watchful eye and menacing teeth gnashing in the sprite's face.

“Why do you care so much for this runt?” Loki pondered with a wide grin. “Have a soft spot for dream-touched mortals?”

“Why does not concern you.” You sat down on a high-up branch and stared the god down. “No more questions, Loki. Will you leave Lyta and her son alone, or will you die here in my little woods?”

He attempted to shrug against the branches that held him. “It’s not me you need to worry about.”

Puck rolled his eyes. “She doesn’t need to fear me! This game has gotten boooorrrriiinnggg! One little mortal, dream-touched or not, isn’t worth this kind of fuss.”

Loki glared at the sprite, clearly displeased by his so-called partner in crime's words. “Fine then. We’ll leave the kid alone. Happy now?”

“Swear it.”

“I swear it,” he sneered back. “Now let me go.”

You waved your hand, and the roots released. Puck was gone in a blink, no promises made or extra words exchanged. Here then gone, just like you’d expected from the trickster. Loki remained, anger and some ugly, wounded pride shining in his eyes as he glared at you. Sirius growled. “Leave this place, trickster. And pray you never return.”

Suddenly all emotion drained from the god's face, and he laughed. “You know, I don’t much like being humiliated, especially not by insignificant little girls. Do you think you're suddenly untouchable just because you have some new realm and a bit of power? Well, you aren’t.”

Lunging for you, Loki found himself face to face with The Corinthian, who smiled as he brandished his blade. “I believe my lady released you. That means you leave.”

“I’m not scared of you, nightmare!” The god shouted.

“You should be. Hold him down for me, pup.” Sirius surprisingly heeded the nightmares command and pulled the god down while The Corinthian worked with his blade. The screams were drowned out by the trees cheering and laughing at the now mutilated god. You stood high above it all as The Corinthian finished his work and turned, presenting you with the eyes he’d plucked from Loki’s skull. Bowing his head, he chuckled. “Any other body parts I should take, my lady?”

You accepted the eyes and shook your head. “No. Kat has already sent word to Odin. Someone will be here to collect him shortly.”

The Corinthian glanced at you. “You alright, Daunty?”

Your mind was plagued with the past that you’d still not fully regained, a thing you now had broken and confusing fragments of. “Yes. There’s just something I need to do now.”

“Need a nightmare?”

Smiling at him, you shook your head and placed a loving hand on his cheek. “Not this time, dear Corinthian.”

*

Upon Mount Helicon, a secluded cabin stood overlooking the sea. The cabin was not what you’d pictured when you thought of The Fates. You’d imagined they’d live in some large palace or a winding maze, like Destiny, but there the three stood, looking out at the sea as you quietly approached. “Such a lovely sunset.”

The Mother smiled at you. “It used to be your favorite part of the day.”

The Maiden laughed softly. “You’d sit here until the yellow faded from the sky entirely.”

“One sun,” The Crone said. “Watching another.”

"Whatever the reason for this… Fondness, you bear me…" you stopped yourself, pain that you could not yet confront boiling within you like the fires in your vision. Shaking your head, you met their gaze again. "I urge you to cease these schemes against the Dream Lord."

The Maiden nodded, "Painful as this may be, you cannot run from the truth forever."

The Mother took a step closer with a sad smile. "Oh, dear one… Is this truly your wish?"

"It is."

The Crone stood before you, cold eyes slightly less so as she wiped your tears. "Very well. If it is your wish, we shall honor it. So long as Dream of The Endless does not bring harm upon you, then we shall not harm him or his Dreaming."

“Thank you… my mothers.”

The Three smiled sadly and watched you go. The Forest greeted you as it always had, offering you soft handing leaves to dry your eyes and a melodic rumbling to ease the ache in your heart. You did not know when you would be able to accept what you now knew fully, nor did you know if you’d ever be strong enough to remember the full brunt of the pain your past life had lived through, but you did know that The Fates had spoken at least one truth. You would not be able to run from it.

A dark figure emerged from the trees, breathing a sigh of relief at the sight of you. “There you are.”

“Morpheus,” you breathed, the pain easing as air filled your lungs.

His eyes narrowed as he took a step toward you. “Where have you been?” His arms wound around you, pulling you into the embrace you’d fought so hard to preserve. You buried your face into his chest and breathed in his scent. “I’ve been worried.”

With a soft noise, you smiled. “Forgive me, I did not mean to worry you. There were some things I needed to take care of.”

“Is all well?” His breath hitched at the mere thought of something being wrong. 

You smoothed your hands down his chest and smiled. “All is well. I… I learned many things these past few days and have many questions that need answering.”

Morpheus nodded, soft hands caressing you. “I trust you will tell me your meaning when you are ready to?”

“Of course,” you answered. “It would be rather cruel of me to keep you in such suspense.”

“Cruel is not a word I’d use to describe you, my love.”

You wanted nothing more than to tell him of all you’d learned and everything that had happened in your time apart, but instead, you simply smiled. “Would you walk with me?”

He seemed to understand the gentle gleam of tears in your eyes and quietly offered you his arm and a kiss upon your head. “Always, my love.”

The two of you walked through the misty forest until you found the cave of crystals and the lake that you’d once danced upon. Without needing to speak any words, he stepped out onto the water and swept you away into a starlit dance. With your head laid against his chest, listening… feeling the steady beating of his heart, you finally spoke, “Do you think we will remain together in whatever existence comes after this?”

“I should think so,” he answered with a soft laugh. “We’ve found one another against impossible odds thus far.”

"Well, if it should come to an end, this immortal coil we find ourselves in..." You pulled away from his chest and gently held his face in your hands. "I should like it to end by your side, that we might turn to stardust together or be bound in the roots of the earth as one. I shall not pass to whatever existence awaits us in The Sunless Lands without you, my dearest Morpheus."

With the software of smiles, he pulled a small thing from his cloak and held it between you. A ring. The stone in the center was an ethereal array of thinking stars with a branch-like band of roots twining around it. He lifted your hand to slide the ring on your finger, kissing it and whispering a soft oath, "I vow that no matter what comes, nothing shall ever part us again. I am yours, Lady of The Forest, Distress, Discourage, Daunt… Munin. In every existence, every realm and lifetime, I am yours."

"Just as I am yours, Prince of Stories. Always."

Beneath the starry skies and amidst the groaning echoes of your realm, you and the Dream Lord shared a kiss, soft and bright and beautiful. For that one moment, the past didn’t matter. Not Daunt or Mneme… you were Munin, and you were here. You were loved. And as you stared into the eyes of your lover, you knew you always would be.

[defectivehero]

Heyy!! Just wanted to ask: Do you have any tips for writing fight scenes? I kinda struggle with it

(if you see the same ask somewhere else it's because i asked a few people lol)

helloooo! i'm far from an expert, but here are some tips that first came to my mind: 

[and, of course, don't feel pressured to do any or all of these things! write whatever you want]

focus on the little details—look at the setting. where are the two characters fighting? is it urban or rural? are they on a busy street, with lots of passerby or a deserted alleyway? what is in their immediate vicinity that can enhance the scene? perhaps there's a discarded bottle lying on the ground that one of the characters can grab in a spontaneous movement and throw at their opponent. the environment is incredibly important, because it can have a huge impact on the fight itself! after all, people will fight differently depending on the setting. if a villain is fighting a hero in a tight space, their movements are going to be different than if they were in a wide open space with freedom to move however they desire.

character. descriptions. CHARACTER. DESCRIPTIONS. I cannot stress this enough. without at least some descriptions, it'll sound monotonous. 'he hits them, then they dodge' blah blah blah. that's boring! spice it up a bit! what does the person's opponent look like? is their stance low to the ground? do they look more guarded than usual? perhaps there's a strange expression on their face or a gleam in their eyes. hell, maybe there's dirt, grime, or blood on their clothes. those simple things will further cement your characters and also keep the audience's interest as you move through the scene. plus, they're awesome for foreshadowing.

don't be afraid to break things up. a fight scene shouldn't be 100% fast-paced, otherwise the readers will be left feeling confused and things will progress too fast! when you really think about it, the majority of fight scenes are not filled with constant hits, punches, and kicks without a moment for a breather. personally, I'm very weak to the moment where the two characters will break apart and circle around each other, breathing hard. that kind of stuff will make things even more hard hitting. don't be afraid to include dialogue, either! dialogue really enhances a fight scene, in my opinion. [and yes, sometimes dialogue isn't practical. but even a simple hissed remark or muttered insult can go a long way!]

lastly, don't force it. that is going to sound stupid, but... if you're dreading the idea of writing a long ass fight scene... think about some alternatives to that! i kind of get stuck in this mindset sometimes of: 'oh, this needs at least three paragraphs of solid action & back and forth fighting.' I've definitely gotten into situations where a piece will be sitting in my drafts for MONTHS just because I can't get through one particular portion of it. at that point, I can't help but think: 'Why bother?' I really do think that, if I don't enjoy writing something, it will show. so keep that in mind as you write! writing what you want to write > writing what the story necessitates.

sorry if this doesn't make sense.. but these are just some things that work for me ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[ppawmpkin]

Petty Jealously

A lil note: Y’all honestly, this is just something short and kinda fluff-ish. It’s Ayo being her usually unbelievably fine and serious self and Aneka being her unbelievably fine and light hearted self. I ain’t never written a poly relationship, but I love this as a thing. Definitely about to write more of them and the reader.

Black Fem Reader x Ayo x Aneka

“She shouldn’t be so close to him.” Ayo said, causing her lover to laugh at her sudden distress over the man that was only engaging in harmless small talk with you. She couldn’t have been more serious, staring holes into the innocent man’s head for almost the majority of the time he had started talking to you. Poor him. In utter confusion, wondering why the woman across the room looked as if she was seconds away from bashing his head in, which wasn’t far from her actual thoughts.

“She’s having fun, my love. You’re acting as if they are all on eachother, then I would get involved but it’s all innocent. Just two people having a good time.” Aneka said, being the more calmer of the two, she found no harm in the simple conversation. As long as the man didn’t cross any boundaries or disrespect your relationship, she found it less of a thing to even dwell on. Ayo huffed, eyes still staring at you both, clearly the woman wasn’t to keen on letting it go.

“Well, while you are doing that, I’m going to go dance with Nakia.” Aneka said, making her exit off into the crowd, leaving the woman to continue her antics.

You could feel her, the intensity of her gaze was unmatched and even from across the room her presence loomed over you as a cloud would. Here she goes again. You thought, rolling your eyes. To think that she would even have that thought on her mind, it irritated you to the bone. You decide on ignoring her, not wanting her dislike of your little associate to ruin the night.

“Is everything alright?” The man asked, face twisted in concern at your sudden absence from the conversation.

You nodded slightly, flaunting a smile at him for his reassurance. He smiled back at you, a little too hard for her liking. “I was just saying that you look great tonight.” He complimented, eyes grazing over your assemble, from your head to your toes. Of course she had caught this, eyes widening at the man’s boldness. He seemingly had no regard for his life, looking at you in such ways while both of your lovers were in proximity. Who did he think he was?

“Aw thank you, you’re not too bad yourself.” You said laughing softly as you said the words. He laughed with you, clearly flustering at your praise of his appearance. You noticed, but you didn’t pay it any mind. As long as he kept it strictly friendly, you couldn’t be bothered. Ayo wouldn’t have blamed him, if it were on different circumstances, there was no doubt that you were absolutely stunning and the fact that you had made two of the most finest women of the nation fall for you only added to that fact.

But you were theirs, all theirs. His petty crush on you would have to soon seize or else she would help him do so. “Would you like to dance?” He asked, a hopeful gleam in his expression as he held his hand out, ready to take yours. The hope he felt was short lived, quickly snuffed out by the soon appearance of an woman behind you who was seething with visible anger.

“No, she wouldn’t.” She answered, showing a smile, one that instead of warmth showed an expression of warning toward the man. He quickly took heed, something that she admired, he knew his odds and choose not to cross those bounds. He nodded swiftly and turned to walk away but, not before you had gave him an apology for your girlfriends behavior.

“I was going to say no, Ayo.” You said, turning around to meet her only to be greeted by an self assuring smirk on her lips, seemingly content with her actions. She didn’t know how much longer she could suffice watching him and you, so you could only bet how happy she was when he extended the invitation to dance to you, cause she would be the one to turn him down.

“Well, I did, problem?” She asked, practically daring you to retort at her. You were until Aneka appeared, looking knowingly between the both of you. “Lemme guess, she got jealous and came over here to make herself known?” She asked, crossing her arms as an offended Ayo scoffed at her words. She wasn’t that predictable, atleast she didn’t think she was but you both knew her like the palms of your hands, especially Aneka, being with her longer than you had.

“Exactly that.” You said, coercing an amused laugh from her. She sighed, pressing a kiss on your cheek as you both waited for your lover to explain themselves. “He had a little crush on her, I had to do something or else he would’ve had his hopes up.” She said, shrugging her shoulders. You rolled your eyes as Aneka hummed in intrigue, finger tapping her chin.

“A crush?” She said, raising an eyebrow. She found cute, he could never have you but, the mere thought tickled her to her core. She looked forward to hearing Ayo’s telling of the tale whilst you dreaded it, knowing that the car ride home would be the longest of your life. Between Ayo’s dramatics and Anekas teasing, you were in for one hell of a ride with the both of them. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

A/N This ain’t the finest of quality at all, but I wanted to write something about my loves since they are so underrated. I will be writing more on them too. Including some smut, cause I need that in my life. I love you guys and happy late new year, I wish y’all nothing but peace and love fr fr if you do read this. 🫶🏾💕

[hunted-moth]

 Just Like Him Chapter Two: Swimmin' With The Frogs

Wordcount // 8k

Summary // When Lori's husband and Carl's dad show up after being thought dead, everything changes. 

Warning // Language, Talks of death, violence, violence against women(Carol&Ed), the killing of walkers, 

OTHER STUFF//It is really dialogue-heavy with a lot of it coming straight from the show

A/N // This was gonna be one chapter but I just couldn't physically do it anymore lol. Good lord this took forever to edit, the fact that i wrote the other chapter, had school stuff, and WORK! jesus guys. So sorry this took forever lmao 

***: Major time Skip/scene change

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~~The Quary Day Four~~~

The sun shown through the tents windows waking you up finally. You sat up, rubbing your tired eyes and looked around expecting to see Carl or Lori but their beds were empty. You stood up and put your shoes on and walked out of the tent walking down the small tral to camp fires.

There you saw Lori sitting down doing something while Carl played by himself by a car not to far away.

You walked up and sat down by her “Morin’ Lori” you said in a tired tone.

“Moring hun, how did you sleep?” she was checking on something in a cast iron pot.

“I slept okay I guess” You rubbed your eyes while sitting down beside her.

“Yeah I bet we couldn't wake ya up so we just let you sleep” she teased. You noticed a girl walking up to you two holding a red bucket.

“Any luck?” Lori asked, putting the lid on the pot. As she was walking up Lori grabbed a small metal bowl and a wooded spoon. The girl poured mushrooms into the bowl.

“How do we know if they’re poison?” Lori gave an unknowing look, you knew though.

“Uhh, there's only one sure way I know of” You waited for her to tell her, but she just started to fiddle with one.

“Ask Shane when he gets back?” The girl said Lori nodded “Yeah you got it” Lori got up taking the red bucket with her “Umm, I'll be right back Y/n, you think you two could keep an eye on that for me?” you both nodded your heads while she walked away.

You just kinda sat and looked at the fire when a voice interrupted, “I don't suppose you know if a mushroom is poisonous or not huh?” the blonde girl had asked you.

“Oh umm, yeah I do,” you said awkwardly, you grabbed the bowl and sat next to her “If a mushroom has white gills or white spots on its camp it's more than likely poisonous” You looked at her before you picked up a Mushroom.

“see this one is good because it has brown gills and doesnt have a bulb at the bottom” you sat it aside, and picked up a different one “but this one is bad, see? It has white gills and a bulb”

You looked at her again “Okay so these ones are bad?” She picked out four of them and showed them to you, you nodded your head “Yeah” she smiled “Wow, how do you know this stuff?” she gleamed at you.

“My dad taught me,” Her eyes seemed to light up “My daddy taught me and my sister how to fish” She smiled at the memory of her father “OH I never introduced myself, Im Amy” she smiled “and my sister is Andrea, were from Florida” 

“Im Y/n, im from western Georgia” You smiled at her, and you looked up at the sky to see it was a cloudy morning “You think it’s gonna rain?” you asked her, she looked up to the sky.

“I don’t know, it could” She looked back down and started stirring the pot, she looked sad and like her mind was somewhere else now. You decided to wander around camp eventually ending up by Dale’s side, watching him work on the RV.

“What are you doing Dale?” you asked, he lifted his head to look at you. He smiled a little bit.

“Oh nothing, me and Jim are just working on the radiator hose on the RV” who you guessed was Jim waved at you before going back to work. “It likes to quit on us a lot, which isn't good if we need to leave for whatever reason.” he explain to you.

“Oh, hopefully, we won't need to leave soon” You watched him as he poked and prodded at the thing, trying to figure out why it wouldn't work.

“Hey uhh, Y/n could ya hand me that wrench?” you looked down at the small amount of tools he had and reached down for the wrench.

“Yeah, here you go” he took the tool from you “Why do you have little tools?” you asked, you'd figured he’d have a lot more 

“Ahh well, I let the supply people barrow them, but now I kinda wish I just kept them, but they’re supposed to be back today so it’s not a big deal” You nodded your head in understanding “So how’s that book coming along Y/n? You like it so far?” he turned his head to face you 

“It's okay, im almost done with it, maybe a chapter or two left” You read a few chapters last night while you tried to fall asleep, maybe thats why you slept in.

“Dale got you reading that Case of the missing man?” Jim spoke up, you nodded your head when he looked at you, and he laughed “Dale been getting people to read that book since he’s got here” Dale rolled his eye while Jim moved closer to you “Between you and me, I think he’s been trying to get rid of it” he laughed and so did you.

“Alright, alright get back to work” Dale waved his hands dismissively with a smile. You watched as he continued to mess with the engine “Boy, this hose isn't long for this world is it?” Dale commented 

“No, sir” Jim responded dejected

“Where the hell are we gonna find a replacement” Dale said with an annoyed tone, in the background, you could see Amy pacing back and forth. She looked antsy 

“It's late” her voice was full of worry “They should've been back by now”, you and Dale looked up at her as she paced back and forth

“Worrying won't make it better” dale said but she just stormed off in anger, you got up to go find Lori, to see if Amy's fear was justified and if you guys should go out looking for them.

You found her taking clothes off the line and stood by her, she was watching Shane and Carl do something but you couldn't see due to their back being to you, but they were laughing.  

“He–” you were cut off by another voice coming over a radio 

“HELLO, BASE CAMP! CAN ANYBODY HEAR ME”

Shane and Lori walked off toward the RV where another radio system was, Dale was already on the RV by the time you all got there

“BASE CAMP! THIS IS T-DOG, ANYBODY HEAR ME?”

Dale got on the radio “Hello, Hello, reception bad on this end, Repeat Repeat” 

“SHANE IS THAT YOU” t-dog’s voice carried over the radio

“Is that them?” Lori asked, the radio crackled before T-dog's voice came over again

“WERE IN DONW DEEP SHIT RIGHT NOW, WERE TRAPPED IN THE DEPARTMENT STORE,” “he said their trapped” Shane committed the obvious

“GEEKS ALL OVER THE PLACE, HUNDREDS OF ‘EM WERE SURROUNDED” T-dog voice cut out

“T-dog, Repeat that last, Repeat” All he got was static. Everyone stood around in silence, not knowing what to do.

“He said the department store” Lori repeated what he said, Dale agreed with Lori and so did you. Shane looked defeated like he knew what was gonna happen “Shane” Lori started but Shane interrupted her

“No way, we do not go after them” he looked around at everybody “We do not risk the rest of the group, y’all know that” Lori looked at him with eyes of disbelief. But Amys was worse

“So we're just gonna leave her there?!” Amy looked pissed and Shane could sense she was gonna blow up, “look, Amy, I know this is not easy–” Amy cut him off “she volunteered to go, to help the rest of us” Shane just nodded his head in some kind of mock understanding.

“And she knew the risks, right?” Amy just looked at him with wide eyes “See if she’s trapped, she’s gone. So we just have to deal with that, there's nothing we can do” Her wide eyes narrowed at him in rage.

“She’s my sister, you son of a bitch!” she stormed off giving him the side eye. Lori and Shane stared at each other before Lori ran off to find Amy. 

It was quiet around camp, the not knowing if they were gonna live, and the fact no one could do anything about it. You were torn yourself, obviously, you wanted them to come back but sending people to get them could be for nothing, and in turn, endangering them instead. 

*

A few hours passed and everyone was still at a standstill on what to do. Amy sat in her and Andreas tent, still pissed at about not being able to go and help, with Lori trying to console her, at some point Lori gave up because she came out with an exhausted look on her face.

You were sitting with Shane, Carl, and Lori. She was giving Carl a haircut while you tried to finish your book, you only had a handful of pages left before you were finally done. You looked and saw Jim stringing up cans on some barbed wire around the camp. 

“Baby the more you fidget, the longer it's gonna take, so don't okay” she lectured Carl, 

“Im trying, but why do I have to get a haircut? And why doesn't Y/n have to?” he pointed to you “Well Y/n is a girl, so she can have her hair,” she countered his argument, “and if she wants a haircut she can ask” You shook you head playfully when she looked in you direction.  

“You think this bad, wait till you start shaving” Shane was cleaning his gun “That stings, that day comes when you wishin’ for one of yer momma’s haircuts” Carl just rolled his eyes

“I'll believe that when I see it” Shane and Lori just laughed, “Tell you what, you get through this with some manly dignity, and tomorrow I'll teach you and Y/n something special” he leaned in like he was telling a secret, so you leaned in to “I will teach you guys to catch frogs,” your face dropped in disappointment though.

“I already know how to catch a frog,” you said “Yeah, I already caught frogs” Carl agreed with you. 

Shane just laughed “I said Frogs, plural” he straightened his back “And it is an art form, my tiny friends, and is not to be taken lightly” You smirked at his cockieness “There are ways and means. Few people know about it. I'm willing to share my secrets.” you and Carl looked to Lori.

“Oh im a Girly girl, you talk to him” She directed your attention to Shane again “it's a one-time offer, guys... not to be repeated” he continued to clean his shotgun like he didnt care for your ansrew, but you saw his little smirk. 

You got a curious look on your face as a thought popped into your head.

“Why do we need frogs Plural?” you asked with a confused voice. Shane had a mischievous look on his face.

“You guys ever eat frog legs?” Carl got a disgusting look on his face. “They’re okay, not a lot of meat on ‘em” you shrugged.

“EWW, you’ve eaten frog legs?” he replied, you nodded your head when Shane responded.

“NO, yum!” he tried to counter but Lori agreed with Carl, “No, He’s right eww” Shane just laughed some more, elbowing you to join in

“When you get down to that last can of beans, you're gonna be loving those frog legs, lady. I can see it now” Shane began to tease Lori, putting on a girl's voice "Shane, do you think I could have a second helping, please? Please? Just one?" you and Carl began to laugh at his impression of lori.

Lori just gave him a look with shocked laughter “Yeah I doubt that”, she continued cutting Carl's hair “Yeah, don't listen to her man, you, me, and Y/n will be heroes! We’ll feed these folks cajun-style Kermit legs” you shook your head and tried to finish your book

“I would rather eat Miss Piggy” You looked up from your book and laughed “Yes that came out wrong”

“Heroes Kids, spoken of in song and legend. You two, Y/n and Carl.” he winked at Carl and you, “Think about it” You guys were laughing quietly when in the distance you heard, what sounded like a car alarm. 

Shane got up and so did you and Lori. you all rushed to the main area to see Dale ontop of the RV “talk to me, Dale! What do you see?”

“Can't tell yet” he yelled down to Shane, Shane took his rifle and walked over to look at the quarry ridge. A hopeful Amy asked if it was the supply group. “I'll be damned” Dale looked through his binoculars.

“What is it?” Amy asked, you tried your best to see but the trees and rubble made it hard from where you were “A stolen car is my guest” Dale thought aloud. The alarm got louder and louder before it finally pulled up into camp. It was a red sports car, an expensive one you guessed. 

The door opened to reveal the driver, who happened to baseball movie guy, he had a huge smile on his face, not knowing people were about to be yelling at him.

“Holy crap, will you turn that thing off” Dale badgers him, He just laughs it off “I don't know how to”

Then Amy and Shane are on him, “My sister, Andrea” “Pop the hood Please, POP THE DAMN HOOD PLEASE” “Is she okay? IS SHE OKAY" they both end up yelling at him.

“What? Okay okay. Yeah yeah yeah. Yeah yeah!” he got in the car popping it open but Amy wouldn't leave him alone about her sister “YES, shes okay, shes okay” you could tell he was already getting overwhelmed “Is she coming back?” amy persisted “yes” Glesnn said with a heavy sigh.

Shane managed to shut it off when he slammed the hood shut with annoyance.

“Why isn't she with you?” Amy was getting desperate “Where is she? She's okay?” he gave a final yes “Everybody is okay” he gave a cringing face “Well Merle not so much” glenn whispered under his breath. Now that everybody calmed down Shane could finally unleash on Baseball guy.

“Are you crazy, driving this wailing bastard up here? Are you trying to draw every Walker for miles?” Shane scolded Glenn but Dale came to his defense “I think we’re okay” but that just irritated Shane more “You call being stupid okay?”

 Dale, being levelhead, explained to Shane that the alarm was echoing all throughout the hills, so it be hard to find the origin of the noise for them, Shane gave him an annoyed look. So Dale did end up chewing out glenn.

“Sorry” he looked around awkwardly “Got a cool car” he tried to lighten the mood, but all he got were flat faces. From behind him, you saw a huge truck pull in, it looked like a movers truck. He looked back and gave a sly grin.

You were standing close by Dale when the truck pulled in. The first person you saw was who you assumed was Andrea 

“Amy” they ran towards each other with tears in their eyes. A man appeared and two younger children ran to him hugging him too. 

All the people who went eventually came out of the truck, and from the corner of your eye you saw Lori take Carl aside to talk to him, he looked like he was holding back tears. 

“You are a welcomed sight for sure,” Dale said as he hugged the father, “I thought we had lost you folks for sure”. Shane kept his eyes on Lori and Car.

 “How y’all get out of there anyway?” Shane asked, the baseball guy piqued up “New guy, he got us out” There was someone else new, maybe you won't feel so alone now. Shane gave him a strange look “New guy?”

“Yeah, crazy Vato just got into town” the father explained “Hey, helicopter boy! Come say hello” he yelled to the “new guy”.And oiut came a man dressed in a sheriff's uniform, he had an uncertain look on his face “Guys a cop, like you” the dad continued. Shane looked at him with disbelief, like he just saw a ghost. 

New guy also had a look of disbelief. His eyes were watery too. “Oh my god” he started to walk forward and Carl started to run towards him, Lori not too far behind. “DAD, DAD” you could hear Carl's shrill voice yell, this new guy was Carl's dad, the same man he told you was dead.

They meet in an embrace, hugging each other like their lives depended on it. He picked him up and walked over to Lori who stood there shell-shocked. She eventually hugged him with tears in her eyes. The new guy and Shane locked eyes and they smiled.

***

“Disoriented.” he exclaimed  “I guess that comes closest. Disoriented. Fear, confusion… all those things but”  he licked his lips “Disoriented comes closest.”. It was night and you watched as Lori and Carl were in Ricks– as you come to learn– arms. Everyone was in their family's arm, it just made you feel even lonelier now without yours. 

“Words can be a meager thing” Dale explained, “sometimes they fall short”. Rick nodded his head and continued “It felt like i was ripped out of my life and put somewhere else” you gazed at the fire “For a while I thought I was trapped in some coma dream, something I might not wake up from ever.” Lori was brushing Carl’s hair, like your mom use to do.

“Mom said you died” Carl spoke up in a quiet voice, rick nodded his head in understanding when he looked at his wife “She had every reason to believe that” he looked at his son “Don't you ever doubt it” Lori spoke up about it after looking around

“When things got really bad, the hospital told me that they were gonna medivac you to Atlanta, but it never happened,” she said in a small sad voice.

“Well im not surprised after Atlanta fell,” Lori nodded “and from the look at that hospital it looked like it got overrun” he had a disgusted look on his face, if it looked anything like that super market you'd probably have the same face to.

“Yeah,” Shane scoffed “Looks don't deceive I barely got them out” Shane spoke up. Rick smiled gratefully at Shane, “I can't tell you how grateful I am to you, Shane. I can't begin to express it.” Rick exclaimed Greattfully, Dale laughed “There go those words falling short again, Paltry things” Dale committed, things got quiet again as the Grimes family embraced each other. 

“Hey Lori, I think im gonna sleep outside tonight” Lori looked at you “Why is that hun?” you shrugged your shoulders “Just feel like it, its nice out you know” the truth was, you would feel like an outsider sleeping in their family tent.

Lori's face scrunched up “Are you sure you want to sleep outside?” you  nodded your head, but Dale spoke up “Why don't you sleep in the RV hmm?” you looked at Dale with big eyes.

“You sure?” he nodded his head, “thanks” you smiled at him. He reminded you of your grandpa.

In the distance you could hear wood clattering and then wood being thrown into a fire, you looked behind you to see a big man sitting back again with a bigger fire,

“Hey Ed, you want to rethink that Log?” Shane yelled to him. The big guy just yelled back, still sitting down “It's cold man”. The more you looked the more you realized that was Sophia's family. “Cold doesn't change the rules does it?” Shane shouted back “Keep out low, just embers so we can't be seen from a distance, right?” 

It was a good rule to have, but Ed didn't seem to care “I said it’s cold, you should mind yer own business for once” he shouted back, Shane got up and walked over to Ed. The air was tense and everyone was quiet. You couldn't hear what was said since he was whispering. 

When he came back to his spot Dale spoke what was on his mind, “Have you given any thought to Daryl Dixon?” Daryl was still on his hunting trip in the woods so he didn't know anything yet “He won't be happy to hear his brother was left behind.” you agreed with Dale, if your brother was left behind you'd be pissed as well.

T-dog spoke up, saying he’d tell the other Dixon what happened, which turned into a debate on who should tell him between T-Dog and Rick, but Glenn spoke up about how it would look better if Rick told him since he was white, as opposed to T-dog who was black. 

“I did what I did, Hell if im gonna hide from it” You gave props to T-dog for being brave. But Amy spoke up “We could lie” That was also a good idea you thought, but Andrea thought otherwise “Or tell the truth, Merle was out of control,” she brought up “Something had to be done or he’d have gotten us killed” andrea leaned forward to talk to Lori.

“Your husband did what was necessary, and if Merle got left behind it was nobody's fault but Merles” she finished her thought. But Dale disagreed 

“And thats what we tell Daryl?” you looked around dumbfounded “I don't see a rational discussion to be had from that, do you?” he looked to Andrea “Word to the wise we’re gonna have our hands full when he gets back from his hunt” Dale was being realistic, which was good, cause either way the outcome would lead to an upset Daryl.

“I was scared and I ran, im not ashamed of it” T-dog stated, Andrea just agreed and asked why it was relevant “I stopped long enough to chain that door. Staircase is narrow. Maybe half a dozen geeks can squeeze against it at any one time. It's not enough to break through that” he explained “Not that chain, not that padlock.” he rambled on “My point Dixon's alive and he's still up there, handcuffed on that roof. That's on us” T-dog walked away, probably to his tent to go to sleep.

*

After a while everyone went to sleep, before you went to the RV you stopped by the tent and grabbed all your stuff, you said goodnight to Lori and walked to the RV. When you walked in Dale called you back, walking down the hall you stopped in the doorway to see Dale setting up a bed for you, “it's not much but it's something, I uhh even put up a curtain for ya here” Sure enough you saw a curtain split down the middle separating the room in half.

“Thanks,” you smile. You set your stuff down and lie on the stiff bed. Outside you could hear the thunder roll in again from earlier. You looked outside the window to see the rain hit the window. The sound of the rain helped you drift off to sleep.

~~~The Quary Day Five~~~

The next morning you woke up early and looked for Carl and Sophia. You wanted to explore the area a bit more and you got the okay from both Lori and Carol. You found both of them at a little round table.

“Hey do you guys want to go explore?” they looked at you with wide faces “I already asked your moms, and they said it was okay” they both replied with ‘yeah’s’, they got up from their spots and followed you. You decided to go through a trial that leads to the woods, you were hoping to find some deer or any kind of bigger game.

As you three walked the trail you started to smell something awful, your first thought was an animal died nearby, but the closer you got the more you started to hear the horrible gurgles of blood from an eater. You pulled back the leaves to see an eater feasting on dead deer.

Carl and Sophia screamed and backed away, they yelled for their parents as you backed away grabbing an arrow from your quiver, notching it in your bow aiming it at the eater to make sure it didn't attack you or the other kids. 

“Stay behind me” they continued yelling, you were shocked the eater wasn't drawn to the screams.

You heard Lori's cries and looked back to see everyone running towards you three. The men had weapons and ran past you when you pointed in the direction of the thing. You followed not far behind. They all circled the eater with weapons ready, they pushed you back to protect you but if you needed to you could still shoot it.

The thing finally seemed to notice you all and stood, it stared at Rick before it lunged at him, but someone batted it away. The thing fell to the floor and everybody started beating on it. All taking turns. Finally, Dale took an axe to it, cutting its head off. Everybody seemed to calm down after that.

“Thats the first one we’ve had up here” Dale exclaimed with an exhausted voice “They never come this far up the mountain” he looked around shocked.

“They’re running out of food in the city, that's what” Jim replied.

Everyone just looked at it in disgust and confusion when they heard rustling in the forest. You aimed your bow in the direction of the noise as it got louder and louder.

When out from behind a tree you saw Daryl walking out with his crossbow. Shane just scoffed when he saw him. 

“Son of a bitch.” he cursed “That's my deer! Look at it.” he walked up to it, then looked at the eater “All gnawed on by this” he started kicking it “Filthy! disease-bearing! motherless poxy bastard!” 

Dale tried to calm him down “Calm down son, thats not helping” but it just pissed him off more.

“What do you know about it, old man?” he got up in Dales's face “Why don't you take that stupid hat and go back to "on Golden Pond"?” he insulted him, you wanted to laugh but it wasn't the right time.

“I've been tracking this deer for miles. Gonna drag it back to camp, cook us up some venison.” He keeled down to take his bolts “What do you think? Do you think we can cut around this chewed-up part right here?” he asked looking at the others.

“Would not risk that” Shane replied, Daryl just sighs “That's a damn shame. I got some squirrel” he grabbed the rope holding them “about a dozen or so. That'll have to do.”. He began to walk off when out of the corner of your eye you saw the rotter's head move “Oh god” Amy and Andrea walked off.

“Come on people” Daryl noticed this and shot it in the face “it gotta be the brain, don't y’all know anything?” he walked off with his now bloody bolt. You all followed him back to the main area. You could see Lori and Carol comforting Carl and Sophia.

“Merle,” nothing “MERLE, get yer ugly ass out here” Dayrl continued walking “I got us some squirrel lets Stew ‘em up” he began to look around for his brother, and the other caught up to him. “Daryl, slow up a bit, I need to talk to ya” Shane called out to him

“About what?” he stopped in front of the RV, Shane continued to walk up to Daryl “About Merle. There was a” he paused “There was a problem in Atlanta.” Daryl froze, and looked around, “He dead?” he asked. Shane shrugged his shoulders “We're not sure” he looked at Daryl. You could begin to see Daryl get mad

“He either is or he ain't” he began to circle Shane, with the rest all catching up. 

Rick decided to speak up “No easy way to say this, so I'll just say it” Rick started but was cut off by Daryl “Who are you?” he said with snark as Rick walked up to Daryl.

“Im Rick Grimes” he introduced himself, Daryl scoffed a bit “Well Rick Grimes, you got something you wanna tell me?” Rick stood in front of Daryl “Your brother was a danger to us all,” he started “So I handcuffed him on a roof, hooked him to a piece of metal. He's still there” You moved closer to Dale, more like behind him just in case 

“Hold on. Let me process this.” he began to pace back and forth a bit “You're saying you handcuffed my brother to a roof and YOU LEFT HIM THERE?!” he yelled at Rick, who just stood there, taking it. Rick hung his head low “Yeah”

Daryl stepped back, looking rick up and down, with a scowl that could scare an eater. With a grunt, he threw the squirrels at Rick and started to charge him but Shane intercepted it. T-dog noticed it and came running. While on the ground you noticed Daryl pull his knife out and get up

He began to swipe at Rick, before Rick grabbed his arm and made him drop the knife Shane came up on him from the other side. They rustled him down to the ground “BEST LET ME GO!” he yelled, trying to fight the hold Shane had on him. Shane eventually got him in a chokehold, one that Daryl said was illegal.

Daryle eventually stopped fighting, rick got into his face “I'd like to have a calm discussion on this topic. Do you think we can manage that?” he looked to Shane “Do you think we can manage that?” Shane nodded his head, and after a minute Daryl mumbled the best yes he could before Shane let him go. 

Daryl was still on the ground when Rick got up close with him again “What I did was not on a whim. Your brother does not work and play well with others.” he explained when T-dog spoke up “It's not Rick's fault. I had the key. I dropped it” he admitted

“Couldn't pick it up” Daryl retorted back to him with snark.

“Well, I dropped it in a drain” T-dog admitted, daryl rolled his eyes and scoffed before he stood up, throwing dirt at T-dog “it supposed to make me feel better it don’t!” 

“Yeah well, maybe this will” T-dog stood by Shane, it made you wonder if he stood there in case Daryl tried to lunge at him too “I locked the chain to the door so the geeks wouldn't get at him” he looked at Daryl “with a padlock, that's gotta count for something right?”

Daryl just looked around, and wiped his eyes, “the hell with all y’all” he cursed you all “Just tell me where he is so I can go get ‘em” he looked to Rick but Lori was the one to answer 

“He’ll show you, isn't that right?” they both looked at Lori, her voice and tone were almost taunting, but you guessed Rick didn't see it like that

he looked around for a moment, “I’m going back”, Lori just stormed back into the RV. daryl scoffed and walked away. Everybody just stood around, not knowing what to do. Rick walked off to his tent, picking up his clothes on the way.

*

You tried to comforter carl but you have still shaken up yourself. You made sure to never be that close to an eater since you got split from your family. You would jump at evey small noise coming from the woods, every heavy breath sounded like one of them, and when lori grabbed your hand it made you jump.

“Its just me hun, You're okay” She rubbed your arm gently and spoke softly “what you did was very brave but its okay if you’re scard” you reflected on what she said and looked away ashamedly.

“I didnt even do anything though, Daryl was the one that killed the ‘poxy bastard’” you huffed and crossed your arms. You were a coward, you couldn't even kill it when it’s back was to you. 

“You're still a kid, I didn't expect you to kill the thing, but you made sure Carl and Sophia were safe, and that's brave” You nodded your head and smiled softly. From down the hill, you could hear Shane talking to someone, he seemed to be heated

“Could you throw me a bone here, man? Could you just tell me why?” Rick and Shane came into view “Why would you risk your life for a douchebag like Merle Dixon?” Daryl looked at Shane with annoyance 

“Hey, choose your words more carefully,” Daryl warned him but Shane just rolled his eyes “No I did, douchebag is what I meant” he stared at Daryl with judgment “Merle Dixion, The guy wouldn't give you a glass of water if you were dyin’ of thirst.” from what you experienced when you first met merle that comparison checked out.

You looked to Lori again as they continued fighting. You could tell she was getting more and more annoyed, but you were to engrossed in the conversation.

“so you and Daryl,” everybody looked at her “thats your big plan?” Rick looked at Glenn “Oh come on” he sighed, 

“You know the way, you've been there before, in and out no problems” Rick explained “You said so yourself. It's not fair of me to ask” he paused “I know that, but I'd feel a lot better with you along. I know she would too” rick looked to Lori.

Shane went on about how Rick was risking three men now, but T-dog spoke, about how he wanted to come to. Daryle just scoffed at him, asking why, T-dog just said he wouldn't understand.

“That's four,” Dale said aloud, Shane just paced back and forth “It's not just four. You're putting every single one of us at risk. Just know that, Rick.” He pointed a finger at Rick “Come on, you saw that Walker. It was here. It was in camp. They're moving out of the cities.” he proclaimed  “They come back, we need every ablebody we've got. We need 'em here. We need 'em to protect the camp.” 

rick started going on about how he had a bag of guns, and how he dropped them in the city. All kinds of guns, from shotguns to handguns. And about 700 rounds of ammo.

“You went through hell to find us” Lori started, her voice getting angrier “Yo-you just got here, and now you gonna turn around and leave!?” you could tell Carl was getting worried about his dad, “Dad I-I don't want you to go” rick looked conflicted now. 

“To hell with the gun. Shane is right. Merle Dixon? He's not worth one of your lives, even with guns thrown in.” Rick walked closer to you guys, stopping at Lori as she stood up “Tell me. Make me understand.” Lori argued, 

“I owe a debt to a man I met and his little boy. Lori, if they hadn't taken me in, I'd have died.” He explained the best he could to her “It's because of them that I made it back to you at all. They said they'd follow me to Atlanta. They'll walk into the same trap I did if I don't warn him.” Rick pleaded with Lori

“What's stopping you?” She crossed her arms and looked down.

“The walkie-talkie, the one in the bag I dropped.” Lori couldn't even look at him “He's got the other one. Our plan was to connect when they got closer.” he finished

Shane asked if it was ‘our walkies’, and Rick said yes. Andrea asked why he couldn't just use the CB they have. But Shane just explained that their walkies were old, from the seventies, and only worked with each other, not even on scanners. 

“I need that bag” Lori nodded her head, and Rick walked around her to keel down to Carl, you still had a hand on Carl's shoulder “Okay?” he asked him, and he nodded his head. He looked at you and nodded his head. 

You all watched as they left in the truck, taking Dale's bolt cutters with them. It was quiet for a bit, Carl went to their tent to lie down, and Lori followed him.

*

You tried to finish your book, on your last chapter, and it was actually getting good when Shane and Carl came up to you “Hey Y/n, you want to catch some frogs, plural, with us?” you shut your book and stood up,

“Yeah!” running with carl to the quarry. 

You and carl waited for Shane by one of the banks where you saw some of the women washing clothes. 

“Okay, so the plan is,” Shane began “were gonna rile up the water and wait fore ‘em to swim out and catch ‘em, got it?” he looked to you two for understanding, and you both nodded. You were excited but after about thirty minutes you couldn't catch or even find any frogs.

“Im not gettin’ anything” Carl announced in a flat tone. You waded through the water towards carl as you nodded your head in agreement. 

“Yeah. Being all wily, staying submerged. Little suckers, they know something's up. That's what's going on. Just going to have to do this the old-fashioned way.” Shane got up from his rock, and motioned you over to him, “So here's what we gonna do” You stood by Shane as he told you guys what the new strategy was 

“me and Y/n are gonna scare the frogs your way Carl,” he handed Carl a net “And you’re gonna catch them with the net, got it?” he looked at both of you, and you both said yeah “You are the key in all this, okay?” Carl nodded “All we’re gonna do is go after one of them, all right, scare the rest of them off. They're all gonna scatter.” he patted your shoulder “And we’re gonna drive 'em his way, okay?” 

“Yeah,” you got into your position and Shane laughed

“What you need to do is you need to round up every bad boy you see, all right? Are you with me?” he spoke to Carl

“Yeah. Yeah.” Carl exclaimed excitedly 

“Hell yeah. Give me your mean faces.” you and Carl gave him your best mean game faces “Are you ready?” he exclaimed one last time, “YEAH” 

He got into position, he looked at you, and you looked at him, Then he started to thrash in the water so you did the same, trying to kick up rocks from the quarry floor, thrashing your arms. Carl had his net in the middle of it. You and Carl laugh while Shane bobbed in and out of the water. He even began to lightly splash you

“All right, they're coming your way. They're coming your way. Go on, get 'em, get 'em. They're coming your way, come on.” he shouted excitedly “Catch them frogs. Catch them frogs. They're coming, little man! Get 'em! Get that net in there and get 'em!” 

You trashed around some more before Carl brought the net close to him

“Just dirt” Carls face dropped, “maybe they’re somewhere else?” you said. Shane just shrugged his shoulders “All right, we've got to start over. Come on, let's find this bucket” You helped Shane with the bucket, plunging yourself underwater

When you came back up you saw Lori coming down the path and stopping in front of Carl “Hey, Carl, what did I tell you about not leaving Dale's sight?” you waded over to them and sat down on a rock

“But Shane said we could catch frogs, remember?” Carl argued “Yeah, we were just about to move to another bank,” you told her as you ringed some water out of the bottom of your shirt.

“It doesn't matter what Shane says. It matters what I say. Go on back to camp” she guided him up and out “I'll be right behind you, and you can stay if ya want Y/n” As Carl walked away you just looked at yourself self “I  think im gonna ask for a towel first” you waded through the water trying to get to the women washing clothes

You could hear Shane and Lori, talking but could only make out bits and pieces of it “You stay away from my son. You don't look at him. You don't talk to him” You heard Lori say “hell you should stay away from Y/n”, the more you moved the less you could hear. Finally, you made it to Amy, Andrea, Jacqui, And Carol. With Ed, not far away.

“H-hi, do you guys have a towel?” Jacqui looked at your soppy wet clothes.

“my lord child, you look like you just walked through a hurricane” She put the piece of clothing down and began to look around “All we got is a wash rag sweetie” You took the rag from her, thanking her, and began to dry your self the best you could so you weren't sopping wet when you went to change

Juqci went right back to work, and Ed was right behind them smoking. You could feel his eyes on you “Hey, why don't ya maker yer self useful and start washin’ them there clothes” he pointed to a pile by Jacqui. You looked at them and noticed Andreas' face was full of annoyance

“Ed tell you what,” she got up, walking towards him “you don’t like how your laundry is done, you're more than welcome to pitch instead of telling a kid to” She threw some clothes at him “Here”, he caught them and threw them back at her face

Amy got up trying to stop Andrea from blowing her lid “aint my job missy” he took a puff of his smoke.

“What is your job Ed?” at this point, you stopped to watch Andrea fight with Ed “Sittin’ on your ass all day smoking cigarettes?” he flicked his smoke by her feet 

“it sure as hell ain't listening to some uppity smart-mouthed bitch tell ya what” he looked at Carol “Come on, let's go” Carol got up meekly, with an apologetic look on her face. You didn't know her super well but she always looked small and scared

“I don't think she needs to go anywhere with you, Ed” Andrea got in carols way, blocking her from Ed 

“And I say it's none of your business. Come on now. You heard me.” Carol walked up trying to pass Andrea but she tried to convince her to stay, but Carol just didn't listen “Hey, don't think I won't knock you on your ass just 'cause you're some college-educated cooze, All right?” he pointed his stare at carol “Now you come on now or you gonna regret it later.” he gritted through his teeth

“So she can show up with fresh bruises later, Ed” Jacqui stated, your eyes widened from shock “Yeah, we've seen them.” they all started to surround Ed while he laughed, getting angry by the second 

“Stay out of this. Now come on! You know what? This ain't none of y'all's business. You don't want to keep prodding the bull here, okay? Now I am done talking. Come on” he ranted, he grabbed carols arm and started to walk away with her 

You all started to protest, you even grabbed onto her shirt, pulling it lightly “Carol, you don't have-” All of a sudden Ed yelled

“YOU DON'T TELL ME WHAT! I TELL YOU WHAT!” then he struck Carol across the face. All hell broke loose as they started to grab at Ed, trying to get him away from Carol as he tried to get at her. Eventually, you and Amy pull Carol away, and you can hear her sob in Amy's arms

Then all of a sudden Shane came in and started to drag Ed away. Jacqui pulled you behind her, shielding you. Shane threw him on the ground, he started to punch him, standing over him. You could hear Carol yelling for him to stop. Even the others were yelling at him to stop, saying he was going to kill him.

You watched in shock as he pummeled the guy. His face was all red and swollen by the time he was done “You put your hands on your wife, your little girl, or anybody else in this camp one more time, I will not stop next time. Do you hear me? Do you hear me?!” he yelled at him, Ed gave a weak yes. “I’ll Beat you to death Ed, I’ll Beat you to death!” he punched him one last time before he got up

Carol was crying as she ran to her “husband”. Apologizing to him like it was her fault he got beat for hitting her, even though he struck her first starting all this. Shane walked away, and you followed him, not wanting to hear any more of Carol's sobs.

*

It had been about an hour since you saw Shane beat Ed, you'd been hiding in the RV. Shane did come by to apologize, saying you shouldn’t have seen that. You just shrugged, saying he deserved it for hitting her.

Eventually, you left the RV and climbed the ladder to the roof to sit with Dale

“Hey kiddo, I see you got some dry clothes on?” you smiled and sat in one of the deck chairs closest to him, “how are ya, kid? I heard you saw what happened down at the quarry” 

“Im okay, rather not talk about it” You brought a knee up to your chin “I finished the book though!” you looked at Dale with a smile.

“Ohh, and what did you think of it?” he was looking off into the distance, since that rotter came into camp, more people were on high alert.

“It was okay, i kinda predicted that the man would come out of nowhere, helping the crime bosses” you started to explain “Then turn around and help him then disappeared again, never to be seen again,” you said in that ‘spooky’ voice people do

Dale chuckled as he looked around, his eyes stopped in one area. He brought his binoculars up to his eyes, you noticed this and walked up beside him “What is it?” he looked down at you, handing you the binoculars 

“Im not sure, it looks like Jim is diggin’ something” You look through and it is as Dale told you, Jim was hard at work digging something over the cliff overlooking the camp “We should probably check it out” he started walking towards the ladder so you followed him

When you walked up to Jim, he was hacking away at the dirt, it was hot as hell outside, making you think he was crazy, but dale was worried for him.

“Jim? You okay? You keep this up, you're gonna keel over out here. Drink some water at least.” you stepped over to him “I brought you some water.” you offered him but he just kept digging, didn't even look at you or Dale as you spoke.

You turned to Dale not knowing what to do. 

You and Dale began to walk down the path deciding to tell people about it, scared for Jim's safety. You got the camp to see everyone surrounding Amy and Andrea. They went fishing earlier, and from what you could see they caught plenty of it.

“Hey Dale” Andrea called to him “When's the last time you oiled those line reels? They are a disgrace.” she joked. But you and Dale still kept your concerned faces

“I, uh, I don't want to alarm anyone,” he started “but we may have a bit of a problem.” he pointed towards the cliff Jim was at.

“He’s been at it for hours, based on how many holes he dug” you pointed out to Shane as he came up to see for himself “We tried to offer him water but he didn't respond or even look at us” you added, Shane just hmmed, “lead the way” he started to walk so you and Dale showed him, some other decided to follow to.

When you got up there you could see that Jim was already starting a new hole.

“Hey, Jim.” he tried to grab his attention “Why don't you hold up, all right? Just give me a second here, please.” Jim looked at Shane with an annoyed look on his face.

“What do you want?” he asked with an aggressive tone, he noticed all the people staring at him with concerned looks, you still had the water in case he wanted some.

“We’re all a little concerned, thats all man” he stopped his shoveling and looked at all of you, “Dale and Y/n say you’ve been up here for hours” Moreles interjects “I tried to offer you water but you just ignored me” you walked up to Jim and offed the water again.

Jim just gave a strange look, like it was normal “So?” Shane countered “So, what ya diggin’?” Jim looked down, trying to find his answer, the air was thick with worry and Shane tried to fix “Are you trying to head to China Jim?” he joked.

“What does it matter? Im not hurting anyone” he went back to digging his hole and Dale stepped up to talk to his friend. 

“Yeah, except maybe yourself. It's a hundred degrees today.” he gestured to the woods “You can't keep this up.” his voice was laced with concern for his friend. But Jim just scoffed and kept up with his digging “Sure I can, Watch me.”

Lori walked up from behind, standing next to Dale with her arms crossed “Jim, they're not gonna say it so I will. You're scaring people. You're scaring my kids and Carol's daughter.” you were taken aback when Lori described you as her kid.

But Jim didn't share your reaction, instead, he got defensive “They got nothing to be scared of. I mean, what the hell, people? I'm out here by myself.” he started to get more and more defensive as he talked “Why don't you all just go and leave me the hell alone?”

He got back to digging once again as Shane exchanged glances with the others. 

“We think that you need to take a break, okay? Why don't you go and get yourself in the shade? Some food maybe.” he put his hands on his hips like he didn't know what to say.

“I'll tell you what… maybe in a little bit I'll come out here and help you myself. Jim, just tell me what it's about. Why don't you just go ahead and give me that shovel?” Jim stopped again, giving Shane an attitude when he talked.

“Or what” he stared at Shane with annoyance.

“There is no or what. I'm asking you. I'm coming to you and I'm asking you, please. I don't want to have to take it from you.” you could tell things between them were getting tense. Jim stood in front of Shane, with the shovel on his shoulder.

“And if I don't, then what? Then you're gonna beat my face in like Ed Peletier, aren't you?” he looked around at all of you “Y'all seen his face, huh? What's left of it.” he yelled “See, now that's what happens when someone crosses you” he leaned into Shane's face. Shane looked like he wanted to yell at Jim

“That was different, Jim.” Shane started to defend himself before you and Amy started defending him 

“You weren't there. Ed was out of control. He was hurting his wife” Amy spoke up first “Yeah, he hit first, Shane was just helpin’ Carol” Jim started yelling at you all

“That is their marriage. That is not his.” he pointed in Caroal's direction, and she looked away in shame “He is not judge and jury. Who voted you king boss, huh?” Shane just shook his head and walked up to Jim, he asked Jim to hand over the shovel but Jim just kept it away, walking away from Shane

Jim pushed Shane away and began to try and hit Shane, but he ducked just in time. You gasped and jumped away, and hid behind Dale. he put an arm in front of you shielding you in case. When Jim missed Shane got up and tackled him to the ground. 

Jim started yelling at him, saying he had no right, as he subdued him to the ground. He pinned his arms behind his back like he was arresting him. Shane tried to calm him down the best he could but nothing worked as Jim continued to freak out.

“Jim. Jim, nobody's gonna hurt you. You hear me? Shh. Jim, nobody is gonna hurt you, okay?” Shane tried and tried but nothing worked. Instead, it sparked Jim's fear more.

“That's a lie. That's the biggest lie there is. I told that to my wife and my two boys. I said it 100 times. It didn't matter.” you could see from behind Dale that jims eyes were getting wet, from tears 

“They came out of nowhere. There were dozens of 'em. Just pulled 'em right out of my hands.” you couldn't help but relate to him, it’s how to ended up here in the first place “You know, the only reason I got away was 'cause the dead were too busy eating my family.” he was so quiet, and sad. You walked away and headed down the path. You felt tears stroll down your cheeks thinking of your momma.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Next // We Ate Some Fish And Things Got Crazy

Previous // I Met Two Old Guys In The Woods

Taglist // @your-shifting-gurl, @underrated-jellygirl

// Masterlist //

[dearestones]

In the Middle (Yandere! Brian Thomas x Reader x Yandere! Tim Wright)

Warnings: Yandere character, yandere behavior, creepy behavior/invasion of personal space, etc. 

Anonymous Request: Hiya Devin. Could I request a yandere Tim and Brian from Marble Hornets with a darling that is best friends with Alex please?

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“Hey, you two!” You beamed at Tim and Brian as you walked in through the doorway, a skip in your step and a gleam in your eyes. You had just come in from a statistics exam, and while you did not study as thoroughly as you hoped, the test was easier than you had thought. “Have you seen Alex?”

Nerves still thrumming in excitement, you had decided that you wanted to celebrate despite not knowing what your grade was. If you celebrated now, you wouldn’t have to mourn later when you found that your test was marked in red to hell and back. And if it did turn out that you had passed—and with a high score—then you could go out and party all you liked! That meant twice the happiness and twice the fun!

And you knew who you would have liked to hang out with most. 

Alex and his girlfriend Amy. 

You had met Alex one day while you were walking around the campus without a care in the world. You don’t quite remember why you decided to walk around the hallways, but you glad you did. You happened across a group of students auditioning for a new short film (Marble Hornets, you think it was called) and had ended up watching some of it unfold. 

In the midst of the auditions (well, there were only two auditions), you observed how the student filmmaker handled directing and talking to the somewhat shy student who continuously referred back to the script. It was cute and heartwarming, it made you remember that humanity was not always cruel or cold when it mattered most. As soon as the student auditions were over (again, it didn’t take long because… again… only two people came to audition), that’s when you got to know THE Alex Kralie. 

You had heard of him in passing. He wasn’t one of the more popular students on campus, but those who frequented the filmography classes and were close to film majors all knew about him. He was an aspiring filmmaker, wide eyed and innocent, and wanting to be as great as Tarantino, Spielberg, or even Hitchcock! Normally, you wouldn’t have thought about talking to him, much less becoming friends, but this was different. 

You were intrigued. 

The way Alex handled Tim’s more than apparent shyness and worked with Brian’s inherent charm, it was like watching a master at work. Yes, you knew that Alex’s scripts left a lot to be desired and you bore witness to Seth’s and Jay’s attempts to subtly edit the script and the direction before Alex could catch on, but you could not deny that the film—at its core—had its charms.

It would be pretentious, for sure, but what student filmmaker out there didn’t create a movie that wasn’t a little bit pretentious?

Aside from the filmmaking, you also realized that Alex was such a great softy at heart as well! He had a wonderful golden retriever named Rocky, a big fluffy furball who was always eager to leap and kiss you with his long, slobbery tongue. You were charmed when you met the beast, but you were instantly enchanted when you met Amy. 

She was beautiful and kind: the entire package that any man could have killed for. 

And what better way to realize just how good of a guy Alex was than the quality of his girlfriend? Both of them were great people, creative and mischievous at heart. There were moments when you felt like you were intruding in their personal space, but they always had time for you to hang out and talk about the mundane (school) to the coolest things (Alex’s propensity to make a trainwreck of a film without making too many references to edgy movies) . 

You were also great friends with the rest of the group! Sarah always had a quip ready on her lips—she always tried to clean up the scripts so that her “acting” would look more natural but alas. Alex would have none of that. 

The cameraman, Seth, was quiet, but he also had a cute dog that liked to play with Rocky whenever he would bring his own little pup along to shoots. 

Jay, the script supervisor… was a bit of an oddball. He knew that Alex’s script wasn’t the best thing in the world, but he didn’t try to change it too much even if he technically held more power than most of the other crew members and could have easily convinced Alex to tighten and make things more clear if he so wished. He didn’t look like a pushover, so you could only assume that he saw something worth saving in Alex’s vision… which was weird, to say the least, but nothing too concerning. 

And finally… 

The two main actors who elevated the production from campy to… somewhat emotional and grounded. 

Both Brian and Tim were great friends who must have met a bit before the Marble Hornets’ auditions. While they seemed to look like polar opposites (Tim was reserved and snarky while Brian was all smiles and jokes). The both of them had never really acted before, but you wouldn’t have realized that from the few scenes that you managed to watch over Seth’s shoulder as he edited some of the footage to fit Alex’s picky directions. 

They bounced off each other well and often hung out together. In fact, while you rarely saw Alex, it was more likely that you’ve seen Brian on campus. Maybe it was the fact that he was a psychology major, but he was a social butterfly. Every time you happened to go out to a party or ate in the cafeteria, you always saw him hanging around a group of people. No matter what, he was always surrounded with laughter and smiles. 

Tim, on the other hand, wasn’t as well liked as his peers. That isn’t to say that he was a horrible person, but compared to Brian he was a wallflower who wilted if more than two people looked his way. Up until a few weeks ago, you wondered how Brian convinced Tim to audition before Alex had told you that it was him who gave him the opportunity. 

Again, you were floored by how kind and giving Alex was. 

Amy was a lucky girl. 

“Alex?” Brian looked up at you, an easygoing smile on his handsome features that was somewhat marred by the strange look in his eyes. Honestly, you didn’t pay too much attention to Brian (you were actually really interested in the behind the scenes crew, much to Alex’s and Seth’s delight), but now that you were here… His eyes seemed a little too hard, like an uncut gem that had yet to be polished to gleam. “What do you need him for?”

Beside Brian, Tim paused in the middle of tuning his guitar, his strong, sturdy fingers resting along the strings. Despite him staring at his lap, you could see that his knuckles were a stark white compared to the rest of his skin. He wasn’t tanned, but he was not as pale as Alex or Brian.

Tension lined Tim’s shoulders—had he stopped breathing for a moment?—before he seemingly forced himself to relax. 

“Oh, ummm…” You rocked a little on your heels, not willing to divulge your excitement to them. Yes, you were proud of it, but in front of two up and coming actors like these guys? Telling people you actually trusted like Alex and Amy was something to be expected and encouraged! You loved them dearly and you knew that even if it turned out you failed, they would be the first in line to pick up a tub of your favorite ice cream and make you a filling homemade meal to drown out your sorrows. 

But telling Brian and Tim? 

Yeah, you knew them, but you didn’t know them. 

You felt a little awkward waffling in between your decisions, so you decided not to tell them the full truth. It’s not like you needed to tell them anything. 

You just wanted to know where Alex was. 

“Not important. I figured he’d be here since I think he said that he wanted to go over some lines with the both of you but since I don’t see him—”

You made as if to leave, but before you could—

Brian hopped up from the couch and strode towards you, that easygoing smile on his face causing your stomach to churn and your palms to sweat. There was something… There was something about this situation and you were just now picking up on it. Before you could make an excuse or make a break for it, one of Brian’s arms draped itself over your shoulders before he began guiding—shoving—you towards the couch. 

The thing is, instead of forcing you to sit at a comfortable distance so that you were on one side of the couch, you found yourself squished in between Tim, who was now staring at you with a startled, but satisfied look in his eyes, and Brian, who continued to leave his arms on your shoulders. In between the both of them, you felt yourself grow irritated and antsy—it was much to warm in between them! And it felt like you were suffocating from their presence alone. 

Squished as you were, you were keenly aware of how Tim’s thigh was pressed up against yours, while Brian leaned in closer, almost as if he couldn’t get enough of your presence. 

“Why leave? Who knows, Alex might drop by…”

“Soon?” 

Perhaps it was the hope evident in your tone, but you found that Brian was gripping you tighter now and even Tim looked a little less…  meek. 

What was going on? Alex had never indicated that either of his actors were people to look out for. In fact, he spoke highly of them. There had been times when he would complain that they were trying to 'sabotage' his work, being too picky and highly critical of the delivery of some of their lines, and so on. For the most part, you tried to stay out of the drama, but even you knew that Alex wasn't a saint either.

Actually, for the past few weeks... He had been acting weird.

A little standoffish. A little cold.

There was something off about him, but you assumed that it was the stress from trying to juggle his passion with a parttime job and school.

The thing was, Alex being weird could be easily explained.

This... Whatever was happening with Tim and Brian could not.

"Stay a little bit."

Tim glanced at you, his southern accent a little thicker than usual. Carefully, he placed his guitar onto the floor, so that all of his attention was focused solely on you. His dark brown eyes bore into yours and you felt your mouth felt dry.

Alex had been acting weird. Erratic.

This...

Whatever Tim and Brian were up to, you wanted no part in it.

"Ha ha ha." You tried wriggling away, even pushing against the couch so that you could gain leverage, but Brian’s arm would not budge and even Tim’s fingers—the same fingers that had been lackadaisical in plucking his guitar strings— were inching closer towards your arm. 

You were trapped. 

“Guys, this isn’t funny anymore.” Actually, it hadn’t been funny in the first place. “Come on. Alex isn’t here, so I’ll just leave, okay?” 

You were facing Brian at that point, foolishly thinking that since he had been the more outspoken of the two would also correlate to him also being the more dangerous one, but you were mistaken. No sooner did you try reasoning with Brian did Tim lean over your shoulder, his warm breath heavy and hot against the sensitive skin of your throat. His scent enveloped, cloying and almost mesmerizing as you tried to lean away from his intrusion. However, that only led to you unconsciously leaning into Brian. 

This situation was confusing. Terrifying. 

You didn’t want to get violent, to hurt someone you barely knew, but at the same time, you didn’t like where this was heading.

Already, Tim was hugging you from behind, his thick, muscled arms holding you in pace as he nuzzled the area in between your shoulder blades. Meanwhile, Brian simply leaned back and gestured for you to follow suit. Did he seriously expect you to follow him, so that he could… What? Hold you close to his chest? So that you would be sandwiched in between them?

“Stop. I said stop!” 

With strength that you either did not know you had or had been reserving for moments of crisis, you ripped yourself away from Tim’s hold and nearly tripped over yourself as you headed towards the door. Behind you, you could hear both of the young men clamber to their feet, their shoes thudding ominously on the floor. 

It didn’t matter to you.

You were going to leave. 

You were going to talk to Alex and then—

“Oh, hey.” Alex tiredly wiped a hand down his face, his hazel eyes taking in your harried appearance in a mixture of concern and bemusement before his eyes trailed behind you, presumably observing Tim and Brian stopping only a few steps away. “Um…”

Choosing not to wait for Alex’s inquiries, you took hold of his wrist and began dragging him out of the apartment, making sure that the door was shut behind you.

“We… we need to talk. About them.” You continued to haul him by the wrist. “Please.”

And Alex, kind and generous Alex, simply nodded at you. “Alright then. Hit me.”

.

.

.

DISCLAIMER: I do not condone yandere behavior outside of fictional settings. Please don’t mistake the actions of fictional characters displayed in works of fiction to be considered harmless in real life.

If you want to donate a Ko-Fi, feel free https://ko-fi.com/devintrinidad.

MARBLE HORNETS MASTERLIST

[phoenixflames12]

Monica/morse for 21 “on a piece of insecurity”? 🥰🥰💕

‘Dev? My darling?’

A shard of light slips under the bathroom door as Monica pushes it open. The children have all been put to bed, the strains of Taneyev’s Piano Quintet in G Major rising and falling through the radio that sits on the little bedside table. Morse sighs, staring back at his reflection in the shadowed light. An older man stares back at him, thin and worn with worry lines creasing his forehead, wrinkles carving into his cheeks. Grey curls catch at his temples, crowsfeet caught against his eyes.

The birthday things have been cleared away, the banner that the children had made still strung up in the kitchen.

The dark eyes that he loves so much shimmer with tears as she blinks back at him, reaching to stroke his cheek.

‘What’s the matter?’

Gently, she cups his face in her hands, stroking the line from cheek to jaw. Her hand closes over his fingers, tracing the line of his wedding band.

On instinct, he tugs at his cuffs, hoping that she hasn’t seen.

Monica sighs softly, her fingers catching against his shirt.

Memories seem to swirl between them then, caught in the soft bathroom light.

Memories of sitting with her in the maternity ward cradling Tansy and Joy, the softness of her smile telling him that everything would be all right.

He sighs, the span of the years stretching out before them.

‘Monica -Darling, are you- Are you sure that you wouldn’t want someone younger?’

For a moment, she is quiet, her hands resting over his heart. A quirk of a small, sad smile pulls at the corners of her lips.

‘Dev. Darling. You’ve given me four wonderful children. You’ve taught me so much. I wouldn’t change any of it for the world, my love. Any of it.’

He sighs softly, thinking back to being eighteen and lying on Cyril and Gwen’s kitchen floor, hoping that if the end came, it would come quickly. Remembers the agony of standing in the bathroom, watching the blood from his wrists swirl in a mess of rusted iron against the sink.

‘And you’re not old!’

She reaches up and strokes back a stray curl out of his eyes, kissing him gently.

‘You’re just short of forty five. There’s plenty of time left for us yet.’

He exhales slowly, wishing that he could share her hope.

Remembers Dorothea holding him, pressing the scarf that his Mam had given her before her deployment to Korea- against his wrists, willing him back to her.

Remembers waiting for her at Axminster Station, a moonlit walk down to the Cobb, listening to the crash of the waves against the sea wall. It had been a rare free evening out of the confines of rehab and the feeling of freedom had been both exhilarating and terrifying at the same time,

Remembers the sound of his name in her mouth- soft and sweet and hesitant.

‘Dev? My darling?’

‘It’s been so long since you- Since anyone called me that,’ he had murmured back.

‘I’ll call you Dev every day for as long as you like,’ she had replied. Had gently squeezed his hand. He had sighed, had looked out over the sea towards the headland, a speck of bobbling light signalling a fishing boat far out on the inky gleam of the horizon.

‘I don’t deserve you,’ he had replied, feeling the salt sharp slap of the sea against his skin. ‘You- You’ve been so strong through all of this whilst I’ve just fallen apart. I’m sorry, Mon. I’m so sorry.’

‘You gave so much of your strength away,’ she had replied just as quietly, a slight wobble caught in her voice as she had squeezed his hand. ‘There wasn’t any left for me or the children.’

‘I suppose I just- I never expected to get old.’

She is quiet, her hands shivering slightly as she chews her lip, considering him.

‘What- What do you mean?’

He swallows thickly, feeling the words catch in his throat.

‘I- I always assumed and- And maybe sometimes I intended- to be dead by forty. I never thought that I’d- I never thought that I could get this far.’

‘Oh, my love.’

Gently, Monica draws him close, her fingers catching under his cuffs, resting over his scars. The kiss is soft and full of memories. Of standing under the sparkle of fireworks on that Bonfire Night, of the births of each of their children, his tired, proud, beautiful wife resting in his arms.

Of her holding him through his darkest moments, his compass, leading him home.

‘I love every part of you, my darling,’ she murmurs now, breaking through his thoughts.

‘Even the parts that you think are too broken to show. I promise.’

Send me a Ship and a Number and I will Write a Kiss

[writefightandflightclub]

Hospitable wolves (Marc Spector x fem!reader)

Summary: it’s in your nature to keep digging, even when some things should remain buried.

Author’s note: It’s not what you think. It’s not what I expected. Who knows if it even works. I had no idea where this was going when I started writing, so hopefully you won’t either? Try it and find out? 😝

GIF by @marc-spectorr 🧡

Warnings: author chose not to use full content warnings. ⚠️By continuing to read you are confirming you are OVER 18 and consent to read adult themes. ⚠️ (Main themes are: post-coitus acts/chat, one night stand set-up, sex mentions, nudity etc. canon typical mentions of violence, supernatural elements obviously, smoking)

All you had wanted was a willing cock to bounce on for the night. You didn’t want any strings. Hell - you barely even wanted a name.

It’s formulaic by this point. You don’t beeline for the “best-looking” person in the bar. You aren’t wooed by the one with the best chat on Tinder. Instead, you choose a target who is overwhelmingly… underwhelming. Someone you just know you would clash with further down the line. Who possesses some glaringly obvious character flaw. Nothing major, of course - simply some kind of trait or mannerism which happens to irk you. Someone perfectly “average” from head to toe; so that you are never in any danger of growing too attached.

You chalk your smash and dash approach up to a penchant for efficiency. To a dislike of the drama that so often follows on the coattails of entanglement. But, in truth, it’s because the last thing you need right now is to fall for anyone. This way, if you’re not invested in them beyond a quick lay? It’s easy to move on.

This strategy usually serves you but… tonight?

Tonight: oops.

Inadvertently, the man you’ve pulled tonight is anything but average.

His name’s Marc.

And he might be a little (lot) harder to forget.

“That was fun,” you praise curtly, surging off his softening dick with an audibly wet slide, leaving him gleaming. Smelling of you, like you’ve marked him as your territory. His hatch of dark hair is dampened by your juices, tight curls flattened; glossed to his skin. His eyes are closed - with a heavy crescent swoop of his lids - and you don’t wait around for him to open them.

You are practically up and off of him before he’s finished pulsing his creamy load up into you, disappearing into the bathroom immediately to clean up. To let his seed slip out of you. To swipe your own nectar from your cunt and thighs and flush it away. To start the process of moving on. Never getting attached.

When you return to the room, nude and sated and tacky-skinned, the air is still thick with sex.

Overpoweringly so.

You cross to the modest skylight, and, you quickly throw it open, the cool London air kissing your hot skin. It awakens the sound of the city streets. The distant blare of sirens and shush of cars. The white glow of the crescent slice in the sky which makes your skin itch with possibility. The night is soft like velvet, urban creatures slinking through the dark, each on the hunt for something.

A bit like you, you ponder.

At least, you found what you were prowling for, tonight.

You toss your head over your shoulder, and you see that Marc has finally managed to peel his eyes open. You are suddenly extra grateful for the cold curling around your body, as it subdues the trickle of molten honey his stare pours down your back.

You try not to imagine the last time his eyes had locked with yours. That lethal stare as he had clawed at your hips and fucked up into you, his lips curling back into a snarl, teeth bared.

His thrusts had thrown you forward on to your arms and that’s when he had melted. When you had refused to give into his dominance, claiming back control and undulating on him until he melted into the mattress - limp and crooning broken noises, his chin tipped up towards the eaves like a pyramid as he fell apart for you with ragged breaths. Hands fisting in the sheets like he would tear them up. His hips stuttering and thighs shaking under you. His mouth locked in a disbelieving, open-mouthed “o” like he was about to fucking howl.

Now, however, you attempt to play it off coolly, unbothered - like your own orgasm wasn’t entirely Earth-shattering - despite the giddy, cock-drunk sway still lingering in your body. You hope too that his own end was deep and hard enough that it drowned out the way you were convulsing on him, jittering thighs and eyes rolling up to the night sky too, like a wolf about to bay at the moon.

You sneak a glance back at his body, still flattened into the mattress, the damp and rumpled sheets curling and clinging to his limbs like bandages. Your eyes trail down his whole, sheened body, slick enough with cum and sweat that he could open up an x-rated slip n slide. His curls pushed into an errant flower crown from the tipping back of his head as he had writhed it into the pillow whilst under you.

His chest is still heaving with jagged breaths and his broad hand settles over his right pec, as though his heart is beating out of all control. Coming down hazily, gently, he flicks his hooded gaze towards you with a greater intensity and you look away in haste, scrubbing your eyes clean of any tells.

Yeah. You could try to look at him as though he isn’t the most beautiful man you’ve ever had spread-eagled beneath your writhing body, but you know that in this moment, any such attempt would be futile. Just looking at him all fucked and used churns your stomach. Makes fresh desire seethe molten out of you.

“Fun. Yeah,” he finally responds the moment you’d forgotten having made any statement at all. He speaks as though he’s remembering language clumsily - like he’s had to decipher it painstakingly from symbols carved in stone.

Your lips curl smugly, as it is evident that he thinks “fun” as a descriptor is underselling what just went down. You take more than a little pride in that. In how much you’ve levelled him.

You try not to think about how he had brought you straight down with him, of course.

“Can I smoke?” You move to retrieve your cigs from your jacket where it is strewn on the floor at the foot of the bed.

His brow notches as he studies you further, watching you waltz through his apartment like you own the place. You are standing at the feet-end of him now, one hip jutted out and just looking at him, that playful smirk still catching on your mouth. Marc pushes himself up, hitching his elbows behind him to elevate his torso off the bed. And, he looks down at his dick as though checking it’s still there. Perhaps he’s wondering whether the force of his orgasm might have obliterated it right off.

You look (happily) at the soft roll of him there as he rubs around the base of it without a hint of self-consciousness, massaging his thoroughly drained balls.

“You can smoke outta the window. But I gotta tell you - it’s harmful to your health.”

Oh. He’s American, you realise, as he finally manages to string a sentence together. You hadn’t done much talking up to now, and his moans had hardly been accented. His tongue could have been American or British or Spanish for all you knew. You hadn’t cared - you were just grateful to have it shoving against yours.

Still, you note now that this voice is a scratchy, Chicagoan thing - which appeals to you far more than you would like.

You place the death stick between your lips and speak around it as you cross to the window, drawing the lighter up to the tip and sucking until it seethes with a burnt sun. “Cigs kill you. Yeah. But orgasms add years to your life. I always make sure I’ve had more of the latter than the former.”

He’d certainly helped skew the scales in your favour tonight.

Marc looks hungrily, curiously in your direction. Whether he wants your mouth (again) or the fag though, you’re not entirely sure. “Alright. I can believe that.”

“You look like you want it,” you purr, leaving your statement ambiguous as to whether you mean the cig or your mouth.

Marc scoffs lightly, shuffling himself to the head of the bed and leaning against the frame, sitting more upright now. “There are…” - his brow notches as he seeks the words - “…two wolves inside of me right now.” His eyes tick back over to you briefly. He can never seem to hold your gaze for long, but you don’t mind that. It gives you a valuable opportunity to piece yourself back together every time he looks away. “One of ‘em really wants to take a drag. And the other wants to tell you to ‘put it out this instant’.”

You think one of his “wolves” is British. That’s fucking cute. Unusual, for definite, but cute nonetheless.

You take a drag around a subdued smile and blow it out into the night. “And what do you want to do, Marc?” It wouldn’t do to let the wolves dominate now, would it?

He hums in thought - a pleasantly low and robust sound. The tangled sheets cling to his sweat-sheened back, his muscles rippling in his densely packed shoulders as he shifts, swinging his feet over the edge of the bed. You experience the untenable urge to dance your fingers over his sculpted torso, unwrapping him like a gift, but he shrugs his shackles away as he stands, crossing to you naked.

Fuck, he’s hot. And he still has your juices at his crotch. Still has your lipstick smeared over his pretty mouth and impossible jaw and meaty pec. Your perfume thrumming on his smooth brown skin.

You’d swear you were getting wet again just looking at him… but you’re not sure you ever stopped.

Marc pads towards you with slightly unsteady, post-coitus legs, extending his hand out, and you offer the filter end of the cig to him. He takes a slow, heavy drag, coils of smoke wrapping around his head like mystical bandages as he leans out into the night, breathing out a cloud. His eyes close in ecstasy - just like they had a moment ago for you - and he looks so hot like this you sort of hope he doesn’t give it back to you.

Is it weird to consider paying someone to chain smoke in front of you? That’s got to be a red flag you’re waving, right?

He looks like he doesn’t belong here; someone so virile and potent amidst these aged wares and dusty books. He looks out of place in his own apartment. Incongruous to it. He looks like a rebel who’s just crashed his motorcycle into the library - and like he’s not even sorry about it, those curls cascading nonchalantly over his forehead and the stubble sprouting over his jawline only adding to the vibe.

Then, after taking one more deep drag, Marc pinches the lit end of the cigarette between his fingers, scrubbing out the tiny sun in a cloud of ash like he controls the night sky. Like the stars were hung by him.

The moon too.

You’d buy that.

He looks fucking divine enough to have power like that, you’d reckon.

“Compromise,” he states flatly as you watch him, not even irked that he has extinguished your cigarette. You find that Marc fulfils a much deeper craving anyway. Awakens several more desires you didn’t even know you had. “Gotta keep both wolves happy, or they’ll come back to bite me later.” He smiles almost whimsically at that, and it’s thoroughly disarming.

Your gaze nods down to the suck mark you’d left against the column of his neck. You’d bitten him - a different kind of wolf altogether.

His teeth glint like a crescent moon glow in the soft night, and, as you stand together - nocturnal animals - you ponder more closely on this analogy he’s running with.

Wolves.

Evidently, he must see himself as a man full of contradictions. Competing desires, perhaps? Multiple paths. Something in him racing. Blood under his skin. A hunger for something. You see it in the set of his frame; that he has such teeth.

You idly wonder if he was at all conflicted about you, or if all three wolves were in agreement. He’d certainly taken you out with the force of a pack.

There’s a line in a play that shunts itself to the forefront of your mind, in fact. I’ll gangbang you all by myself.

You feel your cheeks heat then, and your body shivers with the pleasant memory of everywhere Marc’s been tonight, a tourist in the country of your body.

He calls these desires in him wolves, and yet, there’s a certain… restraint about him now, you note. Outside of the primal, carnal acts you’d just performed, his movements are deliberate and regimented. His exterior almost unsettlingly cool.

It’s quite the contradiction.

Marc shifts uncomfortably then beneath your study, moving to gaze out of the window for a moment, his forearms leaning on the frame and shifting the coils in his muscled shoulders in an appealing way. You admire his side profile, but whilst he looks outward you look inward, leaning up against a beam and peering into the interior of his flat.

And, as you do so, you see Marc’s contradictions fall into even starker relief as you survey the space. As you drink your surroundings in with the new knowledge you have garnered since you fucked him.

You always think you can tell a lot about a person by how they fuck. How they come undone. Seeing the look someone gets when they are a mere moment away from unbecoming. Understanding what they cling to when the thread between Earth and the heavens is most frail; pulled taut.

You’ve seen many faces wrestle with that unbecoming - too many to count - and sometimes it strikes you as altogether too intimate.

Tonight was one of those times.

That moment, when the blends and bonds and borders between bodies and breaths and heartbeats and Earth and the heavens above seem most permeable - most brittle - can be a terrifying thing.

Giving yourself to someone.

Letting them take you.

It’s almost as though you are about to be subsumed by a beast; more base instinct than brain. It’s almost like you know what that person would look like if that thread truly snapped. If you snapped. Heaven and Earth almost touching and their soul almost nestling in the palm of some god or other, ready for their eternal sleep. It’s almost like a kill; that look. That little death.

It’s almost like you’re a monster.

Your heart begins to race and drum as your thoughts do too, the musings taking on a galloping rhythm.

Yeah. You can tell a lot about a person from fucking them, you think.

And so, you wonder what Marc had learned about you.

Your heart drums ever more wildly.

Sometimes, you can learn too much, you think, from an act so intimate and baring. Even more than you might care to see. That “too much” could be many things. It might be something which scares you. Gods forbid - something that makes you want more. Worst of all though, for you, it might be a mystery; because it’s in your nature to attempt to uncover secrets.

Unfortunately for you, a mystery is precisely what you saw in the yawning abyss of Marc’s blown-out pupils. And, that not a good thing. Not a good thing at all, because even when you should leave well alone, you can’t help but dig.

The red, parallel scratches over Marc’s undulating shoulder blades even exhibit your claws, liked you’d dug him out from under the Earth yourself - or, near buried him, your animal hands inflicting wounds as he fell into pain and exalted into paradise.

You were fucking. You were digging. Falling into the abyss of him. Waiting for his eyes to light up or go out. You were trying to know him entirely and completely; but only for a single moment. Trying to know him only in a fleeting way that meant you could still him leave behind.

And yet; here you still are.

I shouldn’t be here.

It’s strange, you think.

The look he got in his eye when he unbecame.

It’s a strange thought to have had, especially in that moment. That he had looked like a man who had died before.

You snatch in a breath and hastily redirect your racing thoughts.

He makes your blood run eager like a pack of wolves beneath your skin. Like your blood moon rising in the sky, and there’s only one other thing that has ever-

-Another breath.

A breath to slow you.

To refocus your instincts.

You pore over more details, if only to save you from looking at him any more, and you seek more clues. More fragments.

You find more contradictions.

The aesthetic of the place is dark and cosy and cluttered, but Marc’s outfit -before you’d shimmied it off of him - had been light and crisp and utilitarian. He’s hot as hell, but it doesn’t strike you that this place receives a lot of visitors - not even of the nocturnal variety. There is chaos and disorganisation in some areas, the walls and surfaces littered with incoherent strings of ideas and dreams. Postcards and pictures and books. And then, there are the more Spartan details amidst this. The carefully labelled and stacked varieties of protein powder. The tray containing his phone wallet and keys, each arranged into a routine and regimented formation.

Somethings don’t quite add up.

Then again… you note some details which do. The kippah resting on his bedside table, congruous with the glistening Magen David nestled around his neck. The American candies nestled in his kitchen, matching-up with his Chicagoan accent.

You try to, but in sum, you just can’t pin him. At least, it seems, not outside of those aforementioned carnal activities. Then, a frown weighing your brow, you remind yourself you’re not trying to. At least, you shouldn’t be. You’re not here to know him. To solve him.

You’re supposed to simply forget.

You should stop digging. You never know what your might find.

How it might change you.

How it might endanger you.

However, as you tip your head towards him again, Marc decides to make that difficult for you - forgetting. His earth-dark eyes trail up your body unabashedly, over your thighs and mound and hips and tits and lips and by the time his dark eyes meet yours it’s like he’s looking straight into the depths of you, as deep as he was just buried.

The image of his umber irises sears itself into your mind, and you’re not sure you’ll ever be able to scrub it out.

God.

He does this strong, silent routine all too well, and he’s pitching it just right; yet, you aren’t one to only read what’s on the surface. You quickly interpret that, on some level, that all seems slightly incongruous too. You have an inkling -from somewhere- that Marc desperately wants someone to talk to. Like he wants to speak, to spill himself, but like the words are locked in some tomb within him, screaming to be let out.

You just know you’re the fucking type to open the lid.

That’s the type of shit that’s gotten you in trouble before, after all.

You remind yourself that some secrets should simply stay buried, where they can’t hurt anyone.

So that you don’t hurt anyone.

A pain surges in you and it must flash in your eyes too as Marc appears to feel it. His eyes glance off of yours as though he is wounded, and you wonder at the fact time feels like it’s slowing. Every micro expression so loud. Every physical response so exaggerated, as though you could smell the pulse of your perfume thrumming on his skin. As though you could hear the drum of blood in his neck. As though you could taste the salt-slick on his skin.

Perhaps he is: wounded. Perhaps he is hurting too, like you.

Perhaps that’s what truly drew you to each other: pain and not pleasure.

Still, you hastily seek to bandage your wounds for now. You stick a plaster on them, and you pivot, moments before you spill yourself to him.

You almost choke as you draw back the words from the tip of your tongue and into your throat.

What would you even say to him, anyway? How would you ever hope to explain?

Perhaps you’d simply cry for help. Perhaps you’d plead with him to wrap you in the night sky like it’s a cloak and keep you safe from yourself. Keep the moon glow out and finally make it dark.

“Do you have any snacks?” you ask abruptly, not waiting for an answer as you turn and head towards the kitchen, wanting to push the intrusion of Marc’s stare away even as he’s already stopped looking.

His body hot and slick and taut against yours you can handle. You’re happy enough to to bare your tits, but you don’t wish to bare your soul too.

You fear that he’d find it monstrous.

“Uh. Maybe.” Marc’s voice is a croak, as though - even now- he is still fighting his way through the post-nut fog.

Shit. You should already be gone by now, you think. Should have left him crumpled into the sheets and falling asleep whilst you tugged on your dress and boots and scarpered. You meant to. Meant to do just that until you saw him lying there and all thoughts of leaving somehow fell out of your head.

It’s embarrassing.

What are you even doing?

Sure, he’s pretty, but can’t you get it together? It’s not a Twilight novel. It’s not like you’ve fucking imprinted on him and no longer have a choice in this.

Even so, here you still are, though you know not why.

It’s not even like you could go again. Three rounds from Marc -turns out- is about all you can take without comprising your bodily integrity; you fear if he had you again you would truly melt into a puddle on the floor. Disappear through the cracks in his floorboards and trickle down into the flat below.

You already feel like he’s changed the shape of you from the inside out, and you’re not sure you like that.

It’s like you’ve been compromised. And that’s a thing that’s happened to you before. A thing you didn’t much care for.

You dismiss the itch under your skin. Or; you try.

No - you’re not at all sure why you’re still here. But at least you can tell yourself -and him- that it’s because you’re snacky.

You twist you head back to him, over your shoulder, and you see him openly appraising your ass as you walk away from him.

“Have a look. Help yourself,” he says.

He took the words right out of your mouth.

You hear receding footfalls as Marc retreats to the bathroom, likely to wash himself up. You try not to read into his lack of haste to cleanse your marks from his skin as he does it too. In the background, you vaguely hear him pissing and washing up. Maybe even talking to himself in there a little bit as well.

Perhaps he’s having a conflab with those wolves of his, you think, before snort-chuckling to yourself at your internal monologue, like a cool person.

Then, you swing each of his creaky kitchen cupboards open in turn, searching for something tasty - although you fear you’ve left the tastiest thing of all behind you. As you do so, you rub an unexpected grittiness from the soles of your feet, slipping the arches of them against each calf in turn to release the residue. At first it feels like spilt salt - rough against your skin, until you look down and see… sand? Golden where it gathers, amassing in the creases between the floorboards.

“Did you go to Brighton or something?” you call over your shoulder as Marc pads back into the room.

“Just to the bathroom.” You smile softly at him being so literal.

Damn, he’s making you smile softly now? You need to leave, girl.

“No, I mean. Sand is afoot.” You nod down to the floor.

“Oh! I, uh…” Marc trails off and there is nothing more from him. You turn to see him heading over to his chest of drawers, and you assume that the matter is done.

“Alright. We can put a pin in it,” you mumble, mainly to yourself. Your tone is sarcastic, but with little to no venom behind it.

Maybe he really doesn’t want to talk.

You get that. That’s your whole deal.

And yet, here you still are.

I shouldn’t be here.

You open the next cupboard, and, once you establish there’s nothing in there which takes your fancy either, you close it with a sigh.

“Here,” he says finally, tossing you a pair of his balled up socks, which you catch in two hands. You glance back at him as you take them, and his mouth tips lazily up at the corners. Your own mouth slightly agape at the gesture, you nevertheless stoop to tug them on. They’re soft and squishy. “Not Brighton,” he responds finally. “Egypt. Cairo, specifically.”

“Oh, nice. Did you have fun?” You open up a third cupboard, shifting jars and boxes aside as you rifle through for something to fulfil your craving.

“Not particularly.”

“That’s rubbish. Work trip or something? What is it that you do again?” The “again” is merely for politeness. It’s not like you talked before coming here. Not really. At least; not with anything but your bodies.

You think back to it, the way your bodies communed in that bar. You’ve rarely -if ever- experienced such a primal magnetism.

You should have known then. Should have known this would be far beyond the practical, efficient connection you typically seek. This time, with Marc, it was something purely…animal, almost. Like the beast in you wanted to join with the beast in him. Howl at the moon together. All of that shit.

To you, that kind of unbecoming just sounds dangerous. Downright irresponsible.

“Well. Uh. Let’s see,” Marc says gruffly. “I work in a gift shop. And drive a cab. And… some other freelance stuff.”

You think again of those wolves he spoke of, pulling him in different directions. Then again, it’s tough to make ends meet in London without multiple jobs. The gig economy is notoriously rough.

You swivel your head towards him momentarily, more questions on the tip of your tongue, but you see evident tension roping through his body, his fingers clenching and unclenching into fists and so, you refrain. Swallow your questions down. You remind yourself that you’re not here to make friends.

“I’m an archaeologist,” you offer, even though he didn’t ask.

Marc laughs then. Actually laughs. Nervously scratches at the nape of his neck. “You’re fucking kidding me.”

“Nope.” You pop the “p”. “Something hilarious about that?”

He shakes his head and you back off again.

It’s almost too good to be true, you think. You’ve seen his books and statues. The obvious infatuation with ancient history.

What are the chances of that? The chances that you would hook-up and then have these things in common, as if by accident?

You tear yourself away, dropping yet another thread, and you open his fridge, rummaging around. Clicking your tongue as you find suspect cartons of leftovers or half opened tins of food.

Mentally, you begin to plan your escape - before you decide that you never want to stop looking at him and opt not to leave at all. It’s not as though he has you physically tethered, but somehow -for some reason- he’s holding you here.

From behind you, you hear Marc now padding around, a huff of air slicing through the dimness. Perhaps he’s just as eager to have you gone, and you feel a pang of shame. “I’ll order an Uber,” you call to him, throwing your voice in his general direction. “As soon as I’ve cleared you out of…” - you grab up the only viable item - “…pineapple chunks, looks like.” You crinkle your nose at the little tin of chopped fruit and check the date on it. It’s probably safer that you do - after all, everything else in here seems like an antique. A relic.

Long forgotten.

Lonely.

One of a kind.

Like you.

You turn to watch Marc, leaning yourself up against the rim of the counter, legs stretched out before you. You admire his rather chunky bum - Christ he’s deliciously wide in the hip vicinity - as he searches through his chest of drawers. You watch as he tugs on some tight black boxers and a soft, white t-shirt, rolling it down over his smooth, tan chest and stomach.

It… does things for you. Seeing him like that.

It’s the kind of t-shirt that’s a little ratty, but evidently comfortable. Only good for lazy Sundays, really. The kind of item suited to being covered in pancake flour, you think. The kind you could peel up over his torso as you licked up his abs and chest. You wonder if he’d even be ticklish, and whether he’d giggle. Even though nothing about his stern, closed-off vibe suggests giggle to you in the slightest, you’d like to see it.

You toss that thought aside quickly, however, and you dig into your pineapple chunks - instead of being tempted to dig further into him. The taste is sharp and acidic, and you find yourself wishing for something a little more salty.

After a few spoonfuls of pineapple, you toss the tub aside into the recycling and make a bleuch noise, wiping the tart juices from your mouth with the back of your arm.

“You’re, uh… leaving?” Marc asks gently, looking at a spot on the floor.

“Not going to move in, am I?”

His lips twitch, and his eyes travel up your form, still nude aside from his socks - tugged half way up your calves. “Why, did you have a round four in mind?” Your smile is positively wolfish as you regard him. You fall back on flirting. It feels safer.

His mouth purses and twitches, his eyes both desolate and lit for you, his desire as sunken and hot as the underbelly of a desert as he recalls your shared exploits.

“Sure,” he tilts his head to the side. “One wolf wants to take you again, but the other wants to cook you up some pancakes and wrap you in a fluffy blanket.”

Your breath stalls in your chest at the sweetness of his second offer, but you try like hell to keep your voice impassive. “And you? What do you want to do?”

You study him as he ponders.

Does he have to be so fucking handsome? Is there any need, by the way?

That white tee all cosy and inviting. His coal-black curls splaying in all directions, the softness of them the perfect counter to his angular features; that sharp, shapely jaw and prominent nose. His captivating eyes, and his hands laced together to the front of him, all thick and broad and inviting.

He bows his gaze. “I… just want to make sure you get home safe.”

Oh.

He just wants you to leave, you fucking idiot.

You’d protest, but you are decidedly trying to move on from this dalliance, aren’t you? Isn’t that the point?

So, instead, you clear your throat. Then, despite your promise to immediately order an Uber - as though you can’t bring yourself to, not quite yet - you saunter over to his desk, running your fingers over the stacks of books and scanning the covers and spines. You direct your energy towards them, if only to distract yourself from the bright glare of him in this dark, dim room.

Ancient Egypt. Fuck.

It’s not lost on you at all, that somehow, you have managed to find a stranger who has more in common with you than many of the connections you have laboured so closely over.

“So. What’s the deal with all of this?”

You shouldn’t dig, but you can’t help yourself.

You gesture idly around to the strewn pile of books, and he in turn looks around as if he’s about as familiar with it as you are. “Books,” he says, and you pump your eyebrows once.

“Yeah, I got that much.”

“Right,” Marc agrees softly, and, your naked body cooling now, a shiver runs down your spine. Your skin prickles with gooseflesh, all of your arm hairs standing on end. You shiver and it feels like cold fingers trying to interpret you from feeling down the binding of your body.

Your head whips around, with the distinct feeling of someone -or something- standing behind you; but in the next moment, you are thoroughly surprised as Marc steps up to you, wrapping a soft, knitted blanket around your shoulders. You grab hold and fold it around you like a cloak, and he turns bashful as you thank him, distracting you by peering over your shoulder to the collection of books.

Your fingers traverse his papers, as though you could feel the characters carved in relief in stone. “You speak Ancient Egyptian? And French?”

“Sometimes. And a little Arabic. Some Wakandan.”

God, he’s so intriguing.

“Where do you dig?” he asks you.

All the wrong places.

“Well… I mean. I quit recently. Things went a little sideways. But I was mostly focussed on the Ancient Greeks.”

Marc’s gaze dips to a shiny statue on his desk, almost like he’s conversing with it. Secrets you can’t hear. Then, he turns to you. “Ever been digging in Arcadia?”

You stiffen, a rod up your spine. Your hands clenching on the edges of the book you lifted up to examine.

You unhand the book and turn abruptly on your socked heels, hoping that your segue is not too suspicious, but fearing that it is anyway. “You know. I really should order that Uber.” You scoop up your clothes and boots from the floor, and hurriedly reclothe yourself, suddenly in a pronounced rush to leave. “This was fun, but I should head.”

You feel a little sick and anxious all of a sudden, like your danger sense is firing. Like suddenly, you have the feeling that meeting Marc was not accident at all. Not coincidence.

You plonk yourself on the short edge of his bed to muddle your boots on, and the shift in position places you eye level with more of Marc’s trinkets and statues. Your gaze had glossed over them before, but this time, in your heightened state, you see them differently. You recognise them for what they represent.

“You must really love the moon,” you venture, as levelly as possible. “You have a lot of lunar iconography.”

Marc circles you, and you can’t help but feel that his pacing resembles a beast closing in on its prey. His eyes tick over to the statue of Khonshu. “Love? Well, uh, not so sure I’d go that far.” He looks at you pointedly. “Let’s just say… we’re in a complicated relationship.”

“Oh God. I can relate to that,” you sigh and Marc’s eyes needle you as you lift the zippers on your boots, and next, you reach for your strewn handbag.

Your chest tightens.

He’s seeing you again.

He’s seeing too much.

You rise from the bed, and the hasty motion shakes something free from the frame which clinks loudly to the floor. Your head immediately whips towards it, your unease growing.

“Ankle restraints?” you question, your voice a little thin and stretched out. A little too high to sound casual. “None of that Ann Summers bullshit either,” you note nervously. “That’s a pretty heavy duty set-up.”

Turns out, you really do have more in common with the man than you could ever have guessed.

Fuck. You’re doing it again. You’re digging. And you’re trying to pin him, but instead you feel that with every new thing you say, you simply lose your advantage a little more. You’re saying too much. He’s going to pin you.

Does he know?

Your secrets?

It’s impossible though, because there’s no way he can know. And even if he did, there would be no chance he would believe you. Even so, your eyes are balling involuntarily with tears, and you’re so exceedingly glad when your phone pings in your palm. “Uber’s outside. I should really go, Marc.”

You gather up your coat and sling it over your arm, beelining to the door without so much as another glance in his direction.

Without looking back at him.

You’re an archaeologist - a historian - but you lost the passion for looking over your shoulder a long time ago. Some things should end, you think. Some things should remain buried.

This is it then, you think.

Simply another ending.

It’s almost over.

You can leave, and you can forget that you ever met Marc.

However, it seems the man has other ideas.

“Wait,” he calls, and his deep, gritty voice echoing off the eaves stops you in your tracks, as if you didn’t really want to go in the first place. As if you really could lower your hand from the half-twisted door knob and stay.

But that would be a lie. You know you cannot.

Still, it is a comforting lie for the moment you stop and pause there. For the moment you turn to face him, disobedient tears on your cheeks, Marc’s puppy dog eyes shimmering softly as he tries to get a read on you.

“Look. For what it’s worth. You don’t have to go if you don’t want.”

A gulp trails down your throat.

“Why would I stay?” It’s almost a challenge. Give me a reason.

He looks at you like he knows.

Like he knows your secrets.

He can’t possibly know, can he? But if he does? If he does, then he must have his own share of secrets too. That would be the only way he could understand.

Gods. How long you have searched for someone who might understand.

Still, as you stand squared off to each other, you doubt he’s going to share his secrets, and you most certainly aren’t going first.

You see hurt bloom in Marc’s eyes then, thick and glassy pain, and for a moment you think it is his own; that is, before you realise it is simply a mirror of your own.

Marc takes a couple of steps towards you then, closing a little bit of the distance. He looks primed to take another step towards you, but he seems to understand on some level that he has you cornered even with the door behind you, and that if he advances further you will only run.

Instead then, he raises his palms in the air, his manner soft and calm.

“I could make you pancakes, if you want. And we could figure it out.”

What would that look like? What would it look like if you stopped running? If you ever could?

You feel a knot tighten in your gut.

All of a sudden, you feel like there are two wolves inside of you as well.

One wants to leave, and the other? The other desperately wants to stay for pancakes, and find out what comes after.

Which wolf is going to win?

Whichever one gets fed, likely.

But the wolf inside you is a little too hungry.

“I’m sorry,” you croak. “But when I stick around, people get hurt, Marc. And I didn’t mean-” your face contorts as you stifle a sob, your eyes darting guiltily around the room. “I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

He knows, doesn’t he?

He knows what you did?

He knows you hurt them.

Marc does take a step towards you then, and then another, and another, closing the distance not with a threat, but - to your surprise- with an offer of comfort, his hand coming to gently cradle your upper arm.

You don’t know what he is going to say, but you never could have anticipated what would come out of his mouth next, his words as soft as moon glow. His eyebrows raise slightly, brow furrowing, and he nods his head. “I believe you.”

He knows, doesn’t he.

He knows what you are.

But could it really be, that he doesn’t find you monstrous?

You are even more certain now that Marc must have his own secrets too. After all, you can always spot the signs, and you always know just where to dig. The only thing you sucked at was predicting whether you might unearth a treasure or a curse.

That’s exactly how you got you into this mess in the first place, after all. So, for now, you opt to leave well alone. You opt to leave those secrets buried, where they can’t hurt you.

You pull away from his grip, extricating yourself. “This was fun, but I have to go, Marc.” You harden your expression, and you prepare to walk away. “The sun’s coming up, and I think we both know that wolves are nocturnal animals.”

You heart feels heavy as you retreat, and the shadows swallow you.

***

“Do you think it’s definitely her, Marc?” Steven asks as they watch you from the window, clambering gracefully into your Uber and slipping away into the remnants of the night.

“It’s her,” Marc says with certainty, his expression severe as he watches.

“Dios,” Jake says gravely.

Marc can instantly sense Steven getting all worked up, his face in the reflection of the pane twisting in panic. Marc’s muscles tighten in response.

“Bloody hell, Marc. We were supposed to catch the werewolf. Weren’t supposed to blinkin’ shag her, were you? What on Earth were you thinking?”

“Relax, Poppins,” Marc soothes, closing his eyes and pressing his flattened palm against the cool, smooth pane for a little comfort. “I didn’t know. Not really. Not until Khonshu butted in.”

“She’s a monster, Marc!”

“Para comerte mejor, dijo el lobo.” All the better to eat you with, said the wolf.

Marc sighs deeply. He can feel Steven’s rising panic and Jake’s thrill without even needing to see them. He feels it in his body.

Steven’s panic intensifies. “Oh right. Yeah. Blinder of a plan this is, innit? You just letting her out to roam the streets then, yeah? She’s a killer!”

“No!” Marc snaps, his eyes intense half-moons as they flip open to regard Steven, his palm pressing more harshly against the pane, his hand smearing a clammy trail of sweat there. His tone softens as soon as he sees Steven, his own hands twisting anxiously in his overly long sweater sleeves, but he doesn’t lose his conviction. “No, Steven. She’s not a killer.”

“Alright. Interesting theory. But aren’t you forgetting that pesky little body count which suggests otherwise?”

Marc’s eyes swim with pain, and he sees Steven bite his tongue as understanding dawns. He knows that Marc was told the same for far too long. Told that he was a killer too, for circumstances out of his control. For far too long, he had even believed it.

But, he didn’t believe that you were a killer quite so easily. He had seen the remorse in your eyes. He had recognised it. Recognised how it felt heavy.

Steven reads the resolve in Marc’s steely gaze, and he finally calms his panic as well as his protest. “Well. Alright. But if we’re not intending to kill her… What in the blinking hell are we going to do then, ey?”

Marc’s eyebrows pinch together, and he nods solemnly, looking up at the crescent slice of moon in the sky. “What happened to her wasn’t her fault. We’re going to help her. That’s our whole deal, isn’t it? To protect the travellers of the night?”

When Marc glances back at the pane, Jake’s face is grinning wildly back at him, in place of Steven’s. “Nos vamos a divertir mucho, jefe. ¿no te parece?” We’re going to have a lot of fun, boss. Don’t you think?

“Please. Fat lot of use you’ll be, Jake,” Steven chips in. “You’re a cat person.”

“Says the fish guy.”

Marc tries to tune their bickering out; but meanwhile, he can’t forget you.

You finding each other can’t have been an accident, he ponders. It has to be something more than coincidence.

Two beings bound by the moon?

It’s sort of poetic.

The End

(Please don’t spoil the wolfy reveal for other readers?! 🙏 I know it’s not a huge twist or anything - hella foreshadowing / metaphors were rife - but I’d appreciate it as I think it’s more fun if you don’t know right from the start? 🤪 Anyway, I hope you liked this? Honestly, this was a bit different and a bit of a risk maybe, but I had fun with it!)

[lulu24784]

washing machine heart | part 1

"I know who you pretend I am."

[AO3 Link]

next chapter

synopsis: | You're absolutely infatuated with Stan Marsh and have even started dating him! It should be a dream come true, but the truth is, he's only with you to make Wendy Testaburger jealous. To help you work through your emotions, you turn to Kenny McCormick, your best friend.

pairings: | kenny mccormick x fem! reader ; stan marsh x fem! reader ; wendy testaburger x stan marsh

cws: | angst, drug use/drug mentions, explicit language, sexual content, unrequited love, mental health themes / sh everyone is aged up to be 18+

Wendy Testaburger is everything you aren’t.

South Park High’s A+ student, Student Council President, and volleyball team captain. In addition to all of that, she is also incredibly sweet and beautiful. You didn’t have a single thing going for you against her. Everyone adores her. Everyone... And that includes your boyfriend, Stan Marsh.

Not long after Stan and Wendy’s past break-up, you two began dating, and you realized right away that he was taking advantage of you to make her jealous, fill the void, and have somebody nearby... But that was all right. You didn’t give a damn as long as you were standing next to him. But you knew.

Unfortunately.

You were willing to go to any length to help him heal his wounded heart and, in the process, make him fall in love with you. But your wishful thinking was simply that.

There was no denying the pain. You wanted to cry every time you saw Stan sneaking looks at his ex. In your mind, plenty of shouting and sobbing, along with large crocodile tears. Asking, “Why? Why not me!?”

Yet as Stan leans in for a kiss, your heart would snap you back to being the love-struck idiot that you are. The kisses caused your heart to race, but only briefly. He wasn’t nervous or on edge being near you. He wasn’t on the verge of vomiting every time you so much as spoke to him. Such feelings were reserved for his true love. You were merely a placeholder.

But oh, how you adored him. His black hair peeking out from beneath his red and blue beanie, his blue eyes gleaming when something piqued his interest... How cozy his hands felt as he took hold of yours. It wasn’t fair. How could someone so lovely exist if you knew you could never fully be with them? The tightness in your chest grew stronger with each passing day that you were next to Stan’s side. Sooner or later, there would come a point where you would no longer be able to play the part. Your emotions would eventually reach a boiling point and explode.

For now, you were content. Content with this little thing you had going with the person who you considered the love of your life. Even if he had eyes for another. Someday, you’d make him see you.

“[Name]...?”

It dawned on you that you had been daydreaming for far longer than you had planned and you blinked. You grinned sheepishly as you turned to face the person who had asked your name. “Haha, sorry Kenny. What were you saying?”

The blonde gave you an unimpressed look and pointed to the barely nibbled-on sandwich in front of you. “Are you going to eat your lunch? Or can I have it?”

“Ah, you can have it. I’m not feeling very hungry.” You murmured gently, clearly troubled by something.

Kenny gave you a raised eyebrow as he grabbed the sandwich and chomped it down like he hadn’t eaten in days. You knew that wasn’t entirely true, though, because you frequently offered him the majority of your lunch. Being his closest friend, you knew his family was having a difficult time. He has always gone above and beyond for you when you needed him most. Not paying it forward would be rude.

“So, what’s on your mind, princess?” Kenny spoke while still having a full mouth. How charming. “Don’t tell me it’s more bullshit about Stan.” His gaze averted.

“Honestly, it’s none of your business, McCormick... But yeah.” You exhaled a long, dramatic sigh of defeat as you hung your head. You didn’t even need to elaborate. Kenny was well aware of how you felt. “I just... He’s just so sweet! Ya know? Like, when he looks at me, I just...!” You cradled your face in your hands as you tightly closed your eyes. “He’s so cute.” Kenny grimaced as a lovely sigh escaped your lips.

“When’s the last time he took you out on a date? Or, y’know, treated you like his girlfriend?” Kenny gave your forehead a light flick.

The mention of a date caused your eyes to glisten. “We’re supposed to hang out today after school! When he’s done with football practice!” You began smiling warmly. “I think today will be the day! I’m gonna get him to fall for me. For real! He won’t even remember Wendy when I’m done.”

“Are you going to fuck him or something?” Kenny snorted and waggled his brows at you.

You stammered, blush forming on your cheeks. “Jesus Kenny! Is that all you think about?” Standing up from the lunch table, you gave Kenny a timid smile. “I’m gonna take him on the best date ever.” Kenny stood to lend a hand as you started to gather up the leftover lunch garbage from the table.

“And what does the best date ever, without sex, look like?”

You gave Kenny’s arm a little smack. “God, you!” Kenny laughed.

He just knew how to push all your buttons.

The two of you have been friends since you moved to South Park in 5th grade. Now, in your senior year, the two of you were inseparable. Naturally, Kenny continued to hang out with his other friends, Stan, Kyle, and Eric, but he still made time for you. It was a bonus that you could spend more time with Kenny now that you were dating Stan. He was your best friend. Your ride or die. The one you could go to for anything.

It was also natural for Kenny to despise your relationship with Stan. As close of friends as they were, Kenny wasn’t too thrilled with Stan using you to make Wendy jealous. Especially because Kenny was aware of your massive crush on Stan. He knew Stan was depressed and possibly just looking for something... Or someone to help. But that wasn’t a good enough excuse. You deserved to experience true love. Someone who genuinely gave a shit about you and cared. Someone who listened to your issues and could make you feel protected!

While you rummaged through your locker to get your books for your next class, Kenny gazed down at you. You fluffed your fringe in the small mirror on your locker door before looking up at Kenny. He was looking down at you wistfully, as though he were lost in a daydream. With a sweet smile, you lightly prodded his nose.

“Hey, sleepyhead. We gotta get to class.”

When Kenny awoke from his daydream, he flashed you a dopey smile. “Whoops.” He leaned against the lockers with his hands comfortably tucked into the pockets of his orange parka. “I think I’m gonna skip. I’m just not feeling it.”

You shook your head and shut the door to your locker. “You’re gonna fail if you skip too much.”

He just shrugged and smiled as he walked towards the door.

“Don’t come crying to me when you gotta go to summer school!” You shouted and smiled briefly. “That boy, sometimes.. I swear.” With the books in your arms, you headed to class. Thoughts of your upcoming date with Stan quickly fill your head.

[aro-barrel]

A continuation of my thoughts on alienation:

I am always acutely aware of the amatonormativity seeping into every facet of society, but there are moments where I get jolted out of my aro body when people around me begin discussing relationships, crushes, or their single status. That’s when the record plays in my head and all I think is, I can’t relate, I can’t relate. And then I wonder if I’m supposed to acquiesce to the dominant worldview of romance as legitimate and universal or if I can state my position without being dismissed. I’m known as the romance hater and have a reputation as being severely not-romance-brained. People close to me know I’m aromantic, but most people don’t know what to do with it and have already made base assumptions. I think the move to acceptance has made it easy for self-identified “progressive” people to accept my identity at face value, but ultimately have zero understanding of what I represent. The most amatonormative bullshit will spill from their mouths, posturing as conventional life wisdom. And I’m supposed to keep my mouth shut and take it? When I make attempts to dismantle romance as a concept, I'm just some fucking cynical hater. When I lightly joke “Who needs romance? All you need are ride or die homies,” I might get a laugh and they might say “You’re right, romance is overrated,” but they don’t mean it. Not the way I do.

I can explain the banality of romance. The complexity of the spectrum of human relationships. I can offer scientific papers on marriage happiness outcomes. I can explain the way I feel, lovequeer and loveless, but without using the terms that will make people look at me like I’m obscene. Boy can I explain. But when I finish, I sense their dismissal—because romance is a gleaming, golden wonderland they’ve been promised from the day they were exposed to amatonormativity. It’s too beautiful a vision to give up.

I don’t think I can forget the day I told a close friend of mine, “I think I might be aromantic.” They stopped for the briefest moment, then waved me off and said “Nah, you can’t be. You like watching romances in shows.” And so flippantly, my journey of self-discovery was dismissed. And from someone who accepted my gayness and aceness without a hitch. I think, romance as a means of relating and as being emblematic of the human experience has made it too easy for people to equate humanness with romantic love. In order to accept my aromanticism, they must separate their own experiences from mine and relegate me to a categorization that is “less human” and “strange.” In other words, queer. As unfortunate as the story is, I think it’s funny that a non-queer would think my ability to occasionally enjoy romantic plot lines is related in any way to my aromanticism. But I think it displays how strange the associations are and what the “default human” looks like to a majority of people. They can just project the image of “default human person” onto you until you disrupt it and things get uncomfortable.

That friend avoids talking to me about romance now. The excuse is “you’re disinterested” and “you hate talking about that stuff.” Yes, I am “accepted,” but I’ve inadvertently become othered. And the thing is, I fucking love talking about relationships. I love dissecting them and discovering what makes relationships worthwhile. I love queering the human experience. But in the end, the amatonormative world makes it seem as though I am responsible for my alienation. I’m taking a hammer to the fragile romance they put on a pedestal. My existence is disruptive and ugly to behold. I represent possibilities beyond the norm. To accept me as human is to accept the failure of romance.

[btskitten7]

Silent Grace| ix : "Reunion" p. i

Ship: Min Yoongi x Fem reader

au/genre: Mafia!au

rating: M

wc: 2.4k (4.8k total)

Chapter warnings: MAJOR FIGHT AND BLOOD MENTIONS if there is anything else I will come back and put it:(

summary: Yoongi continues to open up little by little with you, one of the hardest things he has done to date. You decided to trust Yoongi and quit your job. You have a nice dinner date but it's rudely interrupted.

tagss: @shadowyjellyfishfest @baechugff @maunosorioh @shelylamc @princess-sunshyn @scuzmunkie @wanceu @coldcoffee2121 @maunosorioh @massivelyfullenthusiast

“Your dad is pretty hard on you because of that night?” you asked gently, understanding that this is still a touchy subject. Yoongi hummed. 

“Yeah. I could hardly go anywhere and when I could, on the rare occasion, my father had his men follow me everywhere. I didn’t have much of a life after that. I understand why he did it but that and that night took a mental toll on me. It pushed me not to pursue this lifestyle. It’s one of the reasons I took up music. Producing and writing are something I love. I wish I had time to work on it a little more.” 

You nodded taking the time to think about the next question you were about to ask, unsure if you should even ask. 

“So this why you locked your office? I couldn’t go in there because of this?” you asked. “Not because of a secret business idea?” 

Yoongi nodded. 

“A lot goes on in that office, more than just files and meetings. Sometimes things happen, I just…” Yoongi starts, “I just rather you not walk in on them.” 

~~~~~~

The dimly lit home office of Min Yoongi, once grand and beautiful was cloaked in an eerie silence, with only the soft hum of an antique desk fan pervading the stifling air. The room exuded an aura of power, adorned with expensive blank marble furniture and walls lined with frames displaying Min Yoong's achievements within the ranks of organized crime. In this fortress of darkness, Yoong's two trusted confidants, Seokjin and Namjoon, stood sentinel, awaiting their boss's entrance.

Crisp footsteps reverberated through the room as Min Yoongi, an imposing figure in an impeccably tailored suit, finally emerged from behind the intricately carved door. Yoongi was called while on a date with you.

From time to time, Yoongi likes to visit you when you work the night shift. He’ll sit with you for your lunch and just soak up every ounce of you he could. He always orders everyone not to call him during this time, but it seems this was just too important to ignore, even if he was with you. His piercing gaze swept over Seokjin and Namjoon, who stood at attention, their faces masked in determination.

"I hear someone thought it would be wise to steal from me,"

Yoongi's voice crooned, as he leaned against the edge of his desk, exuding an unsettling charm. His eyes flickered with a dangerous gleam as he regarded his lieutenants. Both Seokjin and Namjoon exchanged glances, each mirroring the other's resolve. They had sworn a blood oath to protect their boss and preserve the integrity of his empire but more importantly, their best friend.

The thief would be made an example of, a testament to the ruthlessness that awaited any who dared challenge the reign of Min Yoongi."Yes, boss," Seokjin replied, honing in on the coldness in his voice, ready to fulfill his duty. "We've gathered information about him and his whereabouts. The insolent rat is currently holed up in a rundown apartment not far from here. It seems his wife and daughter haven’t seen him in weeks."

“Wasn’t he supposed to be on watch at the hospital with Jungkook?” Yoongi asked with a raised eyebrow before looking down at the Sliver picture frame that held his favorite picture of you and him. “Yes, tonight was his night” Seokjin added. 

“Hmm, so not only did he steal from me and he also put my Blossom’s life in danger, but he neglected his daughter? Isn’t she three or four?” Yoongi asked pouring him a shot of the brown liquor that sat in his small bar. “ All because of what exactly?” 

“It seems he has a gambling addiction. He owes quite a few people money.” Namjoon answered. “Does he at least win?” Yoongi asked Namjoon and Seokjin laughed before shaking their head. Yoongi kissed his teeth and shook his head. “That’s quite sad. I was hoping for a better explanation than that and he would have at least won something for his efforts” 

Namjoon, his eyes alight with unwavering loyalty, added, "We have a team stationed outside, ready to move in and apprehend the criminal at any moment just in case he feels a little froggy."

A sinister smile danced across Yoongi's lips as he straightened, his fingers tapping rhythmically against the polished surface of his desk. "Good. Let’s show him the consequences of crossing the one who graciously feeds him."

The trio moved with silent precision, their steps punctuated by anticipation as they made their way toward the car parked discreetly outside Yoongi's lavish mansion. Seokjin took the wheel, his hands gripping the leather steering wheel with unyielding determination, while Namjoon sat in the passenger seat, his mind calculating the steps needed to extract every ounce of information from their victim. As the engine roared to life, dark energy permeated the vehicle, an unspoken alliance forged in the fires of loyalty. No words were necessary between the men; their shared mission spoke clearly through the intensity etched in their features. Their journey was marred by an eerie silence, the quiet anticipation of a confrontation looming large in the confined space. The scent of blood and retribution filled their nostrils, fueling their resolve as they prepared to take matters into their own hands. 

Only one thing was troubling Namjoon and he was going to voice it. “Yoongi” 

Yoongi turned from the window and met Namjoon’s gaze in the rearview mirror. 

“Why didn’t you do the same to Jungkook? He’s proven himself useful, of course, but the only difference is, that he didn’t steal money.” Namjoon asked. Yoongi nodded. “There is a difference though, my friend.”

The man frowns slightly as he tries to understand. ‘I’m not following” 

“Jungkook stole for a cause. He wanted to see his mother smile. This man did not have a cause. He stole for his mishap. He tried to cover his ass. Jungkook didn’t know who I was. Quite frankly, I would have done the same.”

The run-down apartment came into view, a hovel nestled amidst a sea of towering buildings. Its deteriorating walls mirrored the consequences that awaited its inhabitants. Yoongi, Seokjin, and Namjoon emerged from the vehicle, stepping into the shadows with the grace of predators aware of their prey.

The air was thick with tension as they approached the door, their every step calculated and deliberate. In one swift motion, Seokjin kicked the door open, a thunderous crash splintering the silence, effectively obliterating any semblance of security the thief might have had.

The room was dimly lit, illuminated only by the flickering light of a moth-eaten table lamp. The thief, trembling with fear, staggered backward, his eyes wide with terror as he caught a glimpse of Min Yoong, Seokjin, and Namjoon advancing upon him like vengeful spirits.

“As much money you’ve taken from me and this is the best you can do?” Yoongi looked around the “humble” apartment. The stench of mold, old food, and cigarettes poured from the dingy walls. “This is was you have your wife and daughter sleep in? I expected more from a new father” 

The trio looked at the man with pure disgust. The man stood there trembling with his hand in front of him. “S-Sir! I wasn’t excepting you-” 

“Of course not, they never do” Yoogni started as he walked around the apartment looking at the filth surrounding him. "What do you have to say for yourself?" Yoongi's voice cut through the stillness, icy words taunting the trembling figure before him.The man's voice quaked, "I-I... I didn't mean to steal, boss. It was a mistake. Please, spare me.""How does one ‘not mean’ to steal? I do not understand. What about you guys?” Yoongi asked Namjoon and Seokjin. 

“I’ve never heard of that.” 

“Neither have I” 

A devilish smirk curled at the corner of Yoongi's lips as he advanced, his steely gaze locking with the man's fearful eyes. Seokjin and Namjoon flanked Yoongi, their presence choking the thief's feeble attempts at escape.  Yoongi nodded towards the man. The room crackled with an almost tangible electricity, in this den of shadows, the thief's screams would echo through eternity, a cautionary tale whispered in hushed tones among those who dared to cross the line. “Come, let’s take a trip.”

~~~~~~~.

As the three men forcefully dragged the struggling thief through the dimly lit corridors of Yoongi's headquarters, the atmosphere grew heavy with tension. Each step echoed off the cold, concrete walls, emphasizing the thief's vulnerability against the backdrop of ruthless power.

Yoongi led the way with a calculating air of authority. The people who worked in his home avoided him as they walked through. His intimidating presence exuded an icy confidence that sent shivers down the spines of even the most seasoned criminals. Kai watched on in fear.

She knew whatever the man did, it was enough to cause Yoongi to act in this way. She didn’t like to see him upset. Namjoon and Seokjin flanked either side of the trembling thief. Namjoon's tall and muscular frame towered over the thief—a stoic figure radiating an air of intelligence. Seokjin, on the other hand, was adorned in an impeccably tailored suit, his handsome features masked behind a mask of unreadable calmness.

The thief's heart pounded in his chest, his mind racing to make sense of the dire situation he had found himself in. He had foolishly underestimated the power that Yoongi wielded, thinking he could outsmart the mob boss and make a quick getaway. But now, caught in the clutches of the criminal underworld, he knew there would be no escaping the consequences of his actions.

They finally arrived at Yoongi's office, an imposing room filled with luxurious furnishings that contrasted starkly with the unsavory nature of their surroundings. As the thief was ushered inside, the heavy black door creaked ominously behind him, sealing his fate.

Yoongi settled into the sumptuous leather chair behind his grand black desk, his piercing gaze never leaving the thief. His eyes bore into the man like a predator seeking its next meal, his expression unreadable yet merciless."Sit," Yoongi commanded, his voice cutting through the heavy silence of the room.

The thief shuffled towards the chair opposite Yoongi's desk, his limbs trembling with a combination of fear and anticipation. Namjoon and Seokjin positioned themselves strategically behind the thief, a silent reminder that there would be no escape from the punishment that awaited him.

With deliberate slowness, Yoongi leaned forward, placing his palms on the desk as he fixated his gaze on the trembling thief. "Why did you steal from me?"The thief's voice wavered as he stammered, "I-I-I made a terrible mistake, Mr. Min."

Yoongi’s face scrunched up. “Don’t ever call me that. I am not my father.” His voice was cold and laced with irritation. “Now answer my question.” 

“I-I just needed to pay some people back. That’s all” he stuttered “I wanted to pay off my debt at once.” 

“So you decided to pay off a debt with money that did not belong to you?” 

The man’s mouth fell open but he couldn’t come up with any reason. 

“Please, please sir. Have mercy on me. I will never do this again and I will pay you back everything I took!  I beg for your mercy.” 

“That’s cute,” Yoongi's lips curled into a predatory smirk, his voice dripping with icy disdain.

"Mercy? In my line of business, mercy is a luxury reserved for the innocent, weak, and foolish. You, my friend, fall into more of the weak and foolish categories. But sadly, I haven’t got mercy for you tonight. You see you were meant to be on patrol at Yn’s workplace with Jungkook until he learned her routine and got the security job but you, from my understanding haven’t been going and left Jungkook to figure things out on his own. Thank God the kid is fucking smart and doesn’t need a fool like you to do his job. That’s your first strike. You’ve interrupted my time with my blossom with your selfish acts. That’s your second strike. And on top of that, you steal from me. I don’t care about what you do to my father but you stole from me and you have the balls to come into my home, smoke my cigars, drink my liquor? That’s your third strike. And to put the icing on the cake for a bonus strike, you left your wife to take care of your child alone without the funds to do so. Do you really think I’d have any mercy for you?"

“You ask God for mercy, not me.”

The thief's heart plummeted, knowing his fate had been sealed. He had crossed a line he should have never dared to cross, and now he had to face the consequences.

~~~~~~~

“I’ve done a lot of things in that office that I’m not so proud of and I wouldn’t want you to see that,” Yoongi said softly. You looked over at the window. “I don’t want you to think of me as I monster.” 

You turned back to him and sighed softly. “I can never think of you like that. It’s just all a little overwhelming for me. I don’t think I could be like that.” You admitted. 

“You don’t have to. Baby, I’m not asking you to join me. I do not want that. I just need you to at least for now, understand.” Yoongi grabbed your hands and pulled you onto his lap. Wrapping his arms around your waist to hold you tight. Your arms wrapped around his shoulder as you looked down at him. He lays his head on your chest, holding you as close as he possibly could. You ran your finger through his hair and sighed softly. 

Yoongi slept with you close by his side. Although you didn’t leave, Yoongi felt your relationship shift. He loved you with everything he had and hoped it alone was enough. 

[vodger]

Valentines (Kenjaku x Mahito)

Fluff. Literally just fluff.

I have never crossposted my fanfiction onto tumblr, but I figure in spirit of Valentine’s Day I may as well share it here too. Posted under the same title on AO3. Anyway, just some Valentine's Day fluff for the other 5 other Kenjaku/Mahito enjoyers out there. 💌

Dagon rolled with the ebb and flow of the current. He would submerge into the water now and again—as he always did. Any sound he may have made was drowned out by the lapping of the waves against the shore.

Kenjaku, too, was left to his devices and lounged in one of the lawnchairs, reading a magazine without a care. 

There was nothing in particular going on that day. Most of them had been out for the majority of the day, with the exception of Kenkaju and Dagon. Mahito had returned not long ago. Surprisingly, he hadn’t said hello, and instead quietly went and sat down on the sand not far from Kenjaku, facing toward the sea.

While always pleasant, the beach inside Horizon of The Captivating Skandha proved to be all the more rewarding during the winter. It was mid February, after all. Not that the colder weather made any difference to Mahito, weather elements hardly mattered to him–or to any of the other curses, really. But the sun always felt good.

Mahito lifted fistfuls of warm sand and watched it slip through his fingers.

“Geto, what’s Valentine’s Day?” He asked suddenly. “Hearing about that around?” He didn’t look up from his magazine. Mahito nodded but Kenjaku hadn’t seen it. “There’s a lot of people giving gifts. Treats. People seem happy,” Mahito said. “It vexes you, I’m sure.” “It does.”

Kenjaku lifted his head. “It’s when women give chocolates to the man they love.” “Oooh.” “And men reciprocate this on White Day.” “When’s that?” “A month later.”

Mahito mumbled meekly in thought. There was a moment’s peace before he shot up and twirled around.

“How ‘bout we do that?” He gleamed, lacing his hands together and teetering forward. “I’ll give you those chocolates.” “I didn’t think you’d want in on the fun.” Kenjaku replied casually. “Let’s do it.” Mahito urged. Kenjaku hummed sweetly, as if to consider it for a moment. “No.” Mahito’s hands fell and his posture drooped. “Why not?” He simply didn’t want to, but he didn’t say that. “Why would you like to celebrate a human holiday?” He proposed instead. “You’re not my keeper.” Mahito immediately deflected sullenly. Kenjaku snickered quietly enough that he couldn’t have heard.

Silence once again settled before it was again disrupted by Mahito. “Do you like chocolate?” “I do.” “Then I’ll get them for you.” “You needn’t.” Kenjaku didn’t need to see him to know he would have looked frustrated. Regardless, he stopped and peered at the curse, amused and satisfied. He looked back down and continued reading without so much as a word. Mahito watched him disappointedly before he spun back away from him and sank to the ground. He seemed to pout for a minute, hunched over. Then Kenjaku heard him hurl—sounding wet and vile like it usually did. Then he was fiddling something in his hands. Kenjaku could only wait in dreadful anticipation as to what kind of thing he was sculpting. He was working at it for a good while, which had at least allowed him to finish most of the magazine, skimming through all of the uninteresting bits. The distant fleshy and crackling sounds of Mahito’s construction finally came to a halt and Kenjaku listened to the kicking of sand as he approached and finally looked up as a shadow casted over him.

He extended a grotesque display of flowers in his hand. 

“As a token of our—” he paused and his eyes wandered to the side in thought. “Companionship.” He fixed his eyes back at Kenjaku and lightly shook the bouquet, beckoning him to take it. He accepted it and admired it with a gentle expression, but Mahito couldn’t tell if he was pleased or unimpressed. Though they were fleshy and slightly deformed, he could recognize the flower he tried to imitate. “Tsubaki?” He asked. Mahito nodded. “Do you like them?” he chimed. Kenjaku smiled smugly. “I suppose they are in season.” Mahito scrunched his nose in a slight glower.

Some of them bore a mouth on one of its pedals—they gasped and wheezed quietly. Kenjaku assumed he’d given them mouths to keep them alive. One of them had an eyeball right in the center where the pedals came together. It had no eyelids and was bloodshot. It darted around before pinning its gaze onto him. Even with it lacking a face entirely, he could see its anguish.

They were well crafted, he could admit. Though a little misshapen. He rotated the flowers in his hand for another moment in careful consideration. “I like them.” He finally answered. Mahito gave a small and hushed giggle. Kenjaku turned and gently placed the bouquet of flesh and bone onto the sand just beside the chair. “Aw,” Mahito whined. “You’re not gonna hold it?” Kenjaku sighed pleasantly in response and settled back.

Mahito briefly hesitated before he leapt onto the lawn chair, plopping right down on Kenjaku's thighs. The whole chair was jostled by it and Kenjaku tried his best to mask his irritation, but his shoulders sank with a heavy sigh nonetheless. Mahito timidly wriggled further up his lap and leaned forward.

“Kiss me.” “No.” “So cold! Even after that lovely gift I made you?”

There was a pause.

“You think I owe you a kiss for it?” “Is that not how it works?” He gawked at him, his eyes innocently darted about, taking in every part of Kenjaku’s face before meeting with his eyes again. Kenjaku only smiled back with that oddly serene and somehow demeaning grin of his. With no further reaction, Mahito lifted his hand and tapped his lips with his finger. “On the mouth,” he instructed. “Choosy.” They sat quietly before Mahito leaned in closer–uncomfortably close. Their noses almost touched. Almost. It stayed this way for a bit. Mahito eyed him expectantly and eagerly. Kenjaku stared unflinchingly at the curse directly in front of him which breathed against his skin.

Mahito tilted his head and slided forward ever-so-slightly. Kenjaku remained rigid before Mahito finally closed the sliver of distance between them.

Naturally, he wasn’t a good kisser, but Kenjaku nevertheless reciprocated. It was short, but alarmingly gentle and tender. Kenjaku softly broke away and Mahito moved in to try once more but he only calmly retreated further from him. Mahito eyed him, disappointed and flippant. He leaned back and seated himself back on Kenjaku’s legs, unsatiated. “All I’m gonna get?” “Yup.”

Huffy, he hopped off from his lap. Now free, Kenjaku rested his hands across his stomach and crossed his legs. Mahito took the lounge chair just next to him and laid across it, turning his back to him. He peered over his shoulder. “I’m looking forward to White Day,” he said. “You better get something nice for me.” “Of course,” he lied. Naturally, he wasn’t going to. But Mahito isn’t one to forget about these things, either.